Blue cross blue shield of oregon ivf
Steam Game Swap
2011.06.22 02:54 mossyoakmanhntr Steam Game Swap
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2014.09.09 06:33 soiguessthisisit Shield Hero
Head over to shieldbro Official community for The Rising of the Shield Hero (Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari).
2010.11.10 18:11 Klisk BlazBlue
All things BlazBlue, the one-on-one fighting game/visual novel from Arc Systems Works! A community for players new and experienced to discuss the series, help each other, look for matches and more!
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 21:00 Sola_Sista_94 Cookies 'n' Dreams: Parts Seven and Eight (Fanfic)
"Himiko?" Kokichi knocked on the door to Himiko and Tenko's room later that night. Himiko had taken a long nap after such a disappointing day. But, before she fell asleep, she reflected deeply on what Kokichi had told her. She had to admit that he was right, that she needed to a better attitude about herself. But, how to do that, she didn't know. She suddenly remembered his words: You should be smart, confident, and capable of doing things your way. Her way? What was her way, exactly?
"Himiko?" Kokichi whispered a little louder. Himiko opened her eyes, hearing Kokichi calling out to her. She scrambled out of bed and went over to answer the door. Kokichi smiled at her with his usual cheeky grin. "Hey, sleepyhead! Are you still planning on selling cookies?" Himiko took a deep breath and nodded. Kokichi had given her some courage to actually try things and take chances, to try and overcome self-doubt.
"Yeah. I'm ready," she said. There was still a part of her that didn't want to, but she forced that part of her into silence. She lifted her chin and smiled at him. "I'm ready, Kokichi." Kokichi smiled back at her.
"Alright, Monkey Buns!" he cheered, giving her a high five and then a hug. "Same place?"
"Alright," Himiko nodded. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She remembered what Kokichi had told her earlier about being smart and confident her way. "But, on the way over there, can we stop by my, um..." She paused to whisper. "...secret lair? "
"Ooooh?" Kokichi murmured with a curious smile. "Yeah, we can stop by." Himiko nodded and retreated back into her room to grab the two tin bowls of cookies she had baked with Three and Ten.
"Nyeh...okay, I'm ready," Himiko said. Kokichi took her hand in his, and the two crept downstairs. Some of the others were still in the dining room eating dinner, so Kokichi and Himiko had to leave through the front door to get to Himiko's secret magic room under the gazebo. Kokichi stood outside to keep watch while Himiko went inside her magic room. Once inside, she went for her magical dream powder bottle and poured some of its purple, sparkly contents into a small vial, hiding it in one of her jacket's pockets. Then, she met back up with Kokichi.
"Now I'm ready," she said.
"Okie-dokie!" Kokichi replied, taking the tin bowls from Himiko to hold them for her. "Let's go, HimikoCocoa Bean!" They then hurried over to D.I.C.E. headquarters.
"Boss!" Four said, jumping up from the couch. "And Boss Lady!"
"Hey, Ichiro," Kokichi and Himiko replied.
"Wanna hear a song that I heard on the radio?" Four asked. He cleared his throat, and began singing without waiting for a response. "If you like piña coladaaaaas, and getting caught in the rai-"
"Okay, Ichiro, that's enough," Kokichi interrupted, wincing from Four's terrible voice.
"Urgh...thank you!" Five exclaimed as she wrapped Kokichi's cape around him. After Three placed Kokichi's hat on his head, she turned to Himiko.
"So, Himiko, did you sell a lot of cookies?" she asked eagerly. Himiko gave her an apologetic look and shook her head. Three's shoulders slumped.
"Oh..." she said softly.
"What? Why?" Ten asked. "Did they not like them? Because I put all my blood, sweat, and tears into those things! Er...well, not literally...duh."
"Yeah, I hope not!" Two exclaimed, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "I bet there are people in this world who actually do stuff like that!"
"Nee-heehee...I know a very horny someone who'd do something like that," Kokichi said.
"The tin bowls are still so full!" Three said, her voice dripping with disappointment.
"It's not really the cookies that people didn't like, Keiko," Himiko said. "It was because of me."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nine asked.
"Well, I'm not really popular at school to begin with," Himiko said. "But, I wasn't really trying my best to sell them because I didn't think I could."
"Ouch," Six muttered.
"Oh, well...still!" Three huffed. "They could have at least tried your cookies, anyways! Those...those...clowns! " Then she turned to nobody in particular. "No offense, me," she mumbled to herself before turning back to Himiko.
"Hey, no offense to the rest of us, either!" Four said.
"Should we take offense?" Nine asked. "It's not like we're actual professional clow-"
"We get it, Hideyo!" everyone but Himiko interrupted simultaneously.
"Nyeh, well...anyways, thanks to Kokichi, I've decided to try again," Himiko said, giving Kokichi a shy smile.
"Aww, HimiCocoa Bean, you're making me blush!" Kokichi teased, wrapping his arm around her waist. "But, I only get half the credit. You should give yourself credit, too!"
"And you should give us those cookies," Four said, pointing to the tin bowls in Kokichi's hand.
"Himiko, are you still going to sell these?" Kokichi asked. Himiko thought for a moment. She remembered what Tsumugi said about chocolate chip cookies being plain and boring.
"No," she finally answered. "Actually, I've decided to go with Ten's plan from earlier."
"Right! Um...wait, what plan was that again?" Ten asked.
"The plan to make the snickerdoodles," Himiko said.
"Oh, yeah!" Ten remembered, a grin crossing his face.
"But, I wanna add a secret ingredient of mine," Himiko said.
"I hope it's not blood, sweat, and tears," Two said, shuddering.
"Why not?" Seven asked with a creepy smile. "Don't you like that salty, metallic flavor in your cookies?"
"Ew! Yuck! Kokichi, make her stop!" Five said, covering her ears.
"Tsukiko, don't make me tell Emi to get Mr. Sparkles," Kokichi warned. Seven hid under a blanket.
"No, please. Anything but that accursed pink and plushy unicorn!" she hissed. Five grinned smugly at her.
"Can we help you bake again, Himiko?" Three asked hopefully.
"Nyeh...of course!" Himiko answered.
"Neat-o! Let's get started!" Ten said, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. Kokichi nodded to Himiko encouragingly, and she followed Three and Ten to the kitchen. They soon got started on the batter. Himiko removed the vial of dream powder from her pocket.
"Oooo! What is that stuff?" Three asked, entranced by the purple, glittery powder.
"Hopefully the thing that'll win over any potential customers," Himiko answered before pouring the powder into the mixture. She mixed the batter until it became a shiny, glittering harmony of many colors.
"Holy Constantinople-y!" Ten exclaimed. "What the heck kind of secret ingredient is that?!"
"The batter looks so...pretty!" Three breathed in awe. "It's so...shiny and sparkly!" Then, she lowered her voice. "Is this...some of your magic, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...that's right," Himiko nodded.
"I know this is might sound like a dumb question, but...are you allowed to do that?" Ten asked.
"Nobody at school knows about my magic except for Kokichi," Himiko said. "So, technically, it's not not allowed. And besides, Kokichi said that I need to be smart and confident my way. And magic is my way of doing just that."
Part Eight
Sunday afternoon. Himiko took a deep breath, deeply breathing in the warm air as a gentle breeze flowed around her. Today, she felt lucky. She stood behind her table at the front of the school. Above her was a more colorful, glittery sign she and Three had worked on with the word, "Snoozydoodles," written in swirly letters. Hopefully it would be enough to bring in some customers. Her snickerdoodles were laid out on three large trays in front of her so that the other students could see their colorful and sparkly design.
"Hiya, Himiko!" came a cheerful voice. Himiko looked up and was surprised to see Three.
"Keiko?" she whispered. "Nyeh...what are you doing here?"
"I decided to come and cheer you on...and to make sure the turd buckets here buy your cookies," Three replied. "I put some love and special care into those cookies, and I didn't bust my tail just to have nobody buy them!"
"Nyeh...but...Ten and I worked on them, too," Himiko pointed out. "And I put my 'special ingredient' in them."
"I know," Three said. "But, I feel like if I worked hard on something, either by myself or in a group, I'd like for the world to see it, that's all."
"I understand," Himiko said with a small smile. "Wait...this is supposed to be a competition between me and Kokichi! I don't think he'd appreciate you helping me out, especially since I should be doing this myself."
"Well, I'll just be here for emotional support, then!" Three said. Himiko smiled gratefully and nodded.
"I guess that's okay," she said. " Thanks, Keiko. I like your outfit, by the way." Three scanned her outfit proudly. Instead of her D.I.C.E. uniform, she wore an oversized, cream-colored fluffy sweater over a short, pink ruffled skirt. She wore a pair of white tights with some loose pink socks and a pair of black and white checkered lolita shoes with pink straps. In her hair were pink bows over each pigtail.
"Eeee! Thank you!" she squealed happily. "It's not very often I get to go out in cutesy clothes like this, unless I'm undercover! Well...I guess you might say I'm going undercover right now, but...eh, whatever."
"Speaking of which, why are your shoes checkered?" Himiko asked. "Won't that give you away? Part of the reason why people know your organization is because of the checker pattern scarves...which makes me wonder how people haven't suspected Kokichi being part of...you-know-what."
"Heehee...I call that the 'Sailor Moon Effect,'" Three giggled. "But, anyway, when members of the organization are wearing casual clothes, we have to wear some article of clothing with a black and white checkered pattern to let other members know our affiliation. The beauty of it is that there are people not affiliated with us who wear checker patterned clothing, so it gives us a chance to blend in as if we're just regular people. That's why we have a codeword to tell the difference between members and the 'reggies.'"
"What's the codeword?" Himiko asked. Three leaned in closer to Himiko.
"'Funny business,' " she whispered.
"Nyeh...that's actually really cool," Himiko admitted with a smile.
"Yeah! You should really join, Himiko!" Three said. "I think you'll have lots of fun!"
"Fun with what?" asked Tenko, suddenly appearing with Angie and Tsumugi behind her. She had a frown on her face and marched right up to Three. "Himiko, who's this girl, and what's she trying to get you to join? WAIT!! Is this girl the friend you were talking about?! The one who helped you bake cookies yesterday?!"
"Yeah," Himiko nodded.
"Hey! I recognize you!" Angie said. "You're one of the girls who rescued Himiko from that crazy girl many months ago!" Three brightened.
"Yeah! That's me!" she said.
"Tuh...I could have rescued Himiko, you know," Tenko huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Three.
"Well...why didn't you?" Three asked.
"Urgh...!" Tenko scoffed. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I'm Michika!" Three lied, using one of her aliases. "I'm here to support Himiko with her cookie sale!"
"She doesn't need your support," Tenko said, stepping in between Three and Himiko. "Himiko already has me! Right, Himiko?"
"Umm..." Himiko mumbled.
"Of course you do!" Tenko interrupted.
"But...you didn't even let her finish," Three said.
"I didn't have to," Tenko said. "I already knew what she was thinking because we're best friends."
"Well...then...if you're her best friend, why dont'cha buy a cookie?" Three suggested craftily.
"Hmph! I will!" Tenko scoffed and turned to Himiko. "How much for a cookie, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...same as before," Himiko answered. Tenko paid ¥500 and grabbed a shimmery, glittering light green snickerdoodle from one of the trays. "Ooo, these are pretty, Himiko! Did you bake them all by yourself?"
"No, um...Michika helped me again," Himiko answered. Tenko glared at Three and flipped her hair at her.
"Well...they're okay, then," she said haughtily. "But, they're extra special because you helped, Himiko!"
"What are these cookies called, Himiko?" Tsumugi asked, scrutinizing a glittering blue cookie.
"Nyeh...they're called 'Snoozydoodles,'" Himiko answered. "They're snickerdoodles, but a special kind of snickerdoodles."
"Oooo! Why are they called 'Snoozydoodles?'" asked Angie.
"You have to eat them right before going to sleep to find out," Himiko answered mysteriously. Tenko hovered her cookie in front of her mouth.
"Oh! So, I have to eat this right before bed?" she asked.
"That's right," Himiko nodded.
"Aw, that's so creative, Himiko!" Tenko cried in adoration. "You're really clever, too! I bet you thought of the name!" Three rolled her eyes in annoyance. Himiko provided a little baggy for Tenko to put her cookie in, and provided some for Angie and Tsumugi, as well, after they had paid for their cookies.
"Thank you, Himiko," Tsumugi said.
"Yes! Yes! Thank you, Himiko!" Angie chirped.
"Well...I guess we'd better try out the other cookies," Tsumugi said. "Everyone else said they'd have different flavors of cookies, too. Although, I don't think I'll try Kokichi's after what happened yesterday. I can plainly still feel the burn on my tongue."
"Hmm...I thought his cookies were divine!" Angie exclaimed. "I have never felt such an intense rush of heat before! Especially in a cookie!"
"Leave it up to a degenerate male to bake something so...horrible! " Tenko spat. Three raised a brow at her.
"Degenerate male?" she repeated. She didn't like hearing her boss being referred to that way.
"Yeah! Males are all scum of the Earth!" Tenko said. "Kind of like...best friend stealers."
"I wasn't trying to steal your best friend," Three said, fed up with Tenko.
"Huh...why did you assume I was talking about you? " Tenko asked. "You know what happens to people who assume things, don't you?"
"They end up knocking all 32 teeth out of the person accusing them of assuming things?" Three replied, trying to keep her cool.
"And you're violent!" Tenko shouted. "You're clearly a bad influence on Himiko!" Three stared at her in disbelief, creating an awkward silence to linger in the air.
"Well, um...I guess we should be going then," Tsumugi said, hurriedly yanking Angie away. "C'mon, Angie. Tenko? Are you coming?"
"No. I think I'll stay right here and help Himiko, since she clearly needs my support," Tenko said, glowering at Three.
"Tenko..." Himiko sighed in exasperation, but Three merely smiled sweetly at Tenko.
"Oh, my gosh! Where'd you get your outfit?" she asked. Tenko looked down quizzically at her outfit.
"W-Why...do you want to know?" she replied with suspicion.
"It's just so pretty!" Three replied. "Are you, like, the Ultimate Princess, or the Ultimate Cheerleader, or something?"
"Um...n-no...I'm the Ultimate Aikido Master," Tenko stammered as a small blush appeared on her face.
"Oh, wow! That's even better!" Three exclaimed. "I bet you give those...degenerate males...what they deserve all the time!" The hardened look on Tenko's face from before disappeared.
"You bet I do!" she said proudly.
"Oh...I wish I could be like you!" Three breathed. "You're, like, my hero! I bet you're a hero to girls everywhere!" Tenko lowered her head bashfully, blushing like crazy.
"N-No...I'm not all that...great," she sputtered.
"I bet you'd do anything for girls, huh?" Three asked.
"Oh, yes!" Tenko answered. "So long as you aren't a degenerate male, you're a friend of mine!"
Says the girl who just accused me of stealing her best friend, Three thought to herself. "Hooray! I'm happy to hear that! But...to tell you the truth, I can't believe you just ditched your other friends. They were girls, after all, and you just let them walk right into the school where they could be potential prey for those boys-er...I mean, degenerate males." Tenko gasped with realization.
"Oh, my gosh! You're so right!" she cried. "But...what about Himiko?"
"I'll look after her," Three said. "You trust me, right? I am a girl after all."
"Ohhh...well, okay," Tenko said. Then, she smiled. "I'll trust you, Michika! Take care of Himiko!"
"Oh, I will!" Three said. "Bye! Goodbye!" Tenko waved goodbye, leaving Himiko and Three alone. Three exhaled. "Finally, she's gone!" Himiko stared at her in amazement.
"Nyeh...that was incredible!" she cried. Three shrugged modestly.
"Yeah, I guess I picked up a little bit of manipulation skills from the boss," she said. "He's way better at it than I am, though! That girl was so annoying, by the way! Is she seriously your best friend?!"
"Well, yeah, I guess," Himiko answered. "She wants to support and protect me all the time."
"Sounds more like she wants to breastfeed you, or wipe your butt after you poop," Three said in disgust. She and Himiko shuddered at the thought. "Well, anyways, now that 'Tin Cup' is gone, let's put you on the cookie map!"
"Right!" Himiko said, and gave Three a high five.
submitted by Sola_Sista_94 to danganronpa [link] [comments]
"Himiko?" Kokichi whispered a little louder. Himiko opened her eyes, hearing Kokichi calling out to her. She scrambled out of bed and went over to answer the door. Kokichi smiled at her with his usual cheeky grin. "Hey, sleepyhead! Are you still planning on selling cookies?" Himiko took a deep breath and nodded. Kokichi had given her some courage to actually try things and take chances, to try and overcome self-doubt.
"Yeah. I'm ready," she said. There was still a part of her that didn't want to, but she forced that part of her into silence. She lifted her chin and smiled at him. "I'm ready, Kokichi." Kokichi smiled back at her.
"Alright, Monkey Buns!" he cheered, giving her a high five and then a hug. "Same place?"
"Alright," Himiko nodded. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She remembered what Kokichi had told her earlier about being smart and confident her way. "But, on the way over there, can we stop by my, um..." She paused to whisper. "...secret lair? "
"Ooooh?" Kokichi murmured with a curious smile. "Yeah, we can stop by." Himiko nodded and retreated back into her room to grab the two tin bowls of cookies she had baked with Three and Ten.
"Nyeh...okay, I'm ready," Himiko said. Kokichi took her hand in his, and the two crept downstairs. Some of the others were still in the dining room eating dinner, so Kokichi and Himiko had to leave through the front door to get to Himiko's secret magic room under the gazebo. Kokichi stood outside to keep watch while Himiko went inside her magic room. Once inside, she went for her magical dream powder bottle and poured some of its purple, sparkly contents into a small vial, hiding it in one of her jacket's pockets. Then, she met back up with Kokichi.
"Now I'm ready," she said.
"Okie-dokie!" Kokichi replied, taking the tin bowls from Himiko to hold them for her. "Let's go, HimikoCocoa Bean!" They then hurried over to D.I.C.E. headquarters.
"Boss!" Four said, jumping up from the couch. "And Boss Lady!"
"Hey, Ichiro," Kokichi and Himiko replied.
"Wanna hear a song that I heard on the radio?" Four asked. He cleared his throat, and began singing without waiting for a response. "If you like piña coladaaaaas, and getting caught in the rai-"
"Okay, Ichiro, that's enough," Kokichi interrupted, wincing from Four's terrible voice.
"Urgh...thank you!" Five exclaimed as she wrapped Kokichi's cape around him. After Three placed Kokichi's hat on his head, she turned to Himiko.
"So, Himiko, did you sell a lot of cookies?" she asked eagerly. Himiko gave her an apologetic look and shook her head. Three's shoulders slumped.
"Oh..." she said softly.
"What? Why?" Ten asked. "Did they not like them? Because I put all my blood, sweat, and tears into those things! Er...well, not literally...duh."
"Yeah, I hope not!" Two exclaimed, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "I bet there are people in this world who actually do stuff like that!"
"Nee-heehee...I know a very horny someone who'd do something like that," Kokichi said.
"The tin bowls are still so full!" Three said, her voice dripping with disappointment.
"It's not really the cookies that people didn't like, Keiko," Himiko said. "It was because of me."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nine asked.
"Well, I'm not really popular at school to begin with," Himiko said. "But, I wasn't really trying my best to sell them because I didn't think I could."
"Ouch," Six muttered.
"Oh, well...still!" Three huffed. "They could have at least tried your cookies, anyways! Those...those...clowns! " Then she turned to nobody in particular. "No offense, me," she mumbled to herself before turning back to Himiko.
"Hey, no offense to the rest of us, either!" Four said.
"Should we take offense?" Nine asked. "It's not like we're actual professional clow-"
"We get it, Hideyo!" everyone but Himiko interrupted simultaneously.
"Nyeh, well...anyways, thanks to Kokichi, I've decided to try again," Himiko said, giving Kokichi a shy smile.
"Aww, HimiCocoa Bean, you're making me blush!" Kokichi teased, wrapping his arm around her waist. "But, I only get half the credit. You should give yourself credit, too!"
"And you should give us those cookies," Four said, pointing to the tin bowls in Kokichi's hand.
"Himiko, are you still going to sell these?" Kokichi asked. Himiko thought for a moment. She remembered what Tsumugi said about chocolate chip cookies being plain and boring.
"No," she finally answered. "Actually, I've decided to go with Ten's plan from earlier."
"Right! Um...wait, what plan was that again?" Ten asked.
"The plan to make the snickerdoodles," Himiko said.
"Oh, yeah!" Ten remembered, a grin crossing his face.
"But, I wanna add a secret ingredient of mine," Himiko said.
"I hope it's not blood, sweat, and tears," Two said, shuddering.
"Why not?" Seven asked with a creepy smile. "Don't you like that salty, metallic flavor in your cookies?"
"Ew! Yuck! Kokichi, make her stop!" Five said, covering her ears.
"Tsukiko, don't make me tell Emi to get Mr. Sparkles," Kokichi warned. Seven hid under a blanket.
"No, please. Anything but that accursed pink and plushy unicorn!" she hissed. Five grinned smugly at her.
"Can we help you bake again, Himiko?" Three asked hopefully.
"Nyeh...of course!" Himiko answered.
"Neat-o! Let's get started!" Ten said, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. Kokichi nodded to Himiko encouragingly, and she followed Three and Ten to the kitchen. They soon got started on the batter. Himiko removed the vial of dream powder from her pocket.
"Oooo! What is that stuff?" Three asked, entranced by the purple, glittery powder.
"Hopefully the thing that'll win over any potential customers," Himiko answered before pouring the powder into the mixture. She mixed the batter until it became a shiny, glittering harmony of many colors.
"Holy Constantinople-y!" Ten exclaimed. "What the heck kind of secret ingredient is that?!"
"The batter looks so...pretty!" Three breathed in awe. "It's so...shiny and sparkly!" Then, she lowered her voice. "Is this...some of your magic, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...that's right," Himiko nodded.
"I know this is might sound like a dumb question, but...are you allowed to do that?" Ten asked.
"Nobody at school knows about my magic except for Kokichi," Himiko said. "So, technically, it's not not allowed. And besides, Kokichi said that I need to be smart and confident my way. And magic is my way of doing just that."
Part Eight
Sunday afternoon. Himiko took a deep breath, deeply breathing in the warm air as a gentle breeze flowed around her. Today, she felt lucky. She stood behind her table at the front of the school. Above her was a more colorful, glittery sign she and Three had worked on with the word, "Snoozydoodles," written in swirly letters. Hopefully it would be enough to bring in some customers. Her snickerdoodles were laid out on three large trays in front of her so that the other students could see their colorful and sparkly design.
"Hiya, Himiko!" came a cheerful voice. Himiko looked up and was surprised to see Three.
"Keiko?" she whispered. "Nyeh...what are you doing here?"
"I decided to come and cheer you on...and to make sure the turd buckets here buy your cookies," Three replied. "I put some love and special care into those cookies, and I didn't bust my tail just to have nobody buy them!"
"Nyeh...but...Ten and I worked on them, too," Himiko pointed out. "And I put my 'special ingredient' in them."
"I know," Three said. "But, I feel like if I worked hard on something, either by myself or in a group, I'd like for the world to see it, that's all."
"I understand," Himiko said with a small smile. "Wait...this is supposed to be a competition between me and Kokichi! I don't think he'd appreciate you helping me out, especially since I should be doing this myself."
"Well, I'll just be here for emotional support, then!" Three said. Himiko smiled gratefully and nodded.
"I guess that's okay," she said. " Thanks, Keiko. I like your outfit, by the way." Three scanned her outfit proudly. Instead of her D.I.C.E. uniform, she wore an oversized, cream-colored fluffy sweater over a short, pink ruffled skirt. She wore a pair of white tights with some loose pink socks and a pair of black and white checkered lolita shoes with pink straps. In her hair were pink bows over each pigtail.
"Eeee! Thank you!" she squealed happily. "It's not very often I get to go out in cutesy clothes like this, unless I'm undercover! Well...I guess you might say I'm going undercover right now, but...eh, whatever."
"Speaking of which, why are your shoes checkered?" Himiko asked. "Won't that give you away? Part of the reason why people know your organization is because of the checker pattern scarves...which makes me wonder how people haven't suspected Kokichi being part of...you-know-what."
"Heehee...I call that the 'Sailor Moon Effect,'" Three giggled. "But, anyway, when members of the organization are wearing casual clothes, we have to wear some article of clothing with a black and white checkered pattern to let other members know our affiliation. The beauty of it is that there are people not affiliated with us who wear checker patterned clothing, so it gives us a chance to blend in as if we're just regular people. That's why we have a codeword to tell the difference between members and the 'reggies.'"
"What's the codeword?" Himiko asked. Three leaned in closer to Himiko.
"'Funny business,' " she whispered.
"Nyeh...that's actually really cool," Himiko admitted with a smile.
"Yeah! You should really join, Himiko!" Three said. "I think you'll have lots of fun!"
"Fun with what?" asked Tenko, suddenly appearing with Angie and Tsumugi behind her. She had a frown on her face and marched right up to Three. "Himiko, who's this girl, and what's she trying to get you to join? WAIT!! Is this girl the friend you were talking about?! The one who helped you bake cookies yesterday?!"
"Yeah," Himiko nodded.
"Hey! I recognize you!" Angie said. "You're one of the girls who rescued Himiko from that crazy girl many months ago!" Three brightened.
"Yeah! That's me!" she said.
"Tuh...I could have rescued Himiko, you know," Tenko huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Three.
"Well...why didn't you?" Three asked.
"Urgh...!" Tenko scoffed. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I'm Michika!" Three lied, using one of her aliases. "I'm here to support Himiko with her cookie sale!"
"She doesn't need your support," Tenko said, stepping in between Three and Himiko. "Himiko already has me! Right, Himiko?"
"Umm..." Himiko mumbled.
"Of course you do!" Tenko interrupted.
"But...you didn't even let her finish," Three said.
"I didn't have to," Tenko said. "I already knew what she was thinking because we're best friends."
"Well...then...if you're her best friend, why dont'cha buy a cookie?" Three suggested craftily.
"Hmph! I will!" Tenko scoffed and turned to Himiko. "How much for a cookie, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...same as before," Himiko answered. Tenko paid ¥500 and grabbed a shimmery, glittering light green snickerdoodle from one of the trays. "Ooo, these are pretty, Himiko! Did you bake them all by yourself?"
"No, um...Michika helped me again," Himiko answered. Tenko glared at Three and flipped her hair at her.
"Well...they're okay, then," she said haughtily. "But, they're extra special because you helped, Himiko!"
"What are these cookies called, Himiko?" Tsumugi asked, scrutinizing a glittering blue cookie.
"Nyeh...they're called 'Snoozydoodles,'" Himiko answered. "They're snickerdoodles, but a special kind of snickerdoodles."
"Oooo! Why are they called 'Snoozydoodles?'" asked Angie.
"You have to eat them right before going to sleep to find out," Himiko answered mysteriously. Tenko hovered her cookie in front of her mouth.
"Oh! So, I have to eat this right before bed?" she asked.
"That's right," Himiko nodded.
"Aw, that's so creative, Himiko!" Tenko cried in adoration. "You're really clever, too! I bet you thought of the name!" Three rolled her eyes in annoyance. Himiko provided a little baggy for Tenko to put her cookie in, and provided some for Angie and Tsumugi, as well, after they had paid for their cookies.
"Thank you, Himiko," Tsumugi said.
"Yes! Yes! Thank you, Himiko!" Angie chirped.
"Well...I guess we'd better try out the other cookies," Tsumugi said. "Everyone else said they'd have different flavors of cookies, too. Although, I don't think I'll try Kokichi's after what happened yesterday. I can plainly still feel the burn on my tongue."
"Hmm...I thought his cookies were divine!" Angie exclaimed. "I have never felt such an intense rush of heat before! Especially in a cookie!"
"Leave it up to a degenerate male to bake something so...horrible! " Tenko spat. Three raised a brow at her.
"Degenerate male?" she repeated. She didn't like hearing her boss being referred to that way.
"Yeah! Males are all scum of the Earth!" Tenko said. "Kind of like...best friend stealers."
"I wasn't trying to steal your best friend," Three said, fed up with Tenko.
"Huh...why did you assume I was talking about you? " Tenko asked. "You know what happens to people who assume things, don't you?"
"They end up knocking all 32 teeth out of the person accusing them of assuming things?" Three replied, trying to keep her cool.
"And you're violent!" Tenko shouted. "You're clearly a bad influence on Himiko!" Three stared at her in disbelief, creating an awkward silence to linger in the air.
"Well, um...I guess we should be going then," Tsumugi said, hurriedly yanking Angie away. "C'mon, Angie. Tenko? Are you coming?"
"No. I think I'll stay right here and help Himiko, since she clearly needs my support," Tenko said, glowering at Three.
"Tenko..." Himiko sighed in exasperation, but Three merely smiled sweetly at Tenko.
"Oh, my gosh! Where'd you get your outfit?" she asked. Tenko looked down quizzically at her outfit.
"W-Why...do you want to know?" she replied with suspicion.
"It's just so pretty!" Three replied. "Are you, like, the Ultimate Princess, or the Ultimate Cheerleader, or something?"
"Um...n-no...I'm the Ultimate Aikido Master," Tenko stammered as a small blush appeared on her face.
"Oh, wow! That's even better!" Three exclaimed. "I bet you give those...degenerate males...what they deserve all the time!" The hardened look on Tenko's face from before disappeared.
"You bet I do!" she said proudly.
"Oh...I wish I could be like you!" Three breathed. "You're, like, my hero! I bet you're a hero to girls everywhere!" Tenko lowered her head bashfully, blushing like crazy.
"N-No...I'm not all that...great," she sputtered.
"I bet you'd do anything for girls, huh?" Three asked.
"Oh, yes!" Tenko answered. "So long as you aren't a degenerate male, you're a friend of mine!"
Says the girl who just accused me of stealing her best friend, Three thought to herself. "Hooray! I'm happy to hear that! But...to tell you the truth, I can't believe you just ditched your other friends. They were girls, after all, and you just let them walk right into the school where they could be potential prey for those boys-er...I mean, degenerate males." Tenko gasped with realization.
"Oh, my gosh! You're so right!" she cried. "But...what about Himiko?"
"I'll look after her," Three said. "You trust me, right? I am a girl after all."
"Ohhh...well, okay," Tenko said. Then, she smiled. "I'll trust you, Michika! Take care of Himiko!"
"Oh, I will!" Three said. "Bye! Goodbye!" Tenko waved goodbye, leaving Himiko and Three alone. Three exhaled. "Finally, she's gone!" Himiko stared at her in amazement.
"Nyeh...that was incredible!" she cried. Three shrugged modestly.
"Yeah, I guess I picked up a little bit of manipulation skills from the boss," she said. "He's way better at it than I am, though! That girl was so annoying, by the way! Is she seriously your best friend?!"
"Well, yeah, I guess," Himiko answered. "She wants to support and protect me all the time."
"Sounds more like she wants to breastfeed you, or wipe your butt after you poop," Three said in disgust. She and Himiko shuddered at the thought. "Well, anyways, now that 'Tin Cup' is gone, let's put you on the cookie map!"
"Right!" Himiko said, and gave Three a high five.
2024.05.14 20:59 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 1)
What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LetsReadOfficial [link] [comments]
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.
2024.05.14 20:59 LiteraryHedgehog MEGATHREAD: Camp and Chill Event, May 14-16
A new Camp and Chill Event starts today!
This 2 day event will run from Tuesday, May 14 until 19:00 GMT Thursday, May 16, and is open to all players with version 11.3.0 or above, a minimum of 250 dragon power, and a stable and reliable internet connection.
Points are earned by tapping items, opening chests, and other simple tasks completed in Camp. The Event Capsule Store appears after earning 500 points; free Bronze Capsules containing Event Points can be collected every 3 hours after that.
Please keep questions and strategy discussions about the event in this thread while it is live; good luck and happy merging!
The following are the most efficient or most frequently recommended ways to earn points:
Alien Obelisks (Requires cash purchase)
Bushes
Fruit Trees
Goal Stars and Dragon Stars (points per tap)
Graves
Life Orbs (single tap)
Midas Trees
MonsteMythical Idols (single tap)
Mystic Topiaries (single use only, number of taps depends on level)
Nests/Eggs
Prism Flowers
ShimmeSecret Fountains (per tap)
Coin Vaults and Stone Yards
Chests (single tap only)
Camp and Chill Event Items
Miscellaneous Items
Combo Merges Note: this is a partial list — most chains seem to work, with points increasing by item levels and length of chain.
No Points Given
Edits are ongoing
submitted by LiteraryHedgehog to MergeDragons [link] [comments]
This 2 day event will run from Tuesday, May 14 until 19:00 GMT Thursday, May 16, and is open to all players with version 11.3.0 or above, a minimum of 250 dragon power, and a stable and reliable internet connection.
Points are earned by tapping items, opening chests, and other simple tasks completed in Camp. The Event Capsule Store appears after earning 500 points; free Bronze Capsules containing Event Points can be collected every 3 hours after that.
Please keep questions and strategy discussions about the event in this thread while it is live; good luck and happy merging!
ANNOUNCEMENTS:
Event Notes- So far, all seems normal
- Some issues affecting gameplay have been reported with version 11.4.0; that release has been paused while the programmers sort out a fix. (Link)
- As of May 1, Game Management will no longer give advance notice of Shiny Days mini-events. Odds are we’ll still get one every week or every other week, with the most frequent dates being the gap days between bigger events — so Mondays or Thursdays are most likely for now, at the usual 19:00 GMT start time.
- A new mini-event called “Race Event” is out for beta-testing to a small number of players; it’s described as a player-vs-player competition. (Link 1, Link 2)
- Popular Links:
EVENT PRIZES
- Sprouting Dragon Tree, lvl 2 - requires earning 70 points
- Prism Flower Buds, lvl 2 - 1,290p
- Blue Belly Shrooms, lvl 5 - 1,840p
- Daily Chest (Super Egg Fragment) - 3,190p
- Watering Hole, lvl 5 - 4,790p
- Aged Glowing Dragon Tree, lvl 4 - 6,420p
- Nice Zen Temple, lvl 3 - 7,990p
- Golden Sapling, lvl 2 - 9,610p
- Wood (A) Dragon Kid, lvl 2 - 11,210p
- Jester (AS) Dragon Kid, lvl 2 - 13,590p
STRATEGY TIPS
This is the only type of event where point producing items can be stockpiled ahead of time; for info and links to guides on bubbling as a storage option, please visit the Community FAQ.The following are the most efficient or most frequently recommended ways to earn points:
- Tier 2 Nests of most breeds yield 900 points per tap, for a total of 3,600 to 6,300 points per nest.
- High level Goal Stars are an excellent source of points; the exact number of taps available varies by level and random chance.
- L6 Star- 1056, L5 Star- 330, L4 Star- 99
- Level 2 Materials Chests offer unlimited quick and easy points; stockpiling stone bricks gives more flexibility than buying specific chests ahead of time:
- Spectral Chest- 1305, Summoned Chest- 820, Chest of Beasts- 300, Solid Gold Chest- 80, Phobos Chest- 40
- Higher level free chests all yield well:
- Treasure: L7- 1690, L6- 530, L5- 165
- Grimm: L4- 792, L3- 240, L2- 72
- Season: L4- 330, L3- 100
- Bountiful (Level) Chests- 150
- Kala’s Rucksacks- 250
- High level Life Trees can be harvested for quick points:
- Life Orbs: L9- 1560, L8- 500, L7- 160
- These chains recharge fast and give unlimited taps; note that multiple mid-level items may earn more than one or two higher-level items.
- Fruit Trees: L10 Watermelon- 34, L9 Pineapple- 30, L8 Dragon Fruit- 26, L7 Pear- 23
- Prism Flowers: L7- 42, L6- 36, L5- 29, L4- 23
- Midas Trees: L11- 145, L10- 135, L9- 125, L8- 115, L7- 105, L6- 95, L5- 85, L4- 75, L3- 65, L2- 55
- Bushes: L5- 35, L4- 25, L3- 15
- Graves: L8- 75, L7- 65, L6- 55, L5- 45, L4- 35
- Fountains: L6- 136, L5- 105, L4- 75, L3- 45
ITEM POINTS
(Tap the name of the chain to go to its wiki page)Alien Obelisks (Requires cash purchase)
- Alien Obelisk - 45
- Radioactive Alien Obelisk - 135
- Pulsing Alien Obelisk - 450
- Galactic Alien Megalith - 1485
Bushes
- Tiny Cabin - 10
- L1 Shrub Sprout - 1
- L2 Budding Shrub - 5
- L3 Nice Shrub - 15
- L4 Flowering Shrub - 25
- L5 Gorgeous Shrub - 35
Fruit Trees
- L4 Grape Tree - 10
- L5 Raspberry Tree - 14
- L6 Banana Tree - 18
- L7 Pear Tree - 23
- L8 Dragon Fruit Tree - 26
- L9 Pineapple Tree - 30
- L10 Watermelon Tree - 34
Goal Stars and Dragon Stars (points per tap)
- L1 Star - 3 (2-3 taps)
- L2 Star - 9 (2-3 taps)
- L3 Star - 30 (3-4 taps)
- L4 Star - 99 (3-4 taps)
- L5 Star - 330 (3-4 taps)
- L6 Star - 1056 (6-7 taps)
- L1 Dragon Star - 30 (2-4 taps)
- L2 Magnificent Dragon - 90 (7-11 taps)
Graves
- L4 Doom Cross - 35
- L5 Fiend’s Resting Place - 45
- L6 Tomb of the Innocent - 55
- L7 Tomb of the Forgiven - 65
- L8 Tomb of the Righteous - 75
Life Orbs (single tap)
- L0 Life Essence - 1
- L1 Tiny Life Orb - 1
- L2 Small Life Orb - 2
- L3 Life Orb - 3
- L4 Furious Life Orb - 5
- L5 Wondrous Life Orb - 15
- L6 Great Life Orb - 50
- L7 Giant Life Orb - 160
- L8 Life Orb of Souls - 500
- L9 The Life Orb of Heavens - 1560
Midas Trees
- L2 Golden Sapling - 55
- L3 Golden Tree - 65
- L4 Midas Tree - 75
- L5 Glowing Midas Tree - 85
- L6 The Orb Holder - 95
- L7 The Crystal Catcher - 105
- L8 The Moon Bearer - 115
- L9 The Star Mother - 125
- L10 Greater Midas Tree - 135
- L11 Divine Midas Tree - 145
MonsteMythical Idols (single tap)
- L1 Kattryx - 3
- L2 Guardian Sphinx - 9
- L3 Young Cerberus - 30
- L4 Noble Gryphon - 99
- L5 Mythical Ogopogo - 330
- L1 Gromblin - 5
- L2 Capricorn - 15
- L3 Dragon Idol - 50
- L4 Rising Phoenix - 165
- L5 Mythical Pegasus - 550
Mystic Topiaries (single use only, number of taps depends on level)
- L1 Bunny - 10 (1x tap)
- L2 Bear - 90 (1x tap)
- L3 Rex - 150 (2x taps)
- L4 Swan - 250 (3x taps)
- L5 Seahorse - 550 (5x taps)
- L6 Dolphin - 880 (10x taps)
Nests/Eggs
- Tier 1 nest - 20 per tap, 60 to 140 total
- Tier 2 nest - 900 per tap, 3,600 to 6,300 total (except for Star Dragons)
- Mystery Egg Nests - 10 per tap, 40 to 70 total
- Supernest - 20 per tap
- Meganest - 20 per tap
- Ultranest - 20 per tap
- Shimmering Ultranest - 20 per tap
- Activated Super Eggs - 600 (30 per dragon)
Prism Flowers
- L1 Sprouting Prism Flower - 3
- L2 Prism Flower Buds - 10
- L3 Opening Prism Flowers - 16
- L4 Prism Flowers - 23
- L5 Blossoming Prism Flowers - 29
- L6 Gorgeous Prism Flowers - 36
- L7 Brilliant Prism Flowers - 42
- L8 Spectral Prism Flowers - 49
- L9 Glowing Prism Flowers - 55
ShimmeSecret Fountains (per tap)
- L1 Fountain of Legend - 3
- L2 Ancient Spring - 15
- L3 Shimmering Spring - 45
- L4 Fountain of Faith - 75
- L5 Fountain of Rebirth - 105
- L6 Heroic Dragon Spa - 135
- L1 Secret Lifespring - 30
- L2 Spectral Lifespring - 150
Coin Vaults and Stone Yards
- L1 Tattered - 1
- L2 Basic - 5
- L3 Nice - 15
- L4 Great - 25
- L5 Opulent - 35
- L6 Mythical - 45
- L7 Gigantic - 55
- L8 Bottomless - 65
Chests (single tap only)
- Treasure Chests
- L1 Ordinary Chest - 2
- L2 Nice Chest - 5
- L3 Chained Chest - 15
- L4 Sunken Chest - 50
- L5 Noble Chest - 165
- L6 Glowing Chest - 530
- L7 Giant Treasure Chest - 1690
- Grimm Chests
- L1 Grimm Chest - 24
- L2 Grimm Chest of Decay - 72
- L3 Grimm Chest of Despair - 240
- L4 Grimm Chest of Suffering - 792
- Season Chests
- L1 Little Seasons chest - 10
- L2 Big Seasons chest - 30
- L3 Great Seasons chest - 100
- L4 Magnificent Seasons chest - 330
- Materials Chests
- Moon/Phobos Chests - 10/40
- Golden/Solid Gold Chests - 25/80
- Dangerous Chest/Chest of Beasts - 100/300
- Occult/Summoned Chest - 270/820
- Pearlescent/Spectral Chest - 435/1305
- Dragon Chests Note: Points depend on chest contents
- Egg Chests - 30 to 80
- Radiant Egg Chests - 80 to 120
- Nest Vault - 150 to 200
- Huge Nest Vault - 400 to 500
- Super Nest Vault - 500
- Mega Nest Vault - 2500
- Ultra Nest Vault - 5000 (limited availability)
- Kala’s Rucksacks - 250
- Daily Chest (Super Egg Fragment) - 150
- Bountiful (aka Level or Timed) Chests - 150
- Chest of Stones - 10
- Chest of Nightstones - 50
Camp and Chill Event Items
- Capsules - 0
- Pile of Camp Event Points - 5
- Great Rucksack of Event Points - 10 per tap, 20+ total
- Wondrous Chest of Event Points - 25 per tap, 125+ total
- Mythical Coffer of Event Points - 50 per tap, 450+ total
Miscellaneous Items
- Life Flower Seeds - 3
- Rain Clouds - 5
- Cloudy Summit - 11
- Misty Mountain - 35
- Ancient Dragon Skull - 5
- Unearthed Skeleton (aka Bone Pile) - 5
- Most Wonders - 100 per tap, totals vary
- Legendary Glowing Tree - 1087 per tap
- Shangri-La - 200
- The Last Relic Artefact - 330
- Mystic Lantern - 35 per tap, 105 total
- Totems (all) - 20 per tap
- Pile of Riches - 3 per tap
- Mound of Rich Stuff - 15 per tap
- Heap of Glimmering Riches - 45 per tap
- Mountain of Wild Riches - 75 per tap
- Evil Fog - 20 per section unlocked
- Dimensional Jars - varies based on the object
- Event Trophies - 25
- Spawned items also give 25 points (both L1 and L2)
- Exceptions: Pomegranate, Temple, and the Enormous Lucky Coins do not give points, nor do their tappables
Combo Merges Note: this is a partial list — most chains seem to work, with points increasing by item levels and length of chain.
- Coins - 5, 10, 30, 60 (started with L2)
- Life Flowers - 5, 10, 15, 20, 40 (start w/L1)
- Life Flowers - 15, 40 (started w/L5)
- Life Orbs - 5, 10, 15, 20, 40 (Started w/ heart)
- Life Orbs - 5, 20, 45, 80 (started w/ L3)
- Living Stones - 5, 10, 15, 40 (start w/fresh stones)
- Stone bricks - 5, 10, 15, 40, 60 (start w/L1)
No Points Given
- Currency (Coins, Stone Bricks, and Gems)
- Loot orbs
- Dimension Jars
- Dragon Homes
- Haunted Houses
- Boutique exclusive chains
- Lobelia Topiaries
- Ornate/Jeweled Statues
- Small Fluffs
- Chocolate Fountain chain
- Dust Bunny Crates
- Weekly Den Chests
- Opulent Chests
- Season Bonus Chests
- Star Chests
- Star Dragon T2 nests
- New items and anything in limited release for beta testing
EVENT TROUBLESHOOTING
If the event is not showing up correctly or if glitches are affecting your play:- Check that you meet the version and dragon power requirements.
- Try hard-closing and then relaunching your game.
- Try rebooting your device (ie, turn it completely off, then back on and allow it to fully boot up before relaunching the game). If you are on wifi and have access to the router, try rebooting that, too.
- Try switching to a completely different internet source.
- Try clearing your game’s cache (google for instructions for your specific phone type).
- If you’re suddenly experiencing multiple issues like lagging or error messages (or if the event vanishes completely), close the game and try again after 2-3 hours. Events are internet-based, and sometimes issues with the servers can cause temporary problems — all we can do for that is to wait it out.
- If none of the above helps, contact Gram Games Support through the in-game link or the Support Web Portal for help figuring out what’s wrong.
- NOTE: Cloud Save is still unreliable: according to the developer, it is not safe to be used and should be left turned off.
- NOTE: Saving your Progress: Make sure to save your progress by traveling to the World Map screen (and waiting there until everything’s fully loaded) regularly, and especially before closing your game.
Edits are ongoing
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 20:41 pmamtraveller MARTYRDOM OF SAINT PHILIP c. 1639 by JUSEPE DE RIBERA
 | The painting is a powerful and dramatic depiction of the apostle's crucifixion. The work is considered one of RIBERA'S finest and most mature paintings submitted by pmamtraveller to MysticalArts [link] [comments] The canvas presents the martyrdom on an epic scale, with large, imposing figures. SAINT PHILIP is shown in the moment before his crucifixion, as two executioners strain to raise the horizontal beam of the cross while a third holds his leg. PHILIP'S long limbs are extended and his face turned upwards in anguish, though he is not shown as the elderly man described in hagiographies. RIBERA contrasts PHILIP'S resigned acceptance of his fate with the vigorous physical efforts of his tormentors. The artist's use of CHIAROSCURO dramatically highlights the saint's muscular, sun-tanned body and emphasizes the physical suffering he is about to endure In the background, a crowd of onlookers gathers, some pitying PHILIP'S fate while others appear indifferent. A woman holding a child provides a tender counterpoint to the cruelty of the scene. RIBERA'S masterful handling of paint is evident in the thick impastos on PHILIP'S flesh and the vibrant transparencies of the background figures The low viewpoint reveals a vast, beautiful blue sky, suggesting the divine realm that PHILIP is about to enter. However, unlike earlier depictions, there is no heavenly intervention or chorus of angels - for RIBERA, martyrdom is an essentially earthly spectacle |
2024.05.14 20:41 pmamtraveller MARTYRDOM OF SAINT PHILIP c. 1639 by JUSEPE DE RIBERA
 | The painting is a powerful and dramatic depiction of the apostle's crucifixion. The work is considered one of RIBERA'S finest and most mature paintings submitted by pmamtraveller to ArtConnoisseur [link] [comments] The canvas presents the martyrdom on an epic scale, with large, imposing figures. SAINT PHILIP is shown in the moment before his crucifixion, as two executioners strain to raise the horizontal beam of the cross while a third holds his leg. PHILIP'S long limbs are extended and his face turned upwards in anguish, though he is not shown as the elderly man described in hagiographies. RIBERA contrasts PHILIP'S resigned acceptance of his fate with the vigorous physical efforts of his tormentors. The artist's use of CHIAROSCURO dramatically highlights the saint's muscular, sun-tanned body and emphasizes the physical suffering he is about to endure In the background, a crowd of onlookers gathers, some pitying PHILIP'S fate while others appear indifferent. A woman holding a child provides a tender counterpoint to the cruelty of the scene. RIBERA'S masterful handling of paint is evident in the thick impastos on PHILIP'S flesh and the vibrant transparencies of the background figures The low viewpoint reveals a vast, beautiful blue sky, suggesting the divine realm that PHILIP is about to enter. However, unlike earlier depictions, there is no heavenly intervention or chorus of angels - for RIBERA, martyrdom is an essentially earthly spectacle |
2024.05.14 20:40 pmamtraveller MARTYRDOM OF SAINT PHILIP c. 1639 by JUSEPE DE RIBERA
 | The painting is a powerful and dramatic depiction of the apostle's crucifixion. The work is considered one of RIBERA'S finest and most mature paintings submitted by pmamtraveller to u/pmamtraveller [link] [comments] The canvas presents the martyrdom on an epic scale, with large, imposing figures. SAINT PHILIP is shown in the moment before his crucifixion, as two executioners strain to raise the horizontal beam of the cross while a third holds his leg. PHILIP'S long limbs are extended and his face turned upwards in anguish, though he is not shown as the elderly man described in hagiographies. RIBERA contrasts PHILIP'S resigned acceptance of his fate with the vigorous physical efforts of his tormentors. The artist's use of CHIAROSCURO dramatically highlights the saint's muscular, sun-tanned body and emphasizes the physical suffering he is about to endure In the background, a crowd of onlookers gathers, some pitying PHILIP'S fate while others appear indifferent. A woman holding a child provides a tender counterpoint to the cruelty of the scene. RIBERA'S masterful handling of paint is evident in the thick impastos on PHILIP'S flesh and the vibrant transparencies of the background figures The low viewpoint reveals a vast, beautiful blue sky, suggesting the divine realm that PHILIP is about to enter. However, unlike earlier depictions, there is no heavenly intervention or chorus of angels - for RIBERA, martyrdom is an essentially earthly spectacle |
2024.05.14 20:34 randombull1 Have a "full time" job where the annual pay is less than the cost of family health insurance premiums. I've been paying the difference out of pocket, but do I even need to do this? How can the job retaliate against me if I don't pay?
To add some additional detail beyond the title, this isn't my only source of income and yes, this is better to me than paying post-tax Obamacare with minimal credits, which is what I was paying before.
If anyone is curious, the job is with a non-profit private college. I was making almost $30k a year here as a 1099 adjunct, before they turned us into W-2 years ago at $15k per year, but with potential for more courses. Now we're down to $12k per year W-2 income with nothing extra possible.
If it matters, the employer insurance is through Blue Cross/Blue Shield.
I think the first year premiums were above pay, I paid $500 out of pocket. Then maybe $2800. This year it's over $5000 and I'm wondering if I even should be paying this. Like are they going to be able to do anything to me other than email me? Will they fire me over this? Like honestly I just don't want to pay because it sounds like a situation where it would just be ignored eventually, but I'd still have health insurance.
submitted by randombull1 to HealthInsurance [link] [comments]
If anyone is curious, the job is with a non-profit private college. I was making almost $30k a year here as a 1099 adjunct, before they turned us into W-2 years ago at $15k per year, but with potential for more courses. Now we're down to $12k per year W-2 income with nothing extra possible.
If it matters, the employer insurance is through Blue Cross/Blue Shield.
I think the first year premiums were above pay, I paid $500 out of pocket. Then maybe $2800. This year it's over $5000 and I'm wondering if I even should be paying this. Like are they going to be able to do anything to me other than email me? Will they fire me over this? Like honestly I just don't want to pay because it sounds like a situation where it would just be ignored eventually, but I'd still have health insurance.
2024.05.14 20:33 diamondsandlexapro Essential treatments that are covered before deductible?
Hi, I've received 2 Blue Cross Blue Shield plan options through my employer.
1 has a deductible of $250 and the other is $1,500 (less expensive per month)
This is my first time obtaining health insurance and I really don't go to the doctor's much. Should I go for the $1,500 plan? I am not sure if basics/essential items such as prescriptions and primary care is included without meeting the deductible...
submitted by diamondsandlexapro to HealthInsurance [link] [comments]
1 has a deductible of $250 and the other is $1,500 (less expensive per month)
This is my first time obtaining health insurance and I really don't go to the doctor's much. Should I go for the $1,500 plan? I am not sure if basics/essential items such as prescriptions and primary care is included without meeting the deductible...
2024.05.14 20:28 Exotic-Stock Just quicksold all my squad, I will never come back.
Some time ago I deleted the app, decided to not play, but the TOTS even interested me, so on my PC I downloaded BlueStacks and was opening packs.
It's poor retarded garbage. I'd rather play PES 2019 on PC, which I'm downloading now, than this piece of shit.
It was my first time playing this shit, and the last. Bye-bye EA. Keep treating your players with shitrainings instead of a game.
submitted by Exotic-Stock to FUTMobile [link] [comments]
- I had a couple of players - I could not sell. Like 99 Bellingham. This limits on minimum price is literally a robbery, it makes your tradable card untradeable in fact. Good luck checking next price update time to be the first one out of 700 others, to be able to sell your card.
- Boring shit gameplay. This shit is boring. All modes. Manager mode: Just switch to counter tactics VS attack: get rid of the ball on hard/medium chances to skip them Head to Head: Want to win? Cross spam!
It's poor retarded garbage. I'd rather play PES 2019 on PC, which I'm downloading now, than this piece of shit.
It was my first time playing this shit, and the last. Bye-bye EA. Keep treating your players with shitrainings instead of a game.
2024.05.14 20:24 eastc0astgirl Sutter Health Billing
Hi there,
Back story: I moved from MD to CA and sought medical care at a Sutter Health location. I have Blue Cross Blue Shield health insurance, but am using their away from home care: Anthem Blue Cross while I’m living in CA. My step-mother is the primary insuresubscriber and actually works at Blue Cross Blue Shield.
Since January, Sutter has been billing my claims to the insurance company wrong and saying I have a primary and secondary insurance when I don’t. I have wrote to their customer service reps in their online portal, emailed, called, have even shown up in person (but they don’t have an in person billing dept.) and have called the insurance company numerous times to double check that I’m correct. I don’t know what to do at this point. I feel like I’ve tried everything.
Do I have a legal case or am I stuck paying this $2,000 bill?
submitted by eastc0astgirl to HealthInsurance [link] [comments]
Back story: I moved from MD to CA and sought medical care at a Sutter Health location. I have Blue Cross Blue Shield health insurance, but am using their away from home care: Anthem Blue Cross while I’m living in CA. My step-mother is the primary insuresubscriber and actually works at Blue Cross Blue Shield.
Since January, Sutter has been billing my claims to the insurance company wrong and saying I have a primary and secondary insurance when I don’t. I have wrote to their customer service reps in their online portal, emailed, called, have even shown up in person (but they don’t have an in person billing dept.) and have called the insurance company numerous times to double check that I’m correct. I don’t know what to do at this point. I feel like I’ve tried everything.
Do I have a legal case or am I stuck paying this $2,000 bill?
2024.05.14 20:18 MobbDeepvsWuTang I've Been Replaced by a Stranger
You know that feeling you get when someone is oddly familiar, but you’ve never met them? This was exactly what it felt like when I saw him for the first time. It was a chance encounter, but I later realized I had simply delayed the inevitable. I’ve always struggled with crippling alcoholism on and off. I would often go through waves of sobriety mixed with periods of drinking, and the night before all of this started was a particularly heavy alcohol binge. I was used to waking up in odd places with little to no memory, so when my crusted eyes saw I was in an alleyway near my house, I was disappointed, but not at all surprised.
It must have been around ten in the morning, and the weather was beautiful, adding insult to my sorry state. I staggered to my feet, bracing the wall, and took some slow breaths. All I had to do was make it a few blocks, and I’d be home, to my wife, a bed, and maybe some hot food if she wasn’t too angry with me. God, she’s so forgiving. I can’t believe she hadn’t already left me by this point.
I began walking out of the alleyway, and turned left to start my walk home. I noticed a man a few inches taller than me crossing the street, and I instantly felt the feeling I mentioned earlier. I consider myself a decent looking guy, six foot, semi-muscular build, blue eyes, but he was like a modern day Hercules. He was a few inches taller, tanned, with big-but-not-too-big muscles. And not only were his eyes also blue, their sharpness but mine to shame. He was carrying a bag of groceries, and very politely excused himself as he brushed past me on the street.
Snapped from my trance, I ignored my unsettled feeling and continued towards home, around ten yards behind this tall stranger. I was nearing my street, and he turned onto it ahead of me. I found this odd- my neighborhood was tightly knit and I’d never seen him before. At the time though, I’d assumed he was from out of town, a relative of one of my neighbors. As I also turned down my street, I noticed him walking up my driveway. This made my stomach drop. This situation had adultery written all over it.
Quickening my pace, I yelled at Hercules, who was reaching for something in his pocket. Seeing me moving towards him, he quickly pulled out a set of keys, unlocked MY front door, dashed in, and closed it. Now teeming with rage, I pulled out my own keys, and made for the door. Thinking about what to say to my wife, and what to do with this piece of garbage in my house, I put my key in the lock, and turned. But the key wouldn’t budge. I took it out, looked at it, and it was definitely my front door key. I tried again. Still nothing. By now I was really starting to freak out. I banged on the door.
I yelled to my wife to let me in, so we could talk. I heard rapid footsteps and the same blue eyes appeared in the small window of the door. He asked me what I wanted with his wife, and demanded to know who I was. I screamed back that I could ask him the exact same thing. Then I saw Alice appear behind him. Scared, she looked to the stranger for reassurance, and said something I couldn’t hear. He told me that if I didn’t leave, he was going to call the police. I said go ahead, they would help me sort this out.
I stayed on the porch until an annoyed police officer arrived, and explained the situation to her. He knocked on the door, and seeing that the officer was in our presence, they opened it, but did not step outside. I could smell my house! I could feel the memories that place held through me, like adrenaline. But I felt like an outsider, looking in at a long lost memory.
The tall man went on to explain that I, a complete stranger, had followed him to his home, and harassed his wife. The officer eyed me suspiciously, and I knew instantly that she didn’t believe me anymore. I looked haggard, and it was two against one. The officer asked me for some I.D, and I pulled out my wallet, but all of my cards were missing. The only thing that remained inside was some bills and loose change, and an old condom. Seeing this, the officer told me I needed to leave, and to stop bothering my wife and the stranger. I begged Alice to stop this facade, that I’d learned my lesson, but she just avoided eye contact with me as I was slowly pushed back to the street.
As I sat on the curb, in slight disbelief, an idea came over me. The officer was getting into her car, but I yelled at her to wait. I pulled my phone from my pocket and ran over. I explained how I had pictures with my wife and that these could prove my story. The officer said nothing, but didn’t get into her car. I unlocked my phone, went into the photos app, and saw hundreds of photos of my wife, but with the tall man. How was that even possible? It was as though I’d been gently plucked from every photo, and replaced.
The officer took one look at these, grabbed my phone, and threw me into the backseat. I watched with despair as she walked to my house, and gave my phone to the stranger. Just before he closed the door, I could have sworn he looked at me and smirked.
I was dropped off a few kilometers away, and warned once again to not go near my house. I slowly made my way to a dingy internet cafe, where I’m writing this all out, as evidence for the future, if I ever need it.
The sun’s going down.
I’m going back to my house tonight. I’m going to set things straight.
I’m going to kill that tall man.
I went back. And I’ve come to a realization that I need to get off my chest. But I have to first write down the rest of what happened, even though it doesn’t matter anymore.
Once the sun went down, I took a bus to my neighborhood. When I got on, it was just me and a really, really, old man, who was sitting all the way at the back. He had an odd face, one that was long like that mask from V for Vendetta. He had a long beard, and a faded red tracksuit. He laughed and laughed, staring at me for the entire trip. Once I’d gotten off, he looked at me through the window with a menacing grin, and waved as the bus drove away.
I began down my street, moving slowly, with my eyes on a swivel. I’d decided that the best place to go into the house would be from the fenced in backyard. I inched my way around the side of the building, and as I did, I could hear faint music, and laughing. This only furthered my anger. I quietly opened the fence gate that was never locked, and went into the tool shed that sat at the back of the yard.
From here, I had a decently clear view of our upstairs bedroom, the kitchen, and the back porch. At the moment I could see the stranger and my wife cooking together, all dressed up, wine in hand. My wife looked so damn happy, happier than I’d ever seen her. I sat for what felt like hours and hours, watching as they ate, danced, and slowly moved upstairs. As the stranger got into bed with my wife, I heard a faint ‘I love you’ float from my wife’s mouth and out through the open window.
It was then and there that I realized I wouldn’t be setting foot in my house. I wasn’t going to kill that stranger, and oddly enough, I wasn’t angry anymore.
I think I died in that alleyway.
I think this is all some twisted version of hell where I’m forced to watch the man I could have been taking care of the one person in this world who means anything to me.
Alice, if by some impossible coincidence you find this, I’m so, so, sorry. I wish I could go back, because I swear to god, I would have done so many things differently.
Goodbye Alice.
submitted by MobbDeepvsWuTang to nosleep [link] [comments]
It must have been around ten in the morning, and the weather was beautiful, adding insult to my sorry state. I staggered to my feet, bracing the wall, and took some slow breaths. All I had to do was make it a few blocks, and I’d be home, to my wife, a bed, and maybe some hot food if she wasn’t too angry with me. God, she’s so forgiving. I can’t believe she hadn’t already left me by this point.
I began walking out of the alleyway, and turned left to start my walk home. I noticed a man a few inches taller than me crossing the street, and I instantly felt the feeling I mentioned earlier. I consider myself a decent looking guy, six foot, semi-muscular build, blue eyes, but he was like a modern day Hercules. He was a few inches taller, tanned, with big-but-not-too-big muscles. And not only were his eyes also blue, their sharpness but mine to shame. He was carrying a bag of groceries, and very politely excused himself as he brushed past me on the street.
Snapped from my trance, I ignored my unsettled feeling and continued towards home, around ten yards behind this tall stranger. I was nearing my street, and he turned onto it ahead of me. I found this odd- my neighborhood was tightly knit and I’d never seen him before. At the time though, I’d assumed he was from out of town, a relative of one of my neighbors. As I also turned down my street, I noticed him walking up my driveway. This made my stomach drop. This situation had adultery written all over it.
Quickening my pace, I yelled at Hercules, who was reaching for something in his pocket. Seeing me moving towards him, he quickly pulled out a set of keys, unlocked MY front door, dashed in, and closed it. Now teeming with rage, I pulled out my own keys, and made for the door. Thinking about what to say to my wife, and what to do with this piece of garbage in my house, I put my key in the lock, and turned. But the key wouldn’t budge. I took it out, looked at it, and it was definitely my front door key. I tried again. Still nothing. By now I was really starting to freak out. I banged on the door.
I yelled to my wife to let me in, so we could talk. I heard rapid footsteps and the same blue eyes appeared in the small window of the door. He asked me what I wanted with his wife, and demanded to know who I was. I screamed back that I could ask him the exact same thing. Then I saw Alice appear behind him. Scared, she looked to the stranger for reassurance, and said something I couldn’t hear. He told me that if I didn’t leave, he was going to call the police. I said go ahead, they would help me sort this out.
I stayed on the porch until an annoyed police officer arrived, and explained the situation to her. He knocked on the door, and seeing that the officer was in our presence, they opened it, but did not step outside. I could smell my house! I could feel the memories that place held through me, like adrenaline. But I felt like an outsider, looking in at a long lost memory.
The tall man went on to explain that I, a complete stranger, had followed him to his home, and harassed his wife. The officer eyed me suspiciously, and I knew instantly that she didn’t believe me anymore. I looked haggard, and it was two against one. The officer asked me for some I.D, and I pulled out my wallet, but all of my cards were missing. The only thing that remained inside was some bills and loose change, and an old condom. Seeing this, the officer told me I needed to leave, and to stop bothering my wife and the stranger. I begged Alice to stop this facade, that I’d learned my lesson, but she just avoided eye contact with me as I was slowly pushed back to the street.
As I sat on the curb, in slight disbelief, an idea came over me. The officer was getting into her car, but I yelled at her to wait. I pulled my phone from my pocket and ran over. I explained how I had pictures with my wife and that these could prove my story. The officer said nothing, but didn’t get into her car. I unlocked my phone, went into the photos app, and saw hundreds of photos of my wife, but with the tall man. How was that even possible? It was as though I’d been gently plucked from every photo, and replaced.
The officer took one look at these, grabbed my phone, and threw me into the backseat. I watched with despair as she walked to my house, and gave my phone to the stranger. Just before he closed the door, I could have sworn he looked at me and smirked.
I was dropped off a few kilometers away, and warned once again to not go near my house. I slowly made my way to a dingy internet cafe, where I’m writing this all out, as evidence for the future, if I ever need it.
The sun’s going down.
I’m going back to my house tonight. I’m going to set things straight.
I’m going to kill that tall man.
Once the sun went down, I took a bus to my neighborhood. When I got on, it was just me and a really, really, old man, who was sitting all the way at the back. He had an odd face, one that was long like that mask from V for Vendetta. He had a long beard, and a faded red tracksuit. He laughed and laughed, staring at me for the entire trip. Once I’d gotten off, he looked at me through the window with a menacing grin, and waved as the bus drove away.
I began down my street, moving slowly, with my eyes on a swivel. I’d decided that the best place to go into the house would be from the fenced in backyard. I inched my way around the side of the building, and as I did, I could hear faint music, and laughing. This only furthered my anger. I quietly opened the fence gate that was never locked, and went into the tool shed that sat at the back of the yard.
From here, I had a decently clear view of our upstairs bedroom, the kitchen, and the back porch. At the moment I could see the stranger and my wife cooking together, all dressed up, wine in hand. My wife looked so damn happy, happier than I’d ever seen her. I sat for what felt like hours and hours, watching as they ate, danced, and slowly moved upstairs. As the stranger got into bed with my wife, I heard a faint ‘I love you’ float from my wife’s mouth and out through the open window.
It was then and there that I realized I wouldn’t be setting foot in my house. I wasn’t going to kill that stranger, and oddly enough, I wasn’t angry anymore.
I think I died in that alleyway.
I think this is all some twisted version of hell where I’m forced to watch the man I could have been taking care of the one person in this world who means anything to me.
Alice, if by some impossible coincidence you find this, I’m so, so, sorry. I wish I could go back, because I swear to god, I would have done so many things differently.
Goodbye Alice.
2024.05.14 20:14 eastc0astgirl Sutter Health Hospital Billing
Hi there,
Back story: I moved from MD to CA and sought medical care at a Sutter Health location. I have Blue Cross Blue Shield health insurance, but am using their away from home care: Anthem Blue Cross while I’m living in CA. My step-mother is the primary insuresubscriber and actually works at Blue Cross Blue Shield.
Since January, Sutter has been billing my claims to the insurance company wrong and saying I have a primary and secondary insurance when I don’t. I have wrote to their customer service reps in their online portal, emailed, called, have even shown up in person (but they don’t have an in person billing dept.) and have called the insurance company numerous times to double check that I’m correct. I don’t know what to do at this point. I feel like I’ve tried everything.
Do I have a legal case or am I stuck paying this $2,000 bill?
submitted by eastc0astgirl to legaladvice [link] [comments]
Back story: I moved from MD to CA and sought medical care at a Sutter Health location. I have Blue Cross Blue Shield health insurance, but am using their away from home care: Anthem Blue Cross while I’m living in CA. My step-mother is the primary insuresubscriber and actually works at Blue Cross Blue Shield.
Since January, Sutter has been billing my claims to the insurance company wrong and saying I have a primary and secondary insurance when I don’t. I have wrote to their customer service reps in their online portal, emailed, called, have even shown up in person (but they don’t have an in person billing dept.) and have called the insurance company numerous times to double check that I’m correct. I don’t know what to do at this point. I feel like I’ve tried everything.
Do I have a legal case or am I stuck paying this $2,000 bill?
2024.05.14 20:05 Particular_Comb_2272 Can blue cross blue shield refund money?
submitted by Particular_Comb_2272 to questions [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 20:02 _PetitMal_ Dear devs, fishing is NOT that fun.
Yes, Oswald quest.
Seriously. Fishing was maybe nice in 2020 with Animal Crossing for a couple of weeks, but the mechanic by now is slow, outdated and is NOT that fun.
No, I do not want to stand in the same spot and even with a buddy spend 20 minutes fishing for 120 plastic, even though right before this he also required 50? Was this quest play tested at all? Any devs gone through the quest themselves? Have they actually found that to be an enjoyable experience?
To add, right after he asks for 5 octopus that appear only in blue circles that you only get 1 (one!) of per well respawn or full cleanup of other circles.
Did I mention that you'd get a boatload of snails and some other fish before the octopus, because they also compete for the blue fishing spot? No? Well, because they DO!
The quest sucked out any enjoyment out of the update. This one and the EVE one. I mined the gems for days, because I kept getting shiny gems.
LET THE SHINY GEMS BE USED IN CRAFTING AND QUESTS.
Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.
submitted by _PetitMal_ to DreamlightValley [link] [comments]
Seriously. Fishing was maybe nice in 2020 with Animal Crossing for a couple of weeks, but the mechanic by now is slow, outdated and is NOT that fun.
No, I do not want to stand in the same spot and even with a buddy spend 20 minutes fishing for 120 plastic, even though right before this he also required 50? Was this quest play tested at all? Any devs gone through the quest themselves? Have they actually found that to be an enjoyable experience?
To add, right after he asks for 5 octopus that appear only in blue circles that you only get 1 (one!) of per well respawn or full cleanup of other circles.
Did I mention that you'd get a boatload of snails and some other fish before the octopus, because they also compete for the blue fishing spot? No? Well, because they DO!
The quest sucked out any enjoyment out of the update. This one and the EVE one. I mined the gems for days, because I kept getting shiny gems.
LET THE SHINY GEMS BE USED IN CRAFTING AND QUESTS.
Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.
2024.05.14 19:54 HuntedWolf I wish there were a few less defensive setups
It feels a bit weird when Basic is usually the most aggressive of the 3 options.
Orange are generally the most offensively sided, with no shields except for Dabble/est, and having access to stuff like ranged, poison and cantrip, while Yellow is not far behind usually with multiple damage sides.
But there’s never any options that have both of these except basic and force. It seems like there’s a lot of options that have multiple reds, greens and blues. I’m often ending up with selections where only 3 of them can really contribute damage, while even then only 3-4 of their sides can do it. The blues contribute mana which is flexible but seem to pay for this flexibility with low life totals. Red heroes like Vampire are great but usually reds are completely defensive and greys have a single damage side.
submitted by HuntedWolf to SliceAndDice [link] [comments]
Orange are generally the most offensively sided, with no shields except for Dabble/est, and having access to stuff like ranged, poison and cantrip, while Yellow is not far behind usually with multiple damage sides.
But there’s never any options that have both of these except basic and force. It seems like there’s a lot of options that have multiple reds, greens and blues. I’m often ending up with selections where only 3 of them can really contribute damage, while even then only 3-4 of their sides can do it. The blues contribute mana which is flexible but seem to pay for this flexibility with low life totals. Red heroes like Vampire are great but usually reds are completely defensive and greys have a single damage side.
2024.05.14 19:53 Reciter5613 If they have a collab with Power Rangers
I'm sure we've been though this several times but I wanna give more detail of how I would do it:
submitted by Reciter5613 to FortNiteBR [link] [comments]
- Skins of the main six rangers (red, blue, black, yellow, pink, and green) Their weapons as their harvesting tools. They would have built-in emotes of their famous posing.
- The green ranger dagger has a built-in emote letting you play it.
- Green Ranger shield as separate backbling for others to wear.
- Maybew a skin of the original Dino Megazord with the Power Sword as it's harvesting tool. Would be revealed in a trailer where it shows up to help Mecha Team Leader against the Devourer and other monsters.
- We'd have some villains as skin. I would personally love to have Goldar. If other can't be skins at least give us their stuff like Rita's wand and Zedd's staff.
- Not sure what to have as the gliders yet. Except for Goldar having his wings.
- Odviously a Power Ranger lightning bolt banner is a must.
2024.05.14 19:50 Character_Air_8660 Since WHEN does driving a white vehicle mean you're a MILLIONAIRE???...
With the exception of the brothers' green Toyota Tacoma TRD Crew Cab and their old Subaru CrossTrek Limited(and Gentry's blue Mercedes-Benz Sprinter 3500 passenger van), every family vehicle has been white...
Where did Betsy get this harebrained idea that white means 🤑$🤑$🤑$???...
She's NOT Lisa Vanderpump(or Donald Trump, thank goodness) in any manner!!!...
And forcing the brothers to trade in their CrossTrek Limited for the 4Runner just because it's white(and upsetting their godfather[?]/Gentry's childhood friend/general sales manager at Nate Wade Subaru Brock Kassing)😒🤦☹...
Totally "delulu", Betsy...
Remember, just before they moved to Tennessee, Gentry tried to force the brothers to buy a white Chevy Colorado ZR1 4x4 to replace the CrossTrek Limited, but Brock put his foot down and said "NO!"...
After the move, he drove them to Toyota of Franklin to buy what HE thought they wanted:a new Tundra TRD Pro Crew Cab, but they fell in love with the Tacoma TRD Pro...
He HATED it BECAUSE it's "Army Green Metallic" instead of white...
"How will THAT look in public???...your mom's social media image will be ruined by this POC!!!"...but eventually, he learned that "saving face" doesn't matter in McMinnville...plus it ran great, had decent gas mileage, so a few months ago, he bought a Tundra TRD Pro Crew Cab...
Sounds like something out of AsianParentStories...
Really, it's not like Henry Ford and his Model T:"you can have any color, as long as it's black"...
🤦🙄...
submitted by Character_Air_8660 to MikesellFamBamSnark [link] [comments]
Where did Betsy get this harebrained idea that white means 🤑$🤑$🤑$???...
She's NOT Lisa Vanderpump(or Donald Trump, thank goodness) in any manner!!!...
And forcing the brothers to trade in their CrossTrek Limited for the 4Runner just because it's white(and upsetting their godfather[?]/Gentry's childhood friend/general sales manager at Nate Wade Subaru Brock Kassing)😒🤦☹...
Totally "delulu", Betsy...
Remember, just before they moved to Tennessee, Gentry tried to force the brothers to buy a white Chevy Colorado ZR1 4x4 to replace the CrossTrek Limited, but Brock put his foot down and said "NO!"...
After the move, he drove them to Toyota of Franklin to buy what HE thought they wanted:a new Tundra TRD Pro Crew Cab, but they fell in love with the Tacoma TRD Pro...
He HATED it BECAUSE it's "Army Green Metallic" instead of white...
"How will THAT look in public???...your mom's social media image will be ruined by this POC!!!"...but eventually, he learned that "saving face" doesn't matter in McMinnville...plus it ran great, had decent gas mileage, so a few months ago, he bought a Tundra TRD Pro Crew Cab...
Sounds like something out of AsianParentStories...
Really, it's not like Henry Ford and his Model T:"you can have any color, as long as it's black"...
🤦🙄...
2024.05.14 19:23 Mathias_Greyjoy LF: Apricorn Balls & Aprimon w/ HAs (Friend Doduo, Friend G-Stunfisk, Heavy K/G-Slowpoke, Heavy Wiglett, Level, Ekans, Level Slakoth, Level Taillow, Level Tauros Blaze, Level Yellow Squawkabilly, Moon Blue Squawkabilly) FT: Hidden Ability Aprimon Breedjects.
Hello! This is my list of Aprimon I'm hunting. I am extra interested in the ones in bold though. Hidden Abilities are a plus.
*Note: I am wary of trading with users with no FlairHQ flair. If you haven't at least accessed Poké Ball Flair I'm going to be less inclined to trade with you.
I am also willing to take all Apricorn Balls in exchange for my breedjects. They are in order of preference.
submitted by Mathias_Greyjoy to pokemontrades [link] [comments]
*Note: I am wary of trading with users with no FlairHQ flair. If you haven't at least accessed Poké Ball Flair I'm going to be less inclined to trade with you.
- Moon Ball
- Friend Ball
- Dream Ball
- Heavy Ball
- Love Ball
- Level Ball
- Safari Ball
- Lure Ball
- Fast Ball
- Sport Ball
- Master Ball
- Beast Ball
I am searching for:
Friend Ball
- Burmy
- Chatot
- Doduo
- Spinda
- Tarountula
- Wurmple
Moon Ball
- Castform
- Chatot
- Frillish
- Klawf
- Spoink
- Squawkabilly Blue Plumage
Love Ball
- Glameow
- Spritzee
Dream Ball
- Burmy
- Gulpin
- Rellor
Heavy Ball
- Karrablast
- Scatterbug
- Wiglett
Level Ball
- Bidoof
- Burmy
- Castform
- Corphish
- Ekans
- Finneon
- Illumise
- Ledyba
- Luvdisc
- Patrat
- Pineco
- Slakoth
- Spinda
- Spoink
- Squawkabilly Yellow Plumage
- Taillow
- Tauros Blaze Breed
- Wurmple
Lure Ball
- Castform
Safari Ball
- Smeargle
Apricorn Ball breedjects for trade -
These are all 4/6 - 5/6 - 6/6 IV breeding leftovers. Everything has the Hidden Ability where available. I'm also willing to breed something for you that's not on this list, if it can breed with any of these 👇-
| Gen 1 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Bulbasaur | Friend | Chlorophyll (HA) |
| Charmander | Moon / Level / Dream / Luxury | Solar Power (HA) |
| Squirtle | Heavy / Moon / Beast | Rain Dish (HA) |
| Caterpie | Dream / Friend / Moon | Run Away (HA) |
| Weedle | Fast / Level | Run Away (HA) |
| Pidgey | Level | Big Pecks (HA) |
| Alolan Rattata | Moon / Dream | Thick Fat (HA) |
| Spearow | Level | Sniper (HA) |
| Kantonian Sandshrew | Level / Moon / Friend | Sand Rush (HA) |
| Alolan Sandshrew | Moon / Level | Slush Rush (HA) |
| Ekans | Dream | Unnerve (HA) |
| Nidoran♀ | Moon / Dream / Love | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Nidoran♂ | Moon / Dream / Love | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Clefairy | Dream / Love | Friend Guard (HA) |
| Oddish | Friend / Safari | Run Away (HA) |
| Paras | Friend | Damp (HA) |
| Venonat | Moon / Dream | Run Away (HA) |
| Kantonian Vulpix | Love / Dream / Moon | Drought (HA) |
| Alolan Vulpix | Moon / Love | Snow Warning (HA) |
| Zubat | Moon / Friend | Infiltrator (HA) |
| Kantonian Diglett | Heavy / Level | Sand Force (HA) |
| Alolan Diglett | Level / Heavy | Sand Force (HA) |
| Kantonian Meowth | Dream | Unnerve (HA) |
| Alolan Meowth | Moon / Dream | Rattled (HA) |
| Galarian Meowth | Heavy / Beast | Unnerve (HA) |
| Psyduck | Moon | Swift Swim (HA) |
| Kantonian Growlithe | Level / Fast | Justified (HA) |
| Hisuian Growlithe | Level / Fast | Rock Head (HA) |
| Mankey | Moon | Defiant (HA) |
| Poliwag | Beast / Friend / Lure | Swift Swim (HA) |
| Abra | Dream / Level | Magic Guard (HA) |
| Machop | Level / Friend | Steadfast (HA) |
| Bellsprout | Friend | Gluttony (HA) |
| Tentacool | Lure / Moon / Dream | Rain Dish (HA) |
| Kantonian Geodude | Heavy / Level | Sand Veil (HA) |
| Alolan Geodude | Heavy / Level | Galvanize (HA) |
| Kantonian Ponyta | Dream / Moon | Flame Body (HA) |
| Galarian Ponyta | Dream | Anticipation (HA) |
| Kantonian Slowpoke | Love / Dream | Regenerator (HA) |
| Galarian Slowpoke | Love / Dream / Level | Regenerator (HA) |
| Magnemite | Heavy | Magnet Pull/Sturdy |
| Galarian Farfetch'd | Friend | Scrappy (HA) |
| Doduo | Level / Dream | Tangled feet (HA) |
| Seel | Love / Moon | Ice Body (HA) |
| Kantonian Grimer | Dream | Poison Touch (HA) |
| Alolan Grimer | Dream / Friend | Power of Alchemy (HA) |
| Shellder | Moon / Beast | Overcoat (HA) |
| Gastly | Moon / Dream | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Onix | Heavy | Weak Armor (HA) |
| Drowzee | Dream | Inner Focus (HA) |
| Krabby | Lure | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Kantonian Voltorb | Fast / Heavy / Premier | Aftermath (HA) |
| Hisuian Voltorb | Fast / Heavy / Premier | Aftermath (HA) |
| Exeggcute | Friend / Love | Harvest (HA) |
| Cubone | Moon / Friend | Battle Armor (HA) |
| Lickitung | Dream | Cloud Nine (HA) |
| Koffing | Moon / Friend / Dream | Stench (HA) |
| Rhyhorn | Moon / Heavy / Level | Reckless (HA) |
| Chansey | Dream / Love | Healer (HA) |
| Tangela | Friend | Regenerator (HA) |
| Kangaskhan | Heavy / Level | Inner Focus (HA) |
| Horsea | Dream | Damp (HA) |
| Goldeen | Lure | Lightning Rod (HA) |
| Staryu | Moon / Dream | Analytic (HA) |
| Kantonian Mr. Mime | Moon | Technician (HA) |
| Galarian Mr. Mime | Moon | Ice Body (HA) |
| Scyther | Sport / Level / Friend | Swarm/Technician |
| Pinsir | Level / Moon | Moxie (HA) |
| Kantonian Tauros | Level | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Paldean Tauros (Aqua Breed) | Lure / Moon | Cud Chew (HA) |
| Magikarp | Dream / Moon / Love / Level | Rattled (HA) |
| Lapras | Love / Dream / Beast | Hydration (HA) |
| Eevee | Lure / Fast / Level / Dream / Moon / Friend / Heavy / Love | Anticipation (HA) |
| Porygon | Beast | Download (No HA) |
| Omanyte | Dream | Weak Armor (HA) |
| Kabuto | Friend / Level | Weak Armor (HA) |
| Aerodactyl | Dream | Rock Head/Pressure |
| Snorlax | Heavy / Moon | Gluttony (HA) |
| Dratini | Moon / Love / Dream | Marvel Scale (HA) |
-
| Gen 2 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Chikorita | Friend | Leaf Guard (HA) |
| Cyndaquil | Moon / Level | Blaze/Flash Fire (HA) |
| Sentret | Level / Dream | Frisk (HA) |
| Hoothoot | Friend / Dream / Moon / Level | Tinted Lens (HA) |
| Spinarak | Dream / Moon | Sniper (HA) |
| Chinchou | Dream | Water Absorb (HA) |
| Pichu | Fast / Dream | Lightning Rod (HA) |
| Igglybuff | Love | Friend Guard (HA) |
| Togepi | Moon / Dream / Luxury | Super Luck (HA) |
| Natu | Friend | Magic Bounce (HA) |
| Mareep | Dream / Love / Fast | Plus (HA) |
| Marill | Love / Moon / Level | Huge Power |
| Sudowoodo | Friend | Rattled (HA) |
| Hoppip | Dream | Infiltrator (HA) |
| Aipom | Dream | Skill Link (HA) |
| Sunkern | Friend | Early Bird (HA) |
| Yanma | Moon | Frisk (HA) |
| Johtonian Wooper | Dream | Unaware (HA) |
| Paldean Wooper | Safari / Friend / Level / Heavy | Unaware (HA) |
| Murkrow | Moon / Dream | Prankster (HA) |
| Misdreavus | Moon | Levitate |
| Wobbuffet | Dream | Telepathy (HA) |
| Girafarig | Dream | Sap Sipper (HA) |
| Pineco | Safari | Sturdy |
| Dunsparce | Dream / Moon | Rattled (HA) |
| Gligar | Dream / Moon | Immunity (HA) |
| Snubbull | Dream | Rattled (HA) |
| Johtonian Qwilfish | Dream / Moon | Intimidate (HA) |
| Hisuian Qwilfish | Dream / Moon | Intimidate (HA) |
| Shuckle | Heavy | Contrary (HA) |
| Heracross | Love / Dream | Moxie (HA) |
| Sneasel | Moon / Dream | Pickpocket (HA) |
| Teddiursa | Moon / Friend | Honey Gather (HA) |
| Slugma | Dream / Heavy | Weak Armor (HA) |
| Swinub | Moon / Beast | Thick Fat (HA) |
| Galarian Corsola | Moon | Cursed Body (HA) |
| Remoraid | Dream / Level | Moody (HA) |
| Delibird | Moon / Dream | Insomnia (HA) |
| Mantine | Lure / Moon | Water Veil (HA) |
| Skarmory | Heavy | Sturdy |
| Houndour | Heavy / Moon | Unnerve (HA) |
| Phanpy | Heavy / Level | Sand Veil (HA) |
| Stantler | Dream / Friend / Moon | Sap Sipper (HA) |
| Smeargle | Level | Moody (HA) |
| Tyrogue | Dream / Level / Friend | Vital Spirit (HA) |
| Smoochum | Dream / Moon | Hydration (HA) |
| Elekid | Heavy | Vital Spirit (HA) |
| Magby | Love / Dream | Vital Spirit (HA) |
| Miltank | Moon | Sap Sipper (HA) |
| Larvitar | Friend / Safari | Guts |
-
| Gen 3 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Treecko | Friend | Unburden (HA) |
| Torchic | Fast | Blaze/Speed Boost (HA) |
| Mudkip | Lure | Damp (HA) |
| Poochyena | Level | Rattled (HA) |
| Galarian Zigzagoon | Moon / Beast | Quick Feet (HA) |
| Wurmple | Dream | Run Away (HA) |
| Lotad | Friend | Own Tempo (HA) |
| Seedot | Friend | Pickpocket (HA) |
| Taillow | Dream | Scrappy (HA) |
| Wingull | Dream | Rain Dish (HA) |
| Ralts | Friend / Moon | Synchronize/Trace |
| Surskit | Friend | Rain Dish (HA) |
| Shroomish | Friend | Quick Feet (HA) |
| Slakoth | Dream | Truant |
| Nincada | Moon / Level | Run Away (HA) |
| Whismur | Dream | Rattled (HA) |
| Makuhita | Dream | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Nosepass | Heavy / Level | Sand Force (HA) |
| Skitty | Moon / Dream | Wonder Skin (HA) |
| Sableye | Moon / Heavy / Dream | Prankster (HA) |
| Mawile | Moon / Heavy | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Aron | Heavy | Sturdy/Rock Head |
| Meditite | Dream / Heavy / Moon | Telepathy (HA) |
| Electrike | Fast / Heavy | Minus (HA) |
| Plusle | Fast | Lightning Rod (HA) |
| Minun | Fast | Volt Absorb (HA) |
| Illumise | Moon | Prankster (HA) |
| Volbeat | Moon / Level | Prankster (HA) |
| Roselia | Friend | Natural Cure/Poison Point |
| Gulpin | Moon | Gluttony (HA) |
| Carvanha | Dream / Lure / Friend | Speed Boost (HA) |
| Wailmer | Dream | Pressure (HA) |
| Numel | Moon / Level | Own Tempo (HA) |
| Torkoal | Level | Shell Armor (HA) |
| Spoink | Dream / Heavy | Gluttony (HA) |
| Trapinch | Friend | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Cacnea | Friend / Level | Water Absorb (HA) |
| Swablu | Love / Level | Cloud Nine (HA) |
| Zangoose | Moon | Toxic Boost (HA) |
| Seviper | Dream | Infiltrator (HA) |
| Lunatone | Moon | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Solrock | Level | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Barboach | Level | Hydration (HA) |
| Corphish | Lure | Adaptability (HA) |
| Baltoy | Dream | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Lileep | Dream | Storm Drain (HA) |
| Anorith | Level | Swift Swim (HA) |
| Feebas | Dream / Love / Beast / Moon / Level | Adaptability (HA) |
| Kecleon | Friend | Protean (HA) |
| Shuppet | Moon | Cursed Body (HA) |
| Duskull | Moon | Levitate |
| Tropius | Friend | Harvest (HA) |
| Chimecho | Dream / Moon | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Absol | Moon / Dream | Justified |
| Snorunt | Moon | Moody (HA) |
| Spheal | Dream / Love | Oblivious (HA) |
| Clamperl | Dream / Love / Friend | Rattled (HA) |
| Relicanth | Heavy | Sturdy (HA) |
| Luvdisc | Love | Hydration (HA) |
| Bagon | Moon / Friend / Beast | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Beldum | Heavy | Light Metal (HA) |
-
| Gen 4 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Turtwig | Friend | Shell Armor (HA) |
| Chimchar | Love / Friend / Dream / Level | Iron Fist (HA) |
| Piplup | Heavy | Defiant (HA) |
| Starly | Moon | Reckless (HA) |
| Kricketot | Friend / Level / Sport | Run Away (HA) |
| Shinx | Moon / Level | Guts (HA) |
| Cranidos | Heavy | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Shieldon | Heavy / Level | Soundproof (HA) |
| Burmy | Dream | Overcoat (HA) |
| Combee | Sport | Hustle (HA) |
| Pachirisu | Dream | Volt Absorb (HA) |
| Buizel | Level / Fast | Water Veil (HA) |
| Cherubi | Love | Chlorophyll (Only Ability) |
| Shellos (West Sea Form) | Friend | Sand Force (HA) |
| Shellos (West Sea Form) | Dream | Sand Force (HA) |
| Drifloon | Moon / Dream | Flare Boost (HA) |
| Buneary | Dream / Love | Limber (HA) |
| Glameow | Dream | Keen Eye (HA) |
| Stunky | Dream | Keen Eye (HA) |
| Bronzor | Heavy / Friend | Heavy Metal (HA) |
| Spiritomb | Moon | Infiltrator (HA) |
| Gible | Moon | Rough Skin (HA) |
| Riolu | Moon | Prankster (HA) |
| Hippopotas | Level | Sand Force (HA) |
| Skorupi | Dream | Keen Eye (HA) |
| Croagunk | Moon | Poison Touch (HA) |
| Carnivine | Friend | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Finneon | Moon | Water veil (HA) |
| Snover | Friend | Soundproof (HA) |
| Rotom | Dream / Friend / Moon / Lure / Level | Levitate (Only Ability) |
-
| Gen 5 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Snivy | Freind | Contrary (HA) |
| Tepig | Heavy | Thick Fat (HA) |
| Oshawott | Moon / Beast | Shell Armor (HA) |
| Lillipup | Level | Run Away (HA) |
| Purrloin | Moon / Dream | Prankster (HA) |
| Munna | Dream / Love | Telepathy (HA) |
| Pidove | Heavy | Rivalry (HA) |
| Blitzle | Fast | Sap Sipper (HA) |
| Roggenrola | Moon / Heavy | Sand Force (HA) |
| Woobat | Love Simple (HA) | |
| Drillbur | Heavy | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Audino | Dream / Love | Klutz (HA) |
| Tympole | Lure | Water Absorb (HA) |
| Throh | Dream | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Sawk | Moon | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Sewaddle | Friend | Overcoat (HA) |
| Venipede | Dream | Speed Boost (HA) |
| Cottonee | Friend | Chlorophyll (HA) |
| Petilil | Friend | Leaf Guard (HA) |
| Basculin Red | Dream | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Basculin Blue | Dream | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Basculin White | Dream / Moon / Friend | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Sandile | Moon / Level / Dream / Love | Anger Point (HA) |
| Unovan Darumaka | Dream / Level / Love | Inner Focus (HA) |
| Galarian Darumaka | Moon / Love / Beast / Dream | Inner Focus (HA) |
| Maractus | Friend | Storm Drain (HA) |
| Dwebble | Level / Friend | Weak Armor (HA) |
| Scraggy | Level | Intimidate (HA) |
| Sigilyph | Dream / Level | Tinted Lens (HA) |
| Yamask | Moon | Mummy (Only Ability) |
| Galarian Yamask | Moon | Wandering Spirit (Only Ability) |
| Tirtouga | Heavy / Moon / Dream | Swift Swim (HA) |
| Archen | Level | Defeatist (Only Ability) |
| Trubbish | Heavy | Aftermath (HA) |
| Zorua | Moon | Illusion (Only Ability) |
| Hisuian Zorua | Moon / Premier | Illusion (Only Ability) |
| Minccino | Level | Skill Link (HA) |
| Gothita | Dream / Luxury | Shadow Tag (HA) |
| Solosis | Dream / Friend | Regenerator (HA) |
| Ducklett | Moon | Hydration (HA) |
| Vanillite | Dream / Moon | Weak Armor (HA) |
| Deerling | Friend / Level / Love / Dream / Moon | Serene Grace (HA) |
| Emolga | Fast | Motor Drive (HA) |
| Karrablast | Level | No Guard (HA) |
| Foongus | Moon / Heavy | Regenerator (HA) |
| Frillish | Dream | Damp (HA) |
| Alomomola | Love | Regenerator (HA) |
| Joltik | Level | Swarm (HA) |
| Ferroseed | Friend / Heavy | Iron Barbs (Only Ability) |
| Klink | Heavy / Moon | Clear Body (HA) |
| Tynamo | Fast / Lure / Level | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Elgyem | Dream | Analytic (HA) |
| Litwick | Moon | Infiltrator (HA) |
| Axew | Moon / Beast | Unnerve (HA) |
| Cubchoo | Moon / Dream | Rattled (HA) |
| Cryogonal | Moon | Levitate (Only Ability) |
| Shelmet | Heavy | Overcoat (HA) |
| Unovan Stunfisk | Friend / Level / Fast | Sand Veil (HA) |
| Galarian Stunfisk | Friend | Mimicry (Only Ability) |
| Mienfoo | Dream / Level / Moon | Reckless (HA) |
| Druddigon | Moon / Friend | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Golett | Moon | No Guard (HA) |
| Pawniard | Moon / Heavy | Pressure (HA) |
| Bouffalant | Level | Soundproof (HA) |
| Rufflet | Dream / Heavy / Moon | Hustle (HA) |
| Vullaby | Heavy / Moon / Dream | Weak Armor (HA) |
| Heatmor | Heavy / Level | White Smoke (HA) |
| Durant | Heavy | Truant (HA) |
| Deino | Moon | Hustle (HA) |
| Larvesta | Friend / Sport | Swarm (HA) |
-
| Gen 6 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Fennekin | Dream / Love / Level / Moon | Magician (HA) |
| Froakie | Moon | Protean (HA) |
| Bunnelby | Level | Huge Power (HA) |
| Fletchling | Level | Gale Wings (HA) |
| Litleo | Level | Moxie (HA) |
| Flabébé (Red Flower) | Love / Dream | Symbiosis (HA) |
| Flabébé (Orange Flower) | Fast / Level / Friend | Symbiosis (HA) |
| Flabébé (Yellow Flower) | Fast / Level | Symbiosis (HA) |
| Flabébé (Blue Flower) | Moon / Friend | Symbiosis (HA) |
| Flabébé (White Flower) | Moon / Friend | Symbiosis (HA) |
| Skiddo | Friend | Grass Pelt (HA) |
| Pancham | Moon / Heavy / Level | Scrappy (HA) |
| Furfrou | Friend / Moon / Love / Heavy / Level / Lure / Fast / Beast | Fur Coat (Only Ability) |
| Espurr | Dream | Own Tempo (HA) |
| Honedge | Moon | No Guard (Only Ability) |
| Spritzee | Love | Aroma Veil (HA) |
| Swirlix | Love | Unburden (HA) |
| Inkay | Dream | Infiltrator (HA) |
| Binacle | Heavy | Pickpocket (HA) |
| Skrelp | Moon | Adaptability (HA) |
| Clauncher | Lure | Mega Launcher (Only Ability) |
| Helioptile | Level | Solar Power (HA) |
| Tyrunt | Heavy / Moon | Sturdy (HA) |
| Amaura | Moon / Love | Snow Warning (HA) |
| Hawlucha | Friend / Moon / Dream | Mold Breaker (HA) |
| Dedenne | Fast | Plus (HA) |
| Carbink | Dream / Dream | Sturdy (HA) |
| Goomy | Dream / Love / Moon / Level / Friend / Lure / Heavy | Gooey (HA) |
| Klefki | Dream | Magician (HA) |
| Phantump | Moon | Harvest (HA) |
| Pumpkaboo (Small Size) | Moon | Insomnia (HA) |
| Pumpkaboo (Average Size) | Moon | Insomnia (HA) |
| Pumpkaboo (Large Size) | Moon | Insomnia (HA) |
| Pumpkaboo (Super Size) | Moon | Insomnia (HA) |
| Bergmite | Moon / Premier | Sturdy (HA) |
| Noibat | Moon | Telepathy (HA) |
-
| Gen 7 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Rowlet | Moon | Long Reach (HA) |
| Litten | Luxury | Intimidate (HA) |
| Popplio | Love | Liquid Voice (HA) |
| Pikipek | Level | Pickup (HA) |
| Yungoos | Dream / Friend | Adaptability (HA) |
| Grubbin | Fast | Swarm (Only Ability) |
| Crabrawler | Lure | Anger Point (HA) |
| Oricorio (Baile Style) | Love | Dancer (Only Ability) |
| Oricorio (Pom-Pom Style) | Fast | Dancer (Only Ability) |
| Oricorio (Pa'u Style) | Dream | Dancer (Only Ability) |
| Oricorio (Sensu Style) | Moon | Dancer (Only Ability) |
| Cutiefly | Love / Dream | Sweet Veil (HA) |
| Rockruff | Moon | Steadfast (HA) |
| Rockruff | Moon | Own Tempo (Dusk Lycanroc) |
| Wishiwashi | Moon / Lure | Schooling (Only Ability) |
| Mareanie | Moon / Lure | Reverberator (HA) |
| Mudbray | Heavy | Inner Focus (HA) |
| Dewpider | Lure | Water Absorb (HA) |
| Fomantis | Friend | Contrary (HA) |
| Morelull | Love | Rain Dish (HA) |
| Salandit | Love / Moon / Sport | Oblivious (HA) |
| Stufful | Love | Cute Charm (HA) |
| Bounsweet | Dream / Friend | Sweet Veil (HA) |
| Comfey | Dream | Natural Cure (HA) |
| Oranguru | Dream | |
| Passimian | Friend | |
| Wimpod | Heavy | Wimp Out |
| Sandygast | Moon | Sand Veil (HA) |
| Pyukumuku | Dream | Unaware (HA) |
| Minior (Red Core) | Moon | Shields Down (Only Ability) |
| Minior (Orange Core) | Moon | Shields Down (Only Ability) |
| Minior (Yellow Core) | Moon | Shields Down (Only Ability) |
| Minior (Green Core) | Moon | Shields Down (Only Ability) |
| Minior (Blue Core) | Moon | Shields Down (Only Ability) |
| Minior (Indigo Core) | Moon | Shields Down (Only Ability) |
| Minior (Violet Core) | Moon | Shields Down (Only Ability) |
| Komala | Love | Comatose (Only Ability) |
| Turtonator | Heavy / Beast | Shell Armor (Only Ability) |
| Togedemaru | Fast | Sturdy (HA) |
| Mimikyu | Moon | Disguise (Only Ability) |
| Bruxish | Dream | Wonder Skin (HA) |
| Drampa | Moon / Dream | Cloud Nine (HA) |
| Dhelmise | Friend / Moon | Steelworker (Only Ability) |
| Jangmo-o | Heavy / Love | Overcoat (HA) |
-
| Gen 8 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Grookey | Friend | Grassy Surge (HA) |
| Scorbunny | Level | Libero (HA) |
| Sobble | Dream / Love | Sniper (HA) |
| Skwovet | Level | Gluttony (HA) |
| Rookidee | Heavy | Big Pecks (HA) |
| Blipbug | Moon / Dream | Telepathy (HA) |
| Nickit | Moon | Stakout (HA) |
| Gossifleur | Friend | Effect Spore (HA) |
| Wooloo | Moon / Love | Bulletproof (HA) |
| Chewtle | Friend | Swift Swim (HA) |
| Yamper | Fast | Rattled (HA) |
| Rolycoly | Level / Heavy | Flash Fire (HA) |
| Applin | Friend | Bulletproof (HA) |
| Silicobra | Level | Sand Veil (HA) |
| Cramorant | Moon | Gulp Missile (Only Ability) |
| Arrokuda | Level | Propeller Tail (HA) |
| Toxel | Dream | Klutz (HA) |
| Sizzlipede | Level | Flame Body (HA) |
| Clobbopus | Level | Technician (HA) |
| Sinistea | Moon / Love / Sport | Cursed Body (HA) |
| Hatenna | Moon | Magic Bounce (HA) |
| Impidimp | Moon / Dream / Friend | Pickpocket (HA) |
| Milcery | Love | Aroma veil (HA) |
| Falinks | Level | Defiant (HA) |
| Pincurchin | Fast | Electric Surge (HA) |
| Snom | Friend | Icicle Scales (HA) |
| Stonjourner | Heavy | Power Spot |
| Eiscue | Moon / Dream | Ice Face (Only Ability) |
| Indeedee | Love / Dream | Psychic Surge (HA) |
| Morpeko | Fast | Hunger Switch (Only Ability) |
| Cufant | Heavy | Heavy Metal (HA) |
| Duraludon | Heavy | Stalwart (HA) |
| Dreepy | Moon / Friend | Cursed Body (HA) |
-
| Gen 9 Pokémon | Poké Ball | Ability |
|---|---|---|
| Lechonk | Heavy / Moon / Love / Dream Level / | Thick Fat (HA) |
| Nymble | Moon | Tinted Lens (HA) |
| Pawmi | Fast | Iron Fist (HA) |
| Tandemaus | Premier | Own Tempo (HA) |
| Fidough | Love | Klutz (HA) |
| Smoliv | Friend | Harvest (HA) |
| Squawkabilly (Green) | Friend | Guts (HA) |
| Nacli | Heavy | Clear Body (HA) |
| Charcadet | Moon / Level | Flame Body (HA) |
| Tadbulb | Fast | Damp (HA) |
| Wattrel | Fast | Competitive (HA) |
| Maschiff | Moon | Stakeout (HA) |
| Shroodle | Moon / Safari / Friend | Prankster (HA) |
| Capsakid | Friend | Klutz (HA) |
| Bramblin | Friend / Moon | Infiltrator (HA) |
| Toedscool | Friend | Mycelium Might (Only Ability) |
| Klawf | Level | Regenerator (HA) |
| Flittle | Dream | Speed Boost (HA) |
| Tinkatink | Love / Dream | Pickpocket (HA) |
| Wiglett | Moon / Lure | Sand Veil (HA) |
| Bombirdier | Moon / Level | Rocky Payload (HA) |
| Finizen | Lure | Water Veil (Only Ability) |
| Varoom | Heavy | Slow Start (HA) |
| Cyclizar | Friend | Regenerator (HA) |
| Orthworm | Heavy | Sand Veil (HA) |
| Glimmet | Moon | Corrosion (HA) |
| Greavard | Moon | Fluffy (HA) |
| Flamigo | Dream / Love | Costar (HA) |
| Cetoddle | Moon / Heavy | Sheer Force (HA) |
| Veluza | Dream / Friend | Sharpness (HA) |
| Dondozo | Moon | Water Veil (HA) |
| Tatsugiri (Curly Form) | Moon | Storm Drain (HA) |
| Tatsugiri (Droopy Form) | Moon | Storm Drain (HA) |
| Tatsugiri (Stretchy Form) | Moon | Storm Drain (HA) |
| Frigibax | Moon | Ice Body (HA) |
| Poltchageist | Friend | Heatproof (HA) |
2024.05.14 19:21 LiseEclaire [Leveling up the World] - Nobility Arc - Chapter 936
Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))
At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Nobility Arc - Arc 5
Previously on Leveling up the World...
Reality shifted, transforming into an endless forest of purple glowing vines among green and yellow trees. Minuscule creatures of all shapes and sizes flew about. To the untrained eye they seemed charming, even beautiful, yet they were all parasites taking advantage of the richness of magic threads for sustenance. They weren’t the problem, though. Other entities were also present in force—aether golems.
Summoning a clay cylinder, Dallion unleashed a ray of destruction, shattering hundreds of the crimson-purple constructs like glass. The spell was followed by a spark infused spiral attack directly below.
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 78%
Large chunks of land erupted at the impact, transforming into clouds of dirt high up in the air. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any more golems hidden in the soil.
“Seventy-eight,” Dallion said as he gently floated to the ground. “Mages really don’t maintain anything, do they?”
The life of academia is filled with its own challenges, dear boy, Adzorg protested, practically admitting the statement. That’s a domain ruler’s job.
“I suppose it is.”
Dallion looked at his feet. They were there, along with his shoes and the lower part of his trousers. Nothing seemed to be wrong with them, yet this was only a fake projection. In the real world, they no longer existed.
There’s no reason to be alarmed. With your magic and body levels, you should be able to have them restored in a matter of months. Until then, you’ll just have to use aether stand-ins, or even a good illusion, if you prefer.
Dallion considered it. If there was someone who’d know, that would be Adzorg. The mage had his hands severed not too long ago. Looking at him now, no one would be able to guess that they had been gradually restored over the course of months.
REALM INVASION
Red rectangles filled the sky.
“Seems like they’ve taken me seriously.” Dallion stood up. His real-life troubles would have to wait.
Knowing Alien, he probably only modified the golems to treat you as an intruder. The area guardian must have stepped in.
“Doesn’t the emperor control this? Or an overseer?”
The Academy has always been sort of different, dear boy, Adzorg explained. While we serve the emperor, we’re technically autonomous.
“Like the Order.”
To a certain degree. Think of this realm as isolated. That’s why moving it around isn’t as easy as moving everything else. Due to the magic concentration and frequent experiments, the area has become… more susceptible to other worlds. That’s why I did my experiments here—it’s far easier to break through the protective barrier here than elsewhere. Well, except the fallen south, possibly. The old mage added with a brief laugh. To prevent anything spilling out into the rest of Tamin’s domain, the Academy is isolated from everything else.
“That shouldn’t stop him from coming here in case he wants to,” Dallion said.
Not in the least. That doesn’t make it desirable, though.
That was a strange statement. There were too many benefits for the emperor not to get involved. Even if he were afraid that someone might do what he had done to the archbishop. Either way, the faster Dallion could take control of the domain, the better. He knew he couldn’t keep it, but that wouldn’t prevent him from transporting a few pieces to his own territory. As for what was left, he’d make sure that no one could take advantage of it in the future.
Aqui, he said within his personal realm.
The orange-scaled dragon emerged within seconds. Ten times larger than in the real world, she was doing her best to present herself larger than she actually was. Even so, her present level was clearly visible should anyone look at her white rectangle.
“Grasped the concept of eating?” Dallion looked at her.
The large dragon snarled.
“Can you do it from within the realm?”
The anger changed into bewilderment.
“No one can consume magic from within a realm,” she said defensively. Dallion knew for a fact that wasn’t the case. He himself had done so many times and he wasn’t the only one.
“What about outside? How fast can you drain the area of magic?”
“Why?” She lowered her head, bringing it to Dallion’s level.
“I’m going to do something and when I do, we’ll have to get out of here quickly.”
The dragon snorted right at Dallion.
“It would be nice if you can reach level ten at least.”
Pride filled the dragon’s body, as blue blobs the size of houses emerged within her. There was no way that she would only level up to such a low level. Of course, Dallion’s subtle use of music skills had also helped in the making of the decision.
Before anyone could say anything more, a cluster of aether cones flew straight at him. Free of the confines of reality, the armadil shield teleported between him and the projectiles, growing three times its size.
Unable to counter the force, Gem was pushed back dozens of feet to the point it reached Dallion himself. Extending one hand, the otherworlder easily countered the attack.
Aquilequia, on her part, had used her natural speed to move away before the cones even got close.
“Best leave.” He said, glancing at her new location. “After I’m done, I’ll need you to be at least as strong as this.”
The dragon didn’t respond, yet didn’t leave the realm, either. Curious as every low-level companion, she moved a safe distance away, eager to see exactly what was referred to. Meanwhile, Dallion sprang into action. With speed surpassing that of Aquilequia, he dashed around the shield, heading straight for the source of the aether cones. To little surprise, they were being released from five spell circles, at huge intensity. More curious was the entity that had cast them.
LEARNING HALL GUARDIAN
Species: COPYETTE
Class: SHADOW
Health: 78%
Traits:
- BODY 45
- MIND 60
- REACTION 55
- PERCEPTION 50
- MAGIC 100
Skills:
- ATTACK
- GUARD
- ACROBATICS
- SCHOLAR
- CARVING
- MUSIC
- SPELLCRAFT
Weakness: NONE
“Never thought you’d be a copyette,” Dallion said as he performed a series of slashes targeting vital points on the guardian.
Each of them hit, yet instead of red rectangles, the form transformed into cyan sludge that splashed onto the ground.
“Lucky coincidence?” Dallion split into instances, using his music skills to add doubt and weight into his words. “Or were you working for the Order all this time?”
“Nice to see you too, apprentice.” A new figure formed. It was very different from the first, taking on the form of Alien. Spells circles formed in different spots hundreds of feet from Dallion, each releasing anything from lightning to aether shards.
Despite the overwhelming amount, not a single one of Dallion’s instances got harmed. Performing a three-sixty line attack with his harpsisword, he sliced through the new appearance of the guardian, breaking the spell circles in the process.
Don’t be overconfident, Giaccia said. Experience trumps level every time.
There was no way Dallion could disagree. There was a time when he, too, had defeated opponents many levels above him. While it was said that a ten-level difference was insurmountable, the guardian was a copyette with a very high magic trait.
“You can always surrender,” Dallion said, looking in all directions with his instances.
“It’s just like you to offer.” Two forms of the guardian appeared in different locations, now taking on the forms of children in Dallion’s class. “And no, I’m not working for Simon, even if he put me here.”
Dallion dashed, appearing next to one of his former classmates, slicing it to bits using a multi attack.
“Wrong one.” The other form laughed.
Dallion was fully aware that both of them were wrong. His real goal was to try and figure out where the rest of the guardian was hiding. As a copyette, he could create dozens of copies, all an insignificant part of his overall body. Destroying each individual one wouldn’t do anything; harming the one considered the main one might.
He’s stalling for time, Giaccia said.
“Your music attacks are rather good.” Two more copyette forms emerged. “Sadly, it doesn’t depend on me. You’ll have to deal with the main guardian for that. I’m just here to obtain information. Being a hunter, you should know that.”
“It’s been a while since I was a hunter,” Dallion replied. “I’m not an apprentice, either.”
“That’s true. You made full mage, didn’t you? Also, I heard that you were an archduke shortly before rebelling. Quite the achievement.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just like my grandfather.” Dallion let it slip.
“Your grandfather?” Confusion emanated from the copyette. “I was about to say that you’re like Jeremy. A lot more straightforward, to be sure, but the drive is there along with the skill.”
Going by large areas, there had to be roughly ten guardians responsible for the realm. Defeating them would effectively make Dallion the new owner. A faster and more challenging way, though, was taking on the main guardian.
No time to hesitate, the harpsisword Guardian reminded Dallion.
It would be a lie to say that Dallion wasn’t. Even with all the copyette’s tricks, he had enough raw power to defeat the guardian, destroying a large part of the realm in the process. It was no accident that of all the key guardians, this one had been sent to reveal his skills. Dallion had spent a significant part of his life in the Learning Hall. While not particularly long in terms of time, it had marked a significant change in Dallion’s life. Before that he was little more than a skill game piece—barely defeating the Star, he was on the run from Countess Priscord, and in debt to the void. His life at the learning hall of the Academy had elevated him to the point that the emperor, the Order, and even the Moons themselves had taken notice.
“Yes.” Dallion sighed. “There’s no time for hesitation.”
Summoning his aura sword, he slashed the air, casting a flight spell that propelled him up like a rocket. Half a mile above the ground, he stopped.
“Sorry, Learning Hall,” he said, slashing the air in what appeared to be a multi attack. Magic symbols and connections were drawn, yet instead of casting multiple five-circle spells, Dallion cast one complex spell chain.
A vortex of spell circles emerged beneath him, shooting bolts of magic draining lightning.
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 77%
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 76%
Red rectangles popped up as the ground became covered in craters. Aether projectiles shot up to him in response, most of them blocked by the aether shield before reaching Dallion himself.
“Thanks, but no need,” Dallion unsummoned the shield, unwilling to have it be accidentally affected by his magic draining spell.
CRITICAL STRIKE
Dealt damage is increased by 200%
A few purple rectangles appeared among the mass of red. At the current rate, the Learning Hall guardian would be defeated in a matter of seconds. Hopefully, there would be enough left for Dallion to restore afterwards. Were this to be the Hall’s realm, there would be no concern on the matter—defeating a guardian merely improved it. In this case, the realm was the Academy, though, not the Learning Hall itself.
Suddenly, a sun gold colossus emerged less than a few hundred feet away. A massive hand reached out and grabbed the vortex from beneath Dallion. Sparks of lightning enveloped the fingers, yet had no effect whatsoever.
A second hand reached for Dallion himself, but he had already darted further back, safely avoiding the attack.
So, that’s the Academy? Dallion looked at the glittering mountain of gold. When it came to the colossus, he shared many of the same characteristics. The one major difference was the colossus’ “attire.” Not the usual Roman-Greek design that Dallion had seen before, the design followed twenty century Earth norms.
“It’s been ages since a domain ruling mage has ventured in this realm,” the colossus said in a booming voice. “You’re the second so far.”
“What happened to the first?” Dallion concentrated. Not a single domain marker appeared anywhere along the guardian’s body.
“He created this area and made sure that no other mage will be able to take it.”
submitted by LiseEclaire to redditserials [link] [comments]
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Nobility Arc - Arc 5
Previously on Leveling up the World...
Summoning a clay cylinder, Dallion unleashed a ray of destruction, shattering hundreds of the crimson-purple constructs like glass. The spell was followed by a spark infused spiral attack directly below.
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 78%
Large chunks of land erupted at the impact, transforming into clouds of dirt high up in the air. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any more golems hidden in the soil.
“Seventy-eight,” Dallion said as he gently floated to the ground. “Mages really don’t maintain anything, do they?”
The life of academia is filled with its own challenges, dear boy, Adzorg protested, practically admitting the statement. That’s a domain ruler’s job.
“I suppose it is.”
Dallion looked at his feet. They were there, along with his shoes and the lower part of his trousers. Nothing seemed to be wrong with them, yet this was only a fake projection. In the real world, they no longer existed.
There’s no reason to be alarmed. With your magic and body levels, you should be able to have them restored in a matter of months. Until then, you’ll just have to use aether stand-ins, or even a good illusion, if you prefer.
Dallion considered it. If there was someone who’d know, that would be Adzorg. The mage had his hands severed not too long ago. Looking at him now, no one would be able to guess that they had been gradually restored over the course of months.
REALM INVASION
Red rectangles filled the sky.
“Seems like they’ve taken me seriously.” Dallion stood up. His real-life troubles would have to wait.
Knowing Alien, he probably only modified the golems to treat you as an intruder. The area guardian must have stepped in.
“Doesn’t the emperor control this? Or an overseer?”
The Academy has always been sort of different, dear boy, Adzorg explained. While we serve the emperor, we’re technically autonomous.
“Like the Order.”
To a certain degree. Think of this realm as isolated. That’s why moving it around isn’t as easy as moving everything else. Due to the magic concentration and frequent experiments, the area has become… more susceptible to other worlds. That’s why I did my experiments here—it’s far easier to break through the protective barrier here than elsewhere. Well, except the fallen south, possibly. The old mage added with a brief laugh. To prevent anything spilling out into the rest of Tamin’s domain, the Academy is isolated from everything else.
“That shouldn’t stop him from coming here in case he wants to,” Dallion said.
Not in the least. That doesn’t make it desirable, though.
That was a strange statement. There were too many benefits for the emperor not to get involved. Even if he were afraid that someone might do what he had done to the archbishop. Either way, the faster Dallion could take control of the domain, the better. He knew he couldn’t keep it, but that wouldn’t prevent him from transporting a few pieces to his own territory. As for what was left, he’d make sure that no one could take advantage of it in the future.
Aqui, he said within his personal realm.
The orange-scaled dragon emerged within seconds. Ten times larger than in the real world, she was doing her best to present herself larger than she actually was. Even so, her present level was clearly visible should anyone look at her white rectangle.
“Grasped the concept of eating?” Dallion looked at her.
The large dragon snarled.
“Can you do it from within the realm?”
The anger changed into bewilderment.
“No one can consume magic from within a realm,” she said defensively. Dallion knew for a fact that wasn’t the case. He himself had done so many times and he wasn’t the only one.
“What about outside? How fast can you drain the area of magic?”
“Why?” She lowered her head, bringing it to Dallion’s level.
“I’m going to do something and when I do, we’ll have to get out of here quickly.”
The dragon snorted right at Dallion.
“It would be nice if you can reach level ten at least.”
Pride filled the dragon’s body, as blue blobs the size of houses emerged within her. There was no way that she would only level up to such a low level. Of course, Dallion’s subtle use of music skills had also helped in the making of the decision.
Before anyone could say anything more, a cluster of aether cones flew straight at him. Free of the confines of reality, the armadil shield teleported between him and the projectiles, growing three times its size.
Unable to counter the force, Gem was pushed back dozens of feet to the point it reached Dallion himself. Extending one hand, the otherworlder easily countered the attack.
Aquilequia, on her part, had used her natural speed to move away before the cones even got close.
“Best leave.” He said, glancing at her new location. “After I’m done, I’ll need you to be at least as strong as this.”
The dragon didn’t respond, yet didn’t leave the realm, either. Curious as every low-level companion, she moved a safe distance away, eager to see exactly what was referred to. Meanwhile, Dallion sprang into action. With speed surpassing that of Aquilequia, he dashed around the shield, heading straight for the source of the aether cones. To little surprise, they were being released from five spell circles, at huge intensity. More curious was the entity that had cast them.
LEARNING HALL GUARDIAN
Species: COPYETTE
Class: SHADOW
Health: 78%
Traits:
- BODY 45
- MIND 60
- REACTION 55
- PERCEPTION 50
- MAGIC 100
Skills:
- ATTACK
- GUARD
- ACROBATICS
- SCHOLAR
- CARVING
- MUSIC
- SPELLCRAFT
Weakness: NONE
“Never thought you’d be a copyette,” Dallion said as he performed a series of slashes targeting vital points on the guardian.
Each of them hit, yet instead of red rectangles, the form transformed into cyan sludge that splashed onto the ground.
“Lucky coincidence?” Dallion split into instances, using his music skills to add doubt and weight into his words. “Or were you working for the Order all this time?”
“Nice to see you too, apprentice.” A new figure formed. It was very different from the first, taking on the form of Alien. Spells circles formed in different spots hundreds of feet from Dallion, each releasing anything from lightning to aether shards.
Despite the overwhelming amount, not a single one of Dallion’s instances got harmed. Performing a three-sixty line attack with his harpsisword, he sliced through the new appearance of the guardian, breaking the spell circles in the process.
Don’t be overconfident, Giaccia said. Experience trumps level every time.
There was no way Dallion could disagree. There was a time when he, too, had defeated opponents many levels above him. While it was said that a ten-level difference was insurmountable, the guardian was a copyette with a very high magic trait.
“You can always surrender,” Dallion said, looking in all directions with his instances.
“It’s just like you to offer.” Two forms of the guardian appeared in different locations, now taking on the forms of children in Dallion’s class. “And no, I’m not working for Simon, even if he put me here.”
Dallion dashed, appearing next to one of his former classmates, slicing it to bits using a multi attack.
“Wrong one.” The other form laughed.
Dallion was fully aware that both of them were wrong. His real goal was to try and figure out where the rest of the guardian was hiding. As a copyette, he could create dozens of copies, all an insignificant part of his overall body. Destroying each individual one wouldn’t do anything; harming the one considered the main one might.
He’s stalling for time, Giaccia said.
“Your music attacks are rather good.” Two more copyette forms emerged. “Sadly, it doesn’t depend on me. You’ll have to deal with the main guardian for that. I’m just here to obtain information. Being a hunter, you should know that.”
“It’s been a while since I was a hunter,” Dallion replied. “I’m not an apprentice, either.”
“That’s true. You made full mage, didn’t you? Also, I heard that you were an archduke shortly before rebelling. Quite the achievement.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just like my grandfather.” Dallion let it slip.
“Your grandfather?” Confusion emanated from the copyette. “I was about to say that you’re like Jeremy. A lot more straightforward, to be sure, but the drive is there along with the skill.”
Going by large areas, there had to be roughly ten guardians responsible for the realm. Defeating them would effectively make Dallion the new owner. A faster and more challenging way, though, was taking on the main guardian.
No time to hesitate, the harpsisword Guardian reminded Dallion.
It would be a lie to say that Dallion wasn’t. Even with all the copyette’s tricks, he had enough raw power to defeat the guardian, destroying a large part of the realm in the process. It was no accident that of all the key guardians, this one had been sent to reveal his skills. Dallion had spent a significant part of his life in the Learning Hall. While not particularly long in terms of time, it had marked a significant change in Dallion’s life. Before that he was little more than a skill game piece—barely defeating the Star, he was on the run from Countess Priscord, and in debt to the void. His life at the learning hall of the Academy had elevated him to the point that the emperor, the Order, and even the Moons themselves had taken notice.
“Yes.” Dallion sighed. “There’s no time for hesitation.”
Summoning his aura sword, he slashed the air, casting a flight spell that propelled him up like a rocket. Half a mile above the ground, he stopped.
“Sorry, Learning Hall,” he said, slashing the air in what appeared to be a multi attack. Magic symbols and connections were drawn, yet instead of casting multiple five-circle spells, Dallion cast one complex spell chain.
A vortex of spell circles emerged beneath him, shooting bolts of magic draining lightning.
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 77%
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 76%
Red rectangles popped up as the ground became covered in craters. Aether projectiles shot up to him in response, most of them blocked by the aether shield before reaching Dallion himself.
“Thanks, but no need,” Dallion unsummoned the shield, unwilling to have it be accidentally affected by his magic draining spell.
CRITICAL STRIKE
Dealt damage is increased by 200%
A few purple rectangles appeared among the mass of red. At the current rate, the Learning Hall guardian would be defeated in a matter of seconds. Hopefully, there would be enough left for Dallion to restore afterwards. Were this to be the Hall’s realm, there would be no concern on the matter—defeating a guardian merely improved it. In this case, the realm was the Academy, though, not the Learning Hall itself.
Suddenly, a sun gold colossus emerged less than a few hundred feet away. A massive hand reached out and grabbed the vortex from beneath Dallion. Sparks of lightning enveloped the fingers, yet had no effect whatsoever.
A second hand reached for Dallion himself, but he had already darted further back, safely avoiding the attack.
So, that’s the Academy? Dallion looked at the glittering mountain of gold. When it came to the colossus, he shared many of the same characteristics. The one major difference was the colossus’ “attire.” Not the usual Roman-Greek design that Dallion had seen before, the design followed twenty century Earth norms.
“It’s been ages since a domain ruling mage has ventured in this realm,” the colossus said in a booming voice. “You’re the second so far.”
“What happened to the first?” Dallion concentrated. Not a single domain marker appeared anywhere along the guardian’s body.
“He created this area and made sure that no other mage will be able to take it.”