White spots on uvula after adenoidectomy
Eiriel, the home of the 700 Club
2017.11.24 12:04 StasConstantine Eiriel, the home of the 700 Club
The 700 Club is a local establishment in the downtown of Eiriel. It's patronage is made up of colorful characters, most of whom can be described as "Good Dudes." It's the Hatman's favorite spot to pick up chicks and his fellow shadow people love to have a relaxing drink there too after a long day of performance arts.
2024.05.15 01:24 Hot_Opportunity_8958 Jackson Asking Brian Albert about what Brian Higgins drove that night (Spoiler: a Jeep with a PLOW)
We all know that the lawyers don't ask questions unless there's a reason for it. One of the questions Jackson asked Brian Albert on cross yesterday is so huge i think:
In Day 10, when Brian Albert is on cross, between 1:04-1:06, Jackson is asking him about his arrival back home to 34 Fairview that evening. He states that when he arrived, Higgins was already there, in his jeep, backing up out the driveway (to make room for the other cars - he parked and joined the party after). Jackson asked what Higgins was driving. Albert stated that Higgins was driving his white Jeep Wrangler. Jackson then asks if that jeep had any "appendages" on it. Albert states yes, a PLOW.
I'm sure the defense is going to bring this up more when Higgins is on the stand, but wow, that is a huge detail for me. Given the fact that Higgins didn't immediately go home after the party, but oddly stayed in Canton, and given the weird "butt dials" between Higgins and Albert at 2:30am, this raises some red flags for me.
Many of us have wondered all along "what the hell could their plan have been?" and most people have landed on the simplest plan of "when his body is found, it could look like a plow accidentally hit him a/o hit his passed-out body and dragged it along the road"
I think the defense is going to suggest that after whatever happened inside 34 Fairview that night, Albert tried to take control and enlisted Higgins to help him. Specifically to help him by using his plow later and maybe "accidentally" dragging a body a few yards away.
Obviously if that was the plan, it didn't work.
Maybe the 3am Plow Driver "Lucky" who reported (not testified yet) that he spotted a dark Ford Edge at 3am in the area of the flagpole ruined the plan
Maybe the 5am Karen Hysteria ruined the plan
Maybe Higgins just didn't want anything to do with the plan.
But fact that Higgins was driving a jeep with a plow that night, and his subsequent involvement (staying in Canton PD, butt dials at 2am, being the first person Albert called in the morning multiple times) is very interesting.
And the fact that Jackson specifically asked Albert about Higgins' plow is very telling.
What do you think?
submitted by Hot_Opportunity_8958 to KarenReadTrial [link] [comments]
In Day 10, when Brian Albert is on cross, between 1:04-1:06, Jackson is asking him about his arrival back home to 34 Fairview that evening. He states that when he arrived, Higgins was already there, in his jeep, backing up out the driveway (to make room for the other cars - he parked and joined the party after). Jackson asked what Higgins was driving. Albert stated that Higgins was driving his white Jeep Wrangler. Jackson then asks if that jeep had any "appendages" on it. Albert states yes, a PLOW.
I'm sure the defense is going to bring this up more when Higgins is on the stand, but wow, that is a huge detail for me. Given the fact that Higgins didn't immediately go home after the party, but oddly stayed in Canton, and given the weird "butt dials" between Higgins and Albert at 2:30am, this raises some red flags for me.
Many of us have wondered all along "what the hell could their plan have been?" and most people have landed on the simplest plan of "when his body is found, it could look like a plow accidentally hit him a/o hit his passed-out body and dragged it along the road"
I think the defense is going to suggest that after whatever happened inside 34 Fairview that night, Albert tried to take control and enlisted Higgins to help him. Specifically to help him by using his plow later and maybe "accidentally" dragging a body a few yards away.
Obviously if that was the plan, it didn't work.
Maybe the 3am Plow Driver "Lucky" who reported (not testified yet) that he spotted a dark Ford Edge at 3am in the area of the flagpole ruined the plan
Maybe the 5am Karen Hysteria ruined the plan
Maybe Higgins just didn't want anything to do with the plan.
But fact that Higgins was driving a jeep with a plow that night, and his subsequent involvement (staying in Canton PD, butt dials at 2am, being the first person Albert called in the morning multiple times) is very interesting.
And the fact that Jackson specifically asked Albert about Higgins' plow is very telling.
What do you think?
2024.05.15 01:20 The_Dangal The Rule of Three
Air, shelter, water, and food, all essentials of life we take for granted. The gratitude of being alive,
smothered by emotional baggage. Just a bunch of pill induced zombies, riddled by life’s perplexities. Not
me, not any more at least. No, now I wake up every day reborn with a newly discovered purpose in life,
thanks to, him.
Most would be emotionally devastated and seek long term therapy, after what I had endured.
Most would need to be heavily medicated, to calm their anxiety of the fear he would return. No, not me,
the person I once was, is now dead. Suffocated, frozen, dehydrated, and starved out of me. Who I was
perished, and I am grateful. I am offering you the same, but before we get started, let me explain how I
arrived at this place of serenity.
The night was the same as always. I had just finished gorging myself on junk food while binge
watching a reality show. Empty bottles of soda surrounded me as I surfed the streaming networks.
Knowing my weight was getting out of control, I still managed to finish off the bag of greasy potato
chips. My bottles of meds sat on the end table waiting for me. Depression, anxiety, stomach, and heart
pills all courtesy of the negligence of my life choices. One by one I swallowed the antidotes of a better
me. Yet, there never seemed to be a stronger version of myself, no matter how many pills I ingested.
Falling asleep, I told myself tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow I will try harder. As I drifted
off to sleep, I felt a sting in my neck, only waking up for a few seconds. My eyes opened just enough to
see him standing over me. Fighting to stay awake, my eyes latched closed, and I fell into the darkness.
Upon awaking, I could hear sounds of mumbles surrounding me. Feeling heavy and disoriented, I
managed to flicker my eyelids. As the minutes passed, my surroundings became more lucid. The foul
stench of pig shit singed my nose hairs. Dust from old haybales stimulated my sense of smell, inducing a
sneeze. An unimaginable pain coursed through my mouth. Still dazed and confused, I heard a voice say,
"we can't have that, now, can we?". Once again, I felt a sting in my neck, causing me to drift out of
reality.
"Wake up", I heard as I came to, "we need to get started". Started with what, I tried to ask. Yet,
my mouth wouldn't open. Tranquilized still, I thought maybe my brain just wasn't cooperating with my
body. Flexing my jaw, I tried again to speak, it was useless. All I could do was mumble. My words were
nothing more than muffled grunts behind a padded wall.
Looking around, I could see I was not alone. Vision blurry, I still managed to make out a large
silhouette of a man sitting in front of me holding a cutting needle and thread. He then placed the needle
on a barrel and stood up. Whistling, "The Sun will come out tomorrow", I began to look around. There were other people with us. Including myself, all tied to chairs and mouths sewn shut. Three of us were men. The fourth was a woman in her
mid-forties. She was crying and moaning uncontrollably. Mucus ran down her face dripping from her
chin. Trying to console her, I batted my eyes. It was all I could do without having the use of my mouth
and arms.
The injection he had no doughtily given me, had worn off. Like the woman, I found myself in panic
mode. My heart raced fast. I thought I would have a heart attack. Wanting to scream, I
couldn't. Wanting to run but I was incapacitated. Fighting my way out, entered my mind, but how? How,
with my hands bound behind my back. Besides, I wasn't a fighter, and the man was massive. He would
be very intimidating under any circumstance. His raggedy hair was sandy blonde with a mixture of gray.
Deep wrinkles hid behind a handlebar mustache, which stretched across his face. Thick eyebrows sat
untamed above his devilish eyes. Watching him, I tried not to make eye contact. I looked everywhere,
other than at him. The other two men looked as frightened as me. One man, the bigger one, had tears
but made no sounds. The other man was a very frail older man. He shifted side to side as he tried yelling
from behind his fastened lips. His arms bared scars of that of a junkie. His body, covered in scabs.
Cautiously, I looked around. A rusty old plow sat in the corner next to some feed sacks. A saddle
lay across an old broken table. Two horses stood quietly behind their stall door. I could see rays of light
shine through the cracks between the boards. It was daylight, knowing that gave me comfort somehow.
The barn was dusty, and as painful as it would be, I hoped I would sneeze again. At least then I could
scream. Abruptly the man stopped whistling and spoke.
Your mouths are bound together so that I cannot hear you. People talk too much, making the
world noisy. All loud with pathetic excuses of their weaknesses. I am not going to kill you. Your life is in
your own hands. Up to this point, you have wasted your life hiding behind your addictions. Cowering
and leaning on crutches of life’s temptations. I am here to save you from yourselves.
The rule of three is simple. You can survive three minutes without air, three hours without
shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. If you truly desire to live, then you will
triumph. If not, you will perish. I am here to help you unpack your emotional baggage. Air, the very
breath you breathe, you have taken for granted. So, please slow your breathing and relax. We are about
to begin.
While you were sleeping, I provided you with adequate fluids and nutrition. I cannot have you
starting off, on an empty tank. I want to be as fair as possible and make this a pleasant experience.
Though, I warn you it will not be easy, and you will have to dig deep within yourselves.
The burly man began whistling once again. He placed an egg timer on a barrel, grabbed a plastic
bag and spoke. You can survive three minutes with no air. Do you have the desire and strength to want
to live? For you, I truly hope so.
Standing behind the heavier man he turned the timer and then placed the plastic bag over his
head. The man jerked in his chair, thrashing about. One minute, he said. The man still moving wildly.
Two minutes, almost there just hold on. Three minutes he announced, ripping the bag from the head of
the now motionless man. “Oh dear, I guess he did not have what it takes, next”. My heart raced even
faster as he stood next to the now inconsolable woman. I would be after her. I had to slow my breathing
if I were to live. Picking up another bag, he stood behind her.
The air went in and out her nose as she hyperventilated. “There, there, I’m not going to hurt you”,
he said, as he patted her on the shoulders. “Three minutes is a miniature amount of time. I wish you the
very best.” Her legs kicked out lunging back and forth. Her muffled shrieks filled the barn. “Are you
ready?” He then reset the timer. Fearing for my own life, I turned my head and concentrated on my
breathing. Trying hard to block her out, I went to another place in my head. As hard as it was, I imagined
I was calm and at peace lying on a sandy shore. Desperately, I wanted to cover my ears. Her loud cries
soon became small whimpers. Then to gurgles as she choked on her own vomit. Turning my head back
towards her, I could see her convulsing as life left her body. “Not quite a minute, what a shame”, he
said.
Thinking back to when I was a child, and held my breath under water, outlasting my brother.
Back then, holding my breath was easy for me and I always won. Being in my mid-thirties, I wasn’t a
child any longer. Could I beat this, I questioned. Unlike the woman next to me, who reeked of tobacco, I
didn’t smoke. My chances were greater than those who came before me.
Excepting the inevitable, I practiced my anxiety exercises my therapist had taught me. Four, four,
four, inhale hold, exhale hold. If I panic, I will surely suffocate, I told myself. The other man was calmer
now and followed my lead. Our eyes locked on to one another as we breathed. “Very good, that is what
I want to see, a thirst for life, the will to live.”
Picking up a bag, he then stood behind me. I took a deep breath as he turned the timer. I felt the
panic trying to set in, but I pushed it deep down. Oddly enough, the tune he’d been whistling popped
into my head. “The sun will come out tomorrow”, played as the bag was put over my head. “So, you got
to hang on ‘til tomorrow.” Not wanting to see the blurred images through the bag, I closed my eyes. I
just kept humming the tune in my head. “One minute”, he said. Getting more difficult to hold my breath,
I could feel my heart beating faster and my blood pressure rising. The tune still reeling in my head,
“tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow”. “Two minutes”. I can do this, I’m almost there, but my
mind was getting foggy, and my chest tightened. My muscles tensed up as I felt my existence dwindle
away. The tune that kept me going had faded away somewhere deep into my brain. Hungry for air, I
started scratching my hands behind my back. I was going to die. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I managed to
think one last time. “Three Minutes”!
Air rushed through my nose, as I clung to the remaining life I had. It was the greatest feeling just
being able to breathe. I’d made it, I had beat him, I was alive. “Congratulations, you did well”. “Breath
and continue to appreciate the gift, I have given you”.
Tears rushed down my cheeks, as I sat watching the man set the stage for the last occupant. As
sympathetic as I was, I was overwhelmed too just be alive. Still fighting my anxiety, I closed my eyes,
four, four, four. Sounds of distress and faint scuffling could be heard, yet I refused to open my eyes.
Three minutes passed quickly. “We have another fighter, outstanding.” Opening my eyes, I seen that the
other man had also survived. “Two out of three, I wished it faired better.” “It is a pity they perished, yet
the pigs will eat well.” “Nothing should ever go to waste”. “Their carcasses are a valuable resource.” I
am thankful for their contribution.”
“I will let you rest up.” The next gift, is that of shelter.” “People of the world scratch and claw to
have bigger dwellings of that of their neighbor.” Never being thankful of the shelters warmth when it is
cold.” “Not a second thought about the materials taken from the earth to provide that comfort.” “I will
teach you to not care about the size or the looks. You won’t care if it’s a barn or a house made of sticks.
You’ll learn to be content as it shelters you from the storm.
Not understanding what was coming next, I tried thinking of ways to escape. Wringing my hands
together, I tried loosening the rope. He had his back turned removing the bodies from the chairs. Yet
somehow he still managed to catch on to what I was doing. “That’s a double sheet bend knot.” Try as
you might, you will not loosen or untie it.” “Yet I commend you on your perseverance.” “If you escape,
you will not learn the valuable lesson I am trying to teach you.” “Sit and be patient, like I told you
before, I’m not going to kill you.”
He was right. The more I tried twisting my wrists, the tighter the rope became making them bleed
and burn. “Why was he doing this and why me”, I wanted to ask. The inside of my mouth was so dry,
and I was thirsty. All I could think about was water to wash out the metallic taste left from the wounds
of my lips. Making eye contact with the other man, I wondered if he was as thirsty as I. “The storm will
be here soon, and we can continue.”, he said as he removed a hacksaw hanging from the barn wall.
We watched as the man carried on as if he’d done this before. He laid the saw across a table.
Sweat dripped from my head as I panicked. What was he going to do to us? I thought. Do not worry, this
saw is not for you, he said as he placed the woman’s body on the table. He then began to dismember
her legs. He continued to hack through the bodies throughout the day. He would casually take breaks
between the removal of the body parts. After he was done, he used a rusty old wheel barrel to take the
parts out of the barn. He kept his word. I could hear the pigs happily squealing as he fed them.
The light that had previously comforted me dwindled away as darkness approached. As frightened
as I felt, all I could think about was water. “It is time”, he said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I will
untie your arms so you can move freely. I encourage you to move as much as possible to keep the blood
circulating. Frostbite and hypothermia are inevitable if you let yourself settle. You can wear the clothes
you have on, but nothing more.
The barn was heated with an old wood stove. Our captor had fed it wood throughout the day. Yet
the wind from the storm outside seeped through the cracks. A chill came over me, fearing what was
next. The four technique no longer working. He then placed a makeshift collar around our necks.
Connected to the collar was a chain. After untying the ropes from behind our backs he told us to stand.
Fearing what he would do, I did what he told me.
He then unlatched the wooden brace holding the barn doors shut, unveiling winter’s wrath.
Weather in Michigan was unpredictable and harsh at times. That night was no different. The wind
bustled through the doors as we all stood staring into the night. Snow was falling rapidly and had quickly
begun accumulating. “Tonight’s storm is only a mild one but will last a few hours.” “Having your mouths
bound is a positive.” “It will protect your lungs.” Your heart rate will lower the less you move so keep
moving to boost your circulation.” “You will have to endure three hours in the weather.” “This trial is
brutal, I know but if your life is precious then you will improvise, adapt, and overcome.
He then led us by the chains out of the barn and into a wooden pen. It didn’t have a roof but was
too tall to climb over. “I know you must be thirsty, but if you try and eat the snow you will only amplify
dehydration and hypothermia.” He then removed the collars and locked the door. As he walked away in
his rabbit fur coat, he turned and once again said, “Do you have the desire to live, for you I truly hope
so.”
Frantically I surveyed the pen looking for a way out. The enclosure was made of old pallets, thin
boards, and cattle fence. It was sturdy enough to keep us in but not the wind out. It must have been
about twelve feet wide by twenty-four feet long. Rubbing my hands along the gaps, I felt something
warm run down my fingers. I had sliced my hand along the inside of one of the pallets. He had secured
razor blades and sharp nails from the inside to keep us from climbing out. Even if we were able to make
it to the top, we wouldn’t be able to climb over the razor wire that spiraled along the perimeter.
More frantic than I, the other man ran back and forth. He was shaking and sweating profusely. How
could he be sweating in this weather, I thought. On the other hand, I had begun to shiver. My feet had
already begun to tingle. Wearing only gym shorts, socks, and a t-shirt, I knew I must keep moving. The
other man was more fortunate than I. He was wearing pajama bottoms, socks and a hoodie. At least he
had a layer to break the wind.
The snow was dry and easy to move. Thinking maybe we could get out from the bottom. I began
moving the snow with my hands. As I moved it, I motioned for the other man to help. My attempts to
get his attention went unnoticed. He had found a nail long enough to cut through the stiches in his
mouth. Watching him, I debated on doing it myself. Though I thought of the burly man and his hacksaw.
Deciding it was best to keep my lips bound, I watched him saw through his. He yelled in agony as blood
dripped from his lips. Be quiet, I wanted to tell him, he’ll hear you.
When the last stitch broke the man dropped to his knees gasping and crying. He then stood up,
removed himself from his pants, and began urinating in the snow. “I’m Evan”, he said shivering and still
covering the white snow yellow. His urine smelled foul as the wind carried the smell. Not being able to
talk, I used a stick to spell out my name. Letter by letter, I spelled it out, Liam. He didn’t acknowledge
what I had written. He didn’t seem to care about what my name was.
Bending over he began to eat the yellow snow. Then pulling up his sleeves, he did something that
made my stomach churn. He picked off the scabs from his arms and started sucking on them. I now
understood he was detoxing and was trying to get a fix from the meth that had exited his body. I had a
cousin in jail once, who had described this same behavior from the inside. After doing this for a few
minutes he then spoke. Stuttering out his words, “I know it’s disgusting, but it is what it is.” “Now how
we gonna get out of this here, Liam. No matter what he was or what he spoke, it was comforting to hear
him speak to me.
Not knowing how to get out I just started moving. Shaking my head and still shivering, I began to
do jumping jacks. There wasn’t a way out and I was so cold. Knowing that I had to keep moving I
continued. I knew that if I didn’t move, my heart would slow and eventually stop. “You gonna listen to
that Behemoth or ya gonna try and help me find a way out?” Stopping, I once again tried looking from
the bottom. He looked for a way to climb over. Neither of us found a way to escape. Both of us,
shivering we stopped looking.
As we huddled together in the corner, a voice came from a speaker. “One hour has passed, two
hours remain.” Your lust for drugs trumps your lust to live.” “It will be your demise.” He’d seen, he’s
watching us, I thought. Not wanting to die, I began running in circles. The pain was excruciating. Every
step I took was like stepping on needles. My nose felt like it would break off.
“It’s no use, we’re gonna die, Evan said as he plopped on the ground. Using my arms, I motioned
for him to get up, but he refused. He sat in the corner with his teeth chattering and shoulders shaking.
While Evan sat, I continued. Running from one end to the other, tears freezing as they plummeted from
my eyes. As I ran, I tripped over something that caught my attention. It was a stack of a few boards
hidden under the snow. Uncovering them I counted them out in my head. There were several I dug out. I
crafted a fort in my head. We could use the wood for a shelter. Once again, I motioned for Evan to help.
Evan didn’t speak or move. “Two hours”, I heard as a voice projected from a hidden box.
Quickly I stumbled to Evan, shaking him. Tears ran down my cheeks as I faced the truth. I was
alone. Evan’s inability to try had snuffed out his life. He was dead. Time seemed to stand still in that
moment. Looking at his lifeless body, I realized he wasn’t a frail old man. He in fact was my age. The
drugs just made him look old. My sadness for him abandoned me to be replaced with anger. He should
have tried harder. I was now alone. He had left me alone.
Feeling numb and secluded, I wanted to give up. There wasn’t much fight left in me, yet
something in me snapped. I didn’t want to die. Ripping my wet clothes off, I threw them to the ground.
Trying to keep my temperature above freezing, I jumped and staggered in the snow. Laying Evan’s body
flat on the ground, I thought I would use it as a warm layer between me and the ground. One board at a
time, leaned them over Evan’s body and up against the pen, making an ominous clubhouse. Shivering
and naked, I crawled inside and laid on Evan’s lifeless body.
No longer having the strength to move, I lay crying. In the last hour I replayed my life. If only I had
another chance to do it all over again. If only I thought as my eyes closed. The door then opened, “Three
hours”. “Stand up.”, he said as he wrapped a fur coat around my frigid body. ”Come on, you have passed
but you are not out of the woods yet.” Replacing the collar around my neck he then led me back into the
barn.
“I have prepared a warm bath for you.” He then helped me lift my legs over a galvanized water
trough. “There, there”, he said, “Just sit and let the bath warm your blood. The pain of prickly needles
washed over my body as the numbness dwindled. Fading in and out, I watched him carefully remove a
stockpot from the stove. He poured the water from the pot over my head. “Just relax, you should be
proud of yourself.” “You have outlasted all who came before you.” “You’re a fighter and you value your
life. I watched as he warmed pot after pot, continuously pouring them over me.
“I will have to give you warm fluids intravenously.” “Try to stand”, he said as he lifted me up and
out of the trough. He then dried my body with a towel. After he dressed me in dry clothing, he led me to
a makeshift bedroom converted from a stall.
As he assisted me into the bed, I noticed a tray with medical instruments on it. What were they
for I wondered, but to tired to care anymore. He then placed the I.V. needle in my arm and covered me
up. “Rest up and sleep while I deal with the frostbite.” Before I was able to think about what he had just
said, I went out.
Waking up, I was no longer cold. The shivering and pain from the night before gone yet replaced
with new discomfort. My hands, feet, face, and head all pulsing. Slowly, I removed the blanket with my
bandaged hands to see my feet. Both were wrapped in bandages. Looking over my entire body, I
reached for my face. It was also bandaged. I could feel that my ears and nose were missing. “I know this
must be shocking to you, but it had to be.” “You had deep frostbite in your fingers, toes, ears and nose.
They had to be amputated. “I have sealed off the wounds and have given you antibiotics to fight off
infection.” “Be grateful your alive.”
“You are very ambitious, and I want to reward you for your success. “If you can continue to
cooperate, I will remove the stitches from your lips. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” “Can you give me
word that you can stay quiet?” I nodded in agreement.
As promised, he removed the sutures from my lips. Handing me a tin cup of water, he told me to
drink. Words can’t express how refreshing the first sip was. Not being able to control myself, I gulped
down the entire cup. Handing the cup back to him I managed to mumble, “more?” Violently, he struck
me in the face and stood up. “More, more more”, he yelled as he paced the floor. “Always wanting
more!” “You should have savored every last drop rather than gulping it down like a pig at a trough.”
“You have reached your third trial.” “Water is the source of all life and you will learn to appreciate it. Do
you have the desire to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.”
Locking the door behind him, he left the room. Feeling relief from his absence, I took a deep
breath. Concentrating on the air that went in and out my lungs, I was thankful to be alive. It had been a
couple of days since I was able to breathe through my mouth. I felt happiness and gratitude to just be
able to breathe. The blanket and bed kept me warm from the cold that seeped through the barn walls.
Feling relieved, I felt safe for that minute. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and just lived in the
moment. Looking for ways to escape no longer crossed my mind. Still fearful of the man, yet I felt a
strange feeling of gratitude toward him.
Mixed emotions danced around inside of me as I lay. Thinking of the others that were with me, I
pitied them. Had they truly wanted to survive, they would be alive. Had they fought harder, they would
have won against his trials. My sympathy for them abandoned my thoughts, replaced with
disappointment. Questioning my mental state, I laid wondering if I’d gone mad. How could I sympathize
with a man who had essentially tortured me. How could I be thankful to a killer, I wondered. As
comfortable as I was, I was thirsty. Three days was a long time to go without water. Knowing this, I
closed my eyes to try to sleep through it.
A familiar tune whistled through the cracks of the wall. My eyes blurry from crust, I wiped it away
with my bandaged hand. Curious, I tried peeking through a hole in a board. Seeing the two horses in the
next stall brought back anxiety from the first trial. Sounds of mumbling could be heard. Listening
intensely, I realized he had more victims. Wanting to scream out to them to calm their breathing, I said
nothing. Fearful he would kill me if I spoke. Though I didn’t have to. He was telling them to be calm and
they would live. If only they would listen, they could live. One after another perished throughout the
ordeal. Once again mixed emotions of sympathy and anger fought within me. I slammed my hand
against the stall boards. Why am I angry at them, I questioned myself. Hearing the distinct sound of the
hacksaw cutting through the bodies, I became sick. I crawled back in the bed and covered my head.
“Wake up, you have rested enough.” Leading me into the room where the bodies were, he
motioned for me to pick the parts up. “I will cut the meat and you will load it up.” “Do you
understand?”, he asked. I nodded yes and began putting the severed limbs in the wheelbarrow.
“Take it out back to the pigs.” “I trust you won’t try to run.” You will not get very far in your
condition and the weather” He was right, still bandaged and weak I knew I would freeze. Reluctantly I
put a arm, leg, and head in the wheelbarrow.
Once again, the cold made me shiver as I treaded through the snow. The night was calm. The
moon shined down on the solar panels that lined the buildings. I was on some sort of homestead.
Nearing the structure that housed the pigs, I cringed at the thought of feeding them. The squealing led
me to the hog house. Opening the door and entering, I gasped in horror. Piles of bones lay everywhere
within the house. The pigs squealed in delight as I tossed the body parts to them. The smell was pungent
and took my breath away. Not being able to hold back, I vomited the only liquids I had in me. After
unloading my delivery, I left to retrieve another load. Feet still bandaged, and I was cold, the thought of
running left my mind. Yearning for the warm bed, I trudged my way back to the barn. This went on
throughout the night.
“Almost done, this is the last of it.”, he said as he cut through a torso of a woman. “You have done
well, and I am proud of you.” “I know your cold and must be thirsty.” Yet, you still have forty-eight hours
left until you can replenish your thirst. “Keep motivated and you will triumph over your it” After the last
load was completed, he led me to the bed and rebandaged my wounds. Curiously looking down at my
severed toes, I seen I was missing five of them. The same as he bandaged my hands. I was four less
fingers. Two were gone from each hand.
My stomach grumbled as I tossed and turned. All I could think about was water and food. I
eventually passed out from the nights work. Waking up, I felt disoriented and weak. The hunger for food
and water still consuming my thoughts. “Twenty-Four hours left”, his voice said from outside the stall.
“Get up, I have more work for you.” “You have to earn your keep.”
The man then entered the room and placed the collar around my neck. “Here is a coat to keep
you warm, he said as he placed it on my back. Then he handed me some rubber boots. “These should
help keep your feet dry while you dig.” Wanting to ask, dig what, I didn’t dare from the fear of being
struck again. The task will be difficult but not impossible. Handing me a shovel, he led me to the spot he
wanted dug.
“The weather has let up and the temperature has risen. I can not trust that you might try to run.
He then locked the chain to a stake in the ground. “The hog house needs cleaned of the bones.” “Dig me
a hole big enough to bury the remains of the less fortunate.” “I will return in twenty-four hours.” You
have fared well so far, keep up the good work and you will be rewarded.” He then turned and walked
away.
The sun was just beginning to rise, and it felt warn against me face. The black sky turned to a
canvas of pastels. The view was stunning under any condition. After admiring the horizon, I started my
grueling work. Trying to dig with missing toes was difficult and excruciating. Placing the shovel into the
frozen ground, I bared down with all my weight. Breaking the ground seemed unfeasible, but I managed.
Letting out agonizing cries, I repeated the movements until I finally moved dirt.
Scanning around, my head was on a swivel looking for cameras. The thought of trying to escape
weighing heavily. Using my bandaged hands, I felt for any gaps in my collar. It was tight around my neck.
I Then looked for any weak links in the chain but found none. The steak the chain was hooked to must
have been buried ten feet, I thought as I gave it a tug. Giving up on any escape attempts, I continued to
dig.
The hunger and dehydration had started to take effect. My head pounded like a hammer on a
nail. I became nauseous. Fearing I might throw up, I sit and rested on the ground. Looking down at the
homestead, I wondered who the man was. Nearly falling asleep, I pushed myself up off the ground.
Visions of water surrounding me engulfed my every thought. God, I was thirsty.
After I finished digging the hole I fell to my knees in exhaustion. Worrying that if I fell asleep, I
would die of dehydration. Standing up, I desperately tried staying awake. The chain weighed down my
neck making it hard to stand. Using the shovel as a brace, I wedged it into the ground and balanced the
chain over top of the shovel. It lifted the weight off me, allowing me to stand easier. Standing and
swaying, I watched as day turned to night and night back to day. “Congratulations”, the man said as he
walked up the hill toward me.
“II knew you would conquer the test.” “You will soon be rewarded for your victory.” Leading me
back to the barn, I stumbled and fell. The man picked me up and helped me to my feet. As He laid me in
the bed, oddly enough I wanted to thank him. “Before I tend to your bandages, I am going to start an I.V.
to restore your electrolytes. He then handed me a cup of water. “Drink”, he said. Wanting badly to gulp
it down, I refrained and sipped slowly. The water was refreshing as it moistened my mouth. Water
wasn’t something I normally craved but, in that moment, it was all a I wanted. Living mostly on energy
drinks and sodas, I rarely drank it.
As I sipped, I thought about my body and how I had neglected it. Peculiar enough, the man was
giving me all I ever needed. He had somehow managed to push my stronger version to the surface.
“Good news”, he said as he wrapped the final bandage around my foot. “You have made it to the last
trial.” “But before we discuss that, I want to reward you on your accomplishments.” “I’m sure you have
questions, and I will allow you to ask them.” A little conversation will do us both some good.” I must say
I am as curious about you as you are of me.” He said as he poured me another cup of water. “But not
until you have rested.” “I look forward to it, I will see you this afternoon.” Locking the door behind him,
exhausted, I fell asleep.
Hunger pains interrupted my slumber. Turning about in the bed, images of food ravaged my
thoughts. Trying hard, I managed to push the vivid images of cheeseburgers out of my mind. Replacing
them with the image of the man conversing with me. What would I ask him, I pondered. Would I set him
off again and be fed to the pigs. One would think that I wouldn’t want to talk to him after he had cut off
my nose, yet strangely enough I did. I was curious about him.
My tossing about abruptly interrupted as I heard the man enter the room. “Well now, how do you
feel this afternoon?” He asked, as he pulled a old wooden chair next the bed and sat down. To scared to
speak I laid quietly. “It Is o.k., he said cheerfully as he patted my leg. “You may speak”. “Better but
hungry”, I managed to mumble. “Yes, I know you are hungry, but you have entered your final trial.” You
must endure three weeks with no food.” You have been here a week.” “Two weeks remain.”
“People of the world are gluttons. Indulging in prepackaged garbage to feed the body. Never
having to hunt or forge for it. If you make it the three weeks, you will have learned to appreciate what
you put in your mouth. You will think about what it is for, rather than just stuffing your face. Do you still
have the desire to live, for you I truly hope so.
“What is your name?”
“Liam, my names, Liam”
“Well, Liam, my names Doc” “It is finally nice to meet your true self.” I’ve been waiting along time for
this.” “You are now worthy to speak to.” “You have shed your old, infected skin and are growing new
skin.” “I have helped you thus far to create a better, you.” “You may speak freely”.
“Why are you doing this”?
“To save you.” “To rid you of the worlds temptations” “I am extracting all you have digested and
replacing it with the will to survive.”
“Who are you”, I fearfully asked.
“I am a doctor who the world cast out due to what they call negligence.” “I only pushed my patients to
better themselves and refused to subscribe fake antidotes”. “I didn’t hand them a crutch when they
could walk on their own.”” I left the city and moved off grid”. “Here I am free to practice as I see fit”.
“My patients now, are those that want to better themselves but just need a little push.” “Yet, none have
come as far as you, Liam.” “What is it, you desire, Liam?”
“A life of fulfillment”, I said.
“Are you not now, achieving that goal, Liam?”
Before I could answer, he told me, “Enough talk for the day”, we have work to do. “Don’t speak
unless I ask you to”. Unhooking my I.V., he then furnished me with warm clothes and boots again. “Grab
the wheelbarrow”, he said as we excited the barn. He then led me to the hog house. “I want you to pick
up the bones and put them in the hole you dug. Feeling weak, I pushed through the chore. The sight of
the mutilated parts wasn’t as repulsive to me as before. Yet, I did wonder who they were and where
they had come from. The day sped by quickly.
That night, I laid in the bed thinking of the man. Could he be right with what he was doing. I did
feel a new feeling of accomplishment. Had I truly shed my old self. Had he had given me what every
doctor before him had failed at. Questioning my own thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.
As the days went by, I would often help him rid the world of the weak. Every few days he would
bring in new patients. One after one they failed his trials. Some made it past the first, only to die in the
pen or the cooler, depending on the weather. We had many evening conversations where I learned
more about Doc, as he did me. Some nights I would listen to him mourn their deaths. He would often sit
by the stove talking to himself and crying. He would question their inability to understand what he was
doing. Finding myself somewhat sympathetic to him, I spoke out. “It’ll be o.k. you’re a good doctor, they
just don’t have a desire to live. “Thank you”, he said, “but do not speak unless I tell you”. With that I
climbed into bed and covered my head.
Ribs now visible, I was nearing death. No longer having the energy to help him any longer, I spent
the remaining few days in bed. As the final day approached, he came to me and said, If you don’t die
through the night, I will intravenously feed you the nutrients your body requires. Then you can truly live
your life. Tears filled his eyes as he pulled the blanket over me. You have been an outstanding and
cooperative patient and I thank you. Share to the world the gift I have given you.
Waking up, I was confused and again fighting off a sedated state. Rubbing my eyes in dismay, I
stumbled out of bed and tripped over my tennis shoes. Looking down at my disfigured feet, I was
perplexed at the sight of the floor. Continuously wiping at my vision, I scanned the room. Soda bottles
littered the nightstand. An empty potato chip bag lay empty on the bed.
Falling onto the floor, I curled up into a fetal position and cried. Visions of the dead filled my
thoughts. My mind was baffled with an emotional and ethical struggle. Four, four, four, I tried to
manage as anxiety reared its ugly head. “No!”, I yelled. I was alive and I was thriving. Quickly jumping to
my feet, I ran to my dresser mirror. It would be the first time, seeing the new me since my amputations.
Raising my head slowly my eyes met a man I had never seen before. A mangled mess stared back at me.
Yet, I didn’t see the ugly. I seen a victor. A man who fought for his life. I seen a man with the desire to
live. Admiring my new self, I calming starting whistling that familiar tune. I knew what I had to do.
The next few months, I spent talking to the detectives. Occasionally throwing them a false bone
toward their investigation. Had I not been a missing person, I would have avoided the police all
together.
A year has passed since my abduction. My life has changed for the better. I have faired well. I
often think about Doc and if he is still practicing. I did what he asked. I survive, appreciate, and share my
new gift to the world. I no longer spend my days waiting for life to toss me a crumb of its cookie. There
is value in the very air we breathe, the water we drink, the dwelling that shelters us, and the nutriment
we eat. Yet, it’s been difficult to convince people of this without some persuasion. So, please calm your
breathing. I am not going to kill you. This will only take three minutes. So, relax, do you have the desire
to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.
submitted by The_Dangal to nosleep [link] [comments]
smothered by emotional baggage. Just a bunch of pill induced zombies, riddled by life’s perplexities. Not
me, not any more at least. No, now I wake up every day reborn with a newly discovered purpose in life,
thanks to, him.
Most would be emotionally devastated and seek long term therapy, after what I had endured.
Most would need to be heavily medicated, to calm their anxiety of the fear he would return. No, not me,
the person I once was, is now dead. Suffocated, frozen, dehydrated, and starved out of me. Who I was
perished, and I am grateful. I am offering you the same, but before we get started, let me explain how I
arrived at this place of serenity.
The night was the same as always. I had just finished gorging myself on junk food while binge
watching a reality show. Empty bottles of soda surrounded me as I surfed the streaming networks.
Knowing my weight was getting out of control, I still managed to finish off the bag of greasy potato
chips. My bottles of meds sat on the end table waiting for me. Depression, anxiety, stomach, and heart
pills all courtesy of the negligence of my life choices. One by one I swallowed the antidotes of a better
me. Yet, there never seemed to be a stronger version of myself, no matter how many pills I ingested.
Falling asleep, I told myself tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow I will try harder. As I drifted
off to sleep, I felt a sting in my neck, only waking up for a few seconds. My eyes opened just enough to
see him standing over me. Fighting to stay awake, my eyes latched closed, and I fell into the darkness.
Upon awaking, I could hear sounds of mumbles surrounding me. Feeling heavy and disoriented, I
managed to flicker my eyelids. As the minutes passed, my surroundings became more lucid. The foul
stench of pig shit singed my nose hairs. Dust from old haybales stimulated my sense of smell, inducing a
sneeze. An unimaginable pain coursed through my mouth. Still dazed and confused, I heard a voice say,
"we can't have that, now, can we?". Once again, I felt a sting in my neck, causing me to drift out of
reality.
"Wake up", I heard as I came to, "we need to get started". Started with what, I tried to ask. Yet,
my mouth wouldn't open. Tranquilized still, I thought maybe my brain just wasn't cooperating with my
body. Flexing my jaw, I tried again to speak, it was useless. All I could do was mumble. My words were
nothing more than muffled grunts behind a padded wall.
Looking around, I could see I was not alone. Vision blurry, I still managed to make out a large
silhouette of a man sitting in front of me holding a cutting needle and thread. He then placed the needle
on a barrel and stood up. Whistling, "The Sun will come out tomorrow", I began to look around. There were other people with us. Including myself, all tied to chairs and mouths sewn shut. Three of us were men. The fourth was a woman in her
mid-forties. She was crying and moaning uncontrollably. Mucus ran down her face dripping from her
chin. Trying to console her, I batted my eyes. It was all I could do without having the use of my mouth
and arms.
The injection he had no doughtily given me, had worn off. Like the woman, I found myself in panic
mode. My heart raced fast. I thought I would have a heart attack. Wanting to scream, I
couldn't. Wanting to run but I was incapacitated. Fighting my way out, entered my mind, but how? How,
with my hands bound behind my back. Besides, I wasn't a fighter, and the man was massive. He would
be very intimidating under any circumstance. His raggedy hair was sandy blonde with a mixture of gray.
Deep wrinkles hid behind a handlebar mustache, which stretched across his face. Thick eyebrows sat
untamed above his devilish eyes. Watching him, I tried not to make eye contact. I looked everywhere,
other than at him. The other two men looked as frightened as me. One man, the bigger one, had tears
but made no sounds. The other man was a very frail older man. He shifted side to side as he tried yelling
from behind his fastened lips. His arms bared scars of that of a junkie. His body, covered in scabs.
Cautiously, I looked around. A rusty old plow sat in the corner next to some feed sacks. A saddle
lay across an old broken table. Two horses stood quietly behind their stall door. I could see rays of light
shine through the cracks between the boards. It was daylight, knowing that gave me comfort somehow.
The barn was dusty, and as painful as it would be, I hoped I would sneeze again. At least then I could
scream. Abruptly the man stopped whistling and spoke.
Your mouths are bound together so that I cannot hear you. People talk too much, making the
world noisy. All loud with pathetic excuses of their weaknesses. I am not going to kill you. Your life is in
your own hands. Up to this point, you have wasted your life hiding behind your addictions. Cowering
and leaning on crutches of life’s temptations. I am here to save you from yourselves.
The rule of three is simple. You can survive three minutes without air, three hours without
shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. If you truly desire to live, then you will
triumph. If not, you will perish. I am here to help you unpack your emotional baggage. Air, the very
breath you breathe, you have taken for granted. So, please slow your breathing and relax. We are about
to begin.
While you were sleeping, I provided you with adequate fluids and nutrition. I cannot have you
starting off, on an empty tank. I want to be as fair as possible and make this a pleasant experience.
Though, I warn you it will not be easy, and you will have to dig deep within yourselves.
The burly man began whistling once again. He placed an egg timer on a barrel, grabbed a plastic
bag and spoke. You can survive three minutes with no air. Do you have the desire and strength to want
to live? For you, I truly hope so.
Standing behind the heavier man he turned the timer and then placed the plastic bag over his
head. The man jerked in his chair, thrashing about. One minute, he said. The man still moving wildly.
Two minutes, almost there just hold on. Three minutes he announced, ripping the bag from the head of
the now motionless man. “Oh dear, I guess he did not have what it takes, next”. My heart raced even
faster as he stood next to the now inconsolable woman. I would be after her. I had to slow my breathing
if I were to live. Picking up another bag, he stood behind her.
The air went in and out her nose as she hyperventilated. “There, there, I’m not going to hurt you”,
he said, as he patted her on the shoulders. “Three minutes is a miniature amount of time. I wish you the
very best.” Her legs kicked out lunging back and forth. Her muffled shrieks filled the barn. “Are you
ready?” He then reset the timer. Fearing for my own life, I turned my head and concentrated on my
breathing. Trying hard to block her out, I went to another place in my head. As hard as it was, I imagined
I was calm and at peace lying on a sandy shore. Desperately, I wanted to cover my ears. Her loud cries
soon became small whimpers. Then to gurgles as she choked on her own vomit. Turning my head back
towards her, I could see her convulsing as life left her body. “Not quite a minute, what a shame”, he
said.
Thinking back to when I was a child, and held my breath under water, outlasting my brother.
Back then, holding my breath was easy for me and I always won. Being in my mid-thirties, I wasn’t a
child any longer. Could I beat this, I questioned. Unlike the woman next to me, who reeked of tobacco, I
didn’t smoke. My chances were greater than those who came before me.
Excepting the inevitable, I practiced my anxiety exercises my therapist had taught me. Four, four,
four, inhale hold, exhale hold. If I panic, I will surely suffocate, I told myself. The other man was calmer
now and followed my lead. Our eyes locked on to one another as we breathed. “Very good, that is what
I want to see, a thirst for life, the will to live.”
Picking up a bag, he then stood behind me. I took a deep breath as he turned the timer. I felt the
panic trying to set in, but I pushed it deep down. Oddly enough, the tune he’d been whistling popped
into my head. “The sun will come out tomorrow”, played as the bag was put over my head. “So, you got
to hang on ‘til tomorrow.” Not wanting to see the blurred images through the bag, I closed my eyes. I
just kept humming the tune in my head. “One minute”, he said. Getting more difficult to hold my breath,
I could feel my heart beating faster and my blood pressure rising. The tune still reeling in my head,
“tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow”. “Two minutes”. I can do this, I’m almost there, but my
mind was getting foggy, and my chest tightened. My muscles tensed up as I felt my existence dwindle
away. The tune that kept me going had faded away somewhere deep into my brain. Hungry for air, I
started scratching my hands behind my back. I was going to die. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I managed to
think one last time. “Three Minutes”!
Air rushed through my nose, as I clung to the remaining life I had. It was the greatest feeling just
being able to breathe. I’d made it, I had beat him, I was alive. “Congratulations, you did well”. “Breath
and continue to appreciate the gift, I have given you”.
Tears rushed down my cheeks, as I sat watching the man set the stage for the last occupant. As
sympathetic as I was, I was overwhelmed too just be alive. Still fighting my anxiety, I closed my eyes,
four, four, four. Sounds of distress and faint scuffling could be heard, yet I refused to open my eyes.
Three minutes passed quickly. “We have another fighter, outstanding.” Opening my eyes, I seen that the
other man had also survived. “Two out of three, I wished it faired better.” “It is a pity they perished, yet
the pigs will eat well.” “Nothing should ever go to waste”. “Their carcasses are a valuable resource.” I
am thankful for their contribution.”
“I will let you rest up.” The next gift, is that of shelter.” “People of the world scratch and claw to
have bigger dwellings of that of their neighbor.” Never being thankful of the shelters warmth when it is
cold.” “Not a second thought about the materials taken from the earth to provide that comfort.” “I will
teach you to not care about the size or the looks. You won’t care if it’s a barn or a house made of sticks.
You’ll learn to be content as it shelters you from the storm.
Not understanding what was coming next, I tried thinking of ways to escape. Wringing my hands
together, I tried loosening the rope. He had his back turned removing the bodies from the chairs. Yet
somehow he still managed to catch on to what I was doing. “That’s a double sheet bend knot.” Try as
you might, you will not loosen or untie it.” “Yet I commend you on your perseverance.” “If you escape,
you will not learn the valuable lesson I am trying to teach you.” “Sit and be patient, like I told you
before, I’m not going to kill you.”
He was right. The more I tried twisting my wrists, the tighter the rope became making them bleed
and burn. “Why was he doing this and why me”, I wanted to ask. The inside of my mouth was so dry,
and I was thirsty. All I could think about was water to wash out the metallic taste left from the wounds
of my lips. Making eye contact with the other man, I wondered if he was as thirsty as I. “The storm will
be here soon, and we can continue.”, he said as he removed a hacksaw hanging from the barn wall.
We watched as the man carried on as if he’d done this before. He laid the saw across a table.
Sweat dripped from my head as I panicked. What was he going to do to us? I thought. Do not worry, this
saw is not for you, he said as he placed the woman’s body on the table. He then began to dismember
her legs. He continued to hack through the bodies throughout the day. He would casually take breaks
between the removal of the body parts. After he was done, he used a rusty old wheel barrel to take the
parts out of the barn. He kept his word. I could hear the pigs happily squealing as he fed them.
The light that had previously comforted me dwindled away as darkness approached. As frightened
as I felt, all I could think about was water. “It is time”, he said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I will
untie your arms so you can move freely. I encourage you to move as much as possible to keep the blood
circulating. Frostbite and hypothermia are inevitable if you let yourself settle. You can wear the clothes
you have on, but nothing more.
The barn was heated with an old wood stove. Our captor had fed it wood throughout the day. Yet
the wind from the storm outside seeped through the cracks. A chill came over me, fearing what was
next. The four technique no longer working. He then placed a makeshift collar around our necks.
Connected to the collar was a chain. After untying the ropes from behind our backs he told us to stand.
Fearing what he would do, I did what he told me.
He then unlatched the wooden brace holding the barn doors shut, unveiling winter’s wrath.
Weather in Michigan was unpredictable and harsh at times. That night was no different. The wind
bustled through the doors as we all stood staring into the night. Snow was falling rapidly and had quickly
begun accumulating. “Tonight’s storm is only a mild one but will last a few hours.” “Having your mouths
bound is a positive.” “It will protect your lungs.” Your heart rate will lower the less you move so keep
moving to boost your circulation.” “You will have to endure three hours in the weather.” “This trial is
brutal, I know but if your life is precious then you will improvise, adapt, and overcome.
He then led us by the chains out of the barn and into a wooden pen. It didn’t have a roof but was
too tall to climb over. “I know you must be thirsty, but if you try and eat the snow you will only amplify
dehydration and hypothermia.” He then removed the collars and locked the door. As he walked away in
his rabbit fur coat, he turned and once again said, “Do you have the desire to live, for you I truly hope
so.”
Frantically I surveyed the pen looking for a way out. The enclosure was made of old pallets, thin
boards, and cattle fence. It was sturdy enough to keep us in but not the wind out. It must have been
about twelve feet wide by twenty-four feet long. Rubbing my hands along the gaps, I felt something
warm run down my fingers. I had sliced my hand along the inside of one of the pallets. He had secured
razor blades and sharp nails from the inside to keep us from climbing out. Even if we were able to make
it to the top, we wouldn’t be able to climb over the razor wire that spiraled along the perimeter.
More frantic than I, the other man ran back and forth. He was shaking and sweating profusely. How
could he be sweating in this weather, I thought. On the other hand, I had begun to shiver. My feet had
already begun to tingle. Wearing only gym shorts, socks, and a t-shirt, I knew I must keep moving. The
other man was more fortunate than I. He was wearing pajama bottoms, socks and a hoodie. At least he
had a layer to break the wind.
The snow was dry and easy to move. Thinking maybe we could get out from the bottom. I began
moving the snow with my hands. As I moved it, I motioned for the other man to help. My attempts to
get his attention went unnoticed. He had found a nail long enough to cut through the stiches in his
mouth. Watching him, I debated on doing it myself. Though I thought of the burly man and his hacksaw.
Deciding it was best to keep my lips bound, I watched him saw through his. He yelled in agony as blood
dripped from his lips. Be quiet, I wanted to tell him, he’ll hear you.
When the last stitch broke the man dropped to his knees gasping and crying. He then stood up,
removed himself from his pants, and began urinating in the snow. “I’m Evan”, he said shivering and still
covering the white snow yellow. His urine smelled foul as the wind carried the smell. Not being able to
talk, I used a stick to spell out my name. Letter by letter, I spelled it out, Liam. He didn’t acknowledge
what I had written. He didn’t seem to care about what my name was.
Bending over he began to eat the yellow snow. Then pulling up his sleeves, he did something that
made my stomach churn. He picked off the scabs from his arms and started sucking on them. I now
understood he was detoxing and was trying to get a fix from the meth that had exited his body. I had a
cousin in jail once, who had described this same behavior from the inside. After doing this for a few
minutes he then spoke. Stuttering out his words, “I know it’s disgusting, but it is what it is.” “Now how
we gonna get out of this here, Liam. No matter what he was or what he spoke, it was comforting to hear
him speak to me.
Not knowing how to get out I just started moving. Shaking my head and still shivering, I began to
do jumping jacks. There wasn’t a way out and I was so cold. Knowing that I had to keep moving I
continued. I knew that if I didn’t move, my heart would slow and eventually stop. “You gonna listen to
that Behemoth or ya gonna try and help me find a way out?” Stopping, I once again tried looking from
the bottom. He looked for a way to climb over. Neither of us found a way to escape. Both of us,
shivering we stopped looking.
As we huddled together in the corner, a voice came from a speaker. “One hour has passed, two
hours remain.” Your lust for drugs trumps your lust to live.” “It will be your demise.” He’d seen, he’s
watching us, I thought. Not wanting to die, I began running in circles. The pain was excruciating. Every
step I took was like stepping on needles. My nose felt like it would break off.
“It’s no use, we’re gonna die, Evan said as he plopped on the ground. Using my arms, I motioned
for him to get up, but he refused. He sat in the corner with his teeth chattering and shoulders shaking.
While Evan sat, I continued. Running from one end to the other, tears freezing as they plummeted from
my eyes. As I ran, I tripped over something that caught my attention. It was a stack of a few boards
hidden under the snow. Uncovering them I counted them out in my head. There were several I dug out. I
crafted a fort in my head. We could use the wood for a shelter. Once again, I motioned for Evan to help.
Evan didn’t speak or move. “Two hours”, I heard as a voice projected from a hidden box.
Quickly I stumbled to Evan, shaking him. Tears ran down my cheeks as I faced the truth. I was
alone. Evan’s inability to try had snuffed out his life. He was dead. Time seemed to stand still in that
moment. Looking at his lifeless body, I realized he wasn’t a frail old man. He in fact was my age. The
drugs just made him look old. My sadness for him abandoned me to be replaced with anger. He should
have tried harder. I was now alone. He had left me alone.
Feeling numb and secluded, I wanted to give up. There wasn’t much fight left in me, yet
something in me snapped. I didn’t want to die. Ripping my wet clothes off, I threw them to the ground.
Trying to keep my temperature above freezing, I jumped and staggered in the snow. Laying Evan’s body
flat on the ground, I thought I would use it as a warm layer between me and the ground. One board at a
time, leaned them over Evan’s body and up against the pen, making an ominous clubhouse. Shivering
and naked, I crawled inside and laid on Evan’s lifeless body.
No longer having the strength to move, I lay crying. In the last hour I replayed my life. If only I had
another chance to do it all over again. If only I thought as my eyes closed. The door then opened, “Three
hours”. “Stand up.”, he said as he wrapped a fur coat around my frigid body. ”Come on, you have passed
but you are not out of the woods yet.” Replacing the collar around my neck he then led me back into the
barn.
“I have prepared a warm bath for you.” He then helped me lift my legs over a galvanized water
trough. “There, there”, he said, “Just sit and let the bath warm your blood. The pain of prickly needles
washed over my body as the numbness dwindled. Fading in and out, I watched him carefully remove a
stockpot from the stove. He poured the water from the pot over my head. “Just relax, you should be
proud of yourself.” “You have outlasted all who came before you.” “You’re a fighter and you value your
life. I watched as he warmed pot after pot, continuously pouring them over me.
“I will have to give you warm fluids intravenously.” “Try to stand”, he said as he lifted me up and
out of the trough. He then dried my body with a towel. After he dressed me in dry clothing, he led me to
a makeshift bedroom converted from a stall.
As he assisted me into the bed, I noticed a tray with medical instruments on it. What were they
for I wondered, but to tired to care anymore. He then placed the I.V. needle in my arm and covered me
up. “Rest up and sleep while I deal with the frostbite.” Before I was able to think about what he had just
said, I went out.
Waking up, I was no longer cold. The shivering and pain from the night before gone yet replaced
with new discomfort. My hands, feet, face, and head all pulsing. Slowly, I removed the blanket with my
bandaged hands to see my feet. Both were wrapped in bandages. Looking over my entire body, I
reached for my face. It was also bandaged. I could feel that my ears and nose were missing. “I know this
must be shocking to you, but it had to be.” “You had deep frostbite in your fingers, toes, ears and nose.
They had to be amputated. “I have sealed off the wounds and have given you antibiotics to fight off
infection.” “Be grateful your alive.”
“You are very ambitious, and I want to reward you for your success. “If you can continue to
cooperate, I will remove the stitches from your lips. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” “Can you give me
word that you can stay quiet?” I nodded in agreement.
As promised, he removed the sutures from my lips. Handing me a tin cup of water, he told me to
drink. Words can’t express how refreshing the first sip was. Not being able to control myself, I gulped
down the entire cup. Handing the cup back to him I managed to mumble, “more?” Violently, he struck
me in the face and stood up. “More, more more”, he yelled as he paced the floor. “Always wanting
more!” “You should have savored every last drop rather than gulping it down like a pig at a trough.”
“You have reached your third trial.” “Water is the source of all life and you will learn to appreciate it. Do
you have the desire to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.”
Locking the door behind him, he left the room. Feeling relief from his absence, I took a deep
breath. Concentrating on the air that went in and out my lungs, I was thankful to be alive. It had been a
couple of days since I was able to breathe through my mouth. I felt happiness and gratitude to just be
able to breathe. The blanket and bed kept me warm from the cold that seeped through the barn walls.
Feling relieved, I felt safe for that minute. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and just lived in the
moment. Looking for ways to escape no longer crossed my mind. Still fearful of the man, yet I felt a
strange feeling of gratitude toward him.
Mixed emotions danced around inside of me as I lay. Thinking of the others that were with me, I
pitied them. Had they truly wanted to survive, they would be alive. Had they fought harder, they would
have won against his trials. My sympathy for them abandoned my thoughts, replaced with
disappointment. Questioning my mental state, I laid wondering if I’d gone mad. How could I sympathize
with a man who had essentially tortured me. How could I be thankful to a killer, I wondered. As
comfortable as I was, I was thirsty. Three days was a long time to go without water. Knowing this, I
closed my eyes to try to sleep through it.
A familiar tune whistled through the cracks of the wall. My eyes blurry from crust, I wiped it away
with my bandaged hand. Curious, I tried peeking through a hole in a board. Seeing the two horses in the
next stall brought back anxiety from the first trial. Sounds of mumbling could be heard. Listening
intensely, I realized he had more victims. Wanting to scream out to them to calm their breathing, I said
nothing. Fearful he would kill me if I spoke. Though I didn’t have to. He was telling them to be calm and
they would live. If only they would listen, they could live. One after another perished throughout the
ordeal. Once again mixed emotions of sympathy and anger fought within me. I slammed my hand
against the stall boards. Why am I angry at them, I questioned myself. Hearing the distinct sound of the
hacksaw cutting through the bodies, I became sick. I crawled back in the bed and covered my head.
“Wake up, you have rested enough.” Leading me into the room where the bodies were, he
motioned for me to pick the parts up. “I will cut the meat and you will load it up.” “Do you
understand?”, he asked. I nodded yes and began putting the severed limbs in the wheelbarrow.
“Take it out back to the pigs.” “I trust you won’t try to run.” You will not get very far in your
condition and the weather” He was right, still bandaged and weak I knew I would freeze. Reluctantly I
put a arm, leg, and head in the wheelbarrow.
Once again, the cold made me shiver as I treaded through the snow. The night was calm. The
moon shined down on the solar panels that lined the buildings. I was on some sort of homestead.
Nearing the structure that housed the pigs, I cringed at the thought of feeding them. The squealing led
me to the hog house. Opening the door and entering, I gasped in horror. Piles of bones lay everywhere
within the house. The pigs squealed in delight as I tossed the body parts to them. The smell was pungent
and took my breath away. Not being able to hold back, I vomited the only liquids I had in me. After
unloading my delivery, I left to retrieve another load. Feet still bandaged, and I was cold, the thought of
running left my mind. Yearning for the warm bed, I trudged my way back to the barn. This went on
throughout the night.
“Almost done, this is the last of it.”, he said as he cut through a torso of a woman. “You have done
well, and I am proud of you.” “I know your cold and must be thirsty.” Yet, you still have forty-eight hours
left until you can replenish your thirst. “Keep motivated and you will triumph over your it” After the last
load was completed, he led me to the bed and rebandaged my wounds. Curiously looking down at my
severed toes, I seen I was missing five of them. The same as he bandaged my hands. I was four less
fingers. Two were gone from each hand.
My stomach grumbled as I tossed and turned. All I could think about was water and food. I
eventually passed out from the nights work. Waking up, I felt disoriented and weak. The hunger for food
and water still consuming my thoughts. “Twenty-Four hours left”, his voice said from outside the stall.
“Get up, I have more work for you.” “You have to earn your keep.”
The man then entered the room and placed the collar around my neck. “Here is a coat to keep
you warm, he said as he placed it on my back. Then he handed me some rubber boots. “These should
help keep your feet dry while you dig.” Wanting to ask, dig what, I didn’t dare from the fear of being
struck again. The task will be difficult but not impossible. Handing me a shovel, he led me to the spot he
wanted dug.
“The weather has let up and the temperature has risen. I can not trust that you might try to run.
He then locked the chain to a stake in the ground. “The hog house needs cleaned of the bones.” “Dig me
a hole big enough to bury the remains of the less fortunate.” “I will return in twenty-four hours.” You
have fared well so far, keep up the good work and you will be rewarded.” He then turned and walked
away.
The sun was just beginning to rise, and it felt warn against me face. The black sky turned to a
canvas of pastels. The view was stunning under any condition. After admiring the horizon, I started my
grueling work. Trying to dig with missing toes was difficult and excruciating. Placing the shovel into the
frozen ground, I bared down with all my weight. Breaking the ground seemed unfeasible, but I managed.
Letting out agonizing cries, I repeated the movements until I finally moved dirt.
Scanning around, my head was on a swivel looking for cameras. The thought of trying to escape
weighing heavily. Using my bandaged hands, I felt for any gaps in my collar. It was tight around my neck.
I Then looked for any weak links in the chain but found none. The steak the chain was hooked to must
have been buried ten feet, I thought as I gave it a tug. Giving up on any escape attempts, I continued to
dig.
The hunger and dehydration had started to take effect. My head pounded like a hammer on a
nail. I became nauseous. Fearing I might throw up, I sit and rested on the ground. Looking down at the
homestead, I wondered who the man was. Nearly falling asleep, I pushed myself up off the ground.
Visions of water surrounding me engulfed my every thought. God, I was thirsty.
After I finished digging the hole I fell to my knees in exhaustion. Worrying that if I fell asleep, I
would die of dehydration. Standing up, I desperately tried staying awake. The chain weighed down my
neck making it hard to stand. Using the shovel as a brace, I wedged it into the ground and balanced the
chain over top of the shovel. It lifted the weight off me, allowing me to stand easier. Standing and
swaying, I watched as day turned to night and night back to day. “Congratulations”, the man said as he
walked up the hill toward me.
“II knew you would conquer the test.” “You will soon be rewarded for your victory.” Leading me
back to the barn, I stumbled and fell. The man picked me up and helped me to my feet. As He laid me in
the bed, oddly enough I wanted to thank him. “Before I tend to your bandages, I am going to start an I.V.
to restore your electrolytes. He then handed me a cup of water. “Drink”, he said. Wanting badly to gulp
it down, I refrained and sipped slowly. The water was refreshing as it moistened my mouth. Water
wasn’t something I normally craved but, in that moment, it was all a I wanted. Living mostly on energy
drinks and sodas, I rarely drank it.
As I sipped, I thought about my body and how I had neglected it. Peculiar enough, the man was
giving me all I ever needed. He had somehow managed to push my stronger version to the surface.
“Good news”, he said as he wrapped the final bandage around my foot. “You have made it to the last
trial.” “But before we discuss that, I want to reward you on your accomplishments.” “I’m sure you have
questions, and I will allow you to ask them.” A little conversation will do us both some good.” I must say
I am as curious about you as you are of me.” He said as he poured me another cup of water. “But not
until you have rested.” “I look forward to it, I will see you this afternoon.” Locking the door behind him,
exhausted, I fell asleep.
Hunger pains interrupted my slumber. Turning about in the bed, images of food ravaged my
thoughts. Trying hard, I managed to push the vivid images of cheeseburgers out of my mind. Replacing
them with the image of the man conversing with me. What would I ask him, I pondered. Would I set him
off again and be fed to the pigs. One would think that I wouldn’t want to talk to him after he had cut off
my nose, yet strangely enough I did. I was curious about him.
My tossing about abruptly interrupted as I heard the man enter the room. “Well now, how do you
feel this afternoon?” He asked, as he pulled a old wooden chair next the bed and sat down. To scared to
speak I laid quietly. “It Is o.k., he said cheerfully as he patted my leg. “You may speak”. “Better but
hungry”, I managed to mumble. “Yes, I know you are hungry, but you have entered your final trial.” You
must endure three weeks with no food.” You have been here a week.” “Two weeks remain.”
“People of the world are gluttons. Indulging in prepackaged garbage to feed the body. Never
having to hunt or forge for it. If you make it the three weeks, you will have learned to appreciate what
you put in your mouth. You will think about what it is for, rather than just stuffing your face. Do you still
have the desire to live, for you I truly hope so.
“What is your name?”
“Liam, my names, Liam”
“Well, Liam, my names Doc” “It is finally nice to meet your true self.” I’ve been waiting along time for
this.” “You are now worthy to speak to.” “You have shed your old, infected skin and are growing new
skin.” “I have helped you thus far to create a better, you.” “You may speak freely”.
“Why are you doing this”?
“To save you.” “To rid you of the worlds temptations” “I am extracting all you have digested and
replacing it with the will to survive.”
“Who are you”, I fearfully asked.
“I am a doctor who the world cast out due to what they call negligence.” “I only pushed my patients to
better themselves and refused to subscribe fake antidotes”. “I didn’t hand them a crutch when they
could walk on their own.”” I left the city and moved off grid”. “Here I am free to practice as I see fit”.
“My patients now, are those that want to better themselves but just need a little push.” “Yet, none have
come as far as you, Liam.” “What is it, you desire, Liam?”
“A life of fulfillment”, I said.
“Are you not now, achieving that goal, Liam?”
Before I could answer, he told me, “Enough talk for the day”, we have work to do. “Don’t speak
unless I ask you to”. Unhooking my I.V., he then furnished me with warm clothes and boots again. “Grab
the wheelbarrow”, he said as we excited the barn. He then led me to the hog house. “I want you to pick
up the bones and put them in the hole you dug. Feeling weak, I pushed through the chore. The sight of
the mutilated parts wasn’t as repulsive to me as before. Yet, I did wonder who they were and where
they had come from. The day sped by quickly.
That night, I laid in the bed thinking of the man. Could he be right with what he was doing. I did
feel a new feeling of accomplishment. Had I truly shed my old self. Had he had given me what every
doctor before him had failed at. Questioning my own thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.
As the days went by, I would often help him rid the world of the weak. Every few days he would
bring in new patients. One after one they failed his trials. Some made it past the first, only to die in the
pen or the cooler, depending on the weather. We had many evening conversations where I learned
more about Doc, as he did me. Some nights I would listen to him mourn their deaths. He would often sit
by the stove talking to himself and crying. He would question their inability to understand what he was
doing. Finding myself somewhat sympathetic to him, I spoke out. “It’ll be o.k. you’re a good doctor, they
just don’t have a desire to live. “Thank you”, he said, “but do not speak unless I tell you”. With that I
climbed into bed and covered my head.
Ribs now visible, I was nearing death. No longer having the energy to help him any longer, I spent
the remaining few days in bed. As the final day approached, he came to me and said, If you don’t die
through the night, I will intravenously feed you the nutrients your body requires. Then you can truly live
your life. Tears filled his eyes as he pulled the blanket over me. You have been an outstanding and
cooperative patient and I thank you. Share to the world the gift I have given you.
Waking up, I was confused and again fighting off a sedated state. Rubbing my eyes in dismay, I
stumbled out of bed and tripped over my tennis shoes. Looking down at my disfigured feet, I was
perplexed at the sight of the floor. Continuously wiping at my vision, I scanned the room. Soda bottles
littered the nightstand. An empty potato chip bag lay empty on the bed.
Falling onto the floor, I curled up into a fetal position and cried. Visions of the dead filled my
thoughts. My mind was baffled with an emotional and ethical struggle. Four, four, four, I tried to
manage as anxiety reared its ugly head. “No!”, I yelled. I was alive and I was thriving. Quickly jumping to
my feet, I ran to my dresser mirror. It would be the first time, seeing the new me since my amputations.
Raising my head slowly my eyes met a man I had never seen before. A mangled mess stared back at me.
Yet, I didn’t see the ugly. I seen a victor. A man who fought for his life. I seen a man with the desire to
live. Admiring my new self, I calming starting whistling that familiar tune. I knew what I had to do.
The next few months, I spent talking to the detectives. Occasionally throwing them a false bone
toward their investigation. Had I not been a missing person, I would have avoided the police all
together.
A year has passed since my abduction. My life has changed for the better. I have faired well. I
often think about Doc and if he is still practicing. I did what he asked. I survive, appreciate, and share my
new gift to the world. I no longer spend my days waiting for life to toss me a crumb of its cookie. There
is value in the very air we breathe, the water we drink, the dwelling that shelters us, and the nutriment
we eat. Yet, it’s been difficult to convince people of this without some persuasion. So, please calm your
breathing. I am not going to kill you. This will only take three minutes. So, relax, do you have the desire
to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.
2024.05.15 01:13 vrhelmutt My thoughts on pizzagate
Conspiracy theories involving “elite” pedophile rings have recently been dominating social media in a disorienting frenzy. They have been around for some time but in this century rose back to popularity during the 2016 Election cycle. This crop, at least, took root with what became known as “Pizzagate.” Promoters of that conspiracy theory in 2016 used social media platforms to make unfounded but viral allegations that Hillary Clinton and other prominent Democrats were running a pedophile ring out of the basement of a pizzeria even though that restaurant had no basement, or any ties to known politicians other than the typical flesh pressing (Phrasing I know) moments fit for a picture hung on the wall. Since then, the dark theme of Pizzagate has found new life with permutations forming part of the #Qanon conspiracy theory, incorporated under the umbrella term “pedogate.” The gist of the #pedogate conspiracy theory is that global elites (politicians, celebrities, and wealthy businesspersons) are covertly involved in a far-reaching ring that uses young children for sexual purposes. “What most of these conspiracy theories involve in one way or another is laying accusations of pedophilia or involvement in pedophile rings at the feet of people that they despise or hate, and during the 16’ election cycle, Democrats were a wide target for an opposing political movement that had hijacked the rival Republican party. Pizzagate originated with the “alt right” and “alt lite,” far right extremists who range from outright white supremacists to those who publicly shun racists but otherwise fall in step with their belief systems. Pizzagate jumped from the fringes to the mainstream because as it denigrated Hillary Clinton, it sucked in supporters of then-candidate Donald Trump. After the election all mention of pedogate seemed to be put on a simmer while other National outrages boiled over (#Covid #RussiaGate #BLM) and just like clockwork (heading into our next election cycle has been turned back up. The pedogate conspiracy and all associated stories employ a centuries-old tactic: playing on deep-seated human anxieties by conjuring images of imperiled children, the purest and defenseless victim of any manner of injustice. An example in the modern era of weaponized conspiracy was the satanic panic of the 1980s, in which a wave of hysteria over alleged child molestation at daycare centers swept the nation. But while that phenomenon was a moral panic attributable, at least in part, to social anxiety over white middle class women entering the work force en masse for the first time and entrusting their children to others, the current conspiracy theories about pedophile rings equate to similar propaganda. They carry a danger for stirring up violence. If you want to elicit violent action the way to do it is through hate and fear. Once you target and label a population as pedophiles, you can do anything you like to that population with full excuse being given to the myth you’ve wrapped around it. That’s not to say fears of child abuse or sex trafficking are unfounded. There are many as pedophilia has ancient roots and in many cases was encourage by many world cultures and religions a lot later into Civilization than we’d like to admit. The International Labor Organization reports that 25 percent of the world’s 40.3 million victims of human trafficking are children. The most vulnerable, according to the National Human Trafficking Hotline, are migrants, runaways, the homeless, and youngsters who have been victims of violence. Despite their obsession over the topic, conspiracy followers aren’t worked up about those children who are in true harm’s way. In the world of propaganda, it’s never about real children. Instead, it’s about what children represent. The children imperiled by conspiracy theories, in other words, are only metaphors. Children carry a vast amount of weight in any society, but especially modern ones when they’re expected to survive past the age of five. It wasn’t as intense before the 18th century when child mortality rates were really high. They represent the future, and all that is beautiful and decent and honest in a society, because they are innocent. For most people also, the meaning of their existence is rooted in their children. Children are eschatological, they represent death for us, and what is coming behind us after we are gone. They also represent the threat of loss, if they disappear, if they die, that is the death of society. That’s why they became so crucial and central to Cold War propaganda. The real terror of the nuclear holocaust would be the death of the children, because that’s the death of everyone. A recent example of this is in a recent police investigation into conspiracy claims of PizzaGate style accusation of Portland’s Voodoo Doughnuts. Detectives attempted to contact the person accusing Voodoo Doughnuts on social media of running a pedophile ring. The accuser did not cooperate with investigators and it’s been documented in other coverage online that they had become agitated and accused the Police with complicity when tracked down in person, even though they were attempting to investigate. The pendulum of conspiracy theories about systematic child abuse has swung back and forth for centuries. Examples such as blood libel, when Jewish communities were attacked over false allegations of murdering and consuming Christian children in the Middle Ages. In Europe, During the Thirty Years War, entire villages were put to the sword because it was believed they were abusing children of the other religions. One characteristic that helps Pizzagate-style conspiracy theories gain popularity is that they function like a puzzle game and give its audience a large level of involvement through social media. A lot of conspiracy theories are oracular, where the information comes from one source an oracle. Then there are others where there are a few people who promote the notions, almost like gurus or a conspiracy priesthood. But Pizzagate, it’s more of what one would call a participatory conspiracy theory. Participatory conspiracy theories lay out a scenario or situation and then they ask their audience, ‘what more can you find out about this, what more can you add?’ It turns the audience into willing participants, some knowing they are creating a destructive madlib and other (potential real victims) caking on mystical distraction to issues that have been unreported or scars that have not bee properly treated. The thing about participatory conspiracy theories is it can really create a devoted following because it gives people something to do, it makes them feel they can solve the whole thing or uncover new aspects to it. Once you get that energy going it’s almost self-sustaining. Followers of the Qanon conspiracy theory, call themselves “bakers” because their protagonist “Q” pops up on Internet message boards and leaves “crumbs” (i.e., clues), and they are tasked with picking up the crumbs in order to solve the puzzle. (“Q” is supposed to reference the character’s government security clearance level).
#Q followers believe an even more incoherent version of Pizzagate. This is largely a right-wing fantasy that originated in a series of incoherent posts on #4chan in 2017 by someone calling themselves #QAnon. Following on the heels of similar idiocy such as Pizzagate, it advances a fantastic web of deceit that wraps up Trumpism, deep state fearmongering, evil, satanic pedophilia rings controlled by the Democratic Party, investigations into Russian meddling in the 2016 US election, the Las Vegas shooting, and New World Order paranoia into a package easily and wholeheartedly promoted by internet cesspools and far-right personalities such as Alex Jones. The premise is that President Trump is secretly working to take down a global ring of elite, cannibalistic, satanic pedophiles. And the investigation into Russian meddling into the 2016 election, led by former FBI director Robert Mueller, is actually an investigation into the so-called “deep state”, where a cabal of evil, globalists, including Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, are responsible for everything from a global pedophile ring to the mass shooting in Las Vegas in 2017. According to the enlightened, when Trump awkwardly took a drink from a bottle of Fiji water at a press conference in November 2017, it wasn’t because he was thirsty; it was actually a secret signal to those in the know that the annihilation of deep state pedophiles had begun (or was about to begin). Because as everyone knows, Fiji is a hot spot for child trafficking. ( I could go on and on with this poorly thought-out shit, I will spare you ) The role the Internet and social media play in helping to spread such insanity can’t be underestimated. Just a few decades earlier, conspiracy theorists would identify each other using letters to the editor printed in newspapers and magazines. It was a lot harder to identify your fellow conspiracy theorists. You would have to physically meet to swap your stories or send letters or call. They would set up these groups that would communicate by newsletter. They would meet in a physical space, like someone’s living room. I personally witnessed people from my childhood, dutifully photocopying newsletters they had received in the mail to give to others (Primarily at my #JW congregation, how ironic). Now obviously it can go much more quickly, because you can identity people immediately. You can quickly share ideas and the data you’ve collected. The Internet allows such people to exist in bubbles where they rarely have their beliefs challenged. The extraordinarily polarized society we’re in right now has made people less willing to seek out other view points. Because of the internet you have less chance of doing this. There’s very little incentive to look outside one’s own bubble once they have become invested in a conspiracy theory. Once you start to act out on those behaviors you are forced to double down by repeating the act to prove it was a just act. Eventually you get caught up in a movement that totally defines your conscious and you can’t get out of it. The second you step out of that world view your actions go back to being reprehensible. Now the question becomes, “What’s the harm? If it sheds light on child abuse, then isn’t it still productive?” The answer in this case is a resounding NO. In my opinion and PAINFUL experience, the root cause and sustaining factors of institutionalized child sex abuse are all things that would counter your typical Conspiracy Nut’s world view, thus causing a complete blackout to the problems. The entity taking part in the harming of children on a local and tangible level aren’t some suit and tie wearing global elitist. It’s a guidance counselor, youth pastor, unvetted young substitute teacher, aunt/uncle/cousin/neighbor. It’s anyone who has been given routine private access to a child’s mind and body because of the social conventions that have been protected for generations by our relatives whether they themselves are guilty of abuse or not. In all the Qanon madness I also kept very close tabs on the pending prosecution of the Boy scouts of America and never saw any widely shared memes about their involvement in the abuse syndicate. Why is this? How is this so? Aren’t these people watching the news, seeing the court records and hearing the individual cases being brought against Scout Leaders (SOME OF WHO RAN THEIR OWN NETWORKS!!)? When I would find mention of accusation it was met with the ever scarce “skepticism” because if the media is covering it, it must be a plot to destroy the organization. There are now non-for profit organizations setting up victim funds and protections for people to come out with their stories and somehow THIS is the fake ruse. Some that know me know that I was a Jehovah’s Witness as a youth/teen/young adult. That chapter of my life could fill many chapters and the research on the organization, the real true black and white history of the religion would honestly surprise you. I saw what I now know was abuse, I personally experienced abuse in many forms. The perpetrators involved are either still Witnesses or are dead or have moved “away from the organization”. But one thing that was left intact in each situation was the secret that they prey on children. The parents, these organizations and the collective promise to keep up appearances are directly to blame for the suffering untold thousands, millions of children and broken adults. All for what? Pride and Vanity and a commitment to all involved to protect them from the “mean old world” despite allowing predators to eat their children from within. Being a #JW was a very interesting experience. It provides a very efficient form of insulation from outside society and allows people involved to view the chaos from afar. There is this persistent (albeit false) sense of shared peace that members have. It’s as though for three days a week you go to this meeting where no matter what, everyone has a smile and feels about things EXACTLY how you do. There is no cursing, there are no politics, there surely isn’t any destructive influences that would tarnish your chances of salvation. For a parent this is a refuge when raising a child in a world that is dangerously unpredictable. A Child that you are unable (or unwilling) to teach coping skills to get along by societal standards, A child you want to protect by hiding. This is problem #1. As an adult the congregation presents an avenue for which you can act and behave in a way that allows you to reconcile your past, a way to have less of those nights awake because you think about past wrongs you’ve committed against people. It’s the proverbial band-aid for a guilty, bruised, destroyed conscious of any size. Coming into the organization takes nothing more than the desire to change, publicly declaring your willingness to hand over your life to God (The organization). Bam, You’re in! No credit check, no background check. This is problem #2. A JW is taught that “every facet is an asset” (Ministerial Servants know what I’m talking about). What this means is that every facet of your life is an asset to the organization to spread its word. If the world see’s their product’s application into your life and thereby how much better it is than a normal person’s, then they’ve made an “Effective Witness” to the world. This causes Witnesses of any age to allow almost every facet of their life to be a tool by the organization. For a parent this includes their children. This is problem #3 When you get a culture that insulates itself from the real world, that allows you to enter without any coherent vetting, give access to children whose parents feel obligated to present as a “witness” to the lifestyle. You get a twisted corridor in which victims can get lost for a lifetime and predators can hide in plain sight. For any proponents of the “Save-The-Children” movement to not take a step back and really analyze their local community and lifestyle through these lenses only illustrates that child abuse is being weaponized politically at the expense of others whom you aren’t willing to save because it would look bad for ‘your side’. If you truly care, you wouldn’t be sharing email forwards about what evil unverified unmentionable thing you read some celebrity or politician did. Instead, you’d be drawing back on your experiences as a child. Even if nothing happened directly to you, I’m sure you know some one that had an experience that forever harmed their life. Who did it? Was there a pattern or social condition that allowed for this as was laid out in the JW example? How could it have been avoided? Would you have stopped it if you saw the signs? Are you willing to stop it in the future, knowing what you know now? If you can answer any of those questions with a yes, then you have all you need to WRITE your own material to reach real victims and their families. Does your action cause problems for your ‘side’? It shouldn’t matter and you know that. If it does make a difference to you then you are no better than the shadowy pedophilic cabal that you are so obsessed with.
submitted by vrhelmutt to conspiracy [link] [comments]
#Q followers believe an even more incoherent version of Pizzagate. This is largely a right-wing fantasy that originated in a series of incoherent posts on #4chan in 2017 by someone calling themselves #QAnon. Following on the heels of similar idiocy such as Pizzagate, it advances a fantastic web of deceit that wraps up Trumpism, deep state fearmongering, evil, satanic pedophilia rings controlled by the Democratic Party, investigations into Russian meddling in the 2016 US election, the Las Vegas shooting, and New World Order paranoia into a package easily and wholeheartedly promoted by internet cesspools and far-right personalities such as Alex Jones. The premise is that President Trump is secretly working to take down a global ring of elite, cannibalistic, satanic pedophiles. And the investigation into Russian meddling into the 2016 election, led by former FBI director Robert Mueller, is actually an investigation into the so-called “deep state”, where a cabal of evil, globalists, including Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, are responsible for everything from a global pedophile ring to the mass shooting in Las Vegas in 2017. According to the enlightened, when Trump awkwardly took a drink from a bottle of Fiji water at a press conference in November 2017, it wasn’t because he was thirsty; it was actually a secret signal to those in the know that the annihilation of deep state pedophiles had begun (or was about to begin). Because as everyone knows, Fiji is a hot spot for child trafficking. ( I could go on and on with this poorly thought-out shit, I will spare you ) The role the Internet and social media play in helping to spread such insanity can’t be underestimated. Just a few decades earlier, conspiracy theorists would identify each other using letters to the editor printed in newspapers and magazines. It was a lot harder to identify your fellow conspiracy theorists. You would have to physically meet to swap your stories or send letters or call. They would set up these groups that would communicate by newsletter. They would meet in a physical space, like someone’s living room. I personally witnessed people from my childhood, dutifully photocopying newsletters they had received in the mail to give to others (Primarily at my #JW congregation, how ironic). Now obviously it can go much more quickly, because you can identity people immediately. You can quickly share ideas and the data you’ve collected. The Internet allows such people to exist in bubbles where they rarely have their beliefs challenged. The extraordinarily polarized society we’re in right now has made people less willing to seek out other view points. Because of the internet you have less chance of doing this. There’s very little incentive to look outside one’s own bubble once they have become invested in a conspiracy theory. Once you start to act out on those behaviors you are forced to double down by repeating the act to prove it was a just act. Eventually you get caught up in a movement that totally defines your conscious and you can’t get out of it. The second you step out of that world view your actions go back to being reprehensible. Now the question becomes, “What’s the harm? If it sheds light on child abuse, then isn’t it still productive?” The answer in this case is a resounding NO. In my opinion and PAINFUL experience, the root cause and sustaining factors of institutionalized child sex abuse are all things that would counter your typical Conspiracy Nut’s world view, thus causing a complete blackout to the problems. The entity taking part in the harming of children on a local and tangible level aren’t some suit and tie wearing global elitist. It’s a guidance counselor, youth pastor, unvetted young substitute teacher, aunt/uncle/cousin/neighbor. It’s anyone who has been given routine private access to a child’s mind and body because of the social conventions that have been protected for generations by our relatives whether they themselves are guilty of abuse or not. In all the Qanon madness I also kept very close tabs on the pending prosecution of the Boy scouts of America and never saw any widely shared memes about their involvement in the abuse syndicate. Why is this? How is this so? Aren’t these people watching the news, seeing the court records and hearing the individual cases being brought against Scout Leaders (SOME OF WHO RAN THEIR OWN NETWORKS!!)? When I would find mention of accusation it was met with the ever scarce “skepticism” because if the media is covering it, it must be a plot to destroy the organization. There are now non-for profit organizations setting up victim funds and protections for people to come out with their stories and somehow THIS is the fake ruse. Some that know me know that I was a Jehovah’s Witness as a youth/teen/young adult. That chapter of my life could fill many chapters and the research on the organization, the real true black and white history of the religion would honestly surprise you. I saw what I now know was abuse, I personally experienced abuse in many forms. The perpetrators involved are either still Witnesses or are dead or have moved “away from the organization”. But one thing that was left intact in each situation was the secret that they prey on children. The parents, these organizations and the collective promise to keep up appearances are directly to blame for the suffering untold thousands, millions of children and broken adults. All for what? Pride and Vanity and a commitment to all involved to protect them from the “mean old world” despite allowing predators to eat their children from within. Being a #JW was a very interesting experience. It provides a very efficient form of insulation from outside society and allows people involved to view the chaos from afar. There is this persistent (albeit false) sense of shared peace that members have. It’s as though for three days a week you go to this meeting where no matter what, everyone has a smile and feels about things EXACTLY how you do. There is no cursing, there are no politics, there surely isn’t any destructive influences that would tarnish your chances of salvation. For a parent this is a refuge when raising a child in a world that is dangerously unpredictable. A Child that you are unable (or unwilling) to teach coping skills to get along by societal standards, A child you want to protect by hiding. This is problem #1. As an adult the congregation presents an avenue for which you can act and behave in a way that allows you to reconcile your past, a way to have less of those nights awake because you think about past wrongs you’ve committed against people. It’s the proverbial band-aid for a guilty, bruised, destroyed conscious of any size. Coming into the organization takes nothing more than the desire to change, publicly declaring your willingness to hand over your life to God (The organization). Bam, You’re in! No credit check, no background check. This is problem #2. A JW is taught that “every facet is an asset” (Ministerial Servants know what I’m talking about). What this means is that every facet of your life is an asset to the organization to spread its word. If the world see’s their product’s application into your life and thereby how much better it is than a normal person’s, then they’ve made an “Effective Witness” to the world. This causes Witnesses of any age to allow almost every facet of their life to be a tool by the organization. For a parent this includes their children. This is problem #3 When you get a culture that insulates itself from the real world, that allows you to enter without any coherent vetting, give access to children whose parents feel obligated to present as a “witness” to the lifestyle. You get a twisted corridor in which victims can get lost for a lifetime and predators can hide in plain sight. For any proponents of the “Save-The-Children” movement to not take a step back and really analyze their local community and lifestyle through these lenses only illustrates that child abuse is being weaponized politically at the expense of others whom you aren’t willing to save because it would look bad for ‘your side’. If you truly care, you wouldn’t be sharing email forwards about what evil unverified unmentionable thing you read some celebrity or politician did. Instead, you’d be drawing back on your experiences as a child. Even if nothing happened directly to you, I’m sure you know some one that had an experience that forever harmed their life. Who did it? Was there a pattern or social condition that allowed for this as was laid out in the JW example? How could it have been avoided? Would you have stopped it if you saw the signs? Are you willing to stop it in the future, knowing what you know now? If you can answer any of those questions with a yes, then you have all you need to WRITE your own material to reach real victims and their families. Does your action cause problems for your ‘side’? It shouldn’t matter and you know that. If it does make a difference to you then you are no better than the shadowy pedophilic cabal that you are so obsessed with.
2024.05.15 00:55 Tuckychick Fully confused on what bird I just saw!
For context, I live in the Louisville area of Kentucky in an area surrounded by fields, small lakes and trees. I was walking tonight and spotted a medium sized (think Cooper’s hawk sized) bird swooping after another bird and then flying around the corner of a house. By the time I got to where it was it was nowhere in sight. The bird was fully white on the back with tan coloring in the wings. It soared to have a darker underbelly but I didn’t spot much of that. I have searched and can find nothing resembling what I saw. Does anyone have any ideas?
submitted by Tuckychick to birding [link] [comments]
2024.05.15 00:17 PyroIsSpai Are UFOs impacted by energies and gravitational anomalies generated by fault lines? A few new clues and questions from a claimed UFO Program leaker on a similar subreddit.
0. High level summary
I propose that fault lines may play a significant and under documented role in what is happening with UFOs and specifically the impact of fault lines on some number of UFO related crashes. I suspect energetic effects from fault lines and gravity effects from mass variances in fault lines (especially while active) impact UFO/NHI navigational systems. They may do things like routing around, or via, fault lines.1. A new leaker: Dijkstra's algorithm and Diablo Canyon.
On May 13th, 2024, a claimed leaker on UFO/NHI related programs posted on /Aliens with details on their history with the "Program".It's a huge volume of data but one very particular passage instantly stuck out to me:
"The craft use a system that originally befuddled generations of researchers, but it's essentially a 3D dijkstra algorithm. It finds points around the craft, and chooses the most efficient possible route through space time to get to that point. Some of the parameters it uses to gauge efficiency are totally unknown to us and are a serious point of contention. It's not autonomy, but rather obstacle avoidance not unlike what you would see in a self-driving car. But, the self driving car could go through air, space and water without worrying about what medium its in. Additionally, the algo accounts for the crafts place in time."And then this surprising sentence shortly after:
"Although the algo is extremely effective, Nuclear explosions and experiments somehow interfere with this navigation. Craft particularly avoid Diablo Canyon, even if we put something they really want there."So, this Dijkstra's algorithm and Diablo Canyon.
I can find not one single prior reference to this anywhere, ever, in all of Ufology prior to that Reddit post.
I think this is entirely new, or new to the Internet for UFO topics.
In a 3D version of Dijkstra's algorithm, the algorithm extends from two-dimensional plane navigation to three-dimensional environments, making it suitable for applications such as drone flight paths, underwater vehicle navigation, or spacecraft trajectory planning. The algorithm begins at a starting node, exploring all neighboring nodes and continuously updating the shortest known distances from the start to each node, considering all possible paths. By repeating this process until the destination node is reached, the algorithm ensures that the path with the minimal total distance or cost is selected, taking into account the complexities of moving through 3D space. So, we have the introduction of a known means of navigation, that does 4D (by inclusion of a temporal parameter) mapping in this model.
Then we have the inclusion of Diablo Canyon -- but there are six of these in North America. Three of these are very close to government sites.
- Diablo Canyon Power Plant, California (nuclear)
- Nearest government: Vandenburg AFB, 35 miles south.
- Diablo Canyon, New Mexico
- Los Alamos National Laboratory, 20 miles north.
- Diablo Canyon, Washington
- Naval Air Station Whidbey Island, 70 miles northwest.
- Diablo Canyon, British Columbia, Canada
- Diablo Canyon, Utah
- Canyon Diablo, Arizona
Why would a UFO avoid a canyon?
2. Energy fields, UFO navigation and "fault lines" in gravity.
There are numerous reports and stories of things like claimed lasers, directed energy weapons/fields, and even allegedly things like RADAR having some manner of detectable impact on navigational capabilities of UFOs/NHI craft. The lore is full of this topic over time, and it aligns substantially with the scientific backgrounds of people known to be involved, like Sean M. Kirkpatrick.This caught my eye as I've been doing a lot of reading on certain much lesser-known effects of fault lines, after I learned that the home and neighborhood I lived in as a child, where a group of us saw a "saucer", was literally sat atop a small land mass completely encircled like an island by fault lines. This is not unique--there are others. But this was a wild surprise to me, and especially when the flight path of the ship we saw... once I saw the fault lines path/heading...
It was the same route. The thing we saw, once I saw the fault line maps... it was like looking at a snippet of a Google Maps route that the UFO took, for the duration of our experience seeing it. I did not know this for decades.
For the curious, the bread crumb that led down this path was not this whistleblower, fault lines, or my own experience. It was studying Lagrange Points.
What's a Lagrange point?
Positions in space where the gravitational forces of two large bodies, like Earth and the Moon, balance out the centripetal force felt by a smaller object, allowing it to remain in a stable position relative to the two larger bodies. Think of it like the mid-way point between any two bodies with mass that impact gravity. Earth/Jupiter. JupiteSun. Earth moon/Neptune. You/your cat. It's not a 50/50 thing; if you are and your cat are 10 feet away, it's not 5-foot between you. It's also impacted by gravity from other bodies within range (and range is infinite because gravity is, no matter how infinitesimal at long distances).
There is even conceptually such a place, even if it's trivial in variation, between galaxies.
Keep in mind: there are specifically named 3D mapped always-moving (as Earth/moon for example) always-in-motion Lagrange points for the Earth and Moon. Five total--but those are just the optimal ones. There would be a relative band of space where overall the gravity between bodies is more balanced.
Almost like a fault line in gravity, huh?
That, the fault line discovery related to my experience, and my (then) unrelated fault line research which was pure curiosity unrelated to UFOs... at first.
3. Piezoelectrics, Electrokinetics, and Gravitational anomalies.
So we have a new claimed 4D mapping/navigational tool by NHI UFOs, and that they go out of their way to avoid some "Diablo canyon" no matter what we do. We know definitively there are places where gravity can have relative weak spots, due to the balancing of gravitational waves/forces/mass between bodies. All bodies with mass produce gravity... including tectonic plates.But that's not all they produce in terms of energy.
Fault lines can generate three different distinct effects beyond seismic (shaking/motion) impacts on the world.
They are:
Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
Stress-induced piezoelectric effects refer to the generation of electrical charges in certain crystalline materials, such as quartz, when mechanical stress is applied. These effects are caused by tectonic stress and strain in the Earth's crust, which deforms the crystalline structures, generating electric fields. At the surface, these effects can disrupt local power grids, cause voltage fluctuations, and affect sensitive electronic equipment. In the atmosphere, piezoelectric effects can lead to changes in the ionosphere, affecting radio signal propagation and GPS accuracy up to altitudes of around 600 km. In space, the impacts are typically observed as changes in ionospheric electron density, detected by satellites in low Earth orbit (LEO), such as those at altitudes up to 1,200 km.
Additional reading:
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piezoelectricity
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seismoelectrical_method
Electrokinetic effects are electrical phenomena that occur when a fluid (such as groundwater) moves through a porous medium (like soil or rock) under the influence of a pressure gradient. These effects are caused by the movement of ionized fluids through the Earth's subsurface, which can be influenced by tectonic activity, fluid injection, or natural fluid migration. At the surface, electrokinetic effects can alter groundwater flow, impact water supply systems, and cause electrical disturbances in subsurface sensors. In the atmosphere, these effects are less direct but can influence humidity and ionization levels, which may affect weather radar and communication systems. In space, electrokinetic effects are typically not directly observed; however, related ionospheric disturbances from fluid movement in the Earth's crust can be detected by satellites at altitudes up to 1,200 km.
Additional reading:
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnetotellurics
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electrokinetic_phenomena
Gravity anomalies are variations in the Earth's gravitational field caused by differences in the distribution of mass within the Earth. These anomalies are caused by subsurface geological structures such as mountains, valleys, fault lines, and varying rock densities. On the surface, gravity anomalies can affect precise geodetic measurements, influence surveying accuracy, and impact construction projects that rely on gravitational data. In the atmosphere, gravity anomalies can slightly influence the flight paths of aircraft and atmospheric satellites, but these effects are generally minimal. In space, gravity anomalies are detected by satellites like the GRACE mission at altitudes of around 500 km, affecting satellite orbit calculations and providing data on Earth's subsurface structures and water distribution.
Additional reading:
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gravity_anomaly
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouguer_anomaly
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free-air_gravity_anomaly
4. The impact of fault lines on UFOs.
Disturbances related to stress-induced piezoelectric effects, electrokinetic effects, and gravity anomalies have been observed and recorded at various altitudes. Here are some notable examples across different categories:A) Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
- High-altitude Observations: Piezoelectric effects typically influence ground-based systems such as power grids and sensors. There is limited data on their direct impact at high altitudes. However, atmospheric electrical phenomena, such as changes in the ionosphere related to seismic activity, have been noted up to several hundred kilometers above the Earth's surface. These are often detected by satellites in low Earth orbit.
- High-altitude Observations: Electrokinetic effects primarily affect subsurface and near-surface fluid dynamics. There is no significant evidence of direct electrokinetic phenomena being observed at high altitudes. However, related atmospheric effects, such as changes in humidity or ionization, can indirectly influence atmospheric layers.
- High-altitude Observations: Gravity anomalies have been detected at high altitudes, including by aircraft and satellites. Gravity Recovery and Climate Experiment (GRACE) satellites, for example, operate at altitudes of approximately 500 km and have provided detailed maps of gravity anomalies across the Earth.
Specific High-altitude Observations
- Ionospheric Disturbances Related to Seismic Activity:
- Altitude: Up to 600 km.
- Impact: Changes in electron density in the ionosphere, detected by satellites.
- Gravity Anomalies Detected by GRACE Satellites:
- Altitude: Approximately 500 km.
- Impact: Detailed mapping of Earth's gravity field, revealing variations due to tectonic and other geological processes.
Summary
- Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects: Up to ionospheric altitudes (~600 km) via indirect atmospheric electrical phenomena.
- Electrokinetic Effects: Primarily near-surface, with no significant direct high-altitude observations.
- Gravity Anomalies: Up to satellite altitudes (~500 km), with significant observations by GRACE and similar missions.
5. Why would UFOs avoid "Diablo Canyon"?
We need to know which one it is. The most likely based on the intersection of fault lines; fault lines with impacts; and near proximity to notable UFO-related locations--Vandenburg and Los Alamos--leaves us with New Mexico and the nuclear power planet.Here are all nearby relevant fault lines for each.
This section took a substantial amount of digging/cross referencing over weeks. I had begun this for a fiction/story idea that didn't pan out, and did not save the litany of sources I read. This is a summary.
A) Diablo Canyon Power Plant, California
Hosgri Fault Zone
- Location: Offshore, running parallel to the coast near the power plant.
- Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
- Specific Locations: Documented near Avila Beach and Montaña de Oro State Park.
- Relative Strength: Moderate compared to other equivalent faults in California, such as the San Andreas Fault. The presence of quartz in the fault gouge enhances the piezoelectric effect, making it comparable to effects observed in the Garlock Fault.
- Electrokinetic Effects
- Specific Locations: Recorded near Diablo Canyon Power Plant and Morro Bay.
- Relative Strength: Comparable to electrokinetic effects seen in the Hayward Fault in California due to similar fluid movement dynamics.
- Gravity Anomalies
- Specific Locations: Detected offshore near Point Buchon and Diablo Canyon Power Plant.
- Relative Strength: Significant compared to other coastal fault zones, with variations similar to those found in the Cascadia Subduction Zone.
San Andreas Fault
- Location: Approximately 10 miles inland from the power plant at its closest point.
- Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
- Specific Locations: Parkfield, California and Hollister, California.
- Relative Strength: High, as the San Andreas Fault is one of the most studied and active fault lines globally. The piezoelectric effects are significant and comparable to those seen in other major fault systems worldwide.
- Electrokinetic Effects
- Specific Locations: San Juan Bautista, California and Carrizo Plain National Monument.
- Relative Strength: Significant, due to extensive fluid movement and high seismic activity. Comparable to effects observed in the Wasatch Fault Zone.
- Gravity Anomalies
- Specific Locations: Palmdale, California and San Bernardino, California.
- Relative Strength: Very high, with anomalies providing critical insights into fault mechanics. Similar to those in the New Madrid Seismic Zone.
Shoreline Fault
- Location: Discovered in 2008, runs very close to the plant, offshore and parallel to the coastline.
- Length: Approximately 25 miles.
- Within 5 miles: The Shoreline Fault comes within 5 miles of the Diablo Canyon Power Plant.
- Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
- Specific Locations: Nearshore areas close to Diablo Canyon Power Plant.
- Relative Strength: Potential effects are moderate, with less documentation compared to major faults.
- Electrokinetic Effects
- Specific Locations: Offshore areas near the power plant.
- Relative Strength: Comparable to minor faults in coastal regions.
- Gravity Anomalies
- Specific Locations: Offshore near Diablo Cove.
- Relative Strength: Minor, indicating subtle density changes.
Los Osos Fault
- Location: Within 10 miles of the power plant.
- Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
- Specific Locations: Los Osos Valley.
- Relative Strength: Minor compared to major faults but notable within the local context.
- Electrokinetic Effects
- Specific Locations: Areas with significant groundwater flow near Los Osos.
- Relative Strength: Comparable to small, groundwater-rich fault zones.
- Gravity Anomalies
- Specific Locations: Los Osos Valley.
- Relative Strength: Minor anomalies detected.
B) Diablo Canyon, New Mexico
Embudo Fault
- Location: Within 20 miles of Diablo Canyon.
- Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
- Specific Locations: Near Dixon and Pilar, New Mexico.
- Relative Strength: Moderate compared to other faults in the Rio Grande Rift. Similar effects to those observed in the East African Rift.
- Electrokinetic Effects
- Specific Locations: Near Embudo, New Mexico.
- Relative Strength: Moderate, consistent with other active rift zones with significant groundwater interaction.
- Gravity Anomalies
- Specific Locations: Near the town of Española, New Mexico.
- Relative Strength: Significant, providing insight into the rift's complex tectonic structure. Comparable to anomalies in the Basin and Range Province.
Pajarito Fault
- Location: Within 20 miles of Diablo Canyon.
- Stress-induced Piezoelectric Effects
- Specific Locations: Near Los Alamos, New Mexico.
- Relative Strength: High, due to active seismicity and the presence of stress.
- Electrokinetic Effects
- Specific Locations: Near White Rock, New Mexico.
- Relative Strength: Significant, due to active groundwater flow in the region.
- Gravity Anomalies
- Specific Locations: Near Los Alamos National Laboratory.
- Relative Strength: Notable, with detailed mapping providing insights into fault mechanics.
6. Conclusion
Simply, some variables on the navigational systems of the UFO craft which rely on precise 4-dimensional mapping for their navigational system, with implied near real time adjustments across all parameters, are negatively impacted by unexpected or significant enough to not be able to compensate for impacts from native Earth effects generated by tectonic plate actions, in specific key locations.I'd often suspected if there was something like this related to the handful of known crashes, and them seeming to be concentrated in certain areas. With this leaker, we see another few possible pieces of a puzzle filling.
Are they legitimate? We obviously can't tell, today. But this new data sure does align with:
- Reports of the USA trying to "bait" UFOs.
- Reports of the USA utilizing nuclear facilities to this end.
- UFO engagement with nuclear sites.
- UFOs reportedly avoiding certain areas, not limited to prior crash locations.
- UFOs reportedly being seen over time in the same places or repeated routes/locations.
- The USA getting big into gravity research along these lines (gravity scanners for military).
- Elizondo references to LIGO.
- And more beyond, that I'm sure more of you can recite from memory than I could.
If anyone wants to run with this or research equivalent sites in other parts of the world and their intersection with UFOs/UAPs, this may be a worthwhile rabbit hole for pursuit.
2024.05.15 00:11 ar_david_hh Second Iran bridge \\ Army command exercises \\ Pro-West parties unite \\ Pashinyan: I will have one EU with some fries and ketchup, please \\ Day 6 of Ninth Crusade: Archbishop vs. Deputy Rector \\ Bentley tax? \\ Yerevan's €25M project \\ Global warming & Sevan \\ Wage stats \\ Gago's Jesus
14-minute read.
Syunik +7% to ֏295K/$760
Shirak +7% to ֏142K/$366
Yerevan had the highest wages. Syunik had the highest wages among provinces, while Shirak had the lowest.
REPORT: While the average nominal monthly salary does not always show the level of economic prosperity in a region, its rise has made a tangible difference in Syunik.
SUREN PARSYAN (economist): Syunik has higher wages and strong employment. It is the most prosperous province with the lowest unemployment rate in Armenia: 24% in Armenia, 15% in Yerevan, and 2% in Syunik.
REPORT: Over the last 5 years, the average monthly nominal salaries have risen by 40% while the inflation was 21%.
source,
They will use automated control systems and modern technologies during the exercises.
source,
source,
Now the situation is totally different; citizens know that they are powerful enough to decide. The two general elections that were held in Armenia after the Velvet Revolution have been acknowledged as democratic, free, and competitive both by the Armenian society and the international community.
Armenia made huge progress in strengthening the democratic institutions, an achievement reflected in reputable democracy indexes:
(a) Now we are the 43rd in the Reporters Without Borders’ Freedom of Speech index, compared to 79th place in 2017.
(b) Categorized as having partially free internet in 2017 by Freedom House, now we enjoy the status of a country with free internet.
(c) In Transparency International’s Corruption Perception Index, Armenia is now 62nd instead of 107th in 2017.
(d) In the Economist Intelligence Unit’s democracy index we are 84th compared to 111th in 2017.
In order to assess this progress, it's essential to note that alongside democratic reforms, Armenia has been contending with external security challenges: the 44-day war in Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan's invasion of Armenia in 2021 and 2022 and the occupation of over 200 km2 amid inaction by [Russia's] CSTO, the forced displacement of over 100,000 Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh, have cast doubts among Armenian citizens weather democracy is the right choice. So, democracy needs to prove its efficiency while dealing with security, economic and humanitarian challenges.
We are pleased with the deployment of EU monitoring mission alongside the Armenian-Azerbaijani border, and we welcome EU’s decision to expand its capacity. On the other hand, we hope for the inclusion of Armenia into the European Peace Facility and in this regard, we rely on the support of all EU member states [Hungary].
A new set of commitments aimed at strengthening Armenia’s economic resilience, state institutions, and addressing the humanitarian needs of refugees has been taken on by the European Union and United States during the high-level meeting on April 5 in Brussels. The rapid and effective implementation of those commitments is of utmost importance.
Despite all the challenges, we believe that the real and most aspiring companion for democracy is lasting and sustainable peace. My government took the share of its responsibility for this. Recently we reached an agreement with Azerbaijan to launch the delimitation of our interstate borders on the basis of the Almaty Declaration of 1991. That means that during the delimitation we should simply reproduce the Soviet-era administrative borders. This is the implementation of the agreement reached in Prague in 2022. Now it is time to incorporate and reflect those agreements in the peace treaty and have it signed.
Another key point for our regional stability is the «Crossroads of Peace», project, initiated by my government. This project implies that Armenia and Azerbaijan restore and open transport and other communications in accordance with the sovereignty and jurisdiction of the countries through which they pass, and comply with the principles of equality and reciprocity. These elements of the concept were agreed upon during the July 2023 meeting with Ilham Aliyev and Charles Michel. //
PASHINYAN: I would not like to comment on the internal situation of our neighboring countries. Democracy fully corresponds to the mentality of our people. It is a strategy for our government, it is our political belief, it is also our political identity. The members of our political team have spent most of their lives fighting for democracy, the rule of law, and freedom of speech. Now we have the opportunity to realize all these values in our country.
The security situation was complicated because of the regional and global situation; the world order is collapsing at the moment. My assessment is, and I have had occasion to say this publicly, that the 2020 war was a prelude to further developments. And now the main issue is security.
What is our strategic point of view, how are we going to guarantee the security of our country? Recently, I gave a speech in our parliament, where I said that the most important tool for ensuring security is a foreign policy based on legitimacy. This is the reason why we so often speak about the 1991 Almaty Declaration.
It is very important that during the 2022 Prague meeting, two very important agreements were reached. Armenia and Azerbaijan recognize each other's territorial integrity and sovereignty on the basis of the Almaty Declaration and will use it as the basis for the border demarcation. This is the reason why I said that we are not drawing a new border, we just need to reproduce the existing one on the ground. This process is happening right now, and I hope that we will continue it steadfastly.
REPORTER: The border conflict that has occurred in recent years has had a negative impact on relations with Russia and Russia's role for Armenia. What would you say about this?
PASHINYAN: Armenia is a member of CSTO. We are officially a CSTO member, but I have announced that we have frozen our participation.
REPORTER: So are you still a member or...?
PASHINYAN: It is a matter for further discussion, but it is very important to record the current situation. A crisis arose in our relations after Azerbaijani troops invaded Armenia, and according to CSTO procedures, the Organization and its member states had to support Armenia in this situation. But even after the formal application, the CSTO refused to take any concrete steps, and in fact, that is the main reason for freezing our participation in the CSTO at all levels.
REPORTER: Do you expect the West to occupy the current vacuum and ensure your security?
PASHINYAN: We are diversifying our foreign relations in all spheres. Now we are developing defense cooperation with India, France, and other countries. We have a certain cooperation with the European Union because as I mentioned, we are happy about the deployment of the EU Civilian Observation Mission on the border. It is a civilian mission but in a way, it is a new factor for the security of our region. This is the first time that the European Union participates in the security agenda of Armenia.
REPORTER: Would you like to become an EU member?
PASHINYAN: We are waiting for the EU's decision to include Armenia in the European Peace Facility. We also hope to start visa liberalization negotiations, and last year I announced in the European Parliament that Armenia is ready to be as close to the European Union as the European Union deems it possible. This is our position.
REPORTER: Can you elaborate on what initiatives Armenia is taking in the fight against corruption?
PASHINYAN: We have made huge progress but have not eradicated corruption from Armenia. We must continue to be persistent in the agenda of democratic reforms. This is the reason why cooperation with the European Union is of utmost importance for us because today the European Union is our main partner in the implementation of our democratic reform agenda. We hope that the European Union, as well as the USA, will increase their support to Armenia in the implementation of democratic reforms, because, as I said, democracy is a strategy for us.
By the way, in 2019 we started a Strategic Dialogue with the USA, and today we see the strengthening of our cooperation with the European Union. We recently had a tripartite meeting with the participation of the USA, EU, and Armenia. It was an unprecedented format, where we adopted a huge agenda of institutional and economic reforms. It is also very important that we receive more tangible support from the EU and the US to address the humanitarian needs of the Nagorno Karabakh refugees because it is a very sensitive and emotional issue for us.
REPORTER: In which year would you like Armenia to become a member of the EU?
PASHINYAN: This year [as soon as possible]. //
Pashinyan met Anders Fogh Rasmussen. The latter emphasized the importance of the “Crossroads of Peace” project in the context of unblocking the regional infrastructure.
Pashinyan discussed various topics with the PM of Denmark. The latter accepted his invitation to visit Armenia.
full video, source, video, other, other, source, video,
Dozens of participants were detained and released the same day for blocking roads. The detentions decreased from 170 on Monday to ~63 on Tuesday. They want Pashinyan to resign or to be impeached. The protest organizers visited universities to gather student supporters, some of whom joined them with a dance. The organizers also stopped by at a bakery where they were given free food.
A felony investigation was launched after a police vehicle, "with the sirens on", struck a reporter on the street. In another instance, an investigation was launched against a protester who brought a long sword. One other case was launched over alleged threats made on Facebook by a Galstanyan fan who wants scores of people to be beaten in dalans and exiled from Armenia, "մենակ էտ դեպքում էս սրբազան հողը կմաքրվի էս տեսակ շան ծնունդներից, ուրիշ ձև չկա!!!!"
ԳԼՈՒԽ 2
A ruling faction member of Yerevan City Council complained about "harassment" by opposition figures who are attempting to convince ruling party members to join the protests and the impeachment.
RULING MEMBER: That is not how it works. No one will join you with that conduct. People will join if they see you have a legitimate agenda with trustworthy leaders. Instead, you are "ethnically cleansing" the citizens of Armenia [referring to one opposition speaker telling non-Armenians to leave] և հեռու չէ են օրը երբ դուք գուցե ասեք որ հայ լինելու համար պետք է Հայկ նահապետից տեղեկանք բերել: //
ԳԼՈՒԽ 3
Yesterday the protest co-organizer Archbishop Bagrat Galstanyan said he received a report suggesting that the Deputy Rector of Yerevan State University supposedly urged deans and others to retaliate against students who joined the protests. Galstanyan said he was unsure whether the report was true, but decided to read it out loud anyway. On Tuesday he rallied his supporters to the backyard of the University where he demanded to speak with the Deputy Rector for clarification.
The Deputy Rector went downstairs and greeted Galstanyan, who shook her hand but wouldn't let it go for an uncomfortably long period, prompting her to ask him to let go of her hand. The Deputy Rector declared that whatever Galstanyan read about her was a defamatory lie.
GALSTANYAN: I never believed it myself.
DEPUTY RECTOR: Then you should not have said out loud something you did not believe.
GALSTANYAN: Listen, there is a recorded fact...
DEPUTY RECTOR: Where is that "recorded fact"?
GALSTANYAN: It was on the media. As I said yesterday, I had no verification that it was true, which is why we came here to clarify it. If it's false, then I apologize.
DEPUTY RECTOR: Thank you. //
The Deputy Rector urged the protest organizers not to enter the building or disrupt the classes, and that "anyone who wants to follow you can follow you, anyone who wants to stay in classrooms should stay in classrooms".
The angry Deputy Rector left. Another university official criticized Galstanyan for not checking the information before reading it to his followers. Galstanyan said he stands behind his words, and that he was "just reading what was on the media", but reiterated that he had no intention to insult the Deputy Rector.
ԳԼՈՒԽ 4
Galstanyan and his supporters visited the monument dedicated to Operation Nemesis. He praised the figures behind Nemesis for "assuming personal responsibility". In front of the crowd, Galstanyan introduced Hambig Sassounian who recently joined his movement. He pointed to the Nemesis monument and said Sassounian is "one of the successors, one of the brightest people." In related news, on Sunday a ruling faction MP complained about receiving death threats with reference to Operation Nemesis.
ԳԼՈՒԽ 5
DANIEL IOANNESIAN (NGO chief): When this protest dies down, we need to discuss the following: (1) The transparency of political and media funding. There are some regulations in place, but they are incomplete and easily bypassed. For example, I'd like to know who paid for Archbishop Galstanyan's giant stage in Republic Square. In 2018 Pashinyan organized a fundraising for it and disclosed a detailed report. (2) Should the media organizations that do not respect the rules of financial transparency enjoy all the mechanisms for the protection of journalists? (3) Are the customs authorities confident that the church is not facilitating the business activities of certain figures disguised as donations? (4) Is it fair for the church and clergy members not to pay taxes? Should they be able to have a Bently and LX570 without paying taxes? [The "Bentley" is based on a true story.]
ԳԼՈՒԽ 6
Archbishop's fans spotted Miss Armenia 2003 and a H1 host Lusine Tovmasyan drinking a coffee at a Yerevan café and approached her.
PROTESTER: (unintelligable)
LUSINE: I was here drinking coffee yesterday, and a year before that.
PROTESTER: Why have you not joined the holy struggle?
LUSINE: Լավ եկեք թարգեք, շատ զզվելի ա, էնքան զզվելի ա․ //
ԳԼՈՒԽ 7
Pro-Kremlin propagandist Alexander Dugin praised the pro-Russian forces' protests in Armenia and criticized the pro-EU protests in Georgia.
Pro-Kremlin Russian politician Semyon Baghdasarov praised Archbishop Bagrat and the ongoing "uprising" in Armenia against the "traitor" [Nikol] who "rigged" the elections with the help of "Turkey, UK, and US". Nikol is a Turkish MI6 agent. video,
ԳԼՈՒԽ 8
Video of a protest recorded from above: video
source, video, video, video, video, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, video,
REPORTER: ARF Hay Dat's recent conduct has been shameful.
KHURSHUDYAN: And its influence on the Lemkin Institute was obvious. //
Yesterday Kurshudyan accused the Lemkin Institute of caving to ARF's pressure and meddling into Armenia's internal affairs to assist the protests by the pro-Russian former regime.
KHURSHUDYAN: Lemkin Institute accused Pashinyan's April 24 genocide remembrance day statement of containing "victim blaming". Lemkin did not comment on Pashinyan's statement for several weeks, waited 15 days, and as soon as these pro-Russian protests began in Armenia, they gave them a պաս:
source,
Hanun Republic Party, led by Arman Babajanyan.
European Party of Armenia, led by Tigran Khzmalyan.
Christian-Democratic Party, led by Levon Shirinyan.
Have the following agenda...
(1) Promotion of Western values in Armenia and Armenia's membership in EU and NATO.
(2) United front against threats and risks of destabilization coming from Russia.
(3) Vetting judges to clean up the courts, and resolution of issues left unaddressed by the Pashinyan administration.
(4) Continuation of border demarcation based on 1991 Almaty.
(5) The use of international law to achieve a fair resolution for Nagorno-Karabakh residents.
The platform is open for like-minded forces to join.
source,
source,
The bill will be sent to the President who is expected to veto it, but her veto is expected to be overruled by the parliamentary majority later.
Georgian PM Kobakhidze had an "honest conversation" with U.S. deputy foreign minister James O'Brien, telling him that the Georgian government is interested in deepening the partnership with the U.S., "which requires mutual efforts and relations based on fairness."
James O'Brien demanded to speak with the manager - Bidza Ivanishvili. The latter refused to meet O'Brien, saying he won't hold any meetings under "blackmail".
The White House said the U.S. will review its relations with Georgia if the bill becomes law.
source, source, source,
Dec: 6.6K
Jan: 6.9K
Mar: 8.0K
Apr: 9.1K
May: 9.9K
The former Ombudsman of Nagorno-Karabakh said many of them have family members and friends in Russia who invite them to move.
source,
WEATHER CENTER: High temperatures increase the evaporation of water and reduce the amount of snow in the winter. In December and January, we recorded rain instead of snow in certain mountainous regions, which is bad for water resources.
REPORTER: A conference was recently held in Yerevan within the framework of the UN Convention to Combat Desertification.
UN official: Around 40% of global soils are degraded. Millions of people will be forced to migrate from their communities by 2050 as a result of climate problems. Emergency action is needed to reduce the rate of rising temperatures. //
Armenia joined the Convention three decades ago and has assumed the responsibility to restore degraded soil by 2030. The government is promoting drip irrigation systems for farming and wants to plant more trees.
video,
The goal is to raise energy efficiency and carry out seismic retrofitting in 6 medical clinics and 32 kindergartens run by the municipality. The length of the program is 4 years.
video, video,
see it to believe it
video,
source,
Iran says the AM-IR traffic through the Meghri checkpoint significantly increased last year. Coupled with the fact that Armenia is building a modern North-South highway, they believe it's necessary to have a second AM-IR bridge to handle the rising traffic.
The parties are currently discussing the formation of a working group consisting of experts to discuss the topic.
source,
The findings show that the clearance of the dye was reduced by 30% in sleeping mice compared with mice that were kept awake. This has not been confirmed on humans yet.
Previous research has suggested that sleep is important for preventing dementia as it is during this time that toxic proteins are cleared from the brain.
source, source,
submitted by ar_david_hh to armenia [link] [comments]
average monthly nominal salaries and YoY change in Q1 2024
Yerevan +8% to ֏324K/$836Syunik +7% to ֏295K/$760
Shirak +7% to ֏142K/$366
Yerevan had the highest wages. Syunik had the highest wages among provinces, while Shirak had the lowest.
REPORT: While the average nominal monthly salary does not always show the level of economic prosperity in a region, its rise has made a tangible difference in Syunik.
SUREN PARSYAN (economist): Syunik has higher wages and strong employment. It is the most prosperous province with the lowest unemployment rate in Armenia: 24% in Armenia, 15% in Yerevan, and 2% in Syunik.
REPORT: Over the last 5 years, the average monthly nominal salaries have risen by 40% while the inflation was 21%.
source,
Armenian army launches command staff exercises
They will exercise the practical implementation of deployment and combat plans, evaluate the commanders' skills, improve the synchronized work between various groups, develop the officers' moral characteristics and practical skills during preparation and combat operations, etc.They will use automated control systems and modern technologies during the exercises.
source,
Armenia and India will form a new working group for defense cooperation
Defense ministries of AM and IN held a meeting on Tuesday. They discussed the 2024-2025 cooperation plan and the creation of a new working group to coordinate the cooperation.source,
from PM Pashinyan's speech at Copenhagen Democracy Summit:
PASHINYAN: Democracy has indeed become a reality in Armenia. Before the 2018 Velvet Revolution, massive electoral frauds were the usual companion of elections in Armenia. There was no trust among the citizens that there was a real chance for them to elect the government.Now the situation is totally different; citizens know that they are powerful enough to decide. The two general elections that were held in Armenia after the Velvet Revolution have been acknowledged as democratic, free, and competitive both by the Armenian society and the international community.
Armenia made huge progress in strengthening the democratic institutions, an achievement reflected in reputable democracy indexes:
(a) Now we are the 43rd in the Reporters Without Borders’ Freedom of Speech index, compared to 79th place in 2017.
(b) Categorized as having partially free internet in 2017 by Freedom House, now we enjoy the status of a country with free internet.
(c) In Transparency International’s Corruption Perception Index, Armenia is now 62nd instead of 107th in 2017.
(d) In the Economist Intelligence Unit’s democracy index we are 84th compared to 111th in 2017.
In order to assess this progress, it's essential to note that alongside democratic reforms, Armenia has been contending with external security challenges: the 44-day war in Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan's invasion of Armenia in 2021 and 2022 and the occupation of over 200 km2 amid inaction by [Russia's] CSTO, the forced displacement of over 100,000 Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh, have cast doubts among Armenian citizens weather democracy is the right choice. So, democracy needs to prove its efficiency while dealing with security, economic and humanitarian challenges.
We are pleased with the deployment of EU monitoring mission alongside the Armenian-Azerbaijani border, and we welcome EU’s decision to expand its capacity. On the other hand, we hope for the inclusion of Armenia into the European Peace Facility and in this regard, we rely on the support of all EU member states [Hungary].
A new set of commitments aimed at strengthening Armenia’s economic resilience, state institutions, and addressing the humanitarian needs of refugees has been taken on by the European Union and United States during the high-level meeting on April 5 in Brussels. The rapid and effective implementation of those commitments is of utmost importance.
Despite all the challenges, we believe that the real and most aspiring companion for democracy is lasting and sustainable peace. My government took the share of its responsibility for this. Recently we reached an agreement with Azerbaijan to launch the delimitation of our interstate borders on the basis of the Almaty Declaration of 1991. That means that during the delimitation we should simply reproduce the Soviet-era administrative borders. This is the implementation of the agreement reached in Prague in 2022. Now it is time to incorporate and reflect those agreements in the peace treaty and have it signed.
Another key point for our regional stability is the «Crossroads of Peace», project, initiated by my government. This project implies that Armenia and Azerbaijan restore and open transport and other communications in accordance with the sovereignty and jurisdiction of the countries through which they pass, and comply with the principles of equality and reciprocity. These elements of the concept were agreed upon during the July 2023 meeting with Ilham Aliyev and Charles Michel. //
... Politico reporter's Q&A with Pashinyan
REPORTER: [Ex-NATO leader] Anders Fogh Rasmussen called your neighbor an autocracy. You are in a very difficult geopolitical and geographical position. How do you solve the security problem in that environment?PASHINYAN: I would not like to comment on the internal situation of our neighboring countries. Democracy fully corresponds to the mentality of our people. It is a strategy for our government, it is our political belief, it is also our political identity. The members of our political team have spent most of their lives fighting for democracy, the rule of law, and freedom of speech. Now we have the opportunity to realize all these values in our country.
The security situation was complicated because of the regional and global situation; the world order is collapsing at the moment. My assessment is, and I have had occasion to say this publicly, that the 2020 war was a prelude to further developments. And now the main issue is security.
What is our strategic point of view, how are we going to guarantee the security of our country? Recently, I gave a speech in our parliament, where I said that the most important tool for ensuring security is a foreign policy based on legitimacy. This is the reason why we so often speak about the 1991 Almaty Declaration.
It is very important that during the 2022 Prague meeting, two very important agreements were reached. Armenia and Azerbaijan recognize each other's territorial integrity and sovereignty on the basis of the Almaty Declaration and will use it as the basis for the border demarcation. This is the reason why I said that we are not drawing a new border, we just need to reproduce the existing one on the ground. This process is happening right now, and I hope that we will continue it steadfastly.
REPORTER: The border conflict that has occurred in recent years has had a negative impact on relations with Russia and Russia's role for Armenia. What would you say about this?
PASHINYAN: Armenia is a member of CSTO. We are officially a CSTO member, but I have announced that we have frozen our participation.
REPORTER: So are you still a member or...?
PASHINYAN: It is a matter for further discussion, but it is very important to record the current situation. A crisis arose in our relations after Azerbaijani troops invaded Armenia, and according to CSTO procedures, the Organization and its member states had to support Armenia in this situation. But even after the formal application, the CSTO refused to take any concrete steps, and in fact, that is the main reason for freezing our participation in the CSTO at all levels.
REPORTER: Do you expect the West to occupy the current vacuum and ensure your security?
PASHINYAN: We are diversifying our foreign relations in all spheres. Now we are developing defense cooperation with India, France, and other countries. We have a certain cooperation with the European Union because as I mentioned, we are happy about the deployment of the EU Civilian Observation Mission on the border. It is a civilian mission but in a way, it is a new factor for the security of our region. This is the first time that the European Union participates in the security agenda of Armenia.
REPORTER: Would you like to become an EU member?
PASHINYAN: We are waiting for the EU's decision to include Armenia in the European Peace Facility. We also hope to start visa liberalization negotiations, and last year I announced in the European Parliament that Armenia is ready to be as close to the European Union as the European Union deems it possible. This is our position.
REPORTER: Can you elaborate on what initiatives Armenia is taking in the fight against corruption?
PASHINYAN: We have made huge progress but have not eradicated corruption from Armenia. We must continue to be persistent in the agenda of democratic reforms. This is the reason why cooperation with the European Union is of utmost importance for us because today the European Union is our main partner in the implementation of our democratic reform agenda. We hope that the European Union, as well as the USA, will increase their support to Armenia in the implementation of democratic reforms, because, as I said, democracy is a strategy for us.
By the way, in 2019 we started a Strategic Dialogue with the USA, and today we see the strengthening of our cooperation with the European Union. We recently had a tripartite meeting with the participation of the USA, EU, and Armenia. It was an unprecedented format, where we adopted a huge agenda of institutional and economic reforms. It is also very important that we receive more tangible support from the EU and the US to address the humanitarian needs of the Nagorno Karabakh refugees because it is a very sensitive and emotional issue for us.
REPORTER: In which year would you like Armenia to become a member of the EU?
PASHINYAN: This year [as soon as possible]. //
Pashinyan met Anders Fogh Rasmussen. The latter emphasized the importance of the “Crossroads of Peace” project in the context of unblocking the regional infrastructure.
Pashinyan discussed various topics with the PM of Denmark. The latter accepted his invitation to visit Armenia.
full video, source, video, other, other, source, video,
former regime continues to hold protests and briefly shut down roads in Yerevan with demands for PM Pashinyan's resignation
ԳԼՈՒԽ 1Dozens of participants were detained and released the same day for blocking roads. The detentions decreased from 170 on Monday to ~63 on Tuesday. They want Pashinyan to resign or to be impeached. The protest organizers visited universities to gather student supporters, some of whom joined them with a dance. The organizers also stopped by at a bakery where they were given free food.
A felony investigation was launched after a police vehicle, "with the sirens on", struck a reporter on the street. In another instance, an investigation was launched against a protester who brought a long sword. One other case was launched over alleged threats made on Facebook by a Galstanyan fan who wants scores of people to be beaten in dalans and exiled from Armenia, "մենակ էտ դեպքում էս սրբազան հողը կմաքրվի էս տեսակ շան ծնունդներից, ուրիշ ձև չկա!!!!"
ԳԼՈՒԽ 2
A ruling faction member of Yerevan City Council complained about "harassment" by opposition figures who are attempting to convince ruling party members to join the protests and the impeachment.
RULING MEMBER: That is not how it works. No one will join you with that conduct. People will join if they see you have a legitimate agenda with trustworthy leaders. Instead, you are "ethnically cleansing" the citizens of Armenia [referring to one opposition speaker telling non-Armenians to leave] և հեռու չէ են օրը երբ դուք գուցե ասեք որ հայ լինելու համար պետք է Հայկ նահապետից տեղեկանք բերել: //
ԳԼՈՒԽ 3
Yesterday the protest co-organizer Archbishop Bagrat Galstanyan said he received a report suggesting that the Deputy Rector of Yerevan State University supposedly urged deans and others to retaliate against students who joined the protests. Galstanyan said he was unsure whether the report was true, but decided to read it out loud anyway. On Tuesday he rallied his supporters to the backyard of the University where he demanded to speak with the Deputy Rector for clarification.
The Deputy Rector went downstairs and greeted Galstanyan, who shook her hand but wouldn't let it go for an uncomfortably long period, prompting her to ask him to let go of her hand. The Deputy Rector declared that whatever Galstanyan read about her was a defamatory lie.
GALSTANYAN: I never believed it myself.
DEPUTY RECTOR: Then you should not have said out loud something you did not believe.
GALSTANYAN: Listen, there is a recorded fact...
DEPUTY RECTOR: Where is that "recorded fact"?
GALSTANYAN: It was on the media. As I said yesterday, I had no verification that it was true, which is why we came here to clarify it. If it's false, then I apologize.
DEPUTY RECTOR: Thank you. //
The Deputy Rector urged the protest organizers not to enter the building or disrupt the classes, and that "anyone who wants to follow you can follow you, anyone who wants to stay in classrooms should stay in classrooms".
The angry Deputy Rector left. Another university official criticized Galstanyan for not checking the information before reading it to his followers. Galstanyan said he stands behind his words, and that he was "just reading what was on the media", but reiterated that he had no intention to insult the Deputy Rector.
ԳԼՈՒԽ 4
Galstanyan and his supporters visited the monument dedicated to Operation Nemesis. He praised the figures behind Nemesis for "assuming personal responsibility". In front of the crowd, Galstanyan introduced Hambig Sassounian who recently joined his movement. He pointed to the Nemesis monument and said Sassounian is "one of the successors, one of the brightest people." In related news, on Sunday a ruling faction MP complained about receiving death threats with reference to Operation Nemesis.
ԳԼՈՒԽ 5
DANIEL IOANNESIAN (NGO chief): When this protest dies down, we need to discuss the following: (1) The transparency of political and media funding. There are some regulations in place, but they are incomplete and easily bypassed. For example, I'd like to know who paid for Archbishop Galstanyan's giant stage in Republic Square. In 2018 Pashinyan organized a fundraising for it and disclosed a detailed report. (2) Should the media organizations that do not respect the rules of financial transparency enjoy all the mechanisms for the protection of journalists? (3) Are the customs authorities confident that the church is not facilitating the business activities of certain figures disguised as donations? (4) Is it fair for the church and clergy members not to pay taxes? Should they be able to have a Bently and LX570 without paying taxes? [The "Bentley" is based on a true story.]
ԳԼՈՒԽ 6
Archbishop's fans spotted Miss Armenia 2003 and a H1 host Lusine Tovmasyan drinking a coffee at a Yerevan café and approached her.
PROTESTER: (unintelligable)
LUSINE: I was here drinking coffee yesterday, and a year before that.
PROTESTER: Why have you not joined the holy struggle?
LUSINE: Լավ եկեք թարգեք, շատ զզվելի ա, էնքան զզվելի ա․ //
ԳԼՈՒԽ 7
Pro-Kremlin propagandist Alexander Dugin praised the pro-Russian forces' protests in Armenia and criticized the pro-EU protests in Georgia.
Pro-Kremlin Russian politician Semyon Baghdasarov praised Archbishop Bagrat and the ongoing "uprising" in Armenia against the "traitor" [Nikol] who "rigged" the elections with the help of "Turkey, UK, and US". Nikol is a Turkish MI6 agent. video,
ԳԼՈՒԽ 8
Video of a protest recorded from above: video
source, video, video, video, video, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, video,
Armenian government has upgraded other diplomatic channels to reduce reliance on ARF's diaspora structures in the US, says pro-West NGO chief
KHURSHUDYAN: The status of the Armenian Ambassador to the U.S. [Lilith Makunts] has been significantly upgraded. I won't go into specifics because it's tied to our neighbors, but she plays an interesting role there. We have great conditions for the U.S. Congress to pressure Azerbaijan. This is outside of ARF's lobbyist groups in the U.S.REPORTER: ARF Hay Dat's recent conduct has been shameful.
KHURSHUDYAN: And its influence on the Lemkin Institute was obvious. //
Yesterday Kurshudyan accused the Lemkin Institute of caving to ARF's pressure and meddling into Armenia's internal affairs to assist the protests by the pro-Russian former regime.
KHURSHUDYAN: Lemkin Institute accused Pashinyan's April 24 genocide remembrance day statement of containing "victim blaming". Lemkin did not comment on Pashinyan's statement for several weeks, waited 15 days, and as soon as these pro-Russian protests began in Armenia, they gave them a պաս:
source,
Armenia's four most prominent pro-West opposition parties announce the formation of a unified platform
Republic Party, led by ex-PM Aram Sargsyan.Hanun Republic Party, led by Arman Babajanyan.
European Party of Armenia, led by Tigran Khzmalyan.
Christian-Democratic Party, led by Levon Shirinyan.
Have the following agenda...
(1) Promotion of Western values in Armenia and Armenia's membership in EU and NATO.
(2) United front against threats and risks of destabilization coming from Russia.
(3) Vetting judges to clean up the courts, and resolution of issues left unaddressed by the Pashinyan administration.
(4) Continuation of border demarcation based on 1991 Almaty.
(5) The use of international law to achieve a fair resolution for Nagorno-Karabakh residents.
The platform is open for like-minded forces to join.
source,
Armenian army chief denies being a Russian citizen
A statement released by the defense ministry denies media reports that CoGS LtGen Edward Asryan is a dual citizen of Russia. His wife is an ethnic Russian with Armenian citizenship and his kids are dual citizens, but Asryan only has citizenship in Armenia. The whole family has resided in Armenia since 2006, said the statement.source,
Georgia passes controversial ‘foreign agents’ bill despite widespread opposition
The law will require organizations receiving more than 20% of their funding from abroad to register as “agents of foreign influence” or face crippling fines.The bill will be sent to the President who is expected to veto it, but her veto is expected to be overruled by the parliamentary majority later.
Georgian PM Kobakhidze had an "honest conversation" with U.S. deputy foreign minister James O'Brien, telling him that the Georgian government is interested in deepening the partnership with the U.S., "which requires mutual efforts and relations based on fairness."
James O'Brien demanded to speak with the manager - Bidza Ivanishvili. The latter refused to meet O'Brien, saying he won't hold any meetings under "blackmail".
The White House said the U.S. will review its relations with Georgia if the bill becomes law.
source, source, source,
how many of the 101,000 Nagorno-Karabakh refugees have left Armenia and haven't returned yet?
As of...Dec: 6.6K
Jan: 6.9K
Mar: 8.0K
Apr: 9.1K
May: 9.9K
The former Ombudsman of Nagorno-Karabakh said many of them have family members and friends in Russia who invite them to move.
source,
temperatures are rising rapidly in Armenia
REPORTER: The rainy May is not going to be enough to alleviate the negative consequences of the rapidly rising temperatures in Armenia. With a ~3 Celsius anomaly, Armenia had the second-highest increase in temperature over the last 6 months among a group of monitored countries.WEATHER CENTER: High temperatures increase the evaporation of water and reduce the amount of snow in the winter. In December and January, we recorded rain instead of snow in certain mountainous regions, which is bad for water resources.
REPORTER: A conference was recently held in Yerevan within the framework of the UN Convention to Combat Desertification.
UN official: Around 40% of global soils are degraded. Millions of people will be forced to migrate from their communities by 2050 as a result of climate problems. Emergency action is needed to reduce the rate of rising temperatures. //
Armenia joined the Convention three decades ago and has assumed the responsibility to restore degraded soil by 2030. The government is promoting drip irrigation systems for farming and wants to plant more trees.
video,
is the decline of Lake Sevan levels finally slowing down?
see the YoY chartYerevan Municipality to receive a €25 million loan from European Investment Bank to raise energy efficiency
It's part of the implementation of Eastern Partnership programs. The Armenian government and the EU are co-financing it.The goal is to raise energy efficiency and carry out seismic retrofitting in 6 medical clinics and 32 kindergartens run by the municipality. The length of the program is 4 years.
video, video,
Gagik Tsarukyan is inside you
there is a bit of Tsarukyan inside all of yousee it to believe it
Gagik Tsarukyan says the new Jesus statue is ready and will be installed by the end of 2025
It will be a tourist attraction site. There will be a ropeway. Also, Tsarukyan needs you to know that he is a man of God and an avid believer.video,
Armenia and Slovakia discussed AM-EU visa liberalization
source,Lithuania will help retrain Armenian law enforcement agents to combat cybercrime, analyze crimes, etc.
source,Armenia's Economy Minister Papoyan met the U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Energy Resources Geoffrey Pyatt
In a Washington meeting participated by the Armenian Ministry delegation and Armenia's Ambassador, they spoke about the Crossroads of Peace logistics project proposed by Armenia, several topics relating to Armenia's energy and economic security, and the Armenian government's ongoing efforts to classify Armenia as a "market economy".source,
Armenia and Iran discussed the construction of a second bridge over the River Araks
The first bridge began operating in 1996. It came to replace the floating bridges on the river.Iran says the AM-IR traffic through the Meghri checkpoint significantly increased last year. Coupled with the fact that Armenia is building a modern North-South highway, they believe it's necessary to have a second AM-IR bridge to handle the rising traffic.
The parties are currently discussing the formation of a working group consisting of experts to discuss the topic.
source,
a new study on mice indicates that more exercise might be better than more sleep for clearing brain of toxins
They injected a dye into a brain and tracked the speed of its movement during sleep and exercise.The findings show that the clearance of the dye was reduced by 30% in sleeping mice compared with mice that were kept awake. This has not been confirmed on humans yet.
Previous research has suggested that sleep is important for preventing dementia as it is during this time that toxic proteins are cleared from the brain.
source, source,
2024.05.15 00:05 Sereneseablue Waiting time for the wish
Hi, I made a wish to St.Expedite about two weeks ago. This is my first time with him and I am kind of new to these things but I tried to be as thorough with my ritual as possible: After creating a makeshift altar consisting of his colored printout propped up close to the entrance door on a coffee table, I lit him a plain white candle and offered him three pennies and a glass of water upfront. Although these things may not sound much, please understand that my current living arrangements are not exactly hospitable to displaying saint pictures or anything remotely occult looking.
Anyway, during the ritual I promised him poundcake, a lit candle, more pennies, and online praise for his delivery. Again, these may not sound much, but they were the best that I can offer him under my current circumstances. And I have kept his altar so far. Well, since that time, nothing has happened. A development that might have been loosely related to my wish came about, but it was not a close fit and therefore realistically not helpful at all, so I cannot be sure if it was his delivery. At this point, I wonder if I should wait, or if it is too late and that he would not deliver my request. Is there a time limit to waiting? Technically, I have a deadline until fall, but realistically if my wish is to be granted, something needs to come up really now, and I mean it, so I don't know what to do. Any help from people with experience is appreciated.
And, St. Expedite, if you hear me, please (re)consider granting my wish now: I am really at a tight spot, in fact desperate, and if you help me out, you will not only help me, but also help others who depend on me. Please do not fail me in my hour of need. I depend on you, and I know you can deliver. Hodie, hodie, hodie!
submitted by Sereneseablue to StExpedite [link] [comments]
Anyway, during the ritual I promised him poundcake, a lit candle, more pennies, and online praise for his delivery. Again, these may not sound much, but they were the best that I can offer him under my current circumstances. And I have kept his altar so far. Well, since that time, nothing has happened. A development that might have been loosely related to my wish came about, but it was not a close fit and therefore realistically not helpful at all, so I cannot be sure if it was his delivery. At this point, I wonder if I should wait, or if it is too late and that he would not deliver my request. Is there a time limit to waiting? Technically, I have a deadline until fall, but realistically if my wish is to be granted, something needs to come up really now, and I mean it, so I don't know what to do. Any help from people with experience is appreciated.
And, St. Expedite, if you hear me, please (re)consider granting my wish now: I am really at a tight spot, in fact desperate, and if you help me out, you will not only help me, but also help others who depend on me. Please do not fail me in my hour of need. I depend on you, and I know you can deliver. Hodie, hodie, hodie!
2024.05.15 00:00 Obsequium_Minaris Ballistic Coefficient - Chapter 11
First / Previous / Royal Road / Patreon (Read 12 Chapters Ahead)
When dawn broke, the two of them set off again, once more heading north. Pale had made sure to call down another pod once the sun had risen, this one full of winter gear for the two of them – thermal jackets to keep them warm, but more importantly, snow-print camouflage covers for them to throw over themselves if they needed to creep around at night.
"What's the point of this stuff?" Kayla asked as she threw one of the snow-colored smocks over herself, pausing only to tug at it in a few places.
"Makes it harder for them to spot us," Pale explained. "Of course, some degree of combat is inevitable, but that's no reason to not avoid it if we can do so."
Pale zipped up her winter jacket, then reached for her shotgun, topping it off with fresh shells of buckshot. Kayla watched with fascination as Pale slid red-colored shell after red-colored shell into her weapon's magazine tube, finally furrowing her brow in confusion.
"How does it work?"
"Hm?" Pale asked, looking over to her. "You mean my weapons?"
"Yes. I thought you said your people couldn't use magic?"
"We can't. This is pure science." She held up a shotgun shell for emphasis. "To put it simply, my weapon works by setting off a chain reaction of burning chemicals and small explosions, which forces metal projectiles down a carefully-shaped and machined piece of metal at a very high rate of speed."
"But… it's so small. Why does it do so much damage?"
"Because of something called physics. Kinetic energy is determined by a combination of mass and velocity, but between the two, velocity has a much more profound impact on the energy itself. Essentially, you want to make a projectile more powerful? Make it go faster rather than just make it heavier."
Kayla hesitated. "My head's already starting to spin…"
"I will spare you any further explanation, then." Pale slung her weapon across her front, then did a quick gear check to make sure everything was stowed where it needed to be. Once that was done, she nodded over to Kayla. "Lead the way."
The two of them took off at a brisk march through the plains. Snow had started to fall as they had woken up, covering the area in a thin sheet of white that crunched underfoot with every step taken. Neither girl felt the effects of the elements thanks to their new winter gear, but it did make traversing through the plains a bit more difficult, not to mention that as the snow continued to fall, their movement would only be more impeded with time.
And just as well, there was the matter of the tracks they were leaving behind as they walked. Pale wasn't quite sure how to deal with those, at least not yet, but they would cross that particular bridge when they came to it.
As they walked, Pale noticed Kayla had become oddly silent. She blinked, then turned towards her, only to find her staring off into space as they advanced, watching the snow fall down on the terrain below. Pale cleared her throat, and Kayla jumped a bit before turning to face her.
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling okay?" Pale bluntly asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because you look awful. Is it the nightmares again?"
Kayla bit her lip, but ultimately nodded. "...Yeah, it is."
Pale's brow furrowed. Unfortunately for both of them, she was no psychologist. It was clear Kayla was going through some sort of trauma regarding the events of the past few days, and while Pale had archives of books related to the subject stored in her data banks, even she knew better than to go poking around in someone's head.
The human brain may have been mapped, but there were still things about it that even her creators didn't quite understand, and the nature of mental illness was one of them. She had already tried to logic Kayla out of whatever mental hole she'd fallen into, and that clearly hadn't worked. No, there was something deeper going on with her, something that Pale didn't understand.
Part of her wished Evie was still here, if only because she seemed to get it a lot better than Pale could.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Pale offered.
"Do you think that will help?"
"Has to be better than letting it fester like this. But if you're not willing, I won't push the issue."
Kayla shook her head. "It's just… I don't know how people do it. I still feel like I'm gonna vomit whenever I see a dead body lying on the ground. How you and Evie are able to not only keep going after that but add more to the pile is… frightening."
"Death is inherently frightening for everyone, even me."
"Truly?" Kayla asked, surprised. "You're afraid of death?"
"Yes, in multiple different ways." Pale gestured to herself. "This body, for one – I worry about losing it, because if that happens, I am going to be stuck floating listlessly through space, stuck in Sjel's orbit until my systems finally burn themselves out after several million years. Then my consciousness will fade away into nothingness, and there will be no remnant of me left behind aside from a shattered husk of a warship. Then again, perhaps that is the fate of every warship – the oceans back on my creators' home planet are, after all, filled with the dessicated husks of once-proud ships of war, many still sealed up like time capsules. I must admit, it would be poetic if I were to join them."
"No, it wouldn't," Kayla countered. "It'd be sad, Pale. You'd just float endlessly through space for the rest of time."
"Not quite. After a few billion years, this solar system's sun would burn out and turn into a supernova, wiping any trace of it from the face of the galaxy. But I understand what you're saying. My point, however, is that death is profound for everyone, even me."
"Why wouldn't it be profound for you?"
"Because I am not alive."
"Yes, you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "I am not an organic person."
Wordlessly, Kayla reached out and poked her in the shoulder. "Weird, because you certainly feel organic."
"Not what I meant. I was created in a laboratory."
"So? Do you have any idea how many people were created from a drunken romp between an adventurer and a tavern wench? Is being made in a laboratory, whatever that means, really any more inauthentic than a loveless one-night stand that happened to lead to a baby?"
Pale opened her mouth, but Kayla beat her to the punch. "I don't understand why you keep trying to make this point. You are a person, Pale, and-"
"I cannot be a person," Pale growled. "That was not the purpose I was created for. And besides, this conversation isn't about me, it's about you. Stop trying to change the subject."
Kayla grunted, then crossed her arms as she walked. "Fine. You want to talk about what's bothering me? Now you know. I hate the knowledge that what I'm doing is leading to people being hurt and killed. I hate that Evie decided to help us, and made herself and her caravan a target as a result. And most importantly, I hate that it's all so necessary, because if we don't do this, I'll never see my father again. There, happy now?" Kayla crossed her arms, then let out a tired sigh. "I want to go home, but I can't even do that – not only is my father still missing, but my home is gone. I have nothing to go back to. Any friends I had are dead now..."
Kayla let out a small sniffle, and Pale hesitated before reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you feel like this. I understand that you're going through a lot, I just wish there was more I could do to help."
"You're here," Kayla insisted. "And you're helping me get my father back. That's more than enough. The rest… I'll deal with that on my own for now, I guess."
"Very well. But if you need someone to vent to, I'm here."
Kayla sniffled again, but gave her a thin, grateful smile. "Thank you."
Pale let her hand fall off Kayla's shoulder, and Kayla took a breath to calm herself before they continued on.
–
They walked for several more hours, the snow intensifying all around them before it finally came to be too much. By this time, the plains had given way to hills and rocky mountains capped with snow. Pale paused to examine their surroundings as they climbed a hill, looking for shelter.
"We must be getting farther north," she surmised. "The weather is becoming unrecognizable from how it was back in your village."
"You're right about that," Kayla grunted as she scrambled over some rocks. "Shouldn't be much longer now until we get to the sea. How we're going to cross without a boat, though… I suppose we'll have to figure that out on our own."
Pale nodded. "I am surprised that we haven't run into any opposition yet."
"I've had us staying away from the nearby towns on purpose. I figured that if we were going to run into anyone hostile, it'd be there."
"Smart move," Pale complimented. "And I take it that keeping us out in the open fields for as long as possible was part of that, too? Good thinking."
"Thanks," Kayla replied. She looked around the mountain, her gaze finally landing on an outcropping of rocks. "I think I see a cave over there. Think it'd make for good shelter for a night?"
"It'd be better than staying out in the open. Come on, I'll lead the way this time."
–
A short while later, both girls were sprawled out inside the cave, their outer layers of clothing hung up on some nearby rocks to air dry. Their thermal under layers kept them warm, as did a small fire Kayla had managed to start using her magic. They both sat huddled around the fire, a set of military rations perched in their laps.
"It'll be hot, so be careful when you open it," Pale warned. "The flameless ration heater included in each may use water to function, but trust me, the food will come out hot despite that."
"What'd you say this one was, again?" Kayla asked, examining the bag.
"Chicken and rice bowl. It should be a lot better than the earlier emergency ration bar I gave you – less artificial, at least – and unlike that one, you can eat this one in one sitting without any ill effects."
Kayla perked up a bit at that. "That sounds nice…"
They both fell silent after that, the only noise filling the cave being the crackling of the fire. Finally, Kayla broke the silence.
"
I just want you to know… I'm glad you're here with me," she said softly. "And not just because you're helping me find my father, either. You're a good person, Pale."
"I am-"
"I know, I know – you don't agree with being called a person. But you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "No offense, but perhaps this is a difference of culture. How does one define a person on this world?"
"A person is anyone who has a sjel," Kayla answered.
"Then I do not fit the definition."
"Everyone has a sjel, Pale," Kayla softly emphasized. "Even you. Even if you can't use magic, I know you've still got one. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you realize that."
Again, silence fell over the two of them. It didn't last, however – from outside, Pale heard the unmistakable sound of far-away voices, and sat up straight. Judging from how Kayla's wolf ears perked up, she'd heard them, too.
"Look alive," Pale said, putting her ration aside and reaching for her shotgun.
"I think we're about to have company."
Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard for the help with writing this story.
submitted by Obsequium_Minaris to HFY [link] [comments]
When dawn broke, the two of them set off again, once more heading north. Pale had made sure to call down another pod once the sun had risen, this one full of winter gear for the two of them – thermal jackets to keep them warm, but more importantly, snow-print camouflage covers for them to throw over themselves if they needed to creep around at night.
"What's the point of this stuff?" Kayla asked as she threw one of the snow-colored smocks over herself, pausing only to tug at it in a few places.
"Makes it harder for them to spot us," Pale explained. "Of course, some degree of combat is inevitable, but that's no reason to not avoid it if we can do so."
Pale zipped up her winter jacket, then reached for her shotgun, topping it off with fresh shells of buckshot. Kayla watched with fascination as Pale slid red-colored shell after red-colored shell into her weapon's magazine tube, finally furrowing her brow in confusion.
"How does it work?"
"Hm?" Pale asked, looking over to her. "You mean my weapons?"
"Yes. I thought you said your people couldn't use magic?"
"We can't. This is pure science." She held up a shotgun shell for emphasis. "To put it simply, my weapon works by setting off a chain reaction of burning chemicals and small explosions, which forces metal projectiles down a carefully-shaped and machined piece of metal at a very high rate of speed."
"But… it's so small. Why does it do so much damage?"
"Because of something called physics. Kinetic energy is determined by a combination of mass and velocity, but between the two, velocity has a much more profound impact on the energy itself. Essentially, you want to make a projectile more powerful? Make it go faster rather than just make it heavier."
Kayla hesitated. "My head's already starting to spin…"
"I will spare you any further explanation, then." Pale slung her weapon across her front, then did a quick gear check to make sure everything was stowed where it needed to be. Once that was done, she nodded over to Kayla. "Lead the way."
The two of them took off at a brisk march through the plains. Snow had started to fall as they had woken up, covering the area in a thin sheet of white that crunched underfoot with every step taken. Neither girl felt the effects of the elements thanks to their new winter gear, but it did make traversing through the plains a bit more difficult, not to mention that as the snow continued to fall, their movement would only be more impeded with time.
And just as well, there was the matter of the tracks they were leaving behind as they walked. Pale wasn't quite sure how to deal with those, at least not yet, but they would cross that particular bridge when they came to it.
As they walked, Pale noticed Kayla had become oddly silent. She blinked, then turned towards her, only to find her staring off into space as they advanced, watching the snow fall down on the terrain below. Pale cleared her throat, and Kayla jumped a bit before turning to face her.
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling okay?" Pale bluntly asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because you look awful. Is it the nightmares again?"
Kayla bit her lip, but ultimately nodded. "...Yeah, it is."
Pale's brow furrowed. Unfortunately for both of them, she was no psychologist. It was clear Kayla was going through some sort of trauma regarding the events of the past few days, and while Pale had archives of books related to the subject stored in her data banks, even she knew better than to go poking around in someone's head.
The human brain may have been mapped, but there were still things about it that even her creators didn't quite understand, and the nature of mental illness was one of them. She had already tried to logic Kayla out of whatever mental hole she'd fallen into, and that clearly hadn't worked. No, there was something deeper going on with her, something that Pale didn't understand.
Part of her wished Evie was still here, if only because she seemed to get it a lot better than Pale could.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Pale offered.
"Do you think that will help?"
"Has to be better than letting it fester like this. But if you're not willing, I won't push the issue."
Kayla shook her head. "It's just… I don't know how people do it. I still feel like I'm gonna vomit whenever I see a dead body lying on the ground. How you and Evie are able to not only keep going after that but add more to the pile is… frightening."
"Death is inherently frightening for everyone, even me."
"Truly?" Kayla asked, surprised. "You're afraid of death?"
"Yes, in multiple different ways." Pale gestured to herself. "This body, for one – I worry about losing it, because if that happens, I am going to be stuck floating listlessly through space, stuck in Sjel's orbit until my systems finally burn themselves out after several million years. Then my consciousness will fade away into nothingness, and there will be no remnant of me left behind aside from a shattered husk of a warship. Then again, perhaps that is the fate of every warship – the oceans back on my creators' home planet are, after all, filled with the dessicated husks of once-proud ships of war, many still sealed up like time capsules. I must admit, it would be poetic if I were to join them."
"No, it wouldn't," Kayla countered. "It'd be sad, Pale. You'd just float endlessly through space for the rest of time."
"Not quite. After a few billion years, this solar system's sun would burn out and turn into a supernova, wiping any trace of it from the face of the galaxy. But I understand what you're saying. My point, however, is that death is profound for everyone, even me."
"Why wouldn't it be profound for you?"
"Because I am not alive."
"Yes, you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "I am not an organic person."
Wordlessly, Kayla reached out and poked her in the shoulder. "Weird, because you certainly feel organic."
"Not what I meant. I was created in a laboratory."
"So? Do you have any idea how many people were created from a drunken romp between an adventurer and a tavern wench? Is being made in a laboratory, whatever that means, really any more inauthentic than a loveless one-night stand that happened to lead to a baby?"
Pale opened her mouth, but Kayla beat her to the punch. "I don't understand why you keep trying to make this point. You are a person, Pale, and-"
"I cannot be a person," Pale growled. "That was not the purpose I was created for. And besides, this conversation isn't about me, it's about you. Stop trying to change the subject."
Kayla grunted, then crossed her arms as she walked. "Fine. You want to talk about what's bothering me? Now you know. I hate the knowledge that what I'm doing is leading to people being hurt and killed. I hate that Evie decided to help us, and made herself and her caravan a target as a result. And most importantly, I hate that it's all so necessary, because if we don't do this, I'll never see my father again. There, happy now?" Kayla crossed her arms, then let out a tired sigh. "I want to go home, but I can't even do that – not only is my father still missing, but my home is gone. I have nothing to go back to. Any friends I had are dead now..."
Kayla let out a small sniffle, and Pale hesitated before reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you feel like this. I understand that you're going through a lot, I just wish there was more I could do to help."
"You're here," Kayla insisted. "And you're helping me get my father back. That's more than enough. The rest… I'll deal with that on my own for now, I guess."
"Very well. But if you need someone to vent to, I'm here."
Kayla sniffled again, but gave her a thin, grateful smile. "Thank you."
Pale let her hand fall off Kayla's shoulder, and Kayla took a breath to calm herself before they continued on.
–
They walked for several more hours, the snow intensifying all around them before it finally came to be too much. By this time, the plains had given way to hills and rocky mountains capped with snow. Pale paused to examine their surroundings as they climbed a hill, looking for shelter.
"We must be getting farther north," she surmised. "The weather is becoming unrecognizable from how it was back in your village."
"You're right about that," Kayla grunted as she scrambled over some rocks. "Shouldn't be much longer now until we get to the sea. How we're going to cross without a boat, though… I suppose we'll have to figure that out on our own."
Pale nodded. "I am surprised that we haven't run into any opposition yet."
"I've had us staying away from the nearby towns on purpose. I figured that if we were going to run into anyone hostile, it'd be there."
"Smart move," Pale complimented. "And I take it that keeping us out in the open fields for as long as possible was part of that, too? Good thinking."
"Thanks," Kayla replied. She looked around the mountain, her gaze finally landing on an outcropping of rocks. "I think I see a cave over there. Think it'd make for good shelter for a night?"
"It'd be better than staying out in the open. Come on, I'll lead the way this time."
–
A short while later, both girls were sprawled out inside the cave, their outer layers of clothing hung up on some nearby rocks to air dry. Their thermal under layers kept them warm, as did a small fire Kayla had managed to start using her magic. They both sat huddled around the fire, a set of military rations perched in their laps.
"It'll be hot, so be careful when you open it," Pale warned. "The flameless ration heater included in each may use water to function, but trust me, the food will come out hot despite that."
"What'd you say this one was, again?" Kayla asked, examining the bag.
"Chicken and rice bowl. It should be a lot better than the earlier emergency ration bar I gave you – less artificial, at least – and unlike that one, you can eat this one in one sitting without any ill effects."
Kayla perked up a bit at that. "That sounds nice…"
They both fell silent after that, the only noise filling the cave being the crackling of the fire. Finally, Kayla broke the silence.
"
I just want you to know… I'm glad you're here with me," she said softly. "And not just because you're helping me find my father, either. You're a good person, Pale."
"I am-"
"I know, I know – you don't agree with being called a person. But you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "No offense, but perhaps this is a difference of culture. How does one define a person on this world?"
"A person is anyone who has a sjel," Kayla answered.
"Then I do not fit the definition."
"Everyone has a sjel, Pale," Kayla softly emphasized. "Even you. Even if you can't use magic, I know you've still got one. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you realize that."
Again, silence fell over the two of them. It didn't last, however – from outside, Pale heard the unmistakable sound of far-away voices, and sat up straight. Judging from how Kayla's wolf ears perked up, she'd heard them, too.
"Look alive," Pale said, putting her ration aside and reaching for her shotgun.
"I think we're about to have company."
Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard for the help with writing this story.
2024.05.14 23:59 PurpleMNinja My story on how I became the Six sympathizer that I am
Several days ago on Tumblr u/Aly0151 asked me:
That’s a bit of a tough question, since it’ll test my memory.
I think I heard of LN and learned a bunch of stuff about it from a video called 107 facts about Little Nightmares, and that video included the 2017 comics, so I was able to know about their existence fairly quickly. Plus I misremembered a part of the video and thought that Six’s name was something like Eliza, lol. The video also included pointing out Shadow Six though I didn’t remember it at the time and when someone pointed out “look on top of the table” of the Nome hunger scene, I thought it was the silhouette of the Lady’s head, so I thought that the Lady was there, knowing what was happening in the room and possibly made Six eat the Nome. Especially since she is seen entering the elevator a moment afterwards. And when I saw the secret ending of LN2, I was like “What? Why is there a shadowy copy of Six now?”. I saw Tericho’s “is Six a villain or victim?” Video and he showed one of the moments where Shadow Six appeared in LN1 and I was like “What?! She was in the first game too?!”. Rewatching the 107 facts video, it confirmed the existence of Shadow Six in the first game.
And I don’t remember who, maybe GamingBeaver, I learned some more about the events of the game, and I saw play throughs of LN1 and got to know the events of the game. And when I watched a video on the events of LN1, it of course was the classic “Six is the Lady’s daughter” conclusion (before the devs debunked it). Though I do like AUs where the Lady and Six are mother and daughter. And it was TheLeaderboard's videos of what happens in each part of the DLCs that informed me of what happened in RK's journey.
I think my interest in LN fizzled out a little until GamingBeaver made his video on the ending of VLN, so I thankfully was able to learn of RCG and a piece of Six’s story that a bunch of the fandom doesn’t know about even to this day. So I got to know a little more about Six.
Then some time passed and I somehow heard of LN2 being in development and was excited about it. And I didn’t find out of when it was released until a couple months after its release. I saw and watched GamingBeaver’s video about the story of LN2 and that’s where I learned of the “Six is the Lady” theory that I despise so much. And I watched CoryKenshi’s play through of it to learn more about the events of that game, and I’m still bitter about how he so easily dumped Sasha Six in favour of Baggy and that he denied that Six is a kid just trying to survive and even reprimanded her for “doing this to all of these people”, you know, the people who tried to kill or eat her. I’m still bitter at CoryKenshi for that.
I’ve been really into LN since the release of the second game and I’m still into it currently.
As for the girl in question, I think she’s my favourite protagonist mostly because she was the one I was introduced to first.
It took me a bit to realise that Six doesn’t have anything visible on her legs, so I got scared that she might not be wearing anything underneath the raincoat, but then I watched Crazy Cowboy’s video “Funny Chef Six” and it contained this official PNG of Six:
https://preview.redd.it/cyuulkiuqg0d1.png?width=300&format=png&auto=webp&s=30d146aee549e7e895c6d4d3ff994277f6c5da46
I spotted the white shorts (though I thought they were yellow at first) and felt relieved that she does have other clothes on under the raincoat. And VLN and LN2 reinforced that fact.
Then VLN and LN2 added more to her story and character, which made me like her even more.
And after LN2 came out and time passed after that, I myself went through character development with judging Mono and Six. At first I didn’t want to believe that Six was selfish and sadistic (which Beaver said she was in his video) and I blamed everything on Mono, but later GamerSault made his “Who is Six?” video (which is private now 😞) where he talked about Six’s selfish side but he d*idn’t *demonize her for it, and I also saw a long but great comment on that video where they compared the sh*tty treatment Six gets from the fandom to the sh*tty treatment Chara gets from the Undertale fandom. These two things helped me accept that Six does have a selfish side, though I still don’t believe that she’s sadistic, especially considering the hypocrisy from the fans when Mono does similar things that gets Six labeled as sadistic for, but he does them to a bigger extent and often did them first.
I don’t place all the blame on Mono anymore, but I still do vehemently sympathize with Six. One because I spent my teen years watching Mr Enter’s Animated Atrocities - where I got my strong sense of justice from - and two, I think I slightly see myself in Six. Call me petty or childish but I relate to Six in the way that her efforts are swept under the rug. Back in school, in P.E we were doing a little exercise where we repeatedly go into the starting position that athletes go into for sprinting, and for some reason we were put into pairs for this. I was paired with someone who apparently had something wrong with her legs so she couldn’t go into the ‘sprint start’ position (understandable), so she decided that I had to do it for her turns as well as mine (not understandable). And when I tried to refuse (I couldn't stand up for myself back then, plus the pose is uncomfortable for me) she just whined "BuT yOu HaVe To". And another time in college, we had to design a magazine front cover for a bricklaying competition and I think I misheard the lecturer because everyone made 6 different covers, while ended up making 12, because I thought that’s how many we had to make. Both of these instances I did literally twice as much work as everyone else, but my efforts were not acknowledged or compensated at all. It's a loose and very specific connection between me and Six, but it's still a connection, so I think I feel some resentment when the fandom does the same thing but far, far worse to Six.
So yeah. Sorry for the long read, but this is how I got into Little Nightmares and why I'm a really strong defender of Six.
submitted by PurpleMNinja to Six_Defence_Squad [link] [comments]
So how'd you get into the Little Nightmares franchise? What made Six your favorite character?And I answered it (though it wound up being longer than I'd prefer) and thought I'd copy and paste it here too so the Six Defence Squad can know a little more about me. Also, just to clarify, I don't have any of the games, so I haven't played any of them, so everything I know about them is from reading posts and watching videos:
That’s a bit of a tough question, since it’ll test my memory.
I think I heard of LN and learned a bunch of stuff about it from a video called 107 facts about Little Nightmares, and that video included the 2017 comics, so I was able to know about their existence fairly quickly. Plus I misremembered a part of the video and thought that Six’s name was something like Eliza, lol. The video also included pointing out Shadow Six though I didn’t remember it at the time and when someone pointed out “look on top of the table” of the Nome hunger scene, I thought it was the silhouette of the Lady’s head, so I thought that the Lady was there, knowing what was happening in the room and possibly made Six eat the Nome. Especially since she is seen entering the elevator a moment afterwards. And when I saw the secret ending of LN2, I was like “What? Why is there a shadowy copy of Six now?”. I saw Tericho’s “is Six a villain or victim?” Video and he showed one of the moments where Shadow Six appeared in LN1 and I was like “What?! She was in the first game too?!”. Rewatching the 107 facts video, it confirmed the existence of Shadow Six in the first game.
And I don’t remember who, maybe GamingBeaver, I learned some more about the events of the game, and I saw play throughs of LN1 and got to know the events of the game. And when I watched a video on the events of LN1, it of course was the classic “Six is the Lady’s daughter” conclusion (before the devs debunked it). Though I do like AUs where the Lady and Six are mother and daughter. And it was TheLeaderboard's videos of what happens in each part of the DLCs that informed me of what happened in RK's journey.
I think my interest in LN fizzled out a little until GamingBeaver made his video on the ending of VLN, so I thankfully was able to learn of RCG and a piece of Six’s story that a bunch of the fandom doesn’t know about even to this day. So I got to know a little more about Six.
Then some time passed and I somehow heard of LN2 being in development and was excited about it. And I didn’t find out of when it was released until a couple months after its release. I saw and watched GamingBeaver’s video about the story of LN2 and that’s where I learned of the “Six is the Lady” theory that I despise so much. And I watched CoryKenshi’s play through of it to learn more about the events of that game, and I’m still bitter about how he so easily dumped Sasha Six in favour of Baggy and that he denied that Six is a kid just trying to survive and even reprimanded her for “doing this to all of these people”, you know, the people who tried to kill or eat her. I’m still bitter at CoryKenshi for that.
I’ve been really into LN since the release of the second game and I’m still into it currently.
As for the girl in question, I think she’s my favourite protagonist mostly because she was the one I was introduced to first.
It took me a bit to realise that Six doesn’t have anything visible on her legs, so I got scared that she might not be wearing anything underneath the raincoat, but then I watched Crazy Cowboy’s video “Funny Chef Six” and it contained this official PNG of Six:
https://preview.redd.it/cyuulkiuqg0d1.png?width=300&format=png&auto=webp&s=30d146aee549e7e895c6d4d3ff994277f6c5da46
I spotted the white shorts (though I thought they were yellow at first) and felt relieved that she does have other clothes on under the raincoat. And VLN and LN2 reinforced that fact.
Then VLN and LN2 added more to her story and character, which made me like her even more.
And after LN2 came out and time passed after that, I myself went through character development with judging Mono and Six. At first I didn’t want to believe that Six was selfish and sadistic (which Beaver said she was in his video) and I blamed everything on Mono, but later GamerSault made his “Who is Six?” video (which is private now 😞) where he talked about Six’s selfish side but he d*idn’t *demonize her for it, and I also saw a long but great comment on that video where they compared the sh*tty treatment Six gets from the fandom to the sh*tty treatment Chara gets from the Undertale fandom. These two things helped me accept that Six does have a selfish side, though I still don’t believe that she’s sadistic, especially considering the hypocrisy from the fans when Mono does similar things that gets Six labeled as sadistic for, but he does them to a bigger extent and often did them first.
I don’t place all the blame on Mono anymore, but I still do vehemently sympathize with Six. One because I spent my teen years watching Mr Enter’s Animated Atrocities - where I got my strong sense of justice from - and two, I think I slightly see myself in Six. Call me petty or childish but I relate to Six in the way that her efforts are swept under the rug. Back in school, in P.E we were doing a little exercise where we repeatedly go into the starting position that athletes go into for sprinting, and for some reason we were put into pairs for this. I was paired with someone who apparently had something wrong with her legs so she couldn’t go into the ‘sprint start’ position (understandable), so she decided that I had to do it for her turns as well as mine (not understandable). And when I tried to refuse (I couldn't stand up for myself back then, plus the pose is uncomfortable for me) she just whined "BuT yOu HaVe To". And another time in college, we had to design a magazine front cover for a bricklaying competition and I think I misheard the lecturer because everyone made 6 different covers, while ended up making 12, because I thought that’s how many we had to make. Both of these instances I did literally twice as much work as everyone else, but my efforts were not acknowledged or compensated at all. It's a loose and very specific connection between me and Six, but it's still a connection, so I think I feel some resentment when the fandom does the same thing but far, far worse to Six.
So yeah. Sorry for the long read, but this is how I got into Little Nightmares and why I'm a really strong defender of Six.
2024.05.14 23:37 Arbrand The Peach Factory
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. I grew up as a military brat, so my childhood memories are a blur of packing, unpacking, and getting settled. It had been seven years since we arrived, and nothing but the grace of God would make me move again. A few years ago, my father got orders to station at a base in the middle of the Mohave. I was only seventeen then, but after a few dozen screaming matches, I decided to strike out on my own a little early. I got a part-time job at the cafe, which was enough to rent a little run-down shack a couple of blocks from downtown. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream—serving coffee a few hours a week and spending the rest of my time hanging out with friends, listening to music, and drinking.
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
We finally managed to pry the side door of the factory off, which broke free from the hinges and smashed against the floor. Stepping inside, the air was thick and rancid as we bounced the beams of our flashlights around the packaging floor.
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. My parents were in the army, so we moved a lot, but now I'm staying put. I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small headache.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."
submitted by Arbrand to nosleep [link] [comments]
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."
2024.05.14 23:22 ZealousidealBar1719 Nexplanon may have given me cysts/ lumps…
Long story short I am a 24F that has been on the nexplanon implant since 2019. This is the second implant that I have gotten, and I had a cancer scare about 2 years ago when I decided to investigate this left breast tenderness that I seem to constantly be having. I felt a small pea sized lump, and booked a doctors appt straight away. I got an ultrasound and my doctor showed me the white translucent spot where my lump was on the screen. She indicated that this was a good sign, and it looked like a cyst, and that there was nothing to worry about because I am so young. She also told me to keep feeling the spot where the cyst is because I am supposed to be able to press into it and move it around, and it if solidifies, that is a bad sign. I was able to take a deep breath and relax after. Well, fast forward to a year later and I still have breast tenderness on my left side. I have gone to multiple gynecology appointments and they have felt my breast and told me that nothing seems to be out of the ordinary but I am afraid that I am leaving a dormant condition untreated. I don’t know why it feels like I am going crazy about this because I’ve had multiple people confirm that I am fine, but I feel weird about it because when I talk to my friends, they don’t complain of breast tenderness ever and I am starting to think that my “normal” isn’t normal. Also, when I feel the spot where the lump is to make sure it has not grown or become hard, it still is squishy. But in my mind it feels like the tenderness is maybe a tumor growing deep in the tissue? Idk… someone try to make sense of my hypochondriac mind….
submitted by ZealousidealBar1719 to breast_cancer [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 22:48 jpprinttx Help figuring out why these little brown dots are appearing after curing.
 | After curing these white Gilden ultra cotton shirts, on a few of them I’m seeing these little marks. Are they burns? Or sweat stains? They show up on random spots. And is there a way to remove them submitted by jpprinttx to SCREENPRINTING [link] [comments] |
2024.05.14 22:12 LossLucky4012 my wings of fire fantribes and the continent they live on
Some added information: This hypothetical arc 4 takes place around 7 years after flames of hope, contact between pantala and pyhria has been cut off somehow, and the seawings sent out to contact pantala have instead found polreca, filled with new dragons, and a war
New continent: Polreca
Polreca is a third continent in the wings of fire world, the largest out of the three, with five tribes to inhabit it
Geography:
At the center of Polreca, we have the active volcano Flaming Peak, and the palace of the Cavewings, nearby in the surrounding area charred by the volcano's eruptions, we have the Flamewing palace, and on a mountain rivaling the size of jade mountain, (or agate mountain before the landslide in legends darkstalker) we see the Thunderwing palace, placed by the northern shore of Polreca is the coastal redwoods forest you see the Sizzlewing palace, and dotted around we have some of the few cave openings with direct paths to the areas where Protowings make their homes.
New tribes:
Thunderwings
Thunderwings are dragons with instead of four legs and two wings they have two legs and two wings, They also breathe lightning, they live in the tallest mountains in Polrecah, they are very intelligent dragons, smarter than the nightwings ever will be, this would lead to some beef between the two tribes, they often fly into storms for fun, with them having scales that have direct nerve connections with a lightning pouch in their throat, they can gain electricity from being struck by lightning, but they also have another organ that allows them to breathe electricity without being struck by lightning first, it is common for the queen and her challenger before a battle for the throne to go into a large lightning storm to charge up, this is also where the challenge takes place. However, thunderwings must be careful, because if they aren’t, they may be inflicted with “storm sickness” an affliction that is caused by overcharging in a lightning storm, leading to less energy, weak lightning breath, and fatigue, storm sickness can last anywhere from 2-3 days, to 3-10 years, and can even be permanent
They are named after different storms, cloud formations, etc.
Queen: Queen Thunderclap
Princess: Cumulonimbus
Prince: Typhoon
Characters of note: Stratus (a pale thunderwing with a keen mind for innovation, and if he gets angry enough, you don’t want to be in his way)
Flamewings
Flamewings, are the most Phyrria and Pantala esc dragons on Polreca, they are similar to skywings with flamescales, except that’s their entire population, though instead of breathing fire, they breath ice oddly enough, this works by gathering all of their cold into a sac in their throat, and allowing it to be expelled along with their liquid nitrogen like saliva, creating ice cold enough to induce frostbite in even icewings, however this equates to normal frost breath effects on other Flamewings due to their scales being super heated, they live near Flaming Peak, the active volcano at the center of Polreca, they are capable of living here due to their scales being able to withstand the heat of the lava.
Their names often follow along the lines of wildfire, ash, charcoal, etc.
Queen: Queen Ash
Princess: Wildfire
Characters of note: Princess wildfire (A somewhat shy dragon, with a burning desire to be a strong and reliable leader for her people, and during the first few books she butts heads with Echo often)
Protowings
Protowings are ancient dragons, from long before the scorching, living fossils so to speak, they have no fire breath, no venom, no gills, no camouflage, no silk, no frost breath, and their wings don't allow for self powered flight, but do allow for short glides, their scales/skin is thin and almost salamander like, they are an assorted amount of colors from black to white to red to blue and everything in between, they require water to lay their shelless eggs in, oh yeah they have eggs similar to amphibians, their lifespan is up to 500 years old and they are considered adults at 200, they live in small communities, of about 15 adult individuals maybe more that aren't adults, living in deep caves underground, where even seawings have trouble seeing, this darkness has never bothered the protowings, they are not that big, the oldest being about the size of clay in book 1, and they feed off of moss that grows in the caves and small bugs that also make the caves their home, their claws are dull, and their fangs small and useless, leading to then making rudimentary tools out of assorted rocks, with obsidian being commonly used, they have perfected hoard mentality, when one is threatened they release a call that can echo through the caves easily, this alerts the rest of their community, allowing them to swarm the threat and bring it down, they also commonly have severe photo phobia, fear of the light, meaning that if you want to see them you need to catch one while its hunting or foraging nearby, they are masters of their caves, easily being able to navigate thanks in no small part to their echolocation and gecko-like feet.
How they are named differs from community to community, in one, they might be named after cave formations like the Cavewings, in others they may be named similar to the cats from the warriors series(which Sutherland also worked on) with a prefix and a suffix.
Queen: they have no queen as they have no main kingdom
Characters of note: beetle’s leg, bug’s jaw
Cavewings
Cavewings are underground living dragons with no wings and stone like scales with different colored scales dotting their hide like gems, they live in the caves all across Polreca, not as deep as the protowings, but pretty deep, they have night vision, echolocation (like the protowings), and they are the greediest of all dragons, they also have scales that are near impenetrable, to the point that even things like flamesilk and rainwing venom have a hard time getting through, they are also effective burrowers and capable of launching themselves high into the air with no ceiling obstructing them high enough to snatch flying Flameings out of the air when the try to cross the border, making them near impossible to attack which is bad because the Flamewings and Cavewings are at war, they also do not eat like other dragons, they use lava they find by their main palace in Flaming Peak to cook their prey alive, dunking it in the lava and holding it there until it is thoroughly charred, and eat it like that, but certain groups use Flamewings to cook their meals, this has been announced to the flamewings that it was made illegal by the queen but this practice is unfortunately getting used more and more, with “rumors” stating that the queen has only said that she made it illegal but has in fact encouraged it, even going as far to say that she has three Flamewings at all times to cook her meals, hence why they are at war with the Flamewings.
They are often named after cave formations and minerals
Queen: Queen Stalagmite
Princess(s): Echo, Stalactite, and Cavern
Prince(s): Ravine, Drip, and Bat
Characters of note: Prince Ravine (a large cavewing who has no real friends outside of the other protagonists, his attacks have been described as “feeling like being hit by a mountain”)
Princess Echo (A smart cavewing with what her mother and sisters call “a weird obsession with the flamewings” Saying “They are nothing but tools for us to use” Echo is of course disgusted by the fact her family thinks like that)
Sizzlewings
Sizzlewings are effectively snakes with wings, and masters of venom, poison, etc, they have the unique ability to synthesize venom of things they eat, able to eat say, a dragonbite viper and create a venom that mixes their Rainwing esc venom with it, you see, by “default” their venom is similar to a rainwing, but their venom is slow acting, meaning if it gets on any other dragon, (aside from Flamewings and Cavewings) they will be slowly burnt and horribly scarred, but when they hatch they have venom that is no worse than a bee sting, but when they turn 14 their venom glands are fully developed and their venom would make a rainwing blush, they have full immunity their own venom and how they fight is that they wrap their enemy in their body, and bite them, shooting venom directly into their body and watching them squirm and perish, slowly, and painfully, this actually leads into their most common profession: Assassins and mercenaries, the sizzlewings are widely known to be a tribe who will side with whoever pays the most, at one time often splitting to become defense squadrons for different tribes and fighting each other, but ever since their “great tusked one” arrived they have lived by three rules: #1, always listen to the tusked ones descendents, the royal family, #2 never splinter off into their own factions, #3 most importantly of all, no killing other Sizzlewings outside of succession battles,
This “Great tusked one” came at a time when the tribe was splintered into three factions, called Toxin, Poison, and fang, The “tusked one” as he is known by in the royal family was an old male Sizzlewing, he was huge and had massive tusks, instead of fangs, his descendents, also have these tusks, but they still have fangs, the tusked one has long since died, nobody knows for certain where he came from, or even how old he was, but that he was strong, yet kind, he was the one who forced the three factions to sit together and decide on the three rules, and he helped them merge together. However, Queen toxin has had a queen coral situation, where there were no princess’ until slither, where the only times eggs would survive, would be when the assassin was caught with a band over their face, until toxin herself slept by her egg, nearly starving herself, and now she allows her daughter to play, but under supervision.
They are often named along the lines of toxin, venom, stinger, etc. baby Sizzlewings are called “acidlings” until they turn 15
Queen: Queen toxin
Princess: Slither
Prince(s): Stinger, Viper, Venom, and about 12 or so more
Characters of note: Princess Slither (a small sizzlewing with a cold demeanor and will not hesitate to leave you behind if you can’t keep up, she uses her nonthreatening appearance to her advantage, luring her targets into a false sense of confidence, only to suddenly be writhing on the ground, begging for death,)
protagonists* for this hypothetical arc 4:
Bone (one of my OC’s, a sandwing Pronouns: He/Him)
Bloodcrest (an OC of a friend of mine, a nightwing, pronouns:She/Her, was hatched under two full moons, with the crescent third moon being a blood moon)
Princess Wildfire
Princess Echo
Stratus
Beetle’s leg, his friends call him Beetle, or they would if he had any, as he says so himself. (a large protowing with piercing eyes that can unsettle even the bravest warriors, he has gray scales with black speckles dotting his face, he also has golden wings that he has been told by the other protagonists [friends?] make him look very beautiful, and a total goofball, has a scar on his eye from fighting the protowing that killed his mother)
Other protagonists:
Prince Ravine (has a crush on wildfire)
Princess Slither
Antagonists for this hypothetical arc 4:
Queen Stalagmite
Princess Stalactite
Bug’s jaw (beetle’s leg’s father and leader of his community, a gray protowing with red spots around his eyes and green stripes down his back)
Hybrids: The dragons native to Polreca cannot hybridize with each other, however the Cavewings and Flamewings can. The Polreca tribes can hybridize with other dragons from the other continents, although most of them are flamewing hybrids.
Flamewing-cavewing: I call them magmawings, they look like cavewings with a sort of heatblast from ben 10 look (god that reboot looks awful.)
Sizzlewing-rainwing: long protruding fangs and serrated teeth, sizzlewing like body with color changing abilities.
Flamewing-skywing: very similar to a skywing with firescales, but they breathe steam due to their heritage.
Flamewing-mudwing: leads to a big wings big enough to swallow a human whole, also breathes boiling steam.
*characters that have a book told from their POV.
submitted by LossLucky4012 to WingsOfFire [link] [comments]
New continent: Polreca
Polreca is a third continent in the wings of fire world, the largest out of the three, with five tribes to inhabit it
Geography:
At the center of Polreca, we have the active volcano Flaming Peak, and the palace of the Cavewings, nearby in the surrounding area charred by the volcano's eruptions, we have the Flamewing palace, and on a mountain rivaling the size of jade mountain, (or agate mountain before the landslide in legends darkstalker) we see the Thunderwing palace, placed by the northern shore of Polreca is the coastal redwoods forest you see the Sizzlewing palace, and dotted around we have some of the few cave openings with direct paths to the areas where Protowings make their homes.
New tribes:
Thunderwings
Thunderwings are dragons with instead of four legs and two wings they have two legs and two wings, They also breathe lightning, they live in the tallest mountains in Polrecah, they are very intelligent dragons, smarter than the nightwings ever will be, this would lead to some beef between the two tribes, they often fly into storms for fun, with them having scales that have direct nerve connections with a lightning pouch in their throat, they can gain electricity from being struck by lightning, but they also have another organ that allows them to breathe electricity without being struck by lightning first, it is common for the queen and her challenger before a battle for the throne to go into a large lightning storm to charge up, this is also where the challenge takes place. However, thunderwings must be careful, because if they aren’t, they may be inflicted with “storm sickness” an affliction that is caused by overcharging in a lightning storm, leading to less energy, weak lightning breath, and fatigue, storm sickness can last anywhere from 2-3 days, to 3-10 years, and can even be permanent
They are named after different storms, cloud formations, etc.
Queen: Queen Thunderclap
Princess: Cumulonimbus
Prince: Typhoon
Characters of note: Stratus (a pale thunderwing with a keen mind for innovation, and if he gets angry enough, you don’t want to be in his way)
Flamewings
Flamewings, are the most Phyrria and Pantala esc dragons on Polreca, they are similar to skywings with flamescales, except that’s their entire population, though instead of breathing fire, they breath ice oddly enough, this works by gathering all of their cold into a sac in their throat, and allowing it to be expelled along with their liquid nitrogen like saliva, creating ice cold enough to induce frostbite in even icewings, however this equates to normal frost breath effects on other Flamewings due to their scales being super heated, they live near Flaming Peak, the active volcano at the center of Polreca, they are capable of living here due to their scales being able to withstand the heat of the lava.
Their names often follow along the lines of wildfire, ash, charcoal, etc.
Queen: Queen Ash
Princess: Wildfire
Characters of note: Princess wildfire (A somewhat shy dragon, with a burning desire to be a strong and reliable leader for her people, and during the first few books she butts heads with Echo often)
Protowings
Protowings are ancient dragons, from long before the scorching, living fossils so to speak, they have no fire breath, no venom, no gills, no camouflage, no silk, no frost breath, and their wings don't allow for self powered flight, but do allow for short glides, their scales/skin is thin and almost salamander like, they are an assorted amount of colors from black to white to red to blue and everything in between, they require water to lay their shelless eggs in, oh yeah they have eggs similar to amphibians, their lifespan is up to 500 years old and they are considered adults at 200, they live in small communities, of about 15 adult individuals maybe more that aren't adults, living in deep caves underground, where even seawings have trouble seeing, this darkness has never bothered the protowings, they are not that big, the oldest being about the size of clay in book 1, and they feed off of moss that grows in the caves and small bugs that also make the caves their home, their claws are dull, and their fangs small and useless, leading to then making rudimentary tools out of assorted rocks, with obsidian being commonly used, they have perfected hoard mentality, when one is threatened they release a call that can echo through the caves easily, this alerts the rest of their community, allowing them to swarm the threat and bring it down, they also commonly have severe photo phobia, fear of the light, meaning that if you want to see them you need to catch one while its hunting or foraging nearby, they are masters of their caves, easily being able to navigate thanks in no small part to their echolocation and gecko-like feet.
How they are named differs from community to community, in one, they might be named after cave formations like the Cavewings, in others they may be named similar to the cats from the warriors series(which Sutherland also worked on) with a prefix and a suffix.
Queen: they have no queen as they have no main kingdom
Characters of note: beetle’s leg, bug’s jaw
Cavewings
Cavewings are underground living dragons with no wings and stone like scales with different colored scales dotting their hide like gems, they live in the caves all across Polreca, not as deep as the protowings, but pretty deep, they have night vision, echolocation (like the protowings), and they are the greediest of all dragons, they also have scales that are near impenetrable, to the point that even things like flamesilk and rainwing venom have a hard time getting through, they are also effective burrowers and capable of launching themselves high into the air with no ceiling obstructing them high enough to snatch flying Flameings out of the air when the try to cross the border, making them near impossible to attack which is bad because the Flamewings and Cavewings are at war, they also do not eat like other dragons, they use lava they find by their main palace in Flaming Peak to cook their prey alive, dunking it in the lava and holding it there until it is thoroughly charred, and eat it like that, but certain groups use Flamewings to cook their meals, this has been announced to the flamewings that it was made illegal by the queen but this practice is unfortunately getting used more and more, with “rumors” stating that the queen has only said that she made it illegal but has in fact encouraged it, even going as far to say that she has three Flamewings at all times to cook her meals, hence why they are at war with the Flamewings.
They are often named after cave formations and minerals
Queen: Queen Stalagmite
Princess(s): Echo, Stalactite, and Cavern
Prince(s): Ravine, Drip, and Bat
Characters of note: Prince Ravine (a large cavewing who has no real friends outside of the other protagonists, his attacks have been described as “feeling like being hit by a mountain”)
Princess Echo (A smart cavewing with what her mother and sisters call “a weird obsession with the flamewings” Saying “They are nothing but tools for us to use” Echo is of course disgusted by the fact her family thinks like that)
Sizzlewings
Sizzlewings are effectively snakes with wings, and masters of venom, poison, etc, they have the unique ability to synthesize venom of things they eat, able to eat say, a dragonbite viper and create a venom that mixes their Rainwing esc venom with it, you see, by “default” their venom is similar to a rainwing, but their venom is slow acting, meaning if it gets on any other dragon, (aside from Flamewings and Cavewings) they will be slowly burnt and horribly scarred, but when they hatch they have venom that is no worse than a bee sting, but when they turn 14 their venom glands are fully developed and their venom would make a rainwing blush, they have full immunity their own venom and how they fight is that they wrap their enemy in their body, and bite them, shooting venom directly into their body and watching them squirm and perish, slowly, and painfully, this actually leads into their most common profession: Assassins and mercenaries, the sizzlewings are widely known to be a tribe who will side with whoever pays the most, at one time often splitting to become defense squadrons for different tribes and fighting each other, but ever since their “great tusked one” arrived they have lived by three rules: #1, always listen to the tusked ones descendents, the royal family, #2 never splinter off into their own factions, #3 most importantly of all, no killing other Sizzlewings outside of succession battles,
This “Great tusked one” came at a time when the tribe was splintered into three factions, called Toxin, Poison, and fang, The “tusked one” as he is known by in the royal family was an old male Sizzlewing, he was huge and had massive tusks, instead of fangs, his descendents, also have these tusks, but they still have fangs, the tusked one has long since died, nobody knows for certain where he came from, or even how old he was, but that he was strong, yet kind, he was the one who forced the three factions to sit together and decide on the three rules, and he helped them merge together. However, Queen toxin has had a queen coral situation, where there were no princess’ until slither, where the only times eggs would survive, would be when the assassin was caught with a band over their face, until toxin herself slept by her egg, nearly starving herself, and now she allows her daughter to play, but under supervision.
They are often named along the lines of toxin, venom, stinger, etc. baby Sizzlewings are called “acidlings” until they turn 15
Queen: Queen toxin
Princess: Slither
Prince(s): Stinger, Viper, Venom, and about 12 or so more
Characters of note: Princess Slither (a small sizzlewing with a cold demeanor and will not hesitate to leave you behind if you can’t keep up, she uses her nonthreatening appearance to her advantage, luring her targets into a false sense of confidence, only to suddenly be writhing on the ground, begging for death,)
protagonists* for this hypothetical arc 4:
Bone (one of my OC’s, a sandwing Pronouns: He/Him)
Bloodcrest (an OC of a friend of mine, a nightwing, pronouns:She/Her, was hatched under two full moons, with the crescent third moon being a blood moon)
Princess Wildfire
Princess Echo
Stratus
Beetle’s leg, his friends call him Beetle, or they would if he had any, as he says so himself. (a large protowing with piercing eyes that can unsettle even the bravest warriors, he has gray scales with black speckles dotting his face, he also has golden wings that he has been told by the other protagonists [friends?] make him look very beautiful, and a total goofball, has a scar on his eye from fighting the protowing that killed his mother)
Other protagonists:
Prince Ravine (has a crush on wildfire)
Princess Slither
Antagonists for this hypothetical arc 4:
Queen Stalagmite
Princess Stalactite
Bug’s jaw (beetle’s leg’s father and leader of his community, a gray protowing with red spots around his eyes and green stripes down his back)
Hybrids: The dragons native to Polreca cannot hybridize with each other, however the Cavewings and Flamewings can. The Polreca tribes can hybridize with other dragons from the other continents, although most of them are flamewing hybrids.
Flamewing-cavewing: I call them magmawings, they look like cavewings with a sort of heatblast from ben 10 look (god that reboot looks awful.)
Sizzlewing-rainwing: long protruding fangs and serrated teeth, sizzlewing like body with color changing abilities.
Flamewing-skywing: very similar to a skywing with firescales, but they breathe steam due to their heritage.
Flamewing-mudwing: leads to a big wings big enough to swallow a human whole, also breathes boiling steam.
*characters that have a book told from their POV.
2024.05.14 22:02 Schlangenbob BFME 2.22 - Hard Campaign Recap
Hello people,
I am currently playing a second time through the campaign on hard difficulty and since for my first go I got very frustrated from times to times and shared some (I think Helms Deep and Minas Tirith) in this sub and got questions I couldn't really answer since it was too long ago, I thought I recollect my impressions from my second playthrough as some things have changed (at least it feels like). In general: It got easier.
Moria: Very straight forward. Seperated hobbits and actual heroes into 2 groups and started clearing out goblins and skipping level ups. Once an actual hero got to lvl 2 I picked up a level-up getting them to lvl 3. Fittingly there are 5 hidden level ups and 5 actual heroes. So by the end of the level everyone who matters was lvl 3. Yes I hate the hobbits go sue me.
Lorien: Cloak the hobbits, proceed with heroes. Kill the Lumber mill in the bottom left corner, bring the hobbits. Enter Lorien and build 2 Archery Ranges. The hobbits are send to collect the treasure while everyone else is gathering at the north-western bridge. The hobbits naturally arrive at the norther bridge where they will cross and kill the lumber mill. Constantly produce elven archers and keep an eye on gimli, aragorn and boromir as they tend to get themselves isolated at the front without archer support. just get them back and heal if nessesary. between waves the hobbits go and kill the third lumber mill in the north and then run from chasing lumber jacks and orcs. Either kite them to your archers (go back around, don't try to get past a wave) or just enaugh so you can cloak them. once cloaked/save cloak them and forget about them. Southern bridge will be attacked next, so reposition to the south, after which reposition to the north. Freewin.
Rohan:
Your priorities should be: +Command, +Special, +Resources. Use the early missions, which are very easy, to max out on Rohirrim and get all upgrades asap. You should be able to train new units after every mission (as you get +command) which lets you recruit rohirrim archers and sell them at the main building to level your stables to get shields. At around Fangorn the missions will get more tricky as the enemy will have large numbers of spears with improved weapons. Don't charge them if possible. Kite them to a base with towers or just outrun them. You are usually not in a hurry. You are in a hurry tho in 2 missions where "Isengard will arrive in X minutes" - you don't want that. The army that arrives is strong and has wargs and spears which will decimate your Rohirrim. You want your Rohirrim to level from mission to mission as lvl 2 Rohirrim will not be sufficient.
Helms Deep:
There is no use in defending the lower Wall. I sell everything, archers and peasants in the main building and build Elves exclusively (unlucked once the elves arrive). Station them on the third ring at the very top. Leave all gates open, don't close them. Gather as much resources as possible while upgrading your elves with standards and fire arrows. Ignore improved weapons. Use the Rohirrim and Theoden and Eowyn to safe the peasents, let them gather the treasure and sell them. Defend the right gate on the 3rd wall with gimli, aragorn and boromir. Keep them close so they always have archer support.
The enemy will attack soon and flood the first wall (the one you're supposed to protect) but some of them will be diverted to the open gate. Your elves will kill a constant but slow stream of enemies as they trickle through. Close the lower gate from time to time to waste the enemies time as they will walk towards the ladders to climb them. Just open the gate again when rams arrive. The rams will walk through the opened gate and kill the farmsteads on the lower leve. Your archers will take care of them.
At some point ladders will gather up infront of the game unable to pass through. At that point keep the gate open at all times as ballistas will appear. They wont be able to get past the ladders and get stuck. Like this your losses are kept to a minum. From here on out it's basically just holding out. Once Eomer is ready to be called wait. Another wave will trigger shortly after. Once that has passed/reached your first gate call Eomer. Mount Gandalf and charge the first base with Eomers "For the King" ability. your losses will be minimal. After that turn around and charge whatever is left inside the keep and reunite with Theoden. Heal up on a well, maybe wait out another wave and then ride out. Eomers and Theodens abilities make your riders very tanky so you can charge the second base. After that's done retreat into the keep. No more waves will be spawned. Use your heroes to clear up the map like this you can level them up some more.
Isengard:
Became irrelevant, total cake walk. Before fire arrows where a real issue as they just DELETED ents so you had to cheese the Mission. But now, you are so strong no cheese needed. Defend the first attack, clear the goblins and the troll cave, build up ents. Walk around the base and bombard the urukhai pits and any fire-archer troops you can find while 2-3 ents defend while standing in the puddle outside the gate. Then just go in and kill everything. manouver burning ents into puddles and use heal at your own disgretion. Keep Treebeard alive and mount the Hobbits or cloak them.
Ithilien: Build only rangers and equip them with fire arrows. Try to keep everyone alive, you don't want to lose entire battalions. In the south there are a few rangers and a catapult. You can clear a big deal of the enemy camp on the middle plateau with that catapult. Aswell as the Oliphaunt in the top right corner. It will try to attack your catapult but the invisible wall makes it impossible. You can reach the Oliphaunt with your catapult from a cliff spot on the right side of the walkable map. Just area bombard where the oliphaunt stands it will return after charging you after each hit. Once that is done and the middle plateau is cleared position in front of the ramp and use the Terrain ability (that green circle where your units get boni) as close to the top right base as possible. This will trigger the orcs and trolls to attack you. Then proceed to bombard the bottom right base with your catapult and take it down with your rangers. Just take them to the topright base you cleared already and raze it to the ground. this should work ideally before mordor arrives so you can save most of your rangers.
After that you can pick missions again, and again: Command->Special->Resource.
Be careful in Dunharg, there are a lot of spears on that map and it is rather small. Striking fast is the key to victory although I lost some riders.
Osgiliath:
Then the defence of Osgiliath. This mission got a lot easier but is still tricky.
Right at the start move 2 catapults south aswell as the tower guard. Retreat with your rangers so they don't die to the attacking catapult (your otwer guard in the south will most likely be dead already). Build up the base in the south and kill the catapult with towerguard and your own catapults. Focus on Smithies only, build a well in the southern base. Man the towers with rangers and keep towerguard in defensive formation as a meatshield. Don't advance over the bridges. Maybe I got lucky but the Ai ignored the southern bridge from there on and only send waves down the middle and north. The north can easily be defended with 3 Ranger battalions and 1 towerguard.
From there on build your army up: A few tower guard are enaugh (I guess 6-8 batallions) rest Rangers. Get all upgrades from all buildings. Once your army is maxed call faramir, not earlier. You'll need the additional firepower. I used that time to upgrade the ithilien rangers that haven't been upgraded yet and leveled Faramir on the middle bridge to 5 for the +50% armor leadership bonus. I attacked the catapults one by one luring them into death while I also started building all towers in the southern base. Then I gathered everything except for 2 Ranger battalions and 1 Towerguard which stayed north and crossed the river. This will trigger nazgul to attack. Kill them asap. Establish a footholt on the other side and start taking down the base right across the river. Mount Faramir so he can dispatch any catapults quickly. Once that base is fully destroyed a large and very powerful (lvl 4+ Trolls, Oliphaunts and Orcs) will spawn. This is true for every base the enemy has. Therefor I gather all of my troops around the center of the base, once it's cleared I build a base of my own. the entrance will be to the southwest where I will build Towers at the entrance and on each spot while building a statue and a well in the back. The towers in the front will be cleared almost instantly, just rebuild them that gives your rangers till to kill anything that moves. Expect some heavy losses. Rebuild your army and kill everything but one small tower in the bottom right base. then go topside and do the same for the north base. Kill the manned towers with your catapults. Then kill both bases simultaneously and the mordor army will not spawn for base 2 and 3.
Kankra's Lair: Just walk around with Sam and kill all spiders. Don't free any soldiers. In the top left there is a troll which is too strong for Sam. So you let him throw rocks at it, until he is one hit away from death. use heal and wait until his health drops below half (after his health turns yellow one more hit) then activate the light. Once the troll flees just cloak. Wait for Sam to heal up and heal come off cooldown. Repeat this once and on your third fight with the troll sam should win. Proceed to clear everything with sam until you can only move south-east. Go and free all soldiers. Proceed with sam, kill spiders and free soldiers with soldiers. In the south there is a large arena. Gather all soldiers and tank Kankra with Sam. You will need to heal here so Sam doesn't die. Kankra runs and small spiders swarm. Your soldiers will take care of them. Kankra returns and who she focuses is random afaik so try to kite soldiers she targets away so your losses are not too big. After kankra is defeated clear the rest of the caves, gather treasure and free soldiers and gather at the exit. There is a small base in the bottom right corner guarded by some orcs. Kill them. Build the base and build 3 Smithies and a Farmstead where the Lumber Mill stood. Wait until your smithies reach Lvl 2 then research all upgrades. After the upgrades went through demolish 2 Smithies. Build an archery range and a barracks. Recruit 3 swordsmen battalions from the baracks so it reaches lvl 2. Take them and the rescued soldiers and let them die at the enemy base. They're all worthless. Recruit 12 batallions of Tower guard and 12 batallions of Archers. Fully upgrade them. Delete the archery range and build another Smithy. Throw your army against the enemy base. Once you breach the walls mordor will send a strong army so your first army is most likely lost. I managed to kill a lot by positioning towerguard wisely but in the end it wasn't enaugh. The army wont cross the bridge tho so you can just save up and build 12 Tower guard. Demolish the barracks and build an Archery Range. Build 12 Archer Battallions, full upgrade everyone. This force should be enaugh to overwhelm the defenders.
After that is Minas Tirith. That's where I am right now and I will update in the coming days once I complete it.
General: So far I feel like my troops survive more easily, the enemy armies aren't as punishing as before but I had to resort to cheesy strategies in Helms Deep and expect to cheese Minas Tirith aswell. This playthrough is therefor less challenging and usually I prefer more challenging games even or especiall when it frustrates me. But the changes just made me cheese less and restart less because I accidentally wiped 8 batallions of Rohirrim on a single urukhai spear batallion.
Mistakes I made so far: I didn't really level Gandalf in Fangorn or Helms Deep so I wont have access to lvl 10 in minas tirith. Wihch might be an issue.
I lost some Rohirrim in Dunharg which I couldn't really replenish.
(Maybe) bought the Rohirrim special power and am at 11 Special points with Anduril and Army of the dead missing.
Speaking of which: Special abilities, which I took and why:
Heal: Best ability in the game.
Bonus dmg for heroes: Worth the 1 point.
Gandalf the White: Grey is just useless.
Green-Land-Thingy: Handy in some missions.
Rohirrim: Helped me out at some later missions as fodder to throw into dangerous troops like spears and keep them occupied.
Anduril (not bought yet): Stronger Aragorn is always good, but it is a prereq for Army of the Dead.
Army of the Dead: Is good.
Eagles and Ents are not worth the points you can't use them in most missions. Elves were always underwhelming for me, they deal little to no damage, their range is kinda meh and their melee capabilities suck as in those missions you can use them the enemy has leveled and upgraded orcs/urukhai which delete the elves. Upgraded Peasents: The same reason I don't level Hobits. Sure you can take your time to do so but what's the point?
submitted by Schlangenbob to bfme [link] [comments]
I am currently playing a second time through the campaign on hard difficulty and since for my first go I got very frustrated from times to times and shared some (I think Helms Deep and Minas Tirith) in this sub and got questions I couldn't really answer since it was too long ago, I thought I recollect my impressions from my second playthrough as some things have changed (at least it feels like). In general: It got easier.
Moria: Very straight forward. Seperated hobbits and actual heroes into 2 groups and started clearing out goblins and skipping level ups. Once an actual hero got to lvl 2 I picked up a level-up getting them to lvl 3. Fittingly there are 5 hidden level ups and 5 actual heroes. So by the end of the level everyone who matters was lvl 3. Yes I hate the hobbits go sue me.
Lorien: Cloak the hobbits, proceed with heroes. Kill the Lumber mill in the bottom left corner, bring the hobbits. Enter Lorien and build 2 Archery Ranges. The hobbits are send to collect the treasure while everyone else is gathering at the north-western bridge. The hobbits naturally arrive at the norther bridge where they will cross and kill the lumber mill. Constantly produce elven archers and keep an eye on gimli, aragorn and boromir as they tend to get themselves isolated at the front without archer support. just get them back and heal if nessesary. between waves the hobbits go and kill the third lumber mill in the north and then run from chasing lumber jacks and orcs. Either kite them to your archers (go back around, don't try to get past a wave) or just enaugh so you can cloak them. once cloaked/save cloak them and forget about them. Southern bridge will be attacked next, so reposition to the south, after which reposition to the north. Freewin.
Rohan:
Your priorities should be: +Command, +Special, +Resources. Use the early missions, which are very easy, to max out on Rohirrim and get all upgrades asap. You should be able to train new units after every mission (as you get +command) which lets you recruit rohirrim archers and sell them at the main building to level your stables to get shields. At around Fangorn the missions will get more tricky as the enemy will have large numbers of spears with improved weapons. Don't charge them if possible. Kite them to a base with towers or just outrun them. You are usually not in a hurry. You are in a hurry tho in 2 missions where "Isengard will arrive in X minutes" - you don't want that. The army that arrives is strong and has wargs and spears which will decimate your Rohirrim. You want your Rohirrim to level from mission to mission as lvl 2 Rohirrim will not be sufficient.
Helms Deep:
There is no use in defending the lower Wall. I sell everything, archers and peasants in the main building and build Elves exclusively (unlucked once the elves arrive). Station them on the third ring at the very top. Leave all gates open, don't close them. Gather as much resources as possible while upgrading your elves with standards and fire arrows. Ignore improved weapons. Use the Rohirrim and Theoden and Eowyn to safe the peasents, let them gather the treasure and sell them. Defend the right gate on the 3rd wall with gimli, aragorn and boromir. Keep them close so they always have archer support.
The enemy will attack soon and flood the first wall (the one you're supposed to protect) but some of them will be diverted to the open gate. Your elves will kill a constant but slow stream of enemies as they trickle through. Close the lower gate from time to time to waste the enemies time as they will walk towards the ladders to climb them. Just open the gate again when rams arrive. The rams will walk through the opened gate and kill the farmsteads on the lower leve. Your archers will take care of them.
At some point ladders will gather up infront of the game unable to pass through. At that point keep the gate open at all times as ballistas will appear. They wont be able to get past the ladders and get stuck. Like this your losses are kept to a minum. From here on out it's basically just holding out. Once Eomer is ready to be called wait. Another wave will trigger shortly after. Once that has passed/reached your first gate call Eomer. Mount Gandalf and charge the first base with Eomers "For the King" ability. your losses will be minimal. After that turn around and charge whatever is left inside the keep and reunite with Theoden. Heal up on a well, maybe wait out another wave and then ride out. Eomers and Theodens abilities make your riders very tanky so you can charge the second base. After that's done retreat into the keep. No more waves will be spawned. Use your heroes to clear up the map like this you can level them up some more.
Isengard:
Became irrelevant, total cake walk. Before fire arrows where a real issue as they just DELETED ents so you had to cheese the Mission. But now, you are so strong no cheese needed. Defend the first attack, clear the goblins and the troll cave, build up ents. Walk around the base and bombard the urukhai pits and any fire-archer troops you can find while 2-3 ents defend while standing in the puddle outside the gate. Then just go in and kill everything. manouver burning ents into puddles and use heal at your own disgretion. Keep Treebeard alive and mount the Hobbits or cloak them.
Ithilien: Build only rangers and equip them with fire arrows. Try to keep everyone alive, you don't want to lose entire battalions. In the south there are a few rangers and a catapult. You can clear a big deal of the enemy camp on the middle plateau with that catapult. Aswell as the Oliphaunt in the top right corner. It will try to attack your catapult but the invisible wall makes it impossible. You can reach the Oliphaunt with your catapult from a cliff spot on the right side of the walkable map. Just area bombard where the oliphaunt stands it will return after charging you after each hit. Once that is done and the middle plateau is cleared position in front of the ramp and use the Terrain ability (that green circle where your units get boni) as close to the top right base as possible. This will trigger the orcs and trolls to attack you. Then proceed to bombard the bottom right base with your catapult and take it down with your rangers. Just take them to the topright base you cleared already and raze it to the ground. this should work ideally before mordor arrives so you can save most of your rangers.
After that you can pick missions again, and again: Command->Special->Resource.
Be careful in Dunharg, there are a lot of spears on that map and it is rather small. Striking fast is the key to victory although I lost some riders.
Osgiliath:
Then the defence of Osgiliath. This mission got a lot easier but is still tricky.
Right at the start move 2 catapults south aswell as the tower guard. Retreat with your rangers so they don't die to the attacking catapult (your otwer guard in the south will most likely be dead already). Build up the base in the south and kill the catapult with towerguard and your own catapults. Focus on Smithies only, build a well in the southern base. Man the towers with rangers and keep towerguard in defensive formation as a meatshield. Don't advance over the bridges. Maybe I got lucky but the Ai ignored the southern bridge from there on and only send waves down the middle and north. The north can easily be defended with 3 Ranger battalions and 1 towerguard.
From there on build your army up: A few tower guard are enaugh (I guess 6-8 batallions) rest Rangers. Get all upgrades from all buildings. Once your army is maxed call faramir, not earlier. You'll need the additional firepower. I used that time to upgrade the ithilien rangers that haven't been upgraded yet and leveled Faramir on the middle bridge to 5 for the +50% armor leadership bonus. I attacked the catapults one by one luring them into death while I also started building all towers in the southern base. Then I gathered everything except for 2 Ranger battalions and 1 Towerguard which stayed north and crossed the river. This will trigger nazgul to attack. Kill them asap. Establish a footholt on the other side and start taking down the base right across the river. Mount Faramir so he can dispatch any catapults quickly. Once that base is fully destroyed a large and very powerful (lvl 4+ Trolls, Oliphaunts and Orcs) will spawn. This is true for every base the enemy has. Therefor I gather all of my troops around the center of the base, once it's cleared I build a base of my own. the entrance will be to the southwest where I will build Towers at the entrance and on each spot while building a statue and a well in the back. The towers in the front will be cleared almost instantly, just rebuild them that gives your rangers till to kill anything that moves. Expect some heavy losses. Rebuild your army and kill everything but one small tower in the bottom right base. then go topside and do the same for the north base. Kill the manned towers with your catapults. Then kill both bases simultaneously and the mordor army will not spawn for base 2 and 3.
Kankra's Lair: Just walk around with Sam and kill all spiders. Don't free any soldiers. In the top left there is a troll which is too strong for Sam. So you let him throw rocks at it, until he is one hit away from death. use heal and wait until his health drops below half (after his health turns yellow one more hit) then activate the light. Once the troll flees just cloak. Wait for Sam to heal up and heal come off cooldown. Repeat this once and on your third fight with the troll sam should win. Proceed to clear everything with sam until you can only move south-east. Go and free all soldiers. Proceed with sam, kill spiders and free soldiers with soldiers. In the south there is a large arena. Gather all soldiers and tank Kankra with Sam. You will need to heal here so Sam doesn't die. Kankra runs and small spiders swarm. Your soldiers will take care of them. Kankra returns and who she focuses is random afaik so try to kite soldiers she targets away so your losses are not too big. After kankra is defeated clear the rest of the caves, gather treasure and free soldiers and gather at the exit. There is a small base in the bottom right corner guarded by some orcs. Kill them. Build the base and build 3 Smithies and a Farmstead where the Lumber Mill stood. Wait until your smithies reach Lvl 2 then research all upgrades. After the upgrades went through demolish 2 Smithies. Build an archery range and a barracks. Recruit 3 swordsmen battalions from the baracks so it reaches lvl 2. Take them and the rescued soldiers and let them die at the enemy base. They're all worthless. Recruit 12 batallions of Tower guard and 12 batallions of Archers. Fully upgrade them. Delete the archery range and build another Smithy. Throw your army against the enemy base. Once you breach the walls mordor will send a strong army so your first army is most likely lost. I managed to kill a lot by positioning towerguard wisely but in the end it wasn't enaugh. The army wont cross the bridge tho so you can just save up and build 12 Tower guard. Demolish the barracks and build an Archery Range. Build 12 Archer Battallions, full upgrade everyone. This force should be enaugh to overwhelm the defenders.
After that is Minas Tirith. That's where I am right now and I will update in the coming days once I complete it.
General: So far I feel like my troops survive more easily, the enemy armies aren't as punishing as before but I had to resort to cheesy strategies in Helms Deep and expect to cheese Minas Tirith aswell. This playthrough is therefor less challenging and usually I prefer more challenging games even or especiall when it frustrates me. But the changes just made me cheese less and restart less because I accidentally wiped 8 batallions of Rohirrim on a single urukhai spear batallion.
Mistakes I made so far: I didn't really level Gandalf in Fangorn or Helms Deep so I wont have access to lvl 10 in minas tirith. Wihch might be an issue.
I lost some Rohirrim in Dunharg which I couldn't really replenish.
(Maybe) bought the Rohirrim special power and am at 11 Special points with Anduril and Army of the dead missing.
Speaking of which: Special abilities, which I took and why:
Heal: Best ability in the game.
Bonus dmg for heroes: Worth the 1 point.
Gandalf the White: Grey is just useless.
Green-Land-Thingy: Handy in some missions.
Rohirrim: Helped me out at some later missions as fodder to throw into dangerous troops like spears and keep them occupied.
Anduril (not bought yet): Stronger Aragorn is always good, but it is a prereq for Army of the Dead.
Army of the Dead: Is good.
Eagles and Ents are not worth the points you can't use them in most missions. Elves were always underwhelming for me, they deal little to no damage, their range is kinda meh and their melee capabilities suck as in those missions you can use them the enemy has leveled and upgraded orcs/urukhai which delete the elves. Upgraded Peasents: The same reason I don't level Hobits. Sure you can take your time to do so but what's the point?
2024.05.14 21:53 Mobile-Career-316 Type me please.
• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
Yes.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
I had a whole paragraph here but I realised it was probably very NSFW so I've decided to remove this part.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I’m an engineer, a mix of both hardware and software. I like the work of my job, but I don’t care much for the job or career part of it. I don’t have any career ambitions and would rather just learn the skills that the work can provide me and then move on to becoming entirely self-sufficient and only working for myself. I don’t think it's the other people aspect I dislike here as such, more the lack of independence and control over how I spend my time. That said, it’s worth it to live on my own two feet away from disturbances in the house.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
I know I would be completely fine, as I do this regularly. I don’t think I feel lonely nor refreshed. I generally have plenty to do with my time and find ways to occupy myself, even if that involves doing nothing and resting. If I’m interested in someone's thoughts or feelings on a topic I will just message them without issue and I usually do this once or twice a day, but there are many occasions in which I will just be focused on doing my own thing and won’t have contacted anyone.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I do all kinds of activities, from reading to games to sports. I’m very good at sports and enjoy them, but I usually choose to stay inside over doing them. I think to an onlooker a lot of my activities could look more like work than fun, but I get fun out of them. You would be most likely to find me (or not) inside reading some kind of research paper or building a machine. If not that then you’d find me playing a single player RPG/sandbox style game and if not that then you’d probably find me meditating/introspecting. You’d probably only find me outside playing sports if I’d been asked to by a friend.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
Very curious. I research just about everything in depth and if I had free time I would research even more. It’s become something of an inside joke at work that I will come in and have some kind of new theory or discovery to share with the office about some random topic that has nothing to do with the last. I don’t think I have more ideas than I can execute, it's more that I have more ideas than I do execute. I’m actually not a very ambitious person despite my insatiable curiosity, so there are many occasions where I will do nothing at all. Aside from the theories I create from whatever information/topic I have been researching, most of the ideas I present to others are to do with having fun. I often create small games using the objects we have in our environment (like playing cards or checkers pieces) on the spot, improvising the rules as we go along DnD style. I actually was invited to play DnD once with a friend group but I was something of a nightmare of a player since I would come up with completely outlandish ideas that the DM couldn’t handle. I was never invited to a session again after that.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
Being a leader isn’t tied to my self identity at all, but it does seem to be the impression other people get about me. I have been told several times that I would make a good cult leader (concerningly) and that I always seem to end up in charge of a situation. I don’t really do this on purpose but a lot of the time I am the only one who will speak up and start moving a group forward when we are in a situation that calls for it. I have been told that I am quite a diplomatic leader that makes sure people get along, have something to do and feel supported. That said, I personally don’t like telling people what they should value. I am of the belief that it is their own choice to decide that. I will however help people by telling them the actions they could take in line with those chosen values. I also think conflict is quite important and I will only try to keep the conflict civil without ending it until both parties are satisfied and have conveyed everything they wish to. This also includes conflict with me, I dislike “sweeping things under the rug”.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I think I am. I often feel as though my entire body is under my control and I am very intune with any physical sensations. I fear being paralyzed or losing mental integrity. This is the reason I avoid dangerous and reckless behavior that could result in losing control of my mind or body. I will not partake in highly “extreme” sports such as free climbing and I will not consume any kind of drugs to an extent that it affects my mental state, including alcohol.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particularly artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forms of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I’m not actually sure. I like writing stories and drawing, but I wouldn’t consider myself an artist. I am very interested in art and have been learning how to properly paint and create music on and off for a while now. I think it's probably similar to sports in the sense that I enjoy it but rarely choose it over another activity. I don’t really enjoy going to art museums, I find art to be subjective so interacting with it from such an objective standpoint disinterests me. A lot of my friends are artists and I support them in their endeavors.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
I don’t think about the past much unless I actively make myself do so to search for something there. I am very in tune with the present and am constantly looking out for dangers in my environment and observing people, but it's not my main way of thinking. I am almost always thinking about the future, both in terms of potential futures as well as what future I am aiming for. I have some trouble deciding on a future to aim for since all of the options seem so appealing and I don’t particularly want to close any of them off. There is a part of me that wishes I was immortal so that I could experience as much of everything as possible. This is probably also the part of me that likes stories and hearing the experiences of others since I get to understand a whole other world with its own futures in such a short amount of time.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
I will help immediately. I’m not entirely sure why but I imagine it has something to do with me enjoying solving problems, whether that problem is mine or anothers. I have largely minimized my worldly connections and needs so I often appear to “go out of my way” to help others even if it appears like it's sacrificial to myself. I don’t find it sacrificial to myself at all. I don’t need anything to be comfortable, it’s all just building upon that initial comfort as a kind of “excess” or “abundance”. I could lose everything I own tomorrow and be absolutely fine. All of this to say, I don’t sacrifice myself for others, I just help them most likely because I enjoy it. I do not consider myself a “good” person for doing this, in fact I do not really believe in the concept of good or evil at all.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
I think the fact that I immediately thought both yes and no for this question points to me not needing it. I certainly try to be logically consistent, but it's not the end of the world if I’m not. I think it's more important to me that I not be in denial about it.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
I do aim for efficiency but it’s not very important to me. While I do want to make the most of my time in this life, if I don’t feel like doing anything then I won’t. I’m comfortable with being unproductive and “lazy” for as long as I like.
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I think I’m indirectly controlling. I don’t use force to control people (at least not anymore), I’m more inclined to engineer the circumstances of a situation in a way that results in people choosing to move in one of the ways that I want them to. Nobody has told me I am controlling, nor do they seem to feel they are being controlled. I don’t really do this intentionally, it just ends up being the path that I go down based on the options I have available (perhaps I am being controlled by something as well?). I’m not sure why I do this but if I had to guess it would be to protect myself and others from being hurt, after all you can’t be hurt if the option isn’t even available.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
See activities. My topics of interest are usually to do with people, nature or technology.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
I teach myself things. I always seem to find teachers/tutors intellectually suffocating. Outside of that I take any form of information possible.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I break tasks down instinctively. I do like to plan out the whole project before I start but I have no problem deviating from the plan and improvising if I think of something I like the sound of more. This usually results in the finished project looking very different from the plan and taking longer than it could have.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
None really. I’m content with just existing. However, in terms of what I choose to pursue it would be perfection in all fields, having all knowledge and having experienced everything, as well as transmitting this perfection to everyone else so that they stand beside me. More realistically, I’m trying to buy some land and build a community so that as many people are under my direct protection and responsibility as possible. The world has many powerful people that are looking to exploit the innocent solely for their own gain. I’m not expecting a utopia but I would hope it would be more comfortable for people to live in than the insecurity of greater society. It’s nice to think of spending the rest of my days with this small community.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
As mentioned earlier, I fear losing autonomy of my body and mind. I think I would still be comfortable in this state as I would get used to it but I actively avoid it coming to pass. I don’t think I hate anything, I don’t think in black and white. I’m not even sure I think in shades of gray, it seems more like the whole spectrum of color to me. I mentioned I don’t really believe in good or evil. In the event that someone is judged as evil by the world I can easily look at them and find just as many things people would find good. Does this make me endlessly accommodating of the actions of others? Certainly not. It’s just a matter of managing a conflict of interests, which is not something I struggle with.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
I can’t really think of anything that would fit a “high”. I think the closest thing would be my family and my friends. I’m not sure why they are what comes to mind. I mentioned before that I would be comfortable with losing everything I own since I have discarded worldly attachment, but for some reason when I think of losing people it's not such an easy answer.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
There was a time just after I had graduated high school and before I had moved out that I was highly depressed. I lacked any kind of purpose or direction in life and thought that I should have it. I also felt immense guilt over the harm I had caused throughout my school life. I believed that I should hide myself away from all life so that I never had the choice to take those actions again. It took me over a year living in this state to finally pull myself out of it. I discarded my need for a purpose or a direction and I discarded the need to be forgiven for the past so that I could live a new life. I discarded any other need that I could find as it is when a need is unmet that you enter a victim mindset, which is a mindset that I really want to avoid in me.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I’m not attached to reality at all. I daydream very often but I do pay close attention to my surroundings while I do so. I think having extremely sensitive senses helps with this. I have quite a vibrant and detailed imaginary world.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
I would think about the same things I do as I fall asleep. In other words, I’d just daydream about hypotheticals and the future. Possibly not the future in this case as there might not be one but I imagine I’d be able to entertain myself endlessly in my head.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I think of myself as having 3 decision makers. My rational mind, my sensory body/gut and my emotional heart. If all 3 are in agreement, I am able to make a decision very quickly. If 2 are in agreement, I will take longer to weigh up the options before I choose as often they will end up in agreement after I have thought it through. I will do the same if none are in agreement. In the event that they still can’t come to a unanimous decision I will flip a coin or roll a dice and go with the option that picks. I do this no matter how “important” the decision is.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
Apparently I don’t feel emotions in the way other people do (at least according to the people I’ve spoken to about this). I tend to recognise emotions through the bodily sensations they apply to my body, for example, I can tell if I'm angry by my body feeling hot and my jaw feeling tense. With reference to my 3 decision makers, this means I can only figure out what my heart is telling me by going through my body. In chaotic or highly sensory situations where there is not enough time or space to recognise what I am feeling, it’s as though I am not feeling any emotion at all. I tend to think they are just as important as the other 2 decision makers when deciding things, as emotions are the basis for deciding what you value. If you don’t know what you value, you can’t determine what the best actions are for you to take according to those values, which results in nihilism. I think people would be surprised to learn that I consider emotions important. I have an almost entirely inexpressive face and a monotone voice which has resulted in me being called a robot quite often. In the times that I do have an expression, it is usually fake and done to make the other person feel more comfortable.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
No. If I want to keep the conversation going then I will intentionally disagree with them to see how far they can take their opinion and understand it better. If I disagree with someone, I will inform them of my perspective. I do not wish for them to agree with me to “appease” me, although I will understand if they make that choice. I want them to inform me of their whole perspective so that I can understand it. If they can convince me after all this, then I will truly agree with them. This is not always the case though, I can imagine times that I would pretend to agree with someone, but it would have to be “worth” it.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I don’t think rules are set in stone. If I disagree with a rule and there are no meaningful consequences, then the rule may as well not exist for me. I make no comments on others' takes on that. I will challenge authority any time I want to. Whether or not they “should” be challenged depends on what you value in an authority, but for my case the answer is yes they should be. In the event I am an authority I would want to be challenged, it would be both an opportunity to test my ability as well as to exchange information with people.
submitted by Mobile-Career-316 to MbtiTypeMe [link] [comments]
- Either agender and/or pangender. I’m also either asexual and/or pansexual. I live comfortably alone but have a decent number of friends that I maintain communications with. Onlookers seem to believe I am dating all of them (not all at once but individually depending on which one I am “closest” to), which I take to mean that I apply no distinction between a friend and a partner (which I can agree with), hence the asexual/pansexual duality. Not really sure what this has to do with typing but there's a description.
Yes.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
I had a whole paragraph here but I realised it was probably very NSFW so I've decided to remove this part.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I’m an engineer, a mix of both hardware and software. I like the work of my job, but I don’t care much for the job or career part of it. I don’t have any career ambitions and would rather just learn the skills that the work can provide me and then move on to becoming entirely self-sufficient and only working for myself. I don’t think it's the other people aspect I dislike here as such, more the lack of independence and control over how I spend my time. That said, it’s worth it to live on my own two feet away from disturbances in the house.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
I know I would be completely fine, as I do this regularly. I don’t think I feel lonely nor refreshed. I generally have plenty to do with my time and find ways to occupy myself, even if that involves doing nothing and resting. If I’m interested in someone's thoughts or feelings on a topic I will just message them without issue and I usually do this once or twice a day, but there are many occasions in which I will just be focused on doing my own thing and won’t have contacted anyone.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I do all kinds of activities, from reading to games to sports. I’m very good at sports and enjoy them, but I usually choose to stay inside over doing them. I think to an onlooker a lot of my activities could look more like work than fun, but I get fun out of them. You would be most likely to find me (or not) inside reading some kind of research paper or building a machine. If not that then you’d find me playing a single player RPG/sandbox style game and if not that then you’d probably find me meditating/introspecting. You’d probably only find me outside playing sports if I’d been asked to by a friend.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
Very curious. I research just about everything in depth and if I had free time I would research even more. It’s become something of an inside joke at work that I will come in and have some kind of new theory or discovery to share with the office about some random topic that has nothing to do with the last. I don’t think I have more ideas than I can execute, it's more that I have more ideas than I do execute. I’m actually not a very ambitious person despite my insatiable curiosity, so there are many occasions where I will do nothing at all. Aside from the theories I create from whatever information/topic I have been researching, most of the ideas I present to others are to do with having fun. I often create small games using the objects we have in our environment (like playing cards or checkers pieces) on the spot, improvising the rules as we go along DnD style. I actually was invited to play DnD once with a friend group but I was something of a nightmare of a player since I would come up with completely outlandish ideas that the DM couldn’t handle. I was never invited to a session again after that.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
Being a leader isn’t tied to my self identity at all, but it does seem to be the impression other people get about me. I have been told several times that I would make a good cult leader (concerningly) and that I always seem to end up in charge of a situation. I don’t really do this on purpose but a lot of the time I am the only one who will speak up and start moving a group forward when we are in a situation that calls for it. I have been told that I am quite a diplomatic leader that makes sure people get along, have something to do and feel supported. That said, I personally don’t like telling people what they should value. I am of the belief that it is their own choice to decide that. I will however help people by telling them the actions they could take in line with those chosen values. I also think conflict is quite important and I will only try to keep the conflict civil without ending it until both parties are satisfied and have conveyed everything they wish to. This also includes conflict with me, I dislike “sweeping things under the rug”.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I think I am. I often feel as though my entire body is under my control and I am very intune with any physical sensations. I fear being paralyzed or losing mental integrity. This is the reason I avoid dangerous and reckless behavior that could result in losing control of my mind or body. I will not partake in highly “extreme” sports such as free climbing and I will not consume any kind of drugs to an extent that it affects my mental state, including alcohol.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particularly artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forms of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I’m not actually sure. I like writing stories and drawing, but I wouldn’t consider myself an artist. I am very interested in art and have been learning how to properly paint and create music on and off for a while now. I think it's probably similar to sports in the sense that I enjoy it but rarely choose it over another activity. I don’t really enjoy going to art museums, I find art to be subjective so interacting with it from such an objective standpoint disinterests me. A lot of my friends are artists and I support them in their endeavors.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
I don’t think about the past much unless I actively make myself do so to search for something there. I am very in tune with the present and am constantly looking out for dangers in my environment and observing people, but it's not my main way of thinking. I am almost always thinking about the future, both in terms of potential futures as well as what future I am aiming for. I have some trouble deciding on a future to aim for since all of the options seem so appealing and I don’t particularly want to close any of them off. There is a part of me that wishes I was immortal so that I could experience as much of everything as possible. This is probably also the part of me that likes stories and hearing the experiences of others since I get to understand a whole other world with its own futures in such a short amount of time.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
I will help immediately. I’m not entirely sure why but I imagine it has something to do with me enjoying solving problems, whether that problem is mine or anothers. I have largely minimized my worldly connections and needs so I often appear to “go out of my way” to help others even if it appears like it's sacrificial to myself. I don’t find it sacrificial to myself at all. I don’t need anything to be comfortable, it’s all just building upon that initial comfort as a kind of “excess” or “abundance”. I could lose everything I own tomorrow and be absolutely fine. All of this to say, I don’t sacrifice myself for others, I just help them most likely because I enjoy it. I do not consider myself a “good” person for doing this, in fact I do not really believe in the concept of good or evil at all.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
I think the fact that I immediately thought both yes and no for this question points to me not needing it. I certainly try to be logically consistent, but it's not the end of the world if I’m not. I think it's more important to me that I not be in denial about it.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
I do aim for efficiency but it’s not very important to me. While I do want to make the most of my time in this life, if I don’t feel like doing anything then I won’t. I’m comfortable with being unproductive and “lazy” for as long as I like.
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I think I’m indirectly controlling. I don’t use force to control people (at least not anymore), I’m more inclined to engineer the circumstances of a situation in a way that results in people choosing to move in one of the ways that I want them to. Nobody has told me I am controlling, nor do they seem to feel they are being controlled. I don’t really do this intentionally, it just ends up being the path that I go down based on the options I have available (perhaps I am being controlled by something as well?). I’m not sure why I do this but if I had to guess it would be to protect myself and others from being hurt, after all you can’t be hurt if the option isn’t even available.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
See activities. My topics of interest are usually to do with people, nature or technology.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
I teach myself things. I always seem to find teachers/tutors intellectually suffocating. Outside of that I take any form of information possible.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I break tasks down instinctively. I do like to plan out the whole project before I start but I have no problem deviating from the plan and improvising if I think of something I like the sound of more. This usually results in the finished project looking very different from the plan and taking longer than it could have.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
None really. I’m content with just existing. However, in terms of what I choose to pursue it would be perfection in all fields, having all knowledge and having experienced everything, as well as transmitting this perfection to everyone else so that they stand beside me. More realistically, I’m trying to buy some land and build a community so that as many people are under my direct protection and responsibility as possible. The world has many powerful people that are looking to exploit the innocent solely for their own gain. I’m not expecting a utopia but I would hope it would be more comfortable for people to live in than the insecurity of greater society. It’s nice to think of spending the rest of my days with this small community.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
As mentioned earlier, I fear losing autonomy of my body and mind. I think I would still be comfortable in this state as I would get used to it but I actively avoid it coming to pass. I don’t think I hate anything, I don’t think in black and white. I’m not even sure I think in shades of gray, it seems more like the whole spectrum of color to me. I mentioned I don’t really believe in good or evil. In the event that someone is judged as evil by the world I can easily look at them and find just as many things people would find good. Does this make me endlessly accommodating of the actions of others? Certainly not. It’s just a matter of managing a conflict of interests, which is not something I struggle with.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
I can’t really think of anything that would fit a “high”. I think the closest thing would be my family and my friends. I’m not sure why they are what comes to mind. I mentioned before that I would be comfortable with losing everything I own since I have discarded worldly attachment, but for some reason when I think of losing people it's not such an easy answer.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
There was a time just after I had graduated high school and before I had moved out that I was highly depressed. I lacked any kind of purpose or direction in life and thought that I should have it. I also felt immense guilt over the harm I had caused throughout my school life. I believed that I should hide myself away from all life so that I never had the choice to take those actions again. It took me over a year living in this state to finally pull myself out of it. I discarded my need for a purpose or a direction and I discarded the need to be forgiven for the past so that I could live a new life. I discarded any other need that I could find as it is when a need is unmet that you enter a victim mindset, which is a mindset that I really want to avoid in me.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I’m not attached to reality at all. I daydream very often but I do pay close attention to my surroundings while I do so. I think having extremely sensitive senses helps with this. I have quite a vibrant and detailed imaginary world.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
I would think about the same things I do as I fall asleep. In other words, I’d just daydream about hypotheticals and the future. Possibly not the future in this case as there might not be one but I imagine I’d be able to entertain myself endlessly in my head.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I think of myself as having 3 decision makers. My rational mind, my sensory body/gut and my emotional heart. If all 3 are in agreement, I am able to make a decision very quickly. If 2 are in agreement, I will take longer to weigh up the options before I choose as often they will end up in agreement after I have thought it through. I will do the same if none are in agreement. In the event that they still can’t come to a unanimous decision I will flip a coin or roll a dice and go with the option that picks. I do this no matter how “important” the decision is.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
Apparently I don’t feel emotions in the way other people do (at least according to the people I’ve spoken to about this). I tend to recognise emotions through the bodily sensations they apply to my body, for example, I can tell if I'm angry by my body feeling hot and my jaw feeling tense. With reference to my 3 decision makers, this means I can only figure out what my heart is telling me by going through my body. In chaotic or highly sensory situations where there is not enough time or space to recognise what I am feeling, it’s as though I am not feeling any emotion at all. I tend to think they are just as important as the other 2 decision makers when deciding things, as emotions are the basis for deciding what you value. If you don’t know what you value, you can’t determine what the best actions are for you to take according to those values, which results in nihilism. I think people would be surprised to learn that I consider emotions important. I have an almost entirely inexpressive face and a monotone voice which has resulted in me being called a robot quite often. In the times that I do have an expression, it is usually fake and done to make the other person feel more comfortable.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
No. If I want to keep the conversation going then I will intentionally disagree with them to see how far they can take their opinion and understand it better. If I disagree with someone, I will inform them of my perspective. I do not wish for them to agree with me to “appease” me, although I will understand if they make that choice. I want them to inform me of their whole perspective so that I can understand it. If they can convince me after all this, then I will truly agree with them. This is not always the case though, I can imagine times that I would pretend to agree with someone, but it would have to be “worth” it.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I don’t think rules are set in stone. If I disagree with a rule and there are no meaningful consequences, then the rule may as well not exist for me. I make no comments on others' takes on that. I will challenge authority any time I want to. Whether or not they “should” be challenged depends on what you value in an authority, but for my case the answer is yes they should be. In the event I am an authority I would want to be challenged, it would be both an opportunity to test my ability as well as to exchange information with people.
2024.05.14 21:33 _Karliah Noticing I friend-zoned Astarion... 50hrs ago... End me.
[Act 2&3 spoilers]
Honestly I just wanted to rant.
I just wanted to start the relationship in a healthy way because who'd say "yeah, let's fuck again" after your romance interest just told you he feels like a discarded sex toy in the cutscene after talking to the blood crazy Drow in Moonrise. Of course I'd offer him friendship - hoping that the relationship would upgrade to lovers later.
I even told the wood-elf-nypmh woman in the zoo that "I love Astarion".
And I was so confused when Withers shamed me for not having a lover.
After waiting and waiting for any romance-y cutscene or clues, I had the epiphany in the middle of the night while raiding my fridge - "oh wait, did I friendzone him somewhere?" Turns out yes, I did. 50 game hours ago and - due to me being busy with work - 3 real months ago. The only reason I started playing BG3 was because of this stupid pale ass twink because he triggered my "I can fix him" mentality harder than the average 60 year old white male misogynist triggers a femi-n*zi.
When I play games like BG3, I need to explore everything. There are no spots undiscovered on the map, no note I haven't read and no NPC I haven't talked to. (Yes, Act3 made me lose my fucking mind, but I still can't help but go into every house and look at everything I can get my grubby hands on.)
So... now I have the choice - finish my current playthrough (that's at 110hrs rn with just 2 nether stones and lots of sidequests) or go back to the 45hr save and do it all...over... again. UGH. (Yes, yes, I can just finish this one and romance him in a new playthrough - but honestly countless started and unfinished multiplayer runs with friends have kind of ruined the concept of re-playing the game again.)
Honestly, I'd rather rip my hair out and shove a tadpole into my eye than choose any of the options mentioned above.
Please Larian, allow us to unfriendzone people.
Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk
Edit: Whoever sicced the Reddit „we are here for you sad stranger“ help on me again… don’t bother. :)
submitted by _Karliah to BaldursGate3 [link] [comments]
Honestly I just wanted to rant.
I just wanted to start the relationship in a healthy way because who'd say "yeah, let's fuck again" after your romance interest just told you he feels like a discarded sex toy in the cutscene after talking to the blood crazy Drow in Moonrise. Of course I'd offer him friendship - hoping that the relationship would upgrade to lovers later.
I even told the wood-elf-nypmh woman in the zoo that "I love Astarion".
And I was so confused when Withers shamed me for not having a lover.
After waiting and waiting for any romance-y cutscene or clues, I had the epiphany in the middle of the night while raiding my fridge - "oh wait, did I friendzone him somewhere?" Turns out yes, I did. 50 game hours ago and - due to me being busy with work - 3 real months ago. The only reason I started playing BG3 was because of this stupid pale ass twink because he triggered my "I can fix him" mentality harder than the average 60 year old white male misogynist triggers a femi-n*zi.
When I play games like BG3, I need to explore everything. There are no spots undiscovered on the map, no note I haven't read and no NPC I haven't talked to. (Yes, Act3 made me lose my fucking mind, but I still can't help but go into every house and look at everything I can get my grubby hands on.)
So... now I have the choice - finish my current playthrough (that's at 110hrs rn with just 2 nether stones and lots of sidequests) or go back to the 45hr save and do it all...over... again. UGH. (Yes, yes, I can just finish this one and romance him in a new playthrough - but honestly countless started and unfinished multiplayer runs with friends have kind of ruined the concept of re-playing the game again.)
Honestly, I'd rather rip my hair out and shove a tadpole into my eye than choose any of the options mentioned above.
Please Larian, allow us to unfriendzone people.
Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk
Edit: Whoever sicced the Reddit „we are here for you sad stranger“ help on me again… don’t bother. :)
2024.05.14 21:17 Joshh170 Xbox Reveals Series X Based On Overwatch 2's Porsche Collab
 | Xbox has unveiled a partnership with Overwatch 2 and Porsche for a new limited edition Series X sweepstakes event. Such giveaways are standard practice for Xbox. Recently, it did the same with a special edition X-Men '97 console, and the release of South Park: Snow Day saw Xbox create four different Xbox Series X consoles, each featuring a main character from the game. submitted by Joshh170 to GameGeeks [link] [comments] After a few months of small teases, Overwatch 2's collaboration with Porsche, one of the most popular luxury car brands, has finally gone live. The collab brings two Porsche-inspired skins to Overwatch 2's in-game shop: one for popular tank hero D.Va, and the other for the high-flying DPS hero Pharah. The skins are based off Porsche's Macan Turbo Electric and Taycan models respectively. Now, Xbox is jumping in on the action. On Twitter, it revealed a new sweepstakes event featuring a Porsche and Overwatch 2-inspired Series X as the main prize. The console is primarily white and black, with a sleek red Porsche tail light running horizontally across the front. The top of the console is home to D.Va and her Tokki MEKA, both donning her in-game Porsche-inspired skin. The Overwatch logo is stamped near the bottom of the console and can also be spotted within a small gray pattern that runs throughout the design. The Series X is also accompanied by an Xbox controller made up of the same color scheme and design. Xbox's Overwatch 2 x Porsche Series X Console To participate in the sweepstakes event and have a chance at winning the one of a kind Series X console and its controller, fans will have to be following Xbox's Twitter account and RT the reveal tweet. Interested gamers will have plenty of time to do so, as the sweepstakes ends on June 10. Many fans under the tweet who like the design of the Overwatch 2 x Porsche console expressed their frustration that Xbox doesn't put these sweepstakes consoles up for proper sale. With Xbox having introduced official Series X console wraps last year, which allow owners to easily change the look of their consoles, they'd be a perfect avenue to get some of these sweepstakes designs into the hands of more Xbox gamers without having to manufacture whole consoles. It's unknown how long both Porsche skins will remain in Overwatch 2's in-game shop, or whether other heroes, like Bastion or Echo, will receive similar Porsche skins at some point in the future. Nevertheless, fans should expect to be able to buy the D.Va and Pharah Porsche skins in Overwatch 2 at least past the Xbox sweepstakes' end date of June 10. |
2024.05.14 21:02 CampingWorld Guide to Joshua Tree National Park RV Camping
If you ask other RVers which national park is their favorite, someone is bound to mention Joshua Tree National Park in Southern California. It's a camper's paradise with wide open space and panoramic views.
Most evenings, the landscape glows at golden hour, and the sky turns from red hot at sunset to dark blue and star-filled at night. You can enjoy the remoteness of the park but also its proximity to Palm Springs and the Coachella Valley.
Take the time during your visit to enjoy the endless roads of the desert landscape, play on the rock formations, and, of course, marvel at the Joshua Trees.
These trees range between 15-40 feet tall and can live an impressive 150 years. They’re members of the Yucca family and appear as though they're from a different planet, with limbs unpredictably jetting out like they have their own minds.
Another great reason to visit Joshua Tree National Park is the warm weather and abundance of sunshine. It’s no secret that RVers love to snowbird and the Californian desert is a wonderful place to be during the spring and fall months. You’ll enjoy sunny days and clear nights, perfect for dry camping with solar panels.
Here’s more information on the seasonal weather in Joshua Tree.
Check the park’s website for the latest weather alerts and condition updates.
Here are a few important things to be aware of ahead of time if you plan to camp in Joshua Tree.
Black Rock has six sites that can accommodate rigs with a total length (tow vehicle included) of 38-40 feet and seven sites up to 42 feet. Cottonwood has around twenty-five campsites that can accommodate rigs slightly longer than 35 feet.
Indian Cove and Jumbo Rocks both have a few spots for RVs up to 35 feet in total length. If you have a rig larger than 35 feet, site availability may be considerably limited.
These are primitive campgrounds, so you will need to bring (and carry out) everything you’ll need during your stay.
Indio is the last best stop on I-10 if you’re entering the park from the south. The park’s south entrance is located off Exit 168, about 30 minutes east of Indio. The park also offers a west entrance on Quail Springs Road, about 10 minutes southeast of the town of Joshua Tree. And the north entrance is just ten minutes south of Twentynine Palms on Utah Trail.
Several paved roads allow you to traverse the park, but going from site to site can require long drive times. The most frequented sites are located near the northern edge of the park, so if you’re coming from the south along I-10, you’ll be driving through the park for an hour or so before you spot your first Joshua Tree.
The Cholla Cactus Garden is so impressive, and you’ll love snapping photos of these majestic plants. Their beauty changes throughout the day depending on how the sunlight hits them. A small word of advice, look but don’t touch. Ouch!
It’s also a very popular place for night photography and stargazing. If interested, White Tank Campground is a really convenient place to stay because of its proximity to the trailhead.
Be aware that bikes are only allowed on roads open to vehicle traffic but that the main park roads do not offer bike lanes or wide shoulders. Consult the park’s website for safety tips and road recommendations before biking in Joshua Tree.
Commercial photography does require a permit, and if you’re interested in expanding your knowledge, the Desert Institute offers field courses in partnership with the Joshua Tree National Park Association.
After the sun goes down, keep your headlamp in red light mode to preserve your night vision. Your eyes will need less time to adjust when you lie down to see how many shooting stars you can count!
On a busy weekend, the park may have hundreds of climbers enjoying their slice of this monzogranite mecca. So be sure to follow Leave No Trace Principles and familiarize yourself with the park’s climbing management plan before your visit.
In the late 1920s, a Pasadena resident named Minerva Hoyt began voicing her concerns about the unregulated removal of cacti and other desert plants to be used in home gardens throughout Los Angeles.
In a relatively short time, her conservation efforts resulted in the formation of the Joshua Tree National Monument in 1936. The original protected area encompassed roughly 825,000 acres but was reduced by about 265,000 acres in 1950 when the Park Service excluded certain mining parcels in the eastern part of the park.
On Halloween in 1994, the Desert Protection Bill passed and Joshua Tree was elevated to national park status. The bill also added back approximately 234,000 acres of what had been lost in the 50s.
Plan your next trip to the national parks in an RV. Rent an RV, trade-In your RV, or buy a new or used RV and start traveling for less than $5 a day.
Have you been to Joshua Tree National Park? Share your tips and advice in the comments below.
submitted by CampingWorld to campingworld [link] [comments]
Most evenings, the landscape glows at golden hour, and the sky turns from red hot at sunset to dark blue and star-filled at night. You can enjoy the remoteness of the park but also its proximity to Palm Springs and the Coachella Valley.
Take the time during your visit to enjoy the endless roads of the desert landscape, play on the rock formations, and, of course, marvel at the Joshua Trees.
Why Visit Joshua Tree National Park?
The first reason to visit Joshua Tree National Park is to see its famous and fascinating Joshua Trees. Since the Mojave desert is the only place in the world where they grow naturally, Joshua Tree National Park is the best place to see them.These trees range between 15-40 feet tall and can live an impressive 150 years. They’re members of the Yucca family and appear as though they're from a different planet, with limbs unpredictably jetting out like they have their own minds.
Another great reason to visit Joshua Tree National Park is the warm weather and abundance of sunshine. It’s no secret that RVers love to snowbird and the Californian desert is a wonderful place to be during the spring and fall months. You’ll enjoy sunny days and clear nights, perfect for dry camping with solar panels.
When to Visit Joshua Tree National Park
Joshua Tree National Park is open year-round, but the best times to visit are during the spring and fall months. Park elevations range from 536 feet to 5,814 feet above sea level, so expect conditions to vary depending on where you go in the park.Here’s more information on the seasonal weather in Joshua Tree.
Spring
Spring is a very popular time in the park because the temperatures range from the mid-60s in February to the mid-70s in April. Depending on the year, wildflower blooms can be seen in the latter part of spring at the lower elevations within the Pinto Basin.Summer
Due to extreme desert heat (+100℉ days are the norm), the park is pretty quiet during the summer. Late in the summer, monsoon season hits Joshua Tree, which cools down the daytime temperatures but can also lead to flash flooding in valleys and ravines.Fall
Monsoon season continues into the fall, but it soon gives way to one of the best times to visit. Temperatures from August into October fall from the upper 90s into the low 80s, and evening temperatures range from the low 70s to the low 50s, on average.Winter
In the heart of winter, the park's average daily temperature is 60 degrees Fahrenheit, which is perfectly comfortable, but the nights get cold and often drop to freezing. Overnight temperatures in December and January average in the mid-30s.Check the park’s website for the latest weather alerts and condition updates.
Where to Stay
Joshua Tree National Park is pretty remote and expansive. You'll want to stay a few days. Unlike other national parks, there are no lodges or resorts for overnight accommodations. There are eight developed campgrounds, however, and camping out under the stars at Joshua Tree is an unforgettable experience.Here are a few important things to be aware of ahead of time if you plan to camp in Joshua Tree.
Reservation versus First-Come, First-Served
Four of the developed campsites require reservations. They’re larger than the first-come, first-served campgrounds, and some offer water and flush toilets. These campgrounds fill up very quickly. We recommend planning well in advance.Reservation Required Campgrounds
Black Rock and Cottonwood are the most developed campgrounds (water, toilets, sanitation dump) and are the only campgrounds you can stay in if you have a larger rig.Black Rock has six sites that can accommodate rigs with a total length (tow vehicle included) of 38-40 feet and seven sites up to 42 feet. Cottonwood has around twenty-five campsites that can accommodate rigs slightly longer than 35 feet.
Indian Cove and Jumbo Rocks both have a few spots for RVs up to 35 feet in total length. If you have a rig larger than 35 feet, site availability may be considerably limited.
First-come, First-served Campgrounds
These campgrounds are great options if you have a smaller rig and the good fortune of securing a site. During the popular season, these campgrounds fill every weekend and often during the week, as well.These are primitive campgrounds, so you will need to bring (and carry out) everything you’ll need during your stay.
Staying Outside the Park
If you’re unable to find a site in the park or you’re looking for a campground with more amenities, here are a few nearby campgrounds:- TwentyNine Palms RV Resort and Cottages: About 10 minutes from the north entrance.
- Sam’s Family Spa and Resort: About 45 minutes from the main visitor center.
- Catalina Spa and RV Resort: About 50 minutes from the main visitor center.
- Palm Springs Oasis RV Resort: About 45 minutes from the south entrance.
- Indian Waters RV Resort and Cottages: About 30 minutes from the south entrance.
Tips for Your Camping Stay
- Reservations for the reservable campgrounds can be made up to six months in advance.
- Reserve using the links below or by calling 1-877-444-6777.
- No campgrounds in the park offer electric RV hookups.
- Generator use is restricted to 7-9 am, noon-2 pm, and 5-7 pm.
- Hammocks are not permitted in campgrounds and must be hung from rocks or climbing bolts elsewhere to protect the park’s sensitive vegetation.
- Backpacking is permitted in the park, but it requires more advanced planning and preparation.
How To Get Around
Nestled between I-10 and California SR 62, Joshua Tree is located in Southeastern California and is easy to access. Several towns nearby, including Palm Springs, Indio, and Twentynine Palms, make perfect supply stops before entering the park.Indio is the last best stop on I-10 if you’re entering the park from the south. The park’s south entrance is located off Exit 168, about 30 minutes east of Indio. The park also offers a west entrance on Quail Springs Road, about 10 minutes southeast of the town of Joshua Tree. And the north entrance is just ten minutes south of Twentynine Palms on Utah Trail.
Several paved roads allow you to traverse the park, but going from site to site can require long drive times. The most frequented sites are located near the northern edge of the park, so if you’re coming from the south along I-10, you’ll be driving through the park for an hour or so before you spot your first Joshua Tree.
Places to Go
There are many places to visit in the park that offer a variety beyond the infamous trees. It’s a unique location that features the intersection of two desert ecosystems.Cholla Cactus Garden
The Cholla Cactus Garden is its own special area and is unlike any other part of the park. Be sure to enjoy the flat, ¼-mile nature trail to get the best look at the cacti. This patch of cacti is incredible because it mostly consists of Teddybear Cholla, which is the star of the cactus world.The Cholla Cactus Garden is so impressive, and you’ll love snapping photos of these majestic plants. Their beauty changes throughout the day depending on how the sunlight hits them. A small word of advice, look but don’t touch. Ouch!
Arch Rock
Arch Rock is a very popular rock formation located a half-mile from White Tank Campground. The loop trail is easy to follow and a perfect activity for the whole family. Of course, the Arch Rock itself is the thing people most want to see, but there's lots of space to wander around and explore the other rock formations, too.It’s also a very popular place for night photography and stargazing. If interested, White Tank Campground is a really convenient place to stay because of its proximity to the trailhead.
Keys View
Keys View is a popular lookout that offers incredible panoramic views of the park and the Coachella Valley. If beautiful scenery is your thing, make sure to visit Keys View. It’s about a 20-minute drive from the main road to the lookout via Keys View Rd.Ryan Mountain
One of the most popular activities in the park is the hike to Ryan Mountain. This 3-mile round trip trail leads to the summit, where you’ll be treated to sweeping 360-degree views. The hike is listed as challenging by the NPS, so be sure to bring plenty of water and expect changing weather conditions.Things to Do
The combination of the Mojave Desert and the Colorado Desert makes Joshua Tree a wonderful desert wilderness to explore. Here are some of the most popular activities in the park:Hiking
Hiking is a great way to get off the road and experience more of the desert landscape. The National Park Service offers plenty of safety tips for hiking in Joshua Tree, and here are some of the park’s most popular trails:- Barker Dam Trail: An easy 1.1-mile trail with interpretive exhibits containing information on park history. It’s a popular place for viewing bighorn sheep from a safe distance.
- Oasis of Mara Trail: A 0.5-mile trail to explore a desert oasis and learn how it’s harbored human and animal life for centuries.
- Lost Horse Mine Trail: A moderate 4-mile out and back trail to explore what was once the area’s most successful gold mine.
- Mastodon Peak Trail: A moderate 3-mile loop trail with an optional scramble to the top of a granite peak.
- Lost Palms Oasis Trail: A challenging 7.5-mile out and back trail down a canyon to one of the park’s most remote fan palm oases.
Mountain Biking
The majority of the park’s paved roads are not suitable for road cycling. However, several backcountry roads are perfect for mountain bikes. There are even three campsites within Ryan Campground dedicated to cyclists.Be aware that bikes are only allowed on roads open to vehicle traffic but that the main park roads do not offer bike lanes or wide shoulders. Consult the park’s website for safety tips and road recommendations before biking in Joshua Tree.
Photography
Photographers love Joshua Tree because of the variety it contains. From sunrise to sunset, photographers can find landscapes, animal inhabitants, and even human visitors to place in frame.Commercial photography does require a permit, and if you’re interested in expanding your knowledge, the Desert Institute offers field courses in partnership with the Joshua Tree National Park Association.
Stargazing
Stars can be hard to come by in urban areas like San Diego and Los Angeles, but Joshua Tree is a different story. Designated as an International Dark Sky Park, it offers some of the best stargazing in all of Southern California.After the sun goes down, keep your headlamp in red light mode to preserve your night vision. Your eyes will need less time to adjust when you lie down to see how many shooting stars you can count!
Rock Climbing
Rock climbing, in addition to bouldering and slacklining, is another great activity to enjoy in the park. To date, there are more than 8,000 known climbing routes, over 2,000 bouldering problems, and numerous natural rock gaps that make the perfect spot to set up a slackline.On a busy weekend, the park may have hundreds of climbers enjoying their slice of this monzogranite mecca. So be sure to follow Leave No Trace Principles and familiarize yourself with the park’s climbing management plan before your visit.
What to Bring and How to Prepare
- The desert can be dangerous, and the weather can change quickly. Check the forecast frequently and pack layers to prepare for changing conditions.
- The remote location means there is no cell service in many parts of the park. Communicate your plans to loved ones or authorities ahead of time, especially if traveling alone.
- Investing in a cell signal booster may improve cell reception in areas with limited service.
- A quality camping cooler is a great way to keep food and beverages cold in the heat of the desert.
- Bring an extra canopy tent and ensure your awning is in good condition so you can escape direct sunlight during the heat of the day.
- Keep up with air conditioner maintenance to regulate the temperature inside your RV.
- For the latest info on visiting Joshua Tree, visit their website: Joshua Tree National Park.
Brief History of Joshua Tree National Park
Despite its harsh desert environment, humans have inhabited the area that is now Joshua Tree for more than 5,000 years. In the modern era, the biggest threats to this natural environment were land developers and cactus poachers.In the late 1920s, a Pasadena resident named Minerva Hoyt began voicing her concerns about the unregulated removal of cacti and other desert plants to be used in home gardens throughout Los Angeles.
In a relatively short time, her conservation efforts resulted in the formation of the Joshua Tree National Monument in 1936. The original protected area encompassed roughly 825,000 acres but was reduced by about 265,000 acres in 1950 when the Park Service excluded certain mining parcels in the eastern part of the park.
On Halloween in 1994, the Desert Protection Bill passed and Joshua Tree was elevated to national park status. The bill also added back approximately 234,000 acres of what had been lost in the 50s.
Plan your next trip to the national parks in an RV. Rent an RV, trade-In your RV, or buy a new or used RV and start traveling for less than $5 a day.
Have you been to Joshua Tree National Park? Share your tips and advice in the comments below.
2024.05.14 21:01 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)
The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LetsReadOfficial [link] [comments]
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
2024.05.14 20:57 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)
The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
2024.05.14 20:56 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)
The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
submitted by Flagg1991 to MrCreepyPasta [link] [comments]
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
2024.05.14 19:32 Sylesth Combat Artificer - 67
My car's transmission is on the fritz, so it's in the shop and I'm working from home for at least today. Thank goodness I can even work from home, or things would be a lot more complicated. Anyways, that's just a bit of a vent. I've also decided that I might do little lore-esque prechapter bits for some extra flavor. Hope you guys enjoy them! I find them to be fun little thought experiments on how people might perceive the world I've created from within vs from my own perspective. Enjoy some crafting and some romance!
First Previous Next
We know that the spots that are caused by looking at a source of light are, in fact, damage of some sort to the eye. This is confirmed by the spots rapidly disappearing should someone be healed whilst experiencing them. But why? Is there a divinity within light, beyond what our mortal eyes can withstand? Is there some sort of invisible emanation that comes alongside the light that damages us in some way? The discovery of light damaging the eye has opened more questions for me than it has closed.
-Musings on the Relations of Light and Fire, by Jarwic Leftun
\***
Xander carefully opened the door, finding Gabrelle already asleep, and sat down on a chair. Maybe he could get that adaptive camouflage to work right on bright colors. Surely he had some colorful things in his inventory.
He did in fact have a few colorful things in his inventory, and he whiled the rest of the night away making small adjustments to the runic array that was embroidered into the cloth. He was satisfied before dawn, the cloth now performing as well with light colors as it had with darker colors. Now he just needed to make a cloak out of it. He briefly considered coating his armor with the array, but discarded it. There might be times where he’d want to be seen. Besides, a hooded cloak would better break up the outline of his figure, the ripples of fabric, especially if he were to crouch or lay prone, obscuring his outline even more. In little time at all, he had a long, deep hooded cloak of the color shifting, runed cloth in his hands. He stashed it in his inventory for now, as he had no particular need to sneak up on something right now. The rest of the time before dawn he spent silently sitting in the chair he’d chosen, trying to keep his thoughts to a minimum, just daydreaming. Night dreaming? He couldn’t sleep anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to let his mind wander.
As the dawn came and the sun began to shine through the window of the room, Gabrelle slowly awoke, once more finding Xander sitting in a chair rather than in bed.
“Mmf,” She grunted as she stretched. “Morning, Xander. You got back late.”
“Morning, yourself,” Xander said, turning his head to look at Gabrelle. “Yeah... Yeah, I guess I did.”
“What were you doing, anyway?” She asked, curious. “You didn’t mention that you’d be out late, just that you were going to go to see Valteria at her shop.”
“I uh... went on a date.”
“I knew it! ‘Comparing notes’ was a date!” Gabrelle exclaimed triumphantly.
“It was not!” Xander complained. “But we went to a tavern in the evening and it sort of... turned into a date on the way there.”
“Awhh, that’s so cute,” Gabrelle said. “Did it go well? Is she nice? Did you kiss?”
“I think it went well. We talked a lot about different projects and ideas we had. I also got to meet another [Godsmarked] - he owns the tavern we went to. I think she’s nice. Maybe a little shy. I think she’s gotten used to being treated differently by people. I don’t think she really believed that I wanted to go on a date with her, at first. ...And yes. We kissed.”
“Ooooh, look at you! You’re growing up so fast!” Gabrelle teased.
“Oh hush. I’m older than you!” Xander huffed, then returned to seriousness. “But ah, if I’m going to be dating someone... we need to have a conversation, Gabrelle.”
“We need to stop sleeping together?” Gabrelle quickly deduced before Xander could say it himself.
“Yeah... It doesn’t feel right, even though it’s just platonic between us. I don’t think I would appreciate being in Valteria’s situation and knowing that the person I was seeing was sleeping with someone else at night.”
“Well, I figured this would happen eventually,” Gabrelle said. “Either you or I were bound to find someone eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Don’t get me wrong, the snuggles were nice, but like I told you a while ago, I don’t have nearly as much trouble sleeping when I’m with the team.”
“Thanks for not being upset, Gabrelle.”
“You know this means you have to start paying for your own room, though, right?”
“Ah, shit, you’re right. I forgot.”
Xander left the room to allow Gabrelle some privacy to get dressed and meandered back down the stairs to see if any other members of the team were already up. Looking around, he spied Graffus eating breakfast at at table and moved to sit with the dwarf.
“Mornin’” Graffus greeted Xander through a mouthful of bread.
“Morning,” Xander greeted back.
“Glad to see you made it back, we were wondering if you’d be out all night,” Graffus told him, after swallowing his bread.
“I was out a bit late, I suppose. I let the time get away from me.” Xander said, not really wanted to be teased again about going out on a date. “So what are you planning to do today?”
“Bah, Frazay has roped me into helping her do research for the drakeling. So reading is what’s in store for me.” Graffus tore himself off another piece of bread from his plate and slathered it with jam. “You going to be going back to that [Tinker] you’ve been spending time with lately?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m supposed to learn more about converting mana types today, and also help her fix the suit of armor that I wrecked.”
“Welp,” Graffus said, now on his last piece of bread, “I hope ya learn something new. Never had much to do with [Tinker]s – not saying I dislike them, just that I haven’t had much experience with them – so it don’t make much sense to me. Using a hammer is about the only overlap in our professions.”
“I think your hammer is significantly larger than the one most [Tinker]s would use,” Xander chuckled. Thinking about what he should be doing before he headed to Valteria’s, he asked Graffus, “Hey, I might need to buy some monster parts or elemental cores, something like that, for practice. You know where I would go to find stuff like that?”
Graffus shrugged. “Dunno. My guess would be an alchemy and reagents shop. That’s generally what we’ve sold monster parts to that didn’t go to a smith or leatherworker.”
“Thanks, Graffus.”
The two of them chatted for a while longer, catching up on what each other had been doing. Graffus excused himself to finish getting ready for the day, saying he needed to tend to his beard, leaving Xander downstairs. Deciding to be productive and proactive, Xander stood as well and headed out of the inn to find an alchemy shop.
It wasn’t long before he found one, a familiar scene of an eclectic collection of powders, liquids, crystals, and strange organic things floating in jars inside the building. The proprietor was a dwarf, seated at a workbench. They were grinding something into a powder as Xander entered. He received a distracted greeting before the dwarf returned to his work.
Xander wandered about the shop for a few minutes, looking at the various materials throughout the shop. He identified what he thought might be an elemental core, a jagged piece of crystal looking material that seemed to have an inner flame. As for the monster parts in jars, Xander had no idea what was what. He finally felt he’d waited long enough and moved closer to the worktable that the dwarf was still sitting at, working away at the mortar and pestle.
“Excuse me,” Xander said, grabbing the shopkeep’s attention.
“Mm?” The dwarf said questioningly. “Can I help you find something?”
“I was wondering if you had any elemental cores. Something small, I just need one to practice with.”
“Aye, I’ve a few of them around the shop. You want something to practice with? So a relatively weak core, then – not all the small ones are weak. Do you need any particular type?” The dwarf stood up and stretched, moving to one of the shelves.
“Uhm no, just whatever is cost effective, I suppose.”
The alchemist rifled through the various bits and bobs on one of the shelves nearby before producing a small chip of what looked to be a semi-translucent stone. It was tinged slightly yellow with streaks of white. “This here is a chip off a lightning attuned core. Pretty weak, but it does still produce mana.”
Xander could see the dwarf’s arm hair standing up as if from static electicity as he held up the stone. “How much?” He asked.
“Twenty gold.”
Xander shrugged. Twenty gold wasn’t an issue for him anymore, and he didn’t feel like haggling. He always hated haggling. “Sure.” He fished out the coin and handed it over to the dwarf.
The dwarf handed over the stone to Xander and the pop of a static electric shock could be heard as a tiny arc passed between the two of them. The dwarf grunted and shook his hand. “Thanks for the business,” he told Xander. “Anything else you find yourself in need of?”
“Not at the moment, but thanks for asking.” Xander waved goodbye to the dwarf and pocketed the tiny elemental core. He continued down the street in the direction of Valteria’s shop, thinking about how he was going to undo the welding job he’d done on Valteria’s armor. He’d need her to guide his repair efforts.
Xander returned to the inn momentarily to grab one of his golems. He settled on Atlas for now, as it was the most basic of the humanoid forms he’d created. No extra arms or weird feet on him, no sir.
Arriving at the building that contained Valteria’s home and shop, Xander knocked before opening the door. “Morning,” he called out.
“Xander! Hello!” Valteria called out. She was at the same work bench she’d been at yesterday. Jarrett didn’t seem to be in the shop at the moment, as Xander wasn’t able to spot the man.
Commanding Atlas to follow him in and closing the door behind him, Xander started walking towards Valteria. “How’s it going?” He asked.
“Good, it’s going good,” Valteria responded as Xander brought a stool over to her workbench. “How about yourself?”
“Not bad. The upside of not sleeping is that I never struggle in the mornings now. I used to hate waking up.” Xander laughed. “I even ran an errand before I came here! Picked up this.” Xander fished around in his pocket until he found the small chip of elemental core and held it up for Valteria to see.
“Core?” She asked distractedly, staring at Atlas. She tore her eyes away and looked closely at the small crystalline stone. “Lightning attuned?”
“That’s what the [Alchemist] at the shop said,” Xander affirmed. “Said it was a very weak one, but that it did still produce mana.”
“Mmm, a good practice piece, then.”
“I thought it would be, too. Not that I know what to do with it, yet.”
“Well, how about this: I teach you to set the stone and make some conduit, and then you can help me fix my armor. All the glue has turned to dust by now, thank the gods.”
“Sounds fair enough. So, how do mana conduits work?”
“Well, the concept is simple enough. It’s a tube which conducts mana,” Valteria began to explain.
“Mmhm.” Xander nodded along.
“What you need is a setting – usually of silver, as it has good mana conductivity – which will be the first step of conduction, taking the mana from the stone. Simply wrapping the core in silver wire can work well enough, drawing in the mana that the core puts out through its surface, but for a more effecient setting, small holes are usually drilled into the core to set the wire into as well, giving more surface area to draw from.”
“So we care about the mana conductivity of the material, then? That makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it. I actually did a little experiment with my rune work to test which fillings were the most conductive.”
“Oh really?” Valteria said, interested. “What were your results?”
“Well, gold and silver were high up there in conductivity, and probably make the most sense for someone who has to physically manipulate material without use of a skill – both for a core setting and for inlaying a rune – but I did find that sapphires and rubies were even more efficient at transferring mana than gold and silver.”
“Mmm... interesting. I’ve heard of gemstones being used in very high-grade settings, as well as various other exotic materials. I read an account of one [Mechanist] who used tubes of mercury to conduct mana, though the relative effectiveness compared to silver wasn’t mentioned.” Valteria cleared her throat. “Uhm, now, where was I? Right, basic settings. Once you have your core – or monster organ, if you’re going that route – you connect it to the conduit. Usually, this is also silver wiring. I like to braid several smaller wires together, personally. I find it to be sturdier and hold up to flexing better. From there, it needs to be tied into a device. Which is a topic for tomorrow.” Looking around the shop, Valteria seemed to identify something on one of the shelves nearby. “I have a core that you could watch me set, and then you could try setting your own, if you’d like.”
“That sounds good to me,” Xander said. “I always love to see a master as work,” he added, opting for a little flattery.
“Follow me, then.” Valteria said, standing up from her stool and waving for Xander to follow.
Xander followed Valteria as she walked over to the shelf she’d been looking at earlier and took a palm sized, bright green stone from it. “Nature attuned core,” She explained, holding it for Xander to see. “I’m told it was taken from some kind of moving tree.” Valteria then moved to another worktable, on which were several of what looked to be drill bits to Xander. There was also an apparatus that look like it was designed to hold the bits, which was confirmed for him when Valteria slotted one of the small drill heads into the device. “This thing,” Valteria said, waving the drill a little bit, “is a life saver. I used to have to drill holes with a hand cranked one. Worth every single coin I paid for it to get an enchanted one.” She turned a dial on one side of the handheld device, which Xander was coming to think of as a magic dremel tool, and it began to come to life, the drill bit beginning to spin with a quiet whirring sound.
“Neat.” Xander commented. He watched patiently as Valteria drilled a series of shallow holes in the stone, the distinct screeching of metal on stone echoing through the shop floor. “So where’s Jarrett today?” He asked.
“Oh, he has the day off today. He asked for it about a week ago, not sure what for, though,” Valteria said distractedly. Soon she was finished with the holes she was drilling into the core, and moved to another workbench. “Now we create a setting for the core. This is a fairly simple way of doing it, mind you, but it is effective.”
Xander watched as she took sections of pre-braided silver wire and fitted the ends into the holes she had drilled. Once each hole was filled with a section of wire, Valteria began to pull wire from a spool, wrapping the stone until it was completely covered with silver wire and binding the braided sections to the stone in the process. “There,” she said, setting the stone down on the workbench. “A perfectly serviceable setting."
“So, if I understand correctly, you coat the core in a mana conductive material – the more surface area, the better, hence the holes – to create a setting?”
“Mmhmm,” Valteria said, nodding.
“Seems fairly straighforward. And then you connect the silver wiring that’s wrapped around it to more wiring, and attach that to your device? Why the distance? Why not just connect the setting directly to the device?”
“You absolutely can, if space isn’t an issue. Technically, the connection between the mana battery and the device, even if it’s just a single point with no distance, is still referred to as a conduit, though, so it’s considered a three part creation.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you want to try making your own, now? I don’t mind lending you a little wire.”
“Sure, but I should be good on material, I can produce it with my skills. Doesn’t last without a source of mana, but I guess the core itself might provide enough. Think this little chip is a bit small to put holes in, though.”
Xander looked at the small piece of crystal in his hand. If he just need as much contact as possible with a mana conductive material, his best bet would be to embed it into a sapphire or ruby. He decided on ruby, for no particular reason. Still holding the chip of core in his hand, he concentrated on his [Creation] ability. Valteria watched, amazed, as a ruby began to take form and grow around the piece of core until it was completely coated in a thin layer of gemstone.
“So, you can just... make things?” Valteria asked, sounding jealous.
“Well, it costs mana, and anything I make that isn’t provided a source of mana that leaves my person disintegrates in a day, but, yes. I can just make things with my skills. But,” he added, cutting off Valteria’s complaint of unfairness, “I have never received a skill that actually lets me improve a material. Sure, I have runes, which generally makes up the difference, but I don’t have any skills that improve the things I make. So, if you made a mana battery, and I made a mana battery the same way with identical materials, yours is going to be better, I assume, because you have skills that passively improve the things that you make, am I right?”
“Okayyy,” Valteria huffed. “I guess that does make it a little less unfair. But ugh! It would be so nice not having to source materials.” She looked at the ruby with a piece of core set inside it that Xander had made. “Well, I guess that about does it for making a setting... I thought it might have taken you longer to make one. I guess we can move on to fixing my armor even sooner! It’ll be nice to have it up and moving again.”
“Sure, sure, we can do that. Where is it, anyway?” Xander asked, looking around the shop again like he somehow would have missed the eight foot tall suit of armor.
“It’s in a shed behind the house,” Valteria explained. “I have it on a hoist so I can work on it.”
“Ah, that would explain why I haven’t seen it around.”
Exiting the shop, stopping for Valteria to put a small ‘closed’ sign on the door, the two of them made their way around the building, where Xander saw the small shed that presumably held Valteria’s armor. It looked like it could just barely hold the armor and one person – two, if they were comfortable with each other – inside it.
“So this is where the magic happens?” Xander asked.
“If by ‘magic’ you mean maintenance and upgrades, then yes,” Valteria agreed. She opened the door of the shed, which comprised most of the front of the tiny little building, revealing her suit of armor, which was currently hanging from several chains attached to pulleys on the ceiling. Plates of armor were laying strewn about the suite, leaving the joints and inner workings more exposed.
Xander whistled, looking at the inner workings of the suit. He could see gears, cogs, and joints, and throughout the entirety of the armor were running filaments of silver wire, which he assumed were mana conduits running to and from elemental cores and the various mana powered aspects of the suit. “This thing really is impressive. Almost as impressive as the woman who made it,” he said.
Valteria giggled, “Stop it! You’re supposed to be fixing this mess, not flirting with me!”
“Awh, can’t I do both?” Xander asked, trying to sound as saccharine as possible.
“Mmm, I suppose that if you are sufficiently skilled at multitasking, I might allow it,” Valteria said in a mockingly thoughtful tone.
“Well, I just so happen to be an expert, so flirt away I shall,” Xander replied. “Now, how about the beauty in front of me shows me exactly where the other beauty in front of me needs some repairs?”
Valteria sighed at Xander’s antics, but he could see the slight flush in her face. “Well, you welded the wrist joints, elbows, and knees. They aren’t welded all the way round, it’s more like you smoothed over a portion of it like it was wet clay. So if you could just... put it back? Shape it back to how it was, that’s should be all that’s needed.”
“Pretty straightforward,” Xander said, standing behind Valteria as she pointed out each joint. He could see the misshapen parts where he’d slapped a weld onto the metal. He leaned over her and put his hands on the elbow joint that they were closest to and began to shape the metal back to its original form.
“You’re... very close,” Valteria murmured to him as he formed the metal.
“Would you like me not to be?” He asked, carefully.
Valteria was silent for a moment before answering, “No...” quietly.
Xander carefully shifted to be a little closer, but still not quite touching, as he moved on to the wrist joint of the same arm. The process itself was simple, but he was enjoying taking his time. As he finished the wrist, he turned to look at Valteria. He found himself looking right into her eyes, as she was staring back at him. Unable to resist the temptation he leaned in a little closer, gauging Valteria’s reaction. When she, too, leaned towards him, he closed the small gap between them, drawing her into another kiss. Valteria pressed herself against him, the shed hiding them from any prying eyes on the street, and let out a small noise as Xander squeezed her tight. She was breathing a little bit harder than before the kiss as they separated again.
Valteria let out a breath. “You’re… a really good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Xander said, pleased with himself. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And you’re a tease, looming over me like that in this tiny little shed,” Valteria continued. “Now you’ve got me all flustered, how am I supposed to work now?” She mock complained.
Xander was glad to see that Valteria was comfortable enough with him to joke like that. “Forgive me,” he said formally, making a deep bow, “How ever can I make it up to the lady?”
“Oh stop it, I will tolerate no bowing and scraping, even in jest,” Valteria said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, as he was still holding the bow. “You can make it up to me by fixing the rest of these joints! And by taking me out to dinner?” She added, hopefully.
“I think that can be arranged,” Xander said. “Is there anywhere you have in mind? I will admit, I haven’t become very familiar with the local restaurant scene, what with my… dietary restrictions.”
“It doesn’t… make you feel bad to go out to a restaurant, does it?” Valteria asked softly, watching his face for a reaction.
“Nah, don’t worry,” Xander said, waving off the question with one hand. “It doesn’t bother me too much. Sure, I miss the taste of a good cut of steak, but I was never that into food. Eating was more of a thing I did because I had to, so I’m not completely devastated by the loss. And I can still get some vicarious enjoyment out of watching someone else enjoy their food. Really the worst part is awkwardly having to refuse ordering anything,” he said with a laugh.
“Alright, if you say so,” Valteria said, letting out a slight breath of relief. “I was just worried that it might be upsetting to you, is all. I know I would miss eating.” She paused for a moment, something clearly on her mind. “What do you miss? If you don’t mind my asking. I just… well, I’m curious what it’s like for you.”
“Mmm, in a lot of ways, life is still the same, and in other ways, I’m technically doing better than I was before. I’m incredibly resistant to damage now, even without my armor. I do miss sleeping, though. I try to give my mind a rest and just sort of daydream and let my thoughts wander or do some meditation during the nights, but it’s just not the same. Also means I’m the one that pulls guard duty through the night,” he grumbled. “Let’s see, what else, what else. Ah, right. I can’t smell anything. Or taste. I haven’t worked out how to recreate those senses, yet. Though no sense of smell can be handy sometimes, I suppose. I don’t know if you’ve done much merc work – you mentioned being surprised that I’m not just moonlighting – but uh… the smells that you encounter on a battlefield are… unpleasant. To say the least. It was weird not having a sense of touch either, but I’ve resolved that. It’s a little bit different than my previous, natural sense of touch, but I’ve become accustomed to it to the point that I don’t much think about the difference anymore. I think I’ve even got the density of receptors down in certain areas compared to others, so I'm more sensitive in some areas than others now, just like I used to be. I’m still immune to being tickled though, so don’t even think about it – that’s a fight you’ll lose.” Growing a bit more somber, Xander continued on. “I think… the biggest thing I miss is just the feeling that I fit in more. Now I always worry about being different, there’s that nagging fear that anyone I get to know well is going to reject me once they find out what I am. Like I’m secretly lying to everyone around me with this façade I have going on.”
Valteria nodded sadly. “I get that. I’ve been… rejected before, too. At least it happens or not right from the beginning for me. I get to know if they look down on me for being different immediately instead of fearing they might later down the road.”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “People can really suck sometimes. But at least I can just, like, not tell people what I am if I so chose. You, my teammates, and the guild, since it’s on my status sheet, are really the only people who know. I keep it pretty private. You can’t do that, so I think you probably have to deal with a lot worse than I do. Not that I’d want you to hide what or who you are,” he added. “I happen to be quite enamored with who you are,” he said, teasing a smile from Valteria’s sad face.
“Sorry to bring up such a dour topic,” Valteria apologized. “I didn’t think much on it before I asked.”
“No worries,” Xander told her. “Honestly, I think it’s good to be able to talk about it with someone. It’s healthy to be able to get you feelings out there. And it helps that I feel like you understand where I’m coming from with it, though from a slightly different perspective.”
“You’re surprisingly thoughtful sometimes,” Valteria said, only half teasing.
“Only sometimes?” Xander asked with a faux expression of hurt on his face. “By the way, you didn’t react much to my comment about moonlighting as a merc. Do you ever go on contracts?”
Valteria shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t describe myself as a professional mercenary. Moonlighter is an apt descriptor, for me, I think. I have gone on a couple, here and there, mostly on kill contracts that would net me a core or organ that would be useful for my work.”
“Mm, that makes sense. I suppose it could be handy having access to the ability to take contracts that would give you access to specialty materials,” Xander said.
“It’s also good for business,” Valteria explained. “Mercs tend to like to buy from someone who has at least been out on a contract or two before.”
“Ah, that makes sense. What kind of things do you sell to mercenaries, anyways? I saw Jarrett with a crossbow yesterday, but I imagine you make other things, too.”
“Oh all kinds of little things. Portable, flameless heaters for cooking. Water purification sieves. Mm, let’s see… I’ve made a few custom order devices, too. One customer wanted to be able to shoot a jet of flame from their gauntlet, that was a fun one.”
“Ooh, that does sound fun… reminds me of my flamethrower.”
“Your flamethrower?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a big tank with a hose attached to it. At the end of the hose is a pump that causes the flammable liquid – I use dragon’s tar – to shoot out. Add a flame that the tar passes over and bam! You’ve got a giant stream of flame that will coat anything it hits with sticky, flammable tar,” Xander said, excitedly describing the device.
“That’s… impressive. And kind of horrifying,” Valteria responded.
“Mm… I guess you’re right. I mostly use it on giant spiders. Blugh,” Xander shuddered. “But yeah, I suppose it’s not the nicest of ways to go. Very effective for area denial, though. Ah, actually I have an idea for crossbow bolt head that would ignite when it shatters! We should make that sometime and see if it sells.”
“Hmm, I think that would draw some buyers. A flaming bolt head you didn’t have to light first could be desirable to certain buyers.”
“Put that on the list and we’ll get around to it sometime.”
“We have a list?” Valteria said confusedly.
“We should!” Xander said with a laugh. “Now let’s get the rest of these joints done.”
The repair of the other arm and the leg joints that Xander had locked into position during the tournament was a short affair. Looking over the bare metal frame of the armor still hanging from the ceiling, Xander clapped his hands together, mimicking dusting them off. “Good as new!” He exclaimed. Looking over to Valteria he asked concernedly, “It is good as new, right?”
Valteria had been staring at the armor as well, lost in thought about how she was going to improve it next. “Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s right as rain again, ready for use. Thank you, by the way. For fixing it,” She said awkwardly.
“Well I’m the one who broke it, so it’s only fair that I fix it. So what do you want to work on next?” Xander asked. “I could do some rune work for you. Orrr… we could kiss some more?”
Valteria flushed at the question, but didn’t immediately say no.
A few minutes later, she found herself on her tip toes and lightly pressed against the interior wall of the shed, her lips pressed against Xanders.
Once the two of them were done acting like teenagers parked in a secluded parking lot, they made their way back into the shop. Stepping inside and closing the door behind them, Valteria let out a breath. “I think… you are going to have to do a lot of rune work to make up for how much you just kissed me, Xander.”
“What, you didn’t like it?” He said with a raised eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that,” Valteria said with a smirk.
submitted by Sylesth to HFY [link] [comments]
First Previous Next
-Musings on the Relations of Light and Fire, by Jarwic Leftun
\***
Xander carefully opened the door, finding Gabrelle already asleep, and sat down on a chair. Maybe he could get that adaptive camouflage to work right on bright colors. Surely he had some colorful things in his inventory.
He did in fact have a few colorful things in his inventory, and he whiled the rest of the night away making small adjustments to the runic array that was embroidered into the cloth. He was satisfied before dawn, the cloth now performing as well with light colors as it had with darker colors. Now he just needed to make a cloak out of it. He briefly considered coating his armor with the array, but discarded it. There might be times where he’d want to be seen. Besides, a hooded cloak would better break up the outline of his figure, the ripples of fabric, especially if he were to crouch or lay prone, obscuring his outline even more. In little time at all, he had a long, deep hooded cloak of the color shifting, runed cloth in his hands. He stashed it in his inventory for now, as he had no particular need to sneak up on something right now. The rest of the time before dawn he spent silently sitting in the chair he’d chosen, trying to keep his thoughts to a minimum, just daydreaming. Night dreaming? He couldn’t sleep anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to let his mind wander.
As the dawn came and the sun began to shine through the window of the room, Gabrelle slowly awoke, once more finding Xander sitting in a chair rather than in bed.
“Mmf,” She grunted as she stretched. “Morning, Xander. You got back late.”
“Morning, yourself,” Xander said, turning his head to look at Gabrelle. “Yeah... Yeah, I guess I did.”
“What were you doing, anyway?” She asked, curious. “You didn’t mention that you’d be out late, just that you were going to go to see Valteria at her shop.”
“I uh... went on a date.”
“I knew it! ‘Comparing notes’ was a date!” Gabrelle exclaimed triumphantly.
“It was not!” Xander complained. “But we went to a tavern in the evening and it sort of... turned into a date on the way there.”
“Awhh, that’s so cute,” Gabrelle said. “Did it go well? Is she nice? Did you kiss?”
“I think it went well. We talked a lot about different projects and ideas we had. I also got to meet another [Godsmarked] - he owns the tavern we went to. I think she’s nice. Maybe a little shy. I think she’s gotten used to being treated differently by people. I don’t think she really believed that I wanted to go on a date with her, at first. ...And yes. We kissed.”
“Ooooh, look at you! You’re growing up so fast!” Gabrelle teased.
“Oh hush. I’m older than you!” Xander huffed, then returned to seriousness. “But ah, if I’m going to be dating someone... we need to have a conversation, Gabrelle.”
“We need to stop sleeping together?” Gabrelle quickly deduced before Xander could say it himself.
“Yeah... It doesn’t feel right, even though it’s just platonic between us. I don’t think I would appreciate being in Valteria’s situation and knowing that the person I was seeing was sleeping with someone else at night.”
“Well, I figured this would happen eventually,” Gabrelle said. “Either you or I were bound to find someone eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Don’t get me wrong, the snuggles were nice, but like I told you a while ago, I don’t have nearly as much trouble sleeping when I’m with the team.”
“Thanks for not being upset, Gabrelle.”
“You know this means you have to start paying for your own room, though, right?”
“Ah, shit, you’re right. I forgot.”
Xander left the room to allow Gabrelle some privacy to get dressed and meandered back down the stairs to see if any other members of the team were already up. Looking around, he spied Graffus eating breakfast at at table and moved to sit with the dwarf.
“Mornin’” Graffus greeted Xander through a mouthful of bread.
“Morning,” Xander greeted back.
“Glad to see you made it back, we were wondering if you’d be out all night,” Graffus told him, after swallowing his bread.
“I was out a bit late, I suppose. I let the time get away from me.” Xander said, not really wanted to be teased again about going out on a date. “So what are you planning to do today?”
“Bah, Frazay has roped me into helping her do research for the drakeling. So reading is what’s in store for me.” Graffus tore himself off another piece of bread from his plate and slathered it with jam. “You going to be going back to that [Tinker] you’ve been spending time with lately?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m supposed to learn more about converting mana types today, and also help her fix the suit of armor that I wrecked.”
“Welp,” Graffus said, now on his last piece of bread, “I hope ya learn something new. Never had much to do with [Tinker]s – not saying I dislike them, just that I haven’t had much experience with them – so it don’t make much sense to me. Using a hammer is about the only overlap in our professions.”
“I think your hammer is significantly larger than the one most [Tinker]s would use,” Xander chuckled. Thinking about what he should be doing before he headed to Valteria’s, he asked Graffus, “Hey, I might need to buy some monster parts or elemental cores, something like that, for practice. You know where I would go to find stuff like that?”
Graffus shrugged. “Dunno. My guess would be an alchemy and reagents shop. That’s generally what we’ve sold monster parts to that didn’t go to a smith or leatherworker.”
“Thanks, Graffus.”
The two of them chatted for a while longer, catching up on what each other had been doing. Graffus excused himself to finish getting ready for the day, saying he needed to tend to his beard, leaving Xander downstairs. Deciding to be productive and proactive, Xander stood as well and headed out of the inn to find an alchemy shop.
It wasn’t long before he found one, a familiar scene of an eclectic collection of powders, liquids, crystals, and strange organic things floating in jars inside the building. The proprietor was a dwarf, seated at a workbench. They were grinding something into a powder as Xander entered. He received a distracted greeting before the dwarf returned to his work.
Xander wandered about the shop for a few minutes, looking at the various materials throughout the shop. He identified what he thought might be an elemental core, a jagged piece of crystal looking material that seemed to have an inner flame. As for the monster parts in jars, Xander had no idea what was what. He finally felt he’d waited long enough and moved closer to the worktable that the dwarf was still sitting at, working away at the mortar and pestle.
“Excuse me,” Xander said, grabbing the shopkeep’s attention.
“Mm?” The dwarf said questioningly. “Can I help you find something?”
“I was wondering if you had any elemental cores. Something small, I just need one to practice with.”
“Aye, I’ve a few of them around the shop. You want something to practice with? So a relatively weak core, then – not all the small ones are weak. Do you need any particular type?” The dwarf stood up and stretched, moving to one of the shelves.
“Uhm no, just whatever is cost effective, I suppose.”
The alchemist rifled through the various bits and bobs on one of the shelves nearby before producing a small chip of what looked to be a semi-translucent stone. It was tinged slightly yellow with streaks of white. “This here is a chip off a lightning attuned core. Pretty weak, but it does still produce mana.”
Xander could see the dwarf’s arm hair standing up as if from static electicity as he held up the stone. “How much?” He asked.
“Twenty gold.”
Xander shrugged. Twenty gold wasn’t an issue for him anymore, and he didn’t feel like haggling. He always hated haggling. “Sure.” He fished out the coin and handed it over to the dwarf.
The dwarf handed over the stone to Xander and the pop of a static electric shock could be heard as a tiny arc passed between the two of them. The dwarf grunted and shook his hand. “Thanks for the business,” he told Xander. “Anything else you find yourself in need of?”
“Not at the moment, but thanks for asking.” Xander waved goodbye to the dwarf and pocketed the tiny elemental core. He continued down the street in the direction of Valteria’s shop, thinking about how he was going to undo the welding job he’d done on Valteria’s armor. He’d need her to guide his repair efforts.
Xander returned to the inn momentarily to grab one of his golems. He settled on Atlas for now, as it was the most basic of the humanoid forms he’d created. No extra arms or weird feet on him, no sir.
Arriving at the building that contained Valteria’s home and shop, Xander knocked before opening the door. “Morning,” he called out.
“Xander! Hello!” Valteria called out. She was at the same work bench she’d been at yesterday. Jarrett didn’t seem to be in the shop at the moment, as Xander wasn’t able to spot the man.
Commanding Atlas to follow him in and closing the door behind him, Xander started walking towards Valteria. “How’s it going?” He asked.
“Good, it’s going good,” Valteria responded as Xander brought a stool over to her workbench. “How about yourself?”
“Not bad. The upside of not sleeping is that I never struggle in the mornings now. I used to hate waking up.” Xander laughed. “I even ran an errand before I came here! Picked up this.” Xander fished around in his pocket until he found the small chip of elemental core and held it up for Valteria to see.
“Core?” She asked distractedly, staring at Atlas. She tore her eyes away and looked closely at the small crystalline stone. “Lightning attuned?”
“That’s what the [Alchemist] at the shop said,” Xander affirmed. “Said it was a very weak one, but that it did still produce mana.”
“Mmm, a good practice piece, then.”
“I thought it would be, too. Not that I know what to do with it, yet.”
“Well, how about this: I teach you to set the stone and make some conduit, and then you can help me fix my armor. All the glue has turned to dust by now, thank the gods.”
“Sounds fair enough. So, how do mana conduits work?”
“Well, the concept is simple enough. It’s a tube which conducts mana,” Valteria began to explain.
“Mmhm.” Xander nodded along.
“What you need is a setting – usually of silver, as it has good mana conductivity – which will be the first step of conduction, taking the mana from the stone. Simply wrapping the core in silver wire can work well enough, drawing in the mana that the core puts out through its surface, but for a more effecient setting, small holes are usually drilled into the core to set the wire into as well, giving more surface area to draw from.”
“So we care about the mana conductivity of the material, then? That makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it. I actually did a little experiment with my rune work to test which fillings were the most conductive.”
“Oh really?” Valteria said, interested. “What were your results?”
“Well, gold and silver were high up there in conductivity, and probably make the most sense for someone who has to physically manipulate material without use of a skill – both for a core setting and for inlaying a rune – but I did find that sapphires and rubies were even more efficient at transferring mana than gold and silver.”
“Mmm... interesting. I’ve heard of gemstones being used in very high-grade settings, as well as various other exotic materials. I read an account of one [Mechanist] who used tubes of mercury to conduct mana, though the relative effectiveness compared to silver wasn’t mentioned.” Valteria cleared her throat. “Uhm, now, where was I? Right, basic settings. Once you have your core – or monster organ, if you’re going that route – you connect it to the conduit. Usually, this is also silver wiring. I like to braid several smaller wires together, personally. I find it to be sturdier and hold up to flexing better. From there, it needs to be tied into a device. Which is a topic for tomorrow.” Looking around the shop, Valteria seemed to identify something on one of the shelves nearby. “I have a core that you could watch me set, and then you could try setting your own, if you’d like.”
“That sounds good to me,” Xander said. “I always love to see a master as work,” he added, opting for a little flattery.
“Follow me, then.” Valteria said, standing up from her stool and waving for Xander to follow.
Xander followed Valteria as she walked over to the shelf she’d been looking at earlier and took a palm sized, bright green stone from it. “Nature attuned core,” She explained, holding it for Xander to see. “I’m told it was taken from some kind of moving tree.” Valteria then moved to another worktable, on which were several of what looked to be drill bits to Xander. There was also an apparatus that look like it was designed to hold the bits, which was confirmed for him when Valteria slotted one of the small drill heads into the device. “This thing,” Valteria said, waving the drill a little bit, “is a life saver. I used to have to drill holes with a hand cranked one. Worth every single coin I paid for it to get an enchanted one.” She turned a dial on one side of the handheld device, which Xander was coming to think of as a magic dremel tool, and it began to come to life, the drill bit beginning to spin with a quiet whirring sound.
“Neat.” Xander commented. He watched patiently as Valteria drilled a series of shallow holes in the stone, the distinct screeching of metal on stone echoing through the shop floor. “So where’s Jarrett today?” He asked.
“Oh, he has the day off today. He asked for it about a week ago, not sure what for, though,” Valteria said distractedly. Soon she was finished with the holes she was drilling into the core, and moved to another workbench. “Now we create a setting for the core. This is a fairly simple way of doing it, mind you, but it is effective.”
Xander watched as she took sections of pre-braided silver wire and fitted the ends into the holes she had drilled. Once each hole was filled with a section of wire, Valteria began to pull wire from a spool, wrapping the stone until it was completely covered with silver wire and binding the braided sections to the stone in the process. “There,” she said, setting the stone down on the workbench. “A perfectly serviceable setting."
“So, if I understand correctly, you coat the core in a mana conductive material – the more surface area, the better, hence the holes – to create a setting?”
“Mmhmm,” Valteria said, nodding.
“Seems fairly straighforward. And then you connect the silver wiring that’s wrapped around it to more wiring, and attach that to your device? Why the distance? Why not just connect the setting directly to the device?”
“You absolutely can, if space isn’t an issue. Technically, the connection between the mana battery and the device, even if it’s just a single point with no distance, is still referred to as a conduit, though, so it’s considered a three part creation.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you want to try making your own, now? I don’t mind lending you a little wire.”
“Sure, but I should be good on material, I can produce it with my skills. Doesn’t last without a source of mana, but I guess the core itself might provide enough. Think this little chip is a bit small to put holes in, though.”
Xander looked at the small piece of crystal in his hand. If he just need as much contact as possible with a mana conductive material, his best bet would be to embed it into a sapphire or ruby. He decided on ruby, for no particular reason. Still holding the chip of core in his hand, he concentrated on his [Creation] ability. Valteria watched, amazed, as a ruby began to take form and grow around the piece of core until it was completely coated in a thin layer of gemstone.
“So, you can just... make things?” Valteria asked, sounding jealous.
“Well, it costs mana, and anything I make that isn’t provided a source of mana that leaves my person disintegrates in a day, but, yes. I can just make things with my skills. But,” he added, cutting off Valteria’s complaint of unfairness, “I have never received a skill that actually lets me improve a material. Sure, I have runes, which generally makes up the difference, but I don’t have any skills that improve the things I make. So, if you made a mana battery, and I made a mana battery the same way with identical materials, yours is going to be better, I assume, because you have skills that passively improve the things that you make, am I right?”
“Okayyy,” Valteria huffed. “I guess that does make it a little less unfair. But ugh! It would be so nice not having to source materials.” She looked at the ruby with a piece of core set inside it that Xander had made. “Well, I guess that about does it for making a setting... I thought it might have taken you longer to make one. I guess we can move on to fixing my armor even sooner! It’ll be nice to have it up and moving again.”
“Sure, sure, we can do that. Where is it, anyway?” Xander asked, looking around the shop again like he somehow would have missed the eight foot tall suit of armor.
“It’s in a shed behind the house,” Valteria explained. “I have it on a hoist so I can work on it.”
“Ah, that would explain why I haven’t seen it around.”
Exiting the shop, stopping for Valteria to put a small ‘closed’ sign on the door, the two of them made their way around the building, where Xander saw the small shed that presumably held Valteria’s armor. It looked like it could just barely hold the armor and one person – two, if they were comfortable with each other – inside it.
“So this is where the magic happens?” Xander asked.
“If by ‘magic’ you mean maintenance and upgrades, then yes,” Valteria agreed. She opened the door of the shed, which comprised most of the front of the tiny little building, revealing her suit of armor, which was currently hanging from several chains attached to pulleys on the ceiling. Plates of armor were laying strewn about the suite, leaving the joints and inner workings more exposed.
Xander whistled, looking at the inner workings of the suit. He could see gears, cogs, and joints, and throughout the entirety of the armor were running filaments of silver wire, which he assumed were mana conduits running to and from elemental cores and the various mana powered aspects of the suit. “This thing really is impressive. Almost as impressive as the woman who made it,” he said.
Valteria giggled, “Stop it! You’re supposed to be fixing this mess, not flirting with me!”
“Awh, can’t I do both?” Xander asked, trying to sound as saccharine as possible.
“Mmm, I suppose that if you are sufficiently skilled at multitasking, I might allow it,” Valteria said in a mockingly thoughtful tone.
“Well, I just so happen to be an expert, so flirt away I shall,” Xander replied. “Now, how about the beauty in front of me shows me exactly where the other beauty in front of me needs some repairs?”
Valteria sighed at Xander’s antics, but he could see the slight flush in her face. “Well, you welded the wrist joints, elbows, and knees. They aren’t welded all the way round, it’s more like you smoothed over a portion of it like it was wet clay. So if you could just... put it back? Shape it back to how it was, that’s should be all that’s needed.”
“Pretty straightforward,” Xander said, standing behind Valteria as she pointed out each joint. He could see the misshapen parts where he’d slapped a weld onto the metal. He leaned over her and put his hands on the elbow joint that they were closest to and began to shape the metal back to its original form.
“You’re... very close,” Valteria murmured to him as he formed the metal.
“Would you like me not to be?” He asked, carefully.
Valteria was silent for a moment before answering, “No...” quietly.
Xander carefully shifted to be a little closer, but still not quite touching, as he moved on to the wrist joint of the same arm. The process itself was simple, but he was enjoying taking his time. As he finished the wrist, he turned to look at Valteria. He found himself looking right into her eyes, as she was staring back at him. Unable to resist the temptation he leaned in a little closer, gauging Valteria’s reaction. When she, too, leaned towards him, he closed the small gap between them, drawing her into another kiss. Valteria pressed herself against him, the shed hiding them from any prying eyes on the street, and let out a small noise as Xander squeezed her tight. She was breathing a little bit harder than before the kiss as they separated again.
Valteria let out a breath. “You’re… a really good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Xander said, pleased with himself. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And you’re a tease, looming over me like that in this tiny little shed,” Valteria continued. “Now you’ve got me all flustered, how am I supposed to work now?” She mock complained.
Xander was glad to see that Valteria was comfortable enough with him to joke like that. “Forgive me,” he said formally, making a deep bow, “How ever can I make it up to the lady?”
“Oh stop it, I will tolerate no bowing and scraping, even in jest,” Valteria said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, as he was still holding the bow. “You can make it up to me by fixing the rest of these joints! And by taking me out to dinner?” She added, hopefully.
“I think that can be arranged,” Xander said. “Is there anywhere you have in mind? I will admit, I haven’t become very familiar with the local restaurant scene, what with my… dietary restrictions.”
“It doesn’t… make you feel bad to go out to a restaurant, does it?” Valteria asked softly, watching his face for a reaction.
“Nah, don’t worry,” Xander said, waving off the question with one hand. “It doesn’t bother me too much. Sure, I miss the taste of a good cut of steak, but I was never that into food. Eating was more of a thing I did because I had to, so I’m not completely devastated by the loss. And I can still get some vicarious enjoyment out of watching someone else enjoy their food. Really the worst part is awkwardly having to refuse ordering anything,” he said with a laugh.
“Alright, if you say so,” Valteria said, letting out a slight breath of relief. “I was just worried that it might be upsetting to you, is all. I know I would miss eating.” She paused for a moment, something clearly on her mind. “What do you miss? If you don’t mind my asking. I just… well, I’m curious what it’s like for you.”
“Mmm, in a lot of ways, life is still the same, and in other ways, I’m technically doing better than I was before. I’m incredibly resistant to damage now, even without my armor. I do miss sleeping, though. I try to give my mind a rest and just sort of daydream and let my thoughts wander or do some meditation during the nights, but it’s just not the same. Also means I’m the one that pulls guard duty through the night,” he grumbled. “Let’s see, what else, what else. Ah, right. I can’t smell anything. Or taste. I haven’t worked out how to recreate those senses, yet. Though no sense of smell can be handy sometimes, I suppose. I don’t know if you’ve done much merc work – you mentioned being surprised that I’m not just moonlighting – but uh… the smells that you encounter on a battlefield are… unpleasant. To say the least. It was weird not having a sense of touch either, but I’ve resolved that. It’s a little bit different than my previous, natural sense of touch, but I’ve become accustomed to it to the point that I don’t much think about the difference anymore. I think I’ve even got the density of receptors down in certain areas compared to others, so I'm more sensitive in some areas than others now, just like I used to be. I’m still immune to being tickled though, so don’t even think about it – that’s a fight you’ll lose.” Growing a bit more somber, Xander continued on. “I think… the biggest thing I miss is just the feeling that I fit in more. Now I always worry about being different, there’s that nagging fear that anyone I get to know well is going to reject me once they find out what I am. Like I’m secretly lying to everyone around me with this façade I have going on.”
Valteria nodded sadly. “I get that. I’ve been… rejected before, too. At least it happens or not right from the beginning for me. I get to know if they look down on me for being different immediately instead of fearing they might later down the road.”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “People can really suck sometimes. But at least I can just, like, not tell people what I am if I so chose. You, my teammates, and the guild, since it’s on my status sheet, are really the only people who know. I keep it pretty private. You can’t do that, so I think you probably have to deal with a lot worse than I do. Not that I’d want you to hide what or who you are,” he added. “I happen to be quite enamored with who you are,” he said, teasing a smile from Valteria’s sad face.
“Sorry to bring up such a dour topic,” Valteria apologized. “I didn’t think much on it before I asked.”
“No worries,” Xander told her. “Honestly, I think it’s good to be able to talk about it with someone. It’s healthy to be able to get you feelings out there. And it helps that I feel like you understand where I’m coming from with it, though from a slightly different perspective.”
“You’re surprisingly thoughtful sometimes,” Valteria said, only half teasing.
“Only sometimes?” Xander asked with a faux expression of hurt on his face. “By the way, you didn’t react much to my comment about moonlighting as a merc. Do you ever go on contracts?”
Valteria shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t describe myself as a professional mercenary. Moonlighter is an apt descriptor, for me, I think. I have gone on a couple, here and there, mostly on kill contracts that would net me a core or organ that would be useful for my work.”
“Mm, that makes sense. I suppose it could be handy having access to the ability to take contracts that would give you access to specialty materials,” Xander said.
“It’s also good for business,” Valteria explained. “Mercs tend to like to buy from someone who has at least been out on a contract or two before.”
“Ah, that makes sense. What kind of things do you sell to mercenaries, anyways? I saw Jarrett with a crossbow yesterday, but I imagine you make other things, too.”
“Oh all kinds of little things. Portable, flameless heaters for cooking. Water purification sieves. Mm, let’s see… I’ve made a few custom order devices, too. One customer wanted to be able to shoot a jet of flame from their gauntlet, that was a fun one.”
“Ooh, that does sound fun… reminds me of my flamethrower.”
“Your flamethrower?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a big tank with a hose attached to it. At the end of the hose is a pump that causes the flammable liquid – I use dragon’s tar – to shoot out. Add a flame that the tar passes over and bam! You’ve got a giant stream of flame that will coat anything it hits with sticky, flammable tar,” Xander said, excitedly describing the device.
“That’s… impressive. And kind of horrifying,” Valteria responded.
“Mm… I guess you’re right. I mostly use it on giant spiders. Blugh,” Xander shuddered. “But yeah, I suppose it’s not the nicest of ways to go. Very effective for area denial, though. Ah, actually I have an idea for crossbow bolt head that would ignite when it shatters! We should make that sometime and see if it sells.”
“Hmm, I think that would draw some buyers. A flaming bolt head you didn’t have to light first could be desirable to certain buyers.”
“Put that on the list and we’ll get around to it sometime.”
“We have a list?” Valteria said confusedly.
“We should!” Xander said with a laugh. “Now let’s get the rest of these joints done.”
The repair of the other arm and the leg joints that Xander had locked into position during the tournament was a short affair. Looking over the bare metal frame of the armor still hanging from the ceiling, Xander clapped his hands together, mimicking dusting them off. “Good as new!” He exclaimed. Looking over to Valteria he asked concernedly, “It is good as new, right?”
Valteria had been staring at the armor as well, lost in thought about how she was going to improve it next. “Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s right as rain again, ready for use. Thank you, by the way. For fixing it,” She said awkwardly.
“Well I’m the one who broke it, so it’s only fair that I fix it. So what do you want to work on next?” Xander asked. “I could do some rune work for you. Orrr… we could kiss some more?”
Valteria flushed at the question, but didn’t immediately say no.
A few minutes later, she found herself on her tip toes and lightly pressed against the interior wall of the shed, her lips pressed against Xanders.
Once the two of them were done acting like teenagers parked in a secluded parking lot, they made their way back into the shop. Stepping inside and closing the door behind them, Valteria let out a breath. “I think… you are going to have to do a lot of rune work to make up for how much you just kissed me, Xander.”
“What, you didn’t like it?” He said with a raised eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that,” Valteria said with a smirk.