Blank diagram of skul
SotA RP
2013.01.14 03:48 TheWalkingPodcast SotA RP
Shroud of the Avatar
2024.05.12 08:12 VT_Squire A mathematical indicator of clear intent.
On November 8th, 1969 the Zodiac sent in the Dripping Pen card which included a list of months at the end. (December, July, Aug, Sept, Oct)
On November 9th, 1969 the Zodiac mailed in Bus Bomb letter which had a diagram with 5 X's along 12 possible positions at the end.
As had been pointed out in the past, the given list of months in the Nov 8th letter maps to the X's at the end of the Bus Bomb letter, with December at the bottom and then proceeding in a counter-clockwise fashion.
I assigned each position a number, and then listed out all permutations that would display the proximal relationship that the X's display.
I considered further that marking 7 X's and leaving 5 blank would effectively leave the same pattern of spatial relationships, except as blanks instead of X's. In total, this makes for 48 permutations that would correlate with the list of months.
At 12 digits in length, and each digit being an X or not, this just functions like binary. So, 2^12 = 4,096.
Therefore, 48/4096 = 1.171875% chance to occur by dumb luck, which means that the inverse likelihood of 98.828125% is associated with intent on the part of the killer.
submitted by VT_Squire to ZodiacKiller [link] [comments]
On November 9th, 1969 the Zodiac mailed in Bus Bomb letter which had a diagram with 5 X's along 12 possible positions at the end.
As had been pointed out in the past, the given list of months in the Nov 8th letter maps to the X's at the end of the Bus Bomb letter, with December at the bottom and then proceeding in a counter-clockwise fashion.
I assigned each position a number, and then listed out all permutations that would display the proximal relationship that the X's display.
| clockwise | counter-clockwise |
|---|---|
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
| 1234567890AB | 1234567890AB |
At 12 digits in length, and each digit being an X or not, this just functions like binary. So, 2^12 = 4,096.
Therefore, 48/4096 = 1.171875% chance to occur by dumb luck, which means that the inverse likelihood of 98.828125% is associated with intent on the part of the killer.
2024.05.12 05:44 Endependence Wiring, amp setup and speaker/sub recommendations @ 1K USD?
 | SPECS OF EQUIPMENT IN THE NEXT SLIDES / PICTURES OF THE AMP/HEADUNIT CONNECTIONS AT THE FINAL SLIDES submitted by Endependence to CarAV [link] [comments] I already have the Sony Xavax3200 headunit and the Pioneer GM-DX975 amp. My budget for the subwoofer and speaker setup is $1200 USD. I also need the supplies/wires to wire all of this up but I won’t include that in the budget. I do need to know what I need though… I’m looking to completely re-do the audio system in this car. Battery is in the driver side engine bay, the amp location will be in the passenger side of the rear wheel well area of the trunk. I cannot use a box in this build, everything must fit in factory locations. I can fit 6.5” in the 2 rear deck locations and the 2 door card locations. I also have 2 potential tweeter locations in the upper door card. The factory subwoofer is a shallow 10” pioneer that hangs about 3.8” below the rear deck and about 1inch away from the gas tank, so it’s a tight squeeze… What I really need help understanding is the optimal way to run this amp. Do I do 2 ohm or 1 ohm or 4 ohm setups???? I’m looking for a good all around sound system, and want this one amp to do it all. I assume when I wire this up I should wire the power side of the amp facing the rear of the car, bring the power wire around from the drive side of the car to the amp THEN from the auxiliary side of the amp run the speakesubwoofecontrol wires up the passenger side and to the head unit. I included a blank picture of the car if anyone is willing to draw me a diagram on what I need to be doing wiring wise… Thanks guys, I appreciate your advice and help, I’m a first timer trying to understand all of this and it’s quite complicated for me. |
2024.05.10 09:51 Sad-Duty6726 Guys type me pleasee!!
• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I am 24, female
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
I have been suffering from anxiety all my life.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
My family was fairly religious and I did not mind it all that much because I loved listening to all the myths and stories but I wouldn't call myself religious. In fact, I would describe myself as an atheist or an agnostic but my family doesn't care all that much. Since, I belonged to an Asian family there was always this immense pressure to perform and be the best at everything as failure was not an option. Even though my dad had no money he always earned money for us somehow to make sure we lived as comfortably as possible. Our mother on the other hand used to straight up emotionally (sometimes even physically) abuse us to make sure we made our dad proud because of everything that he has been through. Our father suffered from a heart attack when I was 8 and thankfully survived but since then, the stakes have been always high to earn money as quickly as possible to take care of my family, me being the eldest and all.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I am a medical student almost done with my under graduation and I partly chose this career due to pressure from my parents and since I was relatively good at science in school, I eventually came to fall in love with it. Although I don't like helping the humanity part all that much, I do love, love the subjects and came to appreciate the art of medicine and the thrill of a diagnosis and the vast amount of knowledge it requires to just be good at a surface level.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
I would feel absolutely amazing and recharged.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I love reading- I used to enjoy fiction and fantasy a lot when I was a kid but now I want to read about philosophy and the universe and the meaning of it all. I am relatively good at sports and I played badminton professionally and I absolutely love swimming. I prefer indoor activities to outdoor ones as I feel like I just get drained from all the stimulation.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I would definitely describe myself as curious as I really want to learn how things work and what they mean and why do they work the way they do and I keep wondering how the human mind often creates or reinvents things that have always existed or perhaps didn't. I wish I had the time and energy to learn more about everything. I often find myself thinking about what I need to do in a day and how to do it efficiently when I am under pressure but if I were to let my mind roam freely then I find myself having various opinions on random things or concepts or people's behaviors.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
Even though I do not like taking up leadership positions, there have been incidences in the past which might have implied I would be good at it and the reason is because I always, always kept my colleagues well being a priority and made sure I stood up for them when needed and appreciated the sense of camaraderie and the feeling that the work that everyone put into mattered and benefited the group as a whole.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I always find myself having a difficult time to catch on to things where hands are required. Its not that I am clumsy but I find myself staring at my hands clueless what to do, despite being repeatedly told to use them a certain way. But once I get the hang of it I do enjoy it because I get the feeling that I mastered something that I find difficult.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I am not artistic, however, I appreciate art and the purpose it serves. Be it music, ''art'' art, literature, sculptures, architecture of ancient ruins etc., they always have something to say about the human nature and progression of mankind and I like how they make you question in what instance and circumstance an artist came to the said idea and how they executed them. I specifically enjoy art forms that paint a picture about the past and all the lives humans have lived because they, in a way, make you question about the future as to how the humans will be/progress.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
The past, I think, is important to find answers because I believe that sometimes that is where clues lie to certain puzzles but other than that it is quite annoying when people dwell on the past, be it myself, or others. Pardon me for sounding pretentious but the present is quite overrated but calming, the future, on the other hand, I think leaves a little blank in my head because I don't know if I have to think and worry about my future or the humanity's. But I do find it comforting to think that in the end, nothing matters haha.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
I immediately help only if I think I should. If I suspect any ill intention or an ulterior motive then I refuse immediately as I have low tolerance for bs. I came to learn that kindness is important for the society to function but it comes at a high cost and I help a lot of people minimally but if they require a lot of my time and energy then usually its a big no unless it benefits me as well or its my loved ones or those I think deserve- then I try and give all of it.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
Yes and no.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
They're very important to me because that's how you get ahead in life, however, its quite exhausting. I used to beat myself up if I did not finish a task on time and now I am not as harsh on myself.
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
NOOO, I hate when people try to control others as everybody is subjected to their own actions and emotions.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
I just draw up a random article about a random thing online and read about it haha. Other than that I really have no energy to keep up with the various things I am interested in. If I do have the time and energy I would like to swim, learn a language watch a tv show and read a a book on the universe/ neuroscience/ philosophy and teach myself physics and math because I suck at them. And I love trying food at various restaurants.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
When I learn about something I tend to obsessively get stuck at a point and research about it in depth unless I knew everything about it. I just get obsessed with the details and go nowhere which is why I know the most random things in depth and nothing else. I absolutely suck at thinking logically and often find myself having ''brain fog'' if anything even remotely requires analytical thinking. I cannot get over this brain fog unless I put it on paper to make sense of things slowly. I am quite good at memorizing things, average at creative thinking. Whenever I learn something I like to interpret it myself rather than having someone break it down for me and often prefer diagram/ models/ pictures to text.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I see how strategizing can be efficient but its exhausting to plan and execute so I wing it as I go. I hate rigid schedules because there is no room for improvisation!
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
I want to create/ invent something and contribute something to the world and make use of my existence. It can be a machine, a drug, a theory- anything. Still waiting for that "aha" moment haha. It doesn't necessarily have to be revolutionary but if it contributes to something then my existence will be meaningful.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
I fear losing my dog. Eff humans but my dog is the most precious thing to me in the world. Also fear getting Alzheimer's and losing my sense of self or being dependent on someone for the rest of my life. I hate people who are narrow minded, unempathetic, manipulative, have no sense of right or wrong and those who harm animals. And those who follow the crowd without using their brain. And financial instability.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
A high would be a peaceful morning and a productive day.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
Lows are being stuck in a state of anxiety, stress, burnout and being financially unstable.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I am often present in the reality and daydream rarely.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
I will think about.....all the things I would do if I get out of that room. I would also enjoy the quite and peace if its for a short time.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I am very decisive and opiniated and also quite stubborn about it.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
I tend to quickly process my emotions without thinking and act on them- only if I am at home or in front of my family. Emotions are important to me even though I try not to get them the best of me.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
Yes but if it is happening too often and I don't like it/them, I just leave.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
As much as I detest authority, I still follow the rules for the sake of it. I would love to overthrow everything that is corrupted if I have the power, energy and the opportunity.
submitted by Sad-Duty6726 to MbtiTypeMe [link] [comments]
I am 24, female
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
I have been suffering from anxiety all my life.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
My family was fairly religious and I did not mind it all that much because I loved listening to all the myths and stories but I wouldn't call myself religious. In fact, I would describe myself as an atheist or an agnostic but my family doesn't care all that much. Since, I belonged to an Asian family there was always this immense pressure to perform and be the best at everything as failure was not an option. Even though my dad had no money he always earned money for us somehow to make sure we lived as comfortably as possible. Our mother on the other hand used to straight up emotionally (sometimes even physically) abuse us to make sure we made our dad proud because of everything that he has been through. Our father suffered from a heart attack when I was 8 and thankfully survived but since then, the stakes have been always high to earn money as quickly as possible to take care of my family, me being the eldest and all.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I am a medical student almost done with my under graduation and I partly chose this career due to pressure from my parents and since I was relatively good at science in school, I eventually came to fall in love with it. Although I don't like helping the humanity part all that much, I do love, love the subjects and came to appreciate the art of medicine and the thrill of a diagnosis and the vast amount of knowledge it requires to just be good at a surface level.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
I would feel absolutely amazing and recharged.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I love reading- I used to enjoy fiction and fantasy a lot when I was a kid but now I want to read about philosophy and the universe and the meaning of it all. I am relatively good at sports and I played badminton professionally and I absolutely love swimming. I prefer indoor activities to outdoor ones as I feel like I just get drained from all the stimulation.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I would definitely describe myself as curious as I really want to learn how things work and what they mean and why do they work the way they do and I keep wondering how the human mind often creates or reinvents things that have always existed or perhaps didn't. I wish I had the time and energy to learn more about everything. I often find myself thinking about what I need to do in a day and how to do it efficiently when I am under pressure but if I were to let my mind roam freely then I find myself having various opinions on random things or concepts or people's behaviors.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
Even though I do not like taking up leadership positions, there have been incidences in the past which might have implied I would be good at it and the reason is because I always, always kept my colleagues well being a priority and made sure I stood up for them when needed and appreciated the sense of camaraderie and the feeling that the work that everyone put into mattered and benefited the group as a whole.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I always find myself having a difficult time to catch on to things where hands are required. Its not that I am clumsy but I find myself staring at my hands clueless what to do, despite being repeatedly told to use them a certain way. But once I get the hang of it I do enjoy it because I get the feeling that I mastered something that I find difficult.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I am not artistic, however, I appreciate art and the purpose it serves. Be it music, ''art'' art, literature, sculptures, architecture of ancient ruins etc., they always have something to say about the human nature and progression of mankind and I like how they make you question in what instance and circumstance an artist came to the said idea and how they executed them. I specifically enjoy art forms that paint a picture about the past and all the lives humans have lived because they, in a way, make you question about the future as to how the humans will be/progress.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
The past, I think, is important to find answers because I believe that sometimes that is where clues lie to certain puzzles but other than that it is quite annoying when people dwell on the past, be it myself, or others. Pardon me for sounding pretentious but the present is quite overrated but calming, the future, on the other hand, I think leaves a little blank in my head because I don't know if I have to think and worry about my future or the humanity's. But I do find it comforting to think that in the end, nothing matters haha.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
I immediately help only if I think I should. If I suspect any ill intention or an ulterior motive then I refuse immediately as I have low tolerance for bs. I came to learn that kindness is important for the society to function but it comes at a high cost and I help a lot of people minimally but if they require a lot of my time and energy then usually its a big no unless it benefits me as well or its my loved ones or those I think deserve- then I try and give all of it.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
Yes and no.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
They're very important to me because that's how you get ahead in life, however, its quite exhausting. I used to beat myself up if I did not finish a task on time and now I am not as harsh on myself.
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
NOOO, I hate when people try to control others as everybody is subjected to their own actions and emotions.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
I just draw up a random article about a random thing online and read about it haha. Other than that I really have no energy to keep up with the various things I am interested in. If I do have the time and energy I would like to swim, learn a language watch a tv show and read a a book on the universe/ neuroscience/ philosophy and teach myself physics and math because I suck at them. And I love trying food at various restaurants.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
When I learn about something I tend to obsessively get stuck at a point and research about it in depth unless I knew everything about it. I just get obsessed with the details and go nowhere which is why I know the most random things in depth and nothing else. I absolutely suck at thinking logically and often find myself having ''brain fog'' if anything even remotely requires analytical thinking. I cannot get over this brain fog unless I put it on paper to make sense of things slowly. I am quite good at memorizing things, average at creative thinking. Whenever I learn something I like to interpret it myself rather than having someone break it down for me and often prefer diagram/ models/ pictures to text.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I see how strategizing can be efficient but its exhausting to plan and execute so I wing it as I go. I hate rigid schedules because there is no room for improvisation!
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
I want to create/ invent something and contribute something to the world and make use of my existence. It can be a machine, a drug, a theory- anything. Still waiting for that "aha" moment haha. It doesn't necessarily have to be revolutionary but if it contributes to something then my existence will be meaningful.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
I fear losing my dog. Eff humans but my dog is the most precious thing to me in the world. Also fear getting Alzheimer's and losing my sense of self or being dependent on someone for the rest of my life. I hate people who are narrow minded, unempathetic, manipulative, have no sense of right or wrong and those who harm animals. And those who follow the crowd without using their brain. And financial instability.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
A high would be a peaceful morning and a productive day.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
Lows are being stuck in a state of anxiety, stress, burnout and being financially unstable.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I am often present in the reality and daydream rarely.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
I will think about.....all the things I would do if I get out of that room. I would also enjoy the quite and peace if its for a short time.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I am very decisive and opiniated and also quite stubborn about it.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
I tend to quickly process my emotions without thinking and act on them- only if I am at home or in front of my family. Emotions are important to me even though I try not to get them the best of me.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
Yes but if it is happening too often and I don't like it/them, I just leave.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
As much as I detest authority, I still follow the rules for the sake of it. I would love to overthrow everything that is corrupted if I have the power, energy and the opportunity.
2024.05.09 03:42 sundazed115 Help with T-Connectors and polarity on 2-pin 8mm strips?
 | Would really appreciate some help figuring out the right wiring diagram for this Armacost white LED strip kit. submitted by sundazed115 to led [link] [comments] Trying to run 2 wire-to-TConnector legs from a first T-connector, and so far I can only get one leg of 2 strips working. I had one strip in the 2nd leg working at one point, but in flipping polarity and connectors, I lost it! Classic. Is anyone able to glance at this diagram and fill in the blanks on Leg 2 such that the circuit is complete in the right way? I know some power is flowing through because when I touch the Leg 2 strips’ solder pads, I get some very soft light. Mostly I cant figure out if my problem is polarity or weak connections… if I can be certain of polarity + wiring, I can trouble shoot connection by connection. I included some pictures with Leg 1 dimmed to 10%, if that’s useful. Thanks very much for your help! |
2024.05.08 22:17 Sunscreen_Savior6 Diagram of brain MCQ?
 | Do we have to be able to label the parts of the brain for the AP test? Like, will there be questions were we have a blank diagram and know where each part of the brain is? submitted by Sunscreen_Savior6 to APPsychology [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/ws048ivig9zc1.png?width=760&format=png&auto=webp&s=0dc322ad2a6f105a08f139ace5351d40c1bb5fbe Sort of like this? |
2024.05.07 14:26 Tourist-Sharp One dangerous step pt1/?
Mini serial up in my head for a while. Writing after 10 years pause, please go easy on me. No hfy yet, just setting things up.
........................
Looking up towards the orbital ring, through dirty plexiglass roofing, James wipes his forehead and furrowed his eyebrows. The ring, known to the local as Halo Station due to the yellow sun glinting off of it when the angle is right, was an ugly strip of brutalist sunshade in James's opinion. It had been hastily constructed over the course of five years with government of private fundings, with the local bureaucrats and politicians the most well off from the scheme. The locals, third generation from the initial colonisers, had been opposed to government postings from the hub worlds but was strong armed by the mining and agriculture conglomerate to accept it. There were of course altercation between the locals and the conglomerate but anything larger than a demonstration were heavily suppressed with threats of cutting off vital terraforming supplies. The uneasy tension lasted until the ring orbital proposal was announced, with the locals divided in two camps. One was in favour, their thinking was that the station would bring attention of the wider human communities to their plights. The opposing view is that it would only bring more corporate interest to their system, with the oppressions and wealth discrimination that their forefathers escaped from to this new world in the first place.
James was of neither the opinions. He was planning on hitchhiking across the frontier worlds, edges of the explored galaxy, relying on his knowledge and skill of hydroponics to earn his living. He empathise with the locals, as he was ine himself, but knew that corporate greeds is as inescapable as taxes and death. The only thing keeping him from despairing the future was the tiny sum his family saved up. He wasrecently orphaned, but his parents were rather well off when they were alive, working on the water treatment plants of the terraforming complex, before an influx of dissolved salts from a hydrothermal vents eruption caused a chlorine gas build up, leading to an explosion when they were doing maintenance on the gas extraction chamber. James was thankful that at least his parents passed away painlessly, but the funeral arrangements had cut into the family funds. It was due to this that he was still stuck on the half terraformed planet.
"Penny for your thought?" asked a hoarse gravelly voice. One would be forgiven for thinking the owner of the voice a male. A frail looking woman with grey hair peered up at James from behind a trellis supporting vines of red pod peas. "Counting down the days the merchant trader will pick me off this pile of dirt," James replied, "Not that I don't see why you would want to stay here." "Can't get the theiving bastards to give me my insurance money otherwise." The woman scowled. " Speaking about that, how's the surgery going? Inhaling that much chlorine would put anyone out of action, not that I'm not thankful for pulling my parents out of there. The company would've let them dissolved if they had their way." James asked the woman. "Well, the off world volunteer doctors bumped me up cue and if lady luck don't interfere, I'll be fully recovered by the end of the local year." she replied with a chuckle then a cough. The planet they are on has a 22 hours day but 976 days per year. This has made the locals used phrase 'end of the year' as a joke for deliberately slow bureaucracy, especially when the government is the one paying. Elisabeth was working with his parents when the accident occured, a toilet break saving her from the experience. She was trained as a first reponder and had taken it up on herself to at least recover the remains of her colleague and friend. Either due to cost cutting or by sheer incompetence, the recently cleared hazmat suit she took from the emergency storage had a leaking hose and she had barely survived. James was grateful for her action and offered her a job in his mostly automated hydroponic farm as she waits for the company to pay her insurance as she can no longer do heavy manual labour. James was going to transfer all his business to her as thanks when he got off planet but had told her yet. "I hope you recover fully," James smiled at the not bad news, "I'm going to give you this farm and the house after I leave. You've been a good friend to the family and I'd to see you suffer because of a good deed." Elisabeth looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded, realising that James was resolved. "I have no need for more money than what I need to survive, I'll send any profits left from the farm to you. You'll need it if you're going to gallavanting around the galaxy." Elisabeth said with a firm tone, or slightly deeper and hoarser to James's ear. "It'll also be somewhere to return to if the galaxy doesn't agree with you. A journey isn't complete if you haven't return and all that." she added. James was expecting this and knows that she won't change her mind. "I'll drop by with souvenirs whenever I come near this part." James said. The rest of the day went by as usual. As James finished checking the monitoring terminal in preparation for the night, a message popped up on his iris implant. He checked the message as he exited the decontamination airlock:
Dear James,
I hope this finds you well. I hate to impose on paying customers but a good friend of mine needs somewhere hole up for a few days on your planet. He has his own ship and offered to take you anywhere you wish after he finished offloading his cargo to the orbital. I have given him your contacts and attached his along with his headscan. I am terribly sorry for taking liberties but I hope you find this a good deal.
Sincerely,
Cpt. Frank Rowe
James was surprised but didn't mind it that much as he had empty rooms and he'll save some money. He quickly went into his sonic shower booth and tapped off a reply to the captain and his guest. He was preparing to cook some of the ripe tomatoes and eggplants he harvested today when Elisabeth came out of her room. He had asked her to moved into his guest bedroom when she started working on his farm and they had been having meals together since. It helped the make the house more lively and Elisabeth liked his cooking. "I don't know if it's the fresh produce or your cooking that make something mundane taste this god." Elisabeth said in between bites, "Either way, I'll miss this when you go. I'll have to remember to scan this into the automeal." "It'll be close but the Dad's recipe needs more dressing oil and salt than the standard automeal will allow. It won't be too unhealthy if you work and sweat enough for two people." James grinned, "My parents always debated this over dinner." "That reminds me about the workload. I will have to automate the fish feeder, my lungs are about done by the time I finished checking the fruit bins," Elisabeth said. "I'll dial in the settings tomorrow, you'll only need to top up pellets." replied James.
That night James got a reply from the guest confirming he will take up the offer. The guest will arrive in two days and James planned to offer his own room. He had not touched his parents bedroom since the accident and he is going to tidy up the room as a farewell. He did not look forward to spending a night in the room but he knows he will regret not doing something to mark off the end of his stay in this house.
On the day of the arrival, James woke up and looked at himself in the mirror. His curly brown hair that he got from his mother was growing out past his liking, along with the light stubble he put off shaving due to being busy setting up the farm for a one person operation. His grey eyes was sparkling and lively, despite waking up an hour before his usual time. He was excited since he will be departing tomorrow and had finished packing last night. After confirming with Elisabeth that everything is working fine in the farm, he left her to get used to the new routine to prepare lunch. A flying taxi touched down as he fished out a large pizza from the oven. He wiped his hands and went to greet his ticket off the planet. A short stocky man climbed down, his skin, where visible was deeply tan, highly unusual for a ship captain travelling long journey through deep space. His dark hair fluttered in the wind and brown piercing eyes take in the rural sight. His glance fell on James and smiled a toothy grin. "You must be the owner of this lovely estate!" he bellowed out with a thick accent James can't place. James walked up to him, offered his hand, and they shook. "James Howard, looking forward to getting on your ship." James replied, a bit put off by the excitement from the man. "Miguel, Miguel Emille. Captain of the Flying Snail. I am very thankful for your hospitality at such short notice. The corpo here kicks the captain off their ship! Imagine that!" James looked around for security drones, a bit fearful of being reported for sedition. The captain looked at him, confused, then in understanding, "Ah, one of those world? Say no more. I won't put my passenger in danger." "Is it not the same where you are from? That's why I'm trying to get off the planet." James asked. "No, I grew up and works mainly for the frontier colony. This one is a special favour for the captain that you contacted for a lift. Contract for some heavy metal isotopes from one of the asteroid mining station for one of your 'esteemed' governer." Miguel winked.
The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, with Miguel switching between telling news of the outer colonies and checking his ship's security cameras. The next morning, James and Elisabeth had a tearful farewell before heading off towards one of the pillar supporting the orbital that doubled as cargo elevator. As they rise, James takes a look at the purple and green landscape falling below. He could see the curvature of the planet right as they enter the orbital. He took a picture of his homeworld, intending to put into his journal to mark the start of his journey. The maglev took them towards the internal docking area, James looking out then windows at the opulence of the wealthy living in the station. As they walk towards the flying snail, they were jossled around wnd forced to stop a few times by the workers and machineries bustling around the dock. James took in the sight of the Flying Snail as they approached, staring at the size and unusual roundedness of the ship, in contrast to the blocky and angular ships standard for most space vehicles. "Custom made on Mariana IX station, designed by my grandfather. A great advertisement for my business and comfortable quarters too. And not as slow as the name suggests" Miguel said as he looked at not a few workers staring at his ship. The advertisement mentioned was stencilled in bright red cursive letters on bare metal, in contrast to the ship's black blocky registration number. As they made their way to airlock, passing the the ship's closing cargo door, an inspector passed Miguel a datapad to sign off. "Cargo confirmed received, payments are being processed by customs due to the new tax coming into effect yesterday. You shouldn't lose much with the currency exchange," the inspector said after looking the form over, " you are clear to depart when traffic control indicates." The inspector turn to another ship busy loading cargo, not waiting for a reply. Miguel lead James through the airlock to his room, a larger than standard room furnished with wooden furniture and upholstered, unheard of in a spaceship from the hub worlds. "Get yourself comfortable then join me on the bridge. The ship AI will help you with the layout. No need to address me as captain since it'll only be the two of us until your destination. I'll be going around looking for government approved bugs. Corporate overlords never can get the idea of privacy." Miguel said before leaving James to unpack. James look around the room, trying to wrap his head around the decor. It was as if someone stole a museum exhibit then use it to furnish a spaceship. He unpacked his luggage, looking around for a storage locker, before putting his meager clothings into a dark wood wardrobe. He then set off to put his toiletries in the attached bathroom before being shocked at the size and items he saw. A large oval mirror hangs on the wall above porcelain basin, with an archaic brass and glass shower cubicle with valves and pipes off to the side. He consdered the logistics of internal plumbing and water storage on the ship for a moment before shaking his head, "Might as well enjoy the luxuries. If this isn't a great start, I don't know what is."
After he finished, James head out of his room then froze as he peered into the corridor. The sterile white panelling had turned into stained wood, the harsh lighting into warm yellow glow from what looks like wall mounted lamps. He turned to look back at his room to see the standard white panelling was still there. He decided to ask the AI for directions to the Captain, "Ship? Where's the bridge?" "Please find the ship map in the mailbox behind the door," a synthetic female voice chimed out. He looked at the automatic sliding door and noticed it had changed to a wooden hinged door with a basket below a metal slot. He grabbed a rolled up brown paper bundle from the basket, unrolling it to seems to be hand drawn diagram of the ship. Other details such as crew members list and meal times are neatly list in one corner. He closed the door before following the map. He was not surprised to find his name engraved below the room number on the brass plaque on the door.
James was apprehensive about finding anything on the ship but there were signs jutting out from the wall at each intersection, surrounded by decorative metalwork in forms of flowers, pointing to major locations. The flooring hard changed from patterned wood to being carpeted the closer he is to the bridge. He finally arrived at a double door, with a plaque indicating that it was indeed the bridge, and he wondered if he should knock. He decided not to, and swung open, to hear a bell ring as the door opens. "James! Come strap yourself in. How do you like my ship?" Miguel was seated on what looks like a couch in the centre of the room, looking at a large screen. The screen shows the outside of the ship, which was the landing bay blast door, still shut. "It's nice but too much like a museum piece to be flying around," James responded, "Isn't it against regulation and too hazardous if the grav generator fails?" "That's why I set the nanites to change to standard whenever I dock. Changed back to what my grandpa designed when we're clear for take off," Miguel answered, " also cleared out to bare walls with carpeting whenever there's an emergency. Only ever happens once in all my years of flying." James had heard of nanites but wasn't aware that it could be used on ships. "The ship was supposed to be a private cruiser for a hubworlder, but he backed out of deal so the swimming pool and hydrotherapy areas was converted into the cargo hold," Miguel added.
James strapped himself in a plush fabric covered armchair near the screen. As he figured out the buckle, the comm beeped then a voice called out, " landing bay E42 cleared. All ships ensure airlock and cargo door are closed before depressurisation in 15 minutes." "Hal, check the doors and prepare for take off," Miguel said. "Sorry captain, I cannot do that." "Stops scaring the passengers. Maybe it's time you watch some modern movies." A huff sounded before the AI replied, "Aye aye, Captain." "She always does that, scaring the living daylight out of my last crew when she pretended to lock the airlock during EVA," Miguel sighed, " i don't know what my Pa was doing, feeding her all that old robot uprising movies." "I thought she was just a basic navigation AI when I asked her for directions." "Yeah, she does that to make people let their guards down before springing the 'Exterminate!' stuff on them. That's why my last crews all signed off." "Isn't that bad on you?" James asked, "also your reputation won't be good." " It's fine, I mainly take on crews for company. Most contracts I got are from fellow captains needing to take orders from regulars but are to far out to accept. She got the latest repair drones and all nanites tech to take care of all damages, excluding only jump core explosions," Miguel smiled.
They waited in the bridge, chatting about life in space and homicidal AI, with Hal, James learned shortened from Haley and pronunciation changed courtesy of the AI herself, chiming in when the checks are done. "Landing bay E42 depressurised in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Landing bay depressurised. All ships clear to take off in E42 once landing bay door fully opened. Green light will light up when ready for manually piloted crafts. Halo orbital thanks you for your business." The traffic controller speaks through the comm, indicating he is a native. Off-worlder would usually call the station 'The Regina's Ring' after the planet. Once the door slides open fully, ships start to go out in rows. When it was the Flying Snail's turn to take off, a hologram of Hal appeared besides the captain's couch and the ship starts to move out slowly in formation, coordinating with the other ships. Once the Flying Snail cleared the door, Hal spoke, "Captain, there's any energy spike reading in the aft sensor. No details on origin available due to station's plating. Seems to be mostly neutrons" "Perhaps someone forgot to shut their cargo door. Probably transporting tritium or helium three. Put up shield just to be safe."
The captain's decision turns out to be just in time as a heavy blast blew the ships out of the orbital. Alarms started wailing and James was pushed back into his seat. "Damage report!" Miguel shouted over the alarms and a diagram of the ship's system popped up on screen. "No structural damage, low EMP, main computer rebooting, shields down to 60 percent," Hal replied mechanically, "Reboot complete. Putting rear view on screen." The screen shows a large explosion on the inner ring side, dropping debris onto the planet below. The alarms turned off as Hal reports, "Ring appears to be holding. Debris calculated to fall on low population area and ocean. Minimal damage to civilians and properties." " There's that at least. Are we expected to help?" Miguel asked. "Negative, the station order civilian vessels to clear the area. No detention order." "Good, get us to the jump point. James, you got a destination?" Miguel turns to look at James. James was still trying to recover from being slammed into his seat, saved from concussions by the seat's padding. "I need to check on Elisabeth," James said as he reached for his wristcom. He then saw an incoming video call from Elisabeth. He sighed in relief as he picked up the call. "I'm glad you're alright. Exciting starts to your trip, eh?" Elisabeth said after seeing James. "Good to see you unharmed too. Did the emergency broadcast says anything?" James asked. "They were saying no damage to those living below. The corporate news network was saying it was the work of the anti-hub government groups." Elisabeth said with a grimace, "trying to weasel out of responsibility if you ask me. I need to check the farm systems in case anything went down. Safe trip out there, I don't want to cry for the second time today," Elisabeth was starting to tear up as James tried to reply before the call cut off. "All's well that ends well," Miguel said as James gathered himself, "good to see her safe. So, destination?" James thought for a moment then replied, "I've never been anywhere further than the Halo. I was thinking of getting off at the last stops but I'm the only passenger here so I think I'll get off wherever your next business ends." " Fine by me. I'm going back three system on my route here, pick up some cargo and or crews, then out to the frontiers," miguel said to James then turn to Hal, " You remembered the station with extra medical supplies looking for buyers? Set destination there." " Aye captain. Arriving at jump point. Jumping in 5 seconds," Hal said before starting the count down. The jump drive, the second most popular after warp, generates a wormhole from Lagrange points. The energy requirements is higher than warp but the near instantaneous travel time is highly value by merchants and diplomats alike.
The jump starts without a hitch and they exited into a red dwarf system. As they make they way towards a spherical station above a green gas giants, they were hailed on all frequencies as the screen starts to shows an armada of black pyramids blockading ships trying to enter and leave the station. The screen suddenly flickers then shows a black upside down triangle with glowing blueish white lights runni ng on its surface. The speakers blared out a high pitch voice, " Bags of mostly water our flattest desire exchange thinking patterns. Flattest yours here deliver. Airwaves produce expect agreement." This broadcast then repeats itself. "Ain't this the strangest day of my life," Hal said loudly. "Exciting first day for our passenger here for sure," Miguel added. James just stared blankly at the screens.
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Looking up towards the orbital ring, through dirty plexiglass roofing, James wipes his forehead and furrowed his eyebrows. The ring, known to the local as Halo Station due to the yellow sun glinting off of it when the angle is right, was an ugly strip of brutalist sunshade in James's opinion. It had been hastily constructed over the course of five years with government of private fundings, with the local bureaucrats and politicians the most well off from the scheme. The locals, third generation from the initial colonisers, had been opposed to government postings from the hub worlds but was strong armed by the mining and agriculture conglomerate to accept it. There were of course altercation between the locals and the conglomerate but anything larger than a demonstration were heavily suppressed with threats of cutting off vital terraforming supplies. The uneasy tension lasted until the ring orbital proposal was announced, with the locals divided in two camps. One was in favour, their thinking was that the station would bring attention of the wider human communities to their plights. The opposing view is that it would only bring more corporate interest to their system, with the oppressions and wealth discrimination that their forefathers escaped from to this new world in the first place.
James was of neither the opinions. He was planning on hitchhiking across the frontier worlds, edges of the explored galaxy, relying on his knowledge and skill of hydroponics to earn his living. He empathise with the locals, as he was ine himself, but knew that corporate greeds is as inescapable as taxes and death. The only thing keeping him from despairing the future was the tiny sum his family saved up. He wasrecently orphaned, but his parents were rather well off when they were alive, working on the water treatment plants of the terraforming complex, before an influx of dissolved salts from a hydrothermal vents eruption caused a chlorine gas build up, leading to an explosion when they were doing maintenance on the gas extraction chamber. James was thankful that at least his parents passed away painlessly, but the funeral arrangements had cut into the family funds. It was due to this that he was still stuck on the half terraformed planet.
"Penny for your thought?" asked a hoarse gravelly voice. One would be forgiven for thinking the owner of the voice a male. A frail looking woman with grey hair peered up at James from behind a trellis supporting vines of red pod peas. "Counting down the days the merchant trader will pick me off this pile of dirt," James replied, "Not that I don't see why you would want to stay here." "Can't get the theiving bastards to give me my insurance money otherwise." The woman scowled. " Speaking about that, how's the surgery going? Inhaling that much chlorine would put anyone out of action, not that I'm not thankful for pulling my parents out of there. The company would've let them dissolved if they had their way." James asked the woman. "Well, the off world volunteer doctors bumped me up cue and if lady luck don't interfere, I'll be fully recovered by the end of the local year." she replied with a chuckle then a cough. The planet they are on has a 22 hours day but 976 days per year. This has made the locals used phrase 'end of the year' as a joke for deliberately slow bureaucracy, especially when the government is the one paying. Elisabeth was working with his parents when the accident occured, a toilet break saving her from the experience. She was trained as a first reponder and had taken it up on herself to at least recover the remains of her colleague and friend. Either due to cost cutting or by sheer incompetence, the recently cleared hazmat suit she took from the emergency storage had a leaking hose and she had barely survived. James was grateful for her action and offered her a job in his mostly automated hydroponic farm as she waits for the company to pay her insurance as she can no longer do heavy manual labour. James was going to transfer all his business to her as thanks when he got off planet but had told her yet. "I hope you recover fully," James smiled at the not bad news, "I'm going to give you this farm and the house after I leave. You've been a good friend to the family and I'd to see you suffer because of a good deed." Elisabeth looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded, realising that James was resolved. "I have no need for more money than what I need to survive, I'll send any profits left from the farm to you. You'll need it if you're going to gallavanting around the galaxy." Elisabeth said with a firm tone, or slightly deeper and hoarser to James's ear. "It'll also be somewhere to return to if the galaxy doesn't agree with you. A journey isn't complete if you haven't return and all that." she added. James was expecting this and knows that she won't change her mind. "I'll drop by with souvenirs whenever I come near this part." James said. The rest of the day went by as usual. As James finished checking the monitoring terminal in preparation for the night, a message popped up on his iris implant. He checked the message as he exited the decontamination airlock:
Dear James,
I hope this finds you well. I hate to impose on paying customers but a good friend of mine needs somewhere hole up for a few days on your planet. He has his own ship and offered to take you anywhere you wish after he finished offloading his cargo to the orbital. I have given him your contacts and attached his along with his headscan. I am terribly sorry for taking liberties but I hope you find this a good deal.
Sincerely,
Cpt. Frank Rowe
James was surprised but didn't mind it that much as he had empty rooms and he'll save some money. He quickly went into his sonic shower booth and tapped off a reply to the captain and his guest. He was preparing to cook some of the ripe tomatoes and eggplants he harvested today when Elisabeth came out of her room. He had asked her to moved into his guest bedroom when she started working on his farm and they had been having meals together since. It helped the make the house more lively and Elisabeth liked his cooking. "I don't know if it's the fresh produce or your cooking that make something mundane taste this god." Elisabeth said in between bites, "Either way, I'll miss this when you go. I'll have to remember to scan this into the automeal." "It'll be close but the Dad's recipe needs more dressing oil and salt than the standard automeal will allow. It won't be too unhealthy if you work and sweat enough for two people." James grinned, "My parents always debated this over dinner." "That reminds me about the workload. I will have to automate the fish feeder, my lungs are about done by the time I finished checking the fruit bins," Elisabeth said. "I'll dial in the settings tomorrow, you'll only need to top up pellets." replied James.
That night James got a reply from the guest confirming he will take up the offer. The guest will arrive in two days and James planned to offer his own room. He had not touched his parents bedroom since the accident and he is going to tidy up the room as a farewell. He did not look forward to spending a night in the room but he knows he will regret not doing something to mark off the end of his stay in this house.
On the day of the arrival, James woke up and looked at himself in the mirror. His curly brown hair that he got from his mother was growing out past his liking, along with the light stubble he put off shaving due to being busy setting up the farm for a one person operation. His grey eyes was sparkling and lively, despite waking up an hour before his usual time. He was excited since he will be departing tomorrow and had finished packing last night. After confirming with Elisabeth that everything is working fine in the farm, he left her to get used to the new routine to prepare lunch. A flying taxi touched down as he fished out a large pizza from the oven. He wiped his hands and went to greet his ticket off the planet. A short stocky man climbed down, his skin, where visible was deeply tan, highly unusual for a ship captain travelling long journey through deep space. His dark hair fluttered in the wind and brown piercing eyes take in the rural sight. His glance fell on James and smiled a toothy grin. "You must be the owner of this lovely estate!" he bellowed out with a thick accent James can't place. James walked up to him, offered his hand, and they shook. "James Howard, looking forward to getting on your ship." James replied, a bit put off by the excitement from the man. "Miguel, Miguel Emille. Captain of the Flying Snail. I am very thankful for your hospitality at such short notice. The corpo here kicks the captain off their ship! Imagine that!" James looked around for security drones, a bit fearful of being reported for sedition. The captain looked at him, confused, then in understanding, "Ah, one of those world? Say no more. I won't put my passenger in danger." "Is it not the same where you are from? That's why I'm trying to get off the planet." James asked. "No, I grew up and works mainly for the frontier colony. This one is a special favour for the captain that you contacted for a lift. Contract for some heavy metal isotopes from one of the asteroid mining station for one of your 'esteemed' governer." Miguel winked.
The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, with Miguel switching between telling news of the outer colonies and checking his ship's security cameras. The next morning, James and Elisabeth had a tearful farewell before heading off towards one of the pillar supporting the orbital that doubled as cargo elevator. As they rise, James takes a look at the purple and green landscape falling below. He could see the curvature of the planet right as they enter the orbital. He took a picture of his homeworld, intending to put into his journal to mark the start of his journey. The maglev took them towards the internal docking area, James looking out then windows at the opulence of the wealthy living in the station. As they walk towards the flying snail, they were jossled around wnd forced to stop a few times by the workers and machineries bustling around the dock. James took in the sight of the Flying Snail as they approached, staring at the size and unusual roundedness of the ship, in contrast to the blocky and angular ships standard for most space vehicles. "Custom made on Mariana IX station, designed by my grandfather. A great advertisement for my business and comfortable quarters too. And not as slow as the name suggests" Miguel said as he looked at not a few workers staring at his ship. The advertisement mentioned was stencilled in bright red cursive letters on bare metal, in contrast to the ship's black blocky registration number. As they made their way to airlock, passing the the ship's closing cargo door, an inspector passed Miguel a datapad to sign off. "Cargo confirmed received, payments are being processed by customs due to the new tax coming into effect yesterday. You shouldn't lose much with the currency exchange," the inspector said after looking the form over, " you are clear to depart when traffic control indicates." The inspector turn to another ship busy loading cargo, not waiting for a reply. Miguel lead James through the airlock to his room, a larger than standard room furnished with wooden furniture and upholstered, unheard of in a spaceship from the hub worlds. "Get yourself comfortable then join me on the bridge. The ship AI will help you with the layout. No need to address me as captain since it'll only be the two of us until your destination. I'll be going around looking for government approved bugs. Corporate overlords never can get the idea of privacy." Miguel said before leaving James to unpack. James look around the room, trying to wrap his head around the decor. It was as if someone stole a museum exhibit then use it to furnish a spaceship. He unpacked his luggage, looking around for a storage locker, before putting his meager clothings into a dark wood wardrobe. He then set off to put his toiletries in the attached bathroom before being shocked at the size and items he saw. A large oval mirror hangs on the wall above porcelain basin, with an archaic brass and glass shower cubicle with valves and pipes off to the side. He consdered the logistics of internal plumbing and water storage on the ship for a moment before shaking his head, "Might as well enjoy the luxuries. If this isn't a great start, I don't know what is."
After he finished, James head out of his room then froze as he peered into the corridor. The sterile white panelling had turned into stained wood, the harsh lighting into warm yellow glow from what looks like wall mounted lamps. He turned to look back at his room to see the standard white panelling was still there. He decided to ask the AI for directions to the Captain, "Ship? Where's the bridge?" "Please find the ship map in the mailbox behind the door," a synthetic female voice chimed out. He looked at the automatic sliding door and noticed it had changed to a wooden hinged door with a basket below a metal slot. He grabbed a rolled up brown paper bundle from the basket, unrolling it to seems to be hand drawn diagram of the ship. Other details such as crew members list and meal times are neatly list in one corner. He closed the door before following the map. He was not surprised to find his name engraved below the room number on the brass plaque on the door.
James was apprehensive about finding anything on the ship but there were signs jutting out from the wall at each intersection, surrounded by decorative metalwork in forms of flowers, pointing to major locations. The flooring hard changed from patterned wood to being carpeted the closer he is to the bridge. He finally arrived at a double door, with a plaque indicating that it was indeed the bridge, and he wondered if he should knock. He decided not to, and swung open, to hear a bell ring as the door opens. "James! Come strap yourself in. How do you like my ship?" Miguel was seated on what looks like a couch in the centre of the room, looking at a large screen. The screen shows the outside of the ship, which was the landing bay blast door, still shut. "It's nice but too much like a museum piece to be flying around," James responded, "Isn't it against regulation and too hazardous if the grav generator fails?" "That's why I set the nanites to change to standard whenever I dock. Changed back to what my grandpa designed when we're clear for take off," Miguel answered, " also cleared out to bare walls with carpeting whenever there's an emergency. Only ever happens once in all my years of flying." James had heard of nanites but wasn't aware that it could be used on ships. "The ship was supposed to be a private cruiser for a hubworlder, but he backed out of deal so the swimming pool and hydrotherapy areas was converted into the cargo hold," Miguel added.
James strapped himself in a plush fabric covered armchair near the screen. As he figured out the buckle, the comm beeped then a voice called out, " landing bay E42 cleared. All ships ensure airlock and cargo door are closed before depressurisation in 15 minutes." "Hal, check the doors and prepare for take off," Miguel said. "Sorry captain, I cannot do that." "Stops scaring the passengers. Maybe it's time you watch some modern movies." A huff sounded before the AI replied, "Aye aye, Captain." "She always does that, scaring the living daylight out of my last crew when she pretended to lock the airlock during EVA," Miguel sighed, " i don't know what my Pa was doing, feeding her all that old robot uprising movies." "I thought she was just a basic navigation AI when I asked her for directions." "Yeah, she does that to make people let their guards down before springing the 'Exterminate!' stuff on them. That's why my last crews all signed off." "Isn't that bad on you?" James asked, "also your reputation won't be good." " It's fine, I mainly take on crews for company. Most contracts I got are from fellow captains needing to take orders from regulars but are to far out to accept. She got the latest repair drones and all nanites tech to take care of all damages, excluding only jump core explosions," Miguel smiled.
They waited in the bridge, chatting about life in space and homicidal AI, with Hal, James learned shortened from Haley and pronunciation changed courtesy of the AI herself, chiming in when the checks are done. "Landing bay E42 depressurised in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Landing bay depressurised. All ships clear to take off in E42 once landing bay door fully opened. Green light will light up when ready for manually piloted crafts. Halo orbital thanks you for your business." The traffic controller speaks through the comm, indicating he is a native. Off-worlder would usually call the station 'The Regina's Ring' after the planet. Once the door slides open fully, ships start to go out in rows. When it was the Flying Snail's turn to take off, a hologram of Hal appeared besides the captain's couch and the ship starts to move out slowly in formation, coordinating with the other ships. Once the Flying Snail cleared the door, Hal spoke, "Captain, there's any energy spike reading in the aft sensor. No details on origin available due to station's plating. Seems to be mostly neutrons" "Perhaps someone forgot to shut their cargo door. Probably transporting tritium or helium three. Put up shield just to be safe."
The captain's decision turns out to be just in time as a heavy blast blew the ships out of the orbital. Alarms started wailing and James was pushed back into his seat. "Damage report!" Miguel shouted over the alarms and a diagram of the ship's system popped up on screen. "No structural damage, low EMP, main computer rebooting, shields down to 60 percent," Hal replied mechanically, "Reboot complete. Putting rear view on screen." The screen shows a large explosion on the inner ring side, dropping debris onto the planet below. The alarms turned off as Hal reports, "Ring appears to be holding. Debris calculated to fall on low population area and ocean. Minimal damage to civilians and properties." " There's that at least. Are we expected to help?" Miguel asked. "Negative, the station order civilian vessels to clear the area. No detention order." "Good, get us to the jump point. James, you got a destination?" Miguel turns to look at James. James was still trying to recover from being slammed into his seat, saved from concussions by the seat's padding. "I need to check on Elisabeth," James said as he reached for his wristcom. He then saw an incoming video call from Elisabeth. He sighed in relief as he picked up the call. "I'm glad you're alright. Exciting starts to your trip, eh?" Elisabeth said after seeing James. "Good to see you unharmed too. Did the emergency broadcast says anything?" James asked. "They were saying no damage to those living below. The corporate news network was saying it was the work of the anti-hub government groups." Elisabeth said with a grimace, "trying to weasel out of responsibility if you ask me. I need to check the farm systems in case anything went down. Safe trip out there, I don't want to cry for the second time today," Elisabeth was starting to tear up as James tried to reply before the call cut off. "All's well that ends well," Miguel said as James gathered himself, "good to see her safe. So, destination?" James thought for a moment then replied, "I've never been anywhere further than the Halo. I was thinking of getting off at the last stops but I'm the only passenger here so I think I'll get off wherever your next business ends." " Fine by me. I'm going back three system on my route here, pick up some cargo and or crews, then out to the frontiers," miguel said to James then turn to Hal, " You remembered the station with extra medical supplies looking for buyers? Set destination there." " Aye captain. Arriving at jump point. Jumping in 5 seconds," Hal said before starting the count down. The jump drive, the second most popular after warp, generates a wormhole from Lagrange points. The energy requirements is higher than warp but the near instantaneous travel time is highly value by merchants and diplomats alike.
The jump starts without a hitch and they exited into a red dwarf system. As they make they way towards a spherical station above a green gas giants, they were hailed on all frequencies as the screen starts to shows an armada of black pyramids blockading ships trying to enter and leave the station. The screen suddenly flickers then shows a black upside down triangle with glowing blueish white lights runni ng on its surface. The speakers blared out a high pitch voice, " Bags of mostly water our flattest desire exchange thinking patterns. Flattest yours here deliver. Airwaves produce expect agreement." This broadcast then repeats itself. "Ain't this the strangest day of my life," Hal said loudly. "Exciting first day for our passenger here for sure," Miguel added. James just stared blankly at the screens.
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2024.05.07 14:11 Angel466 [Bob the hobo] A Celestial Wars Spin-Off Part 1008
PART ONE THOUSAND AND EIGHT
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Sunday
We materialised in a shop-front alcove, with a solid concrete wall to my right and a panelled wooden display wall behind glass to my left.
“Keep going,” Rubin said in my ear.
Not sure why he was being so insistent, I nevertheless strode forward as if I knew where I was going, and in just a few steps, the presence of multiple lanes of New York City traffic swept over me. Four lanes, all facing the same way, meant we were on one of the main arterial streets like Fifth Ave or Park Ave. ‘Zara’, a clothes boutique on the other side of the street did nothing to narrow the field any for me.
Not that it mattered. My point with this deductive reasoning was that neither of those streets had curbside parking.
Yet, sure enough, Dad's SUV was on the other side of the sidewalk in the closest lane of traffic, waiting for the lights to change. “Get in, quick!” Rubin ordered.
This wouldn’t be the first time I jumped into an illegal ‘traffic-light-parked’ car, and I raced for the back door, swinging it open and diving inside just as the lights changed. The door ‘magically’ shut itself behind me as I straightened up in my seat and took in Kulon behind the wheel and Gerry in the seat to my right.
“Hey, Angel,” I said, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss. “Missed you.”
“How’d it go with—er—your uncle?” Gerry asked, struggling with the normality of me having met with her god.
“Wanna put your seatbelt on back there, Sam?” Kulon chuckled, glancing at me in the rearview mirror as we moved forward across the intersection.
“It went better than I thought,” I admitted, then grinned. “I even got a really cool old-school bomber jacket out of it.” I saw her cringe and giggled evilly. “And you can’t hate on it, because it was literally a present from God himself.”
She clenched her hands into loose fists and pressed the heels of her palms to her temple. “I-I can’t even…” she finally stammered, and my giggle morphed into a full-blown cackle.
“I’ll show you when we get home. I don’t think you’ll hate it. It’s really nice and super authentic.” I then turned my attention to Kulon. “And dude! That has got to be soooo handy,” I said, gesturing back to where I’d jumped in the car. I was blown away by how easily it would be to catch people like that, just by realm-stepping the second a car was held up at lights. No guesswork. Not even coordinates. Just knowing.
“It has its moments,” Kulon agreed. “So, are we heading home?”
“Yes, please. The guys want to go out to Angus’ place to play some more ball this afternoon, but if I don’t get some home time in with Gerry between now and then, I won’t be going anywhere.”
The trip back to the apartment was quick, with Rubin vanishing as fast as he appeared once we had the building in sight. And with him on hand to pull back the guys any time we needed them, Kulon and Quent both stayed with the car and drove away together once Gerry and I were inside.
Of course, my luck just wasn’t playing nice with me today, for I knew the second I set foot in the apartment and saw Dad rise purposefully from his chair just inside the living room that having fun-time with Gerry wasn’t in my immediate future.
“I need a word with you, Sam,” he said, stepping between the sofa and the coffee table to give Gerry access to the rest of the apartment (with Dad standing in the doorway, it was as if it had been walled off).
“Daaaad,” I moaned, not really caring at this point what he wanted. After the morning I’d had, I needed some real Robbie-food and an hour or four in bed with my girl … minimum!
“Now, Sam.” His tone changed when he looked at Gerry and added, “We won’t be long, sweetheart.”
Not that it mattered. His initial bark had taken all my attention, and I felt my heart clench in my chest, wondering what else I’d done wrong. Not even Uncle YHWH had yelled at me, and I’d accidentally screwed with a couple of his worshippers. I couldn’t think of anything to warrant that, and as I processed the possibilities and came up blank, I barely felt Geraldine’s kiss to my cheek. “I’ll go and do some light reading in the bedroom,” she said, slipping out of my arms and making her way past Dad with a nod.
A few seconds later, I heard our bedroom door open and close, and I looked at Dad like he’d kicked a puppy. “Was that really necessary?”
“Would I have done it if it wasn’t?” Dad countered, and I had to remember who I was talking to. Between my run-in with Tucker’s people and my conversation with Uncle YHWH, I was being bolder than I had any right to be.
I forced myself to relax. “Sorry. It’s been a rough morning already.” I rubbed my chest again because, contrary to what anyone says, being tasered sucked, even if I did heal from it almost instantly.
Dad immediately frowned. “What happened? I thought you were visiting Gerry’s father for breakfast.”
“We were … I mean we did.” So much else had happened, and I didn’t feel like going into all of it. And since he was standing to one side, I headed into the kitchen, dropping my shoulder low to avoid his half-hearted grab on my way through.
I stopped at the plate warmer and was miffed at its empty state. My next port of call was the divine box Robbie called Voila. I remembered him telling me how I had to know what was in there for it to work (that, and how Charlie had scared the crap out of him yesterday morning when she’d told him the box was empty), but this was also Robbie, and he always had what we wanted ready to go. I brought to mind the one thing that would tide me over until lunch. The same thing that had been missing from Tucker’s table.
Just as I’d hoped, when I lifted the lid, an egg-filled baguette with bacon and cheese was waiting for me on a single sandwich plate. “Ye-essss,” I hissed in victory, lifting out the plate and taking the biggest bite I could manage without choking myself. “Thank you, Robbie, wherever you are! I love you!” My words were utterly muffled, but he wasn’t here, so it didn’t matter.
“Their food not to your liking?” Dad asked with an amused smirk.
“The company was challenging,” I answered evasively once I’d chewed enough to swallow. I then went over to the fridge and dug out the jug of freshly squeezed mango juice that I could never get enough of. With both items in my hands now, I was happy.
“Don’t even,” Dad warned when I instinctually lifted the jug to my lips.
“Hmmh?” The sound would’ve been an innocent ‘huh’, except I’d clamped my lips closed like that had never been my plan and put the jug on the island on the way to get a cup. With the dishwasher closer, I opened the door and grabbed one of the glasses from the second shelf. I then nudged the door shut with my shin and slid into Boyd’s seat, dragging the rest of my prizes over to me.
“So, what’s the family crisis?” I asked, pouring myself a drink but keeping the jug within easy reach. Wow, I really do use that word a lot, don’t I? I took a deep swallow to clear my throat, sighed, and then returned for another huge bite of my baguette.
“My youngest brother, Barris, our Mystallian God of the Hunt, has learned about you.”
Oh, for frig’s sake! I lowered the baguette and sat back in Boyd’s chair, my full focus once more on Dad. “Okay,” I answered cautiously, torn between frustration and annoyance. The other word choice that sprang to mind was a sarcastic ‘really’, which would probably require someone picking out an urn for my remains.
Dad shook his head and raised one hand with flared fingers. “It’s nothing bad.” He then pointed at my plate. “Finish your sandwich first.”
My next mouthfuls were maybe a third of the first two, and I might as well have been eating tyre rubber for all the enjoyment I was getting out of it. “How much does he know about me?” I asked between bites.
Dad moved to stand beside me at the corner of the island. “He knows you’ve almost graduated college. He knows there was animosity between your mother and me that’s since been resolved, and he knows about the pregnancy now.”
Now, the baguette felt like a rock in my gut. “Great.”
He slid into Lucas’ seat and curled a hand around my forearm near the elbow, anchoring me in place. “Sam, I said it’s okay. He’s on our side.”
I squinted. A lot of people were making that claim lately and I wasn’t sure I believed it anymore. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Dad met my stare squarely, and I was always amazed at how easily he could do that. “He knows the dangers to your mother, so he’s going to run interference on the family for us until after the babies are born. Despite the fact that it’ll put him in the same crosshairs with the rest of our family as us when they find out he knew, he’s going to do it anyway. He only asks one thing in return.”
I barely restrained my eye-roll. “Of course he does.”
Dad’s face morphed into a dark scowl, and his grip tightened painfully. “You will show your uncle the respect he deserves,” he warned.
I dropped my eyes to his waist; so not up for this. “Yes, sir.”
Dad’s intake for breath was both loud and frustrated. He kicked the leg of the chair I was sitting on for good measure, and when my gaze snapped to his, he was pointing two fingers of his free hand at his own eyes. “That’s right, boy. Right here. Nowhere else. Not there … not there … not way over there.” He pointed to three random locations in the apartment before returning to their original spot before his eyes. “Right here. Always. You get me?”
For some reason, Dr Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham started rolling through my brain, and I was quite proud of myself that I didn’t smirk or even blink. “Yessir.”
He didn’t get any calmer. “Okay …” he finally said, after a few seconds that was—who knew how long for him if he internalised to settle down— “I know we’ve only touched lightly on this before, but I need you to lift your game before we meet with your uncle, starting with stripping the words ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ from your vocabulary. I know your stance on human manners, and I’ve accepted your decision and will support it when it comes up with the others. That said, even the humans hardly ever use those two servitude titles anymore, and you can’t afford to appear weak in front of our family. Okay?”
Dad was compromising. I knew the family wouldn’t agree with my use of manners, but Dad was willing to back that, and to me, it was the more important of the two. “I’ll try,” I said because I couldn’t say for sure if I’d succeed without premonition, and that one wasn’t in my wheelhouse.
Ha, I made a divine funny.
So, why aren’t I laughing?
Probably because I still hadn’t heard what Uncle Barris wanted in exchange for his cooperation. It couldn’t be my head on a pike, as neither of my parents would go for that. But what?
“He wants to meet you, Sam, at a destination of your choosing and he’s agreed not to come here looking for you so long as that request is met. He hasn’t even asked for this address.”
“He’s the god of hunting, Dad. Hunting me down would be a cakewalk for someone like him.”
“True, except he’s promised not to go there unless it’s an emergency. You’re his nephew, Sam. A nephew he knew nothing about until last night. All he wants to do is meet you, and given the circumstances, I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?”
“How did he find out?” I asked instead of answering.
Dad’s expression soured. “Helen Portsmith. Apparently, she turned up at his gym last night with her usual spiel; only this time, your uncle put it together correctly and came looking for me for real answers. I told him about you and your mother. I told him our secrets.”
Something about the way he worded that… “As opposed to what?”
“I still haven’t mentioned Robbie or his connection to Yitzak. Nor have I mentioned the true gryps living with us, except for Tiacor, who’s there for your mother.”
I was starting to put this together. “Okay, so when we meet, no mention of Robbie as a cousin, or that he has a food innate, or that Yitzak and Collette know about him.” I got the feeling learning that we had true gryps in the household wouldn’t really amount to much, as they could be anywhere they wanted to be all over the world. It was their world as much as ours.
“Exactly.”
“What about Clefton and Nick? They’ve been here and met us too.”
“Mention them only if you want to get them into trouble for not outing you from the very beginning. Same with Nuncio.”
Well, that’s a hard ‘no’. “Maybe Cuschler?”
Dad scowled again. “There’s no bad blood between us anymore, right?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow warningly.
I sighed. Spoilsport. “Fine. But what about Fisk and the girls … and Najma?” It wasn’t that I’d forgotten my nephew, just that my brother and sisters rolled off the tongue first. “Danika’s been here, and Najma tracked me down at school before everyone else had met me. Even Fisk has popped in from time to time to touch base.”
“Barris knows they knew, and he understands why they’ve kept it quiet. Nothing’s going to happen until the reunion, and even then, maybe nothing if your mother still hasn’t given birth.”
I pushed my half-eaten baguette away and pressed my forehead to the island. “Everybody knows a little bit,” I griped. “How in the world am I meant to keep tabs on who knows what?”
Dad’s grin made me want to kick him the way he’d kicked my chair. “What do you think internalising is for? Remembering whatever we want is literally our jam.”
“I s’pose.” But combing through the details at every turn still seemed like an awful lot of effort, even if that process did seem instantaneous to everyone else. It wasn’t to us.
Dad reached past me and brought back my baguette. “Finish your sandwich. You can go as you are. Your uncle runs a gym downtown, so he’s not exactly at his best either.”
I stared at him in horror. “We’re going right now?”
“Why not now?”
Because I just got back from seeing Uncle YHWH! “I dunno. I mean, it’s too soon, don’t you think?”
I don’t know how else to describe it, but Dad’s expression turned … parental. “And when would a good time be for you with your hugely busy schedule now that school has wrapped up?” he asked like I was an idiot.
I gave a nervous, shrugging roll of my shoulders. “I understand there’s this get-together happening at the end of the year…”
I kinda expected the cuff to the back of my head and tried not to snicker when it happened.
“Don’t be a smartass. Finish your sandwich, and we’ll go. This won’t take long.”
With nothing else for it, I did as I was told, leaving the empty plate and cup on the sink since the dishwasher hadn’t been emptied. “I’m so glad I got a say in this…” I muttered quietly under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I have no idea why I thought we’d at least use the front door to leave. Probably because most people did. But this was Dad, and we were going to meet his brother, and he clearly didn’t want me to have the chance of wriggling out of it.
So without warning, he slapped his hand on my right shoulder and shoved me forward, realm-stepping away with me as I stumbled to keep my footing.
[Next Chapter]
* * *
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!
submitted by Angel466 to redditserials [link] [comments]
[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]
Sunday
We materialised in a shop-front alcove, with a solid concrete wall to my right and a panelled wooden display wall behind glass to my left.
“Keep going,” Rubin said in my ear.
Not sure why he was being so insistent, I nevertheless strode forward as if I knew where I was going, and in just a few steps, the presence of multiple lanes of New York City traffic swept over me. Four lanes, all facing the same way, meant we were on one of the main arterial streets like Fifth Ave or Park Ave. ‘Zara’, a clothes boutique on the other side of the street did nothing to narrow the field any for me.
Not that it mattered. My point with this deductive reasoning was that neither of those streets had curbside parking.
Yet, sure enough, Dad's SUV was on the other side of the sidewalk in the closest lane of traffic, waiting for the lights to change. “Get in, quick!” Rubin ordered.
This wouldn’t be the first time I jumped into an illegal ‘traffic-light-parked’ car, and I raced for the back door, swinging it open and diving inside just as the lights changed. The door ‘magically’ shut itself behind me as I straightened up in my seat and took in Kulon behind the wheel and Gerry in the seat to my right.
“Hey, Angel,” I said, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss. “Missed you.”
“How’d it go with—er—your uncle?” Gerry asked, struggling with the normality of me having met with her god.
“Wanna put your seatbelt on back there, Sam?” Kulon chuckled, glancing at me in the rearview mirror as we moved forward across the intersection.
“It went better than I thought,” I admitted, then grinned. “I even got a really cool old-school bomber jacket out of it.” I saw her cringe and giggled evilly. “And you can’t hate on it, because it was literally a present from God himself.”
She clenched her hands into loose fists and pressed the heels of her palms to her temple. “I-I can’t even…” she finally stammered, and my giggle morphed into a full-blown cackle.
“I’ll show you when we get home. I don’t think you’ll hate it. It’s really nice and super authentic.” I then turned my attention to Kulon. “And dude! That has got to be soooo handy,” I said, gesturing back to where I’d jumped in the car. I was blown away by how easily it would be to catch people like that, just by realm-stepping the second a car was held up at lights. No guesswork. Not even coordinates. Just knowing.
“It has its moments,” Kulon agreed. “So, are we heading home?”
“Yes, please. The guys want to go out to Angus’ place to play some more ball this afternoon, but if I don’t get some home time in with Gerry between now and then, I won’t be going anywhere.”
The trip back to the apartment was quick, with Rubin vanishing as fast as he appeared once we had the building in sight. And with him on hand to pull back the guys any time we needed them, Kulon and Quent both stayed with the car and drove away together once Gerry and I were inside.
Of course, my luck just wasn’t playing nice with me today, for I knew the second I set foot in the apartment and saw Dad rise purposefully from his chair just inside the living room that having fun-time with Gerry wasn’t in my immediate future.
“I need a word with you, Sam,” he said, stepping between the sofa and the coffee table to give Gerry access to the rest of the apartment (with Dad standing in the doorway, it was as if it had been walled off).
“Daaaad,” I moaned, not really caring at this point what he wanted. After the morning I’d had, I needed some real Robbie-food and an hour or four in bed with my girl … minimum!
“Now, Sam.” His tone changed when he looked at Gerry and added, “We won’t be long, sweetheart.”
Not that it mattered. His initial bark had taken all my attention, and I felt my heart clench in my chest, wondering what else I’d done wrong. Not even Uncle YHWH had yelled at me, and I’d accidentally screwed with a couple of his worshippers. I couldn’t think of anything to warrant that, and as I processed the possibilities and came up blank, I barely felt Geraldine’s kiss to my cheek. “I’ll go and do some light reading in the bedroom,” she said, slipping out of my arms and making her way past Dad with a nod.
A few seconds later, I heard our bedroom door open and close, and I looked at Dad like he’d kicked a puppy. “Was that really necessary?”
“Would I have done it if it wasn’t?” Dad countered, and I had to remember who I was talking to. Between my run-in with Tucker’s people and my conversation with Uncle YHWH, I was being bolder than I had any right to be.
I forced myself to relax. “Sorry. It’s been a rough morning already.” I rubbed my chest again because, contrary to what anyone says, being tasered sucked, even if I did heal from it almost instantly.
Dad immediately frowned. “What happened? I thought you were visiting Gerry’s father for breakfast.”
“We were … I mean we did.” So much else had happened, and I didn’t feel like going into all of it. And since he was standing to one side, I headed into the kitchen, dropping my shoulder low to avoid his half-hearted grab on my way through.
I stopped at the plate warmer and was miffed at its empty state. My next port of call was the divine box Robbie called Voila. I remembered him telling me how I had to know what was in there for it to work (that, and how Charlie had scared the crap out of him yesterday morning when she’d told him the box was empty), but this was also Robbie, and he always had what we wanted ready to go. I brought to mind the one thing that would tide me over until lunch. The same thing that had been missing from Tucker’s table.
Just as I’d hoped, when I lifted the lid, an egg-filled baguette with bacon and cheese was waiting for me on a single sandwich plate. “Ye-essss,” I hissed in victory, lifting out the plate and taking the biggest bite I could manage without choking myself. “Thank you, Robbie, wherever you are! I love you!” My words were utterly muffled, but he wasn’t here, so it didn’t matter.
“Their food not to your liking?” Dad asked with an amused smirk.
“The company was challenging,” I answered evasively once I’d chewed enough to swallow. I then went over to the fridge and dug out the jug of freshly squeezed mango juice that I could never get enough of. With both items in my hands now, I was happy.
“Don’t even,” Dad warned when I instinctually lifted the jug to my lips.
“Hmmh?” The sound would’ve been an innocent ‘huh’, except I’d clamped my lips closed like that had never been my plan and put the jug on the island on the way to get a cup. With the dishwasher closer, I opened the door and grabbed one of the glasses from the second shelf. I then nudged the door shut with my shin and slid into Boyd’s seat, dragging the rest of my prizes over to me.
“So, what’s the family crisis?” I asked, pouring myself a drink but keeping the jug within easy reach. Wow, I really do use that word a lot, don’t I? I took a deep swallow to clear my throat, sighed, and then returned for another huge bite of my baguette.
“My youngest brother, Barris, our Mystallian God of the Hunt, has learned about you.”
Oh, for frig’s sake! I lowered the baguette and sat back in Boyd’s chair, my full focus once more on Dad. “Okay,” I answered cautiously, torn between frustration and annoyance. The other word choice that sprang to mind was a sarcastic ‘really’, which would probably require someone picking out an urn for my remains.
Dad shook his head and raised one hand with flared fingers. “It’s nothing bad.” He then pointed at my plate. “Finish your sandwich first.”
My next mouthfuls were maybe a third of the first two, and I might as well have been eating tyre rubber for all the enjoyment I was getting out of it. “How much does he know about me?” I asked between bites.
Dad moved to stand beside me at the corner of the island. “He knows you’ve almost graduated college. He knows there was animosity between your mother and me that’s since been resolved, and he knows about the pregnancy now.”
Now, the baguette felt like a rock in my gut. “Great.”
He slid into Lucas’ seat and curled a hand around my forearm near the elbow, anchoring me in place. “Sam, I said it’s okay. He’s on our side.”
I squinted. A lot of people were making that claim lately and I wasn’t sure I believed it anymore. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Dad met my stare squarely, and I was always amazed at how easily he could do that. “He knows the dangers to your mother, so he’s going to run interference on the family for us until after the babies are born. Despite the fact that it’ll put him in the same crosshairs with the rest of our family as us when they find out he knew, he’s going to do it anyway. He only asks one thing in return.”
I barely restrained my eye-roll. “Of course he does.”
Dad’s face morphed into a dark scowl, and his grip tightened painfully. “You will show your uncle the respect he deserves,” he warned.
I dropped my eyes to his waist; so not up for this. “Yes, sir.”
Dad’s intake for breath was both loud and frustrated. He kicked the leg of the chair I was sitting on for good measure, and when my gaze snapped to his, he was pointing two fingers of his free hand at his own eyes. “That’s right, boy. Right here. Nowhere else. Not there … not there … not way over there.” He pointed to three random locations in the apartment before returning to their original spot before his eyes. “Right here. Always. You get me?”
For some reason, Dr Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham started rolling through my brain, and I was quite proud of myself that I didn’t smirk or even blink. “Yessir.”
He didn’t get any calmer. “Okay …” he finally said, after a few seconds that was—who knew how long for him if he internalised to settle down— “I know we’ve only touched lightly on this before, but I need you to lift your game before we meet with your uncle, starting with stripping the words ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ from your vocabulary. I know your stance on human manners, and I’ve accepted your decision and will support it when it comes up with the others. That said, even the humans hardly ever use those two servitude titles anymore, and you can’t afford to appear weak in front of our family. Okay?”
Dad was compromising. I knew the family wouldn’t agree with my use of manners, but Dad was willing to back that, and to me, it was the more important of the two. “I’ll try,” I said because I couldn’t say for sure if I’d succeed without premonition, and that one wasn’t in my wheelhouse.
Ha, I made a divine funny.
So, why aren’t I laughing?
Probably because I still hadn’t heard what Uncle Barris wanted in exchange for his cooperation. It couldn’t be my head on a pike, as neither of my parents would go for that. But what?
“He wants to meet you, Sam, at a destination of your choosing and he’s agreed not to come here looking for you so long as that request is met. He hasn’t even asked for this address.”
“He’s the god of hunting, Dad. Hunting me down would be a cakewalk for someone like him.”
“True, except he’s promised not to go there unless it’s an emergency. You’re his nephew, Sam. A nephew he knew nothing about until last night. All he wants to do is meet you, and given the circumstances, I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?”
“How did he find out?” I asked instead of answering.
Dad’s expression soured. “Helen Portsmith. Apparently, she turned up at his gym last night with her usual spiel; only this time, your uncle put it together correctly and came looking for me for real answers. I told him about you and your mother. I told him our secrets.”
Something about the way he worded that… “As opposed to what?”
“I still haven’t mentioned Robbie or his connection to Yitzak. Nor have I mentioned the true gryps living with us, except for Tiacor, who’s there for your mother.”
I was starting to put this together. “Okay, so when we meet, no mention of Robbie as a cousin, or that he has a food innate, or that Yitzak and Collette know about him.” I got the feeling learning that we had true gryps in the household wouldn’t really amount to much, as they could be anywhere they wanted to be all over the world. It was their world as much as ours.
“Exactly.”
“What about Clefton and Nick? They’ve been here and met us too.”
“Mention them only if you want to get them into trouble for not outing you from the very beginning. Same with Nuncio.”
Well, that’s a hard ‘no’. “Maybe Cuschler?”
Dad scowled again. “There’s no bad blood between us anymore, right?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow warningly.
I sighed. Spoilsport. “Fine. But what about Fisk and the girls … and Najma?” It wasn’t that I’d forgotten my nephew, just that my brother and sisters rolled off the tongue first. “Danika’s been here, and Najma tracked me down at school before everyone else had met me. Even Fisk has popped in from time to time to touch base.”
“Barris knows they knew, and he understands why they’ve kept it quiet. Nothing’s going to happen until the reunion, and even then, maybe nothing if your mother still hasn’t given birth.”
I pushed my half-eaten baguette away and pressed my forehead to the island. “Everybody knows a little bit,” I griped. “How in the world am I meant to keep tabs on who knows what?”
Dad’s grin made me want to kick him the way he’d kicked my chair. “What do you think internalising is for? Remembering whatever we want is literally our jam.”
“I s’pose.” But combing through the details at every turn still seemed like an awful lot of effort, even if that process did seem instantaneous to everyone else. It wasn’t to us.
Dad reached past me and brought back my baguette. “Finish your sandwich. You can go as you are. Your uncle runs a gym downtown, so he’s not exactly at his best either.”
I stared at him in horror. “We’re going right now?”
“Why not now?”
Because I just got back from seeing Uncle YHWH! “I dunno. I mean, it’s too soon, don’t you think?”
I don’t know how else to describe it, but Dad’s expression turned … parental. “And when would a good time be for you with your hugely busy schedule now that school has wrapped up?” he asked like I was an idiot.
I gave a nervous, shrugging roll of my shoulders. “I understand there’s this get-together happening at the end of the year…”
I kinda expected the cuff to the back of my head and tried not to snicker when it happened.
“Don’t be a smartass. Finish your sandwich, and we’ll go. This won’t take long.”
With nothing else for it, I did as I was told, leaving the empty plate and cup on the sink since the dishwasher hadn’t been emptied. “I’m so glad I got a say in this…” I muttered quietly under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I have no idea why I thought we’d at least use the front door to leave. Probably because most people did. But this was Dad, and we were going to meet his brother, and he clearly didn’t want me to have the chance of wriggling out of it.
So without warning, he slapped his hand on my right shoulder and shoved me forward, realm-stepping away with me as I stumbled to keep my footing.
[Next Chapter]
* * *
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!
2024.05.07 11:28 Kapten_YeetMstr But I have my own soul magic: Chpt 1
<< First < Back
My ears perked up at the shifting of branches outside of my view. A low growl echoed through the dense foliage that surrounded me. Who was there? What was there?
I had been wandering this forest for what felt like days, but in reality, was only a handful of hours. I was searching for anything, anywhere that could help me on my new journey. Minutes earlier, a hunger and thirst had gnawed at my insides, reminding me I no longer had the soul power to simply ignore hunger and thirst. I had chuckled to myself, recalling the moments my soul shattered and a singular piece ejected into this dimension, continuing my existence, but at a cost of most of my soul.
I instinctually willed power into my hand, shaping it into a sword, before sighing when was warned of using too much before I had finished the hilt.
SP: 14
Soul stage: Shattered
Soul power gain multi: 0.01X
I couldn’t risk losing the final shreds of soul power I had left. With a grimace, I stopped making the sword, willing the power back into my soul, and taking quick glances at my surroundings. Even without my supernatural abilities, I was still a talented fighter.
Is what I would have said if the creature charging at me wasn’t a wolf or boar shaped thing twice my height.
Diving for cover and out of the path of the creature, I booked it. Screw hunting, there was no way in hell I was taking down this freak of nature. Sprinting through the trees, I failed to account for the fact that the gigantic wolf-boar was, in fact, faster than me.
Battle instincts hadn’t disappeared with the rest of my soul, however, as I flattened myself again when the wolf was upon me. I was about to scramble to my feet again when I heard something yell behind me.
The language was unrecognisable, but I stayed down when I saw a flash of light from where the voice originated. A searing hot ball of flame flew over my head, nailing the wolf in the face, stunning it briefly. I looked up to see a man, hands coated in a bright purple light, chanting something. He pushed them forwards, bombarding the creature with a flurry of purple bolts.
The animal screams in agony before crumpling, and the man lands, breathing heavily. He turns to me, grinning and spoke in a language I could not interpret. Right. Isekai worlds, different languages. Duh.
Upon noticing my blank face, he stared expectantly.
I instinctively reached towards a universal translator skill I once had, before realising in that space was just… emptiness. I let out a sigh. Power loss was a steep price to pay for survival.
“Um… do you speak English?” I stuttered out.
The man returned my blank stare.
“Well, I guess that’s a no.” I picked myself off the ground and dusted myself off, checking for any cuts and major damage. A couple of bruises, throbbed, a painful reminder of my loss of healing abilities. When I turned my attention back to the man, he had begun a string of gestures.
First, he pointed to me, then made a mouth opening and mimed putting something in. I supposed it had been an offer of food. Odd, but I nodded in response. I suppose I shouldn’t question the culture of the world, and this man was offering me a free meal, which I wasn’t in the mood to turn down.
He turned, gesturing me to follow, which I did. He lead me back to a small cabin, deeper into the woods and lead me inside. It was quaint, like what someone would expect an abode in the middle of the forest to look like. A brick fireplace, a small bed, a bookshelf, it emanated the sense of rustic comfort.
He picked a book from the bookshelves, flipping it open to an empty page and leaving it on the table with what looked like a writing utensil. Then, he made more gestures. He pointed to me and wrote onto the book. A crude representation of a person, an arrow, and a chair.
Was he asking me to attack a chair with an arrow…?
Wait he wasn’t done. He added an extra symbol that showed the person sitting onto the chair. I mentally facepalmed. So much for universal imagery. I took a seat and pondered the exchange. Even though it seemed like images and their representations were universal, it became very apparent that even the simplest gestures could be interpreted incorrectly.
He put the book and the utensil down and went to the small kitchen area, which held a steaming pot. An aroma of a freshly made stew lingered in the air. Stereotypical, but beggars can’t be choosers.
While waiting for the man to finish making the food, I turned my attention to the fragmented state of my soul.
SP: 15
Soul stage: Shattered
Soul power gain multi: 0.01X
In the 10 minutes we had spent walking, my soul had accumulated a whole extra point of soul power. I groaned at the painfully slow speed and mulled over my options. Previously, I had upgraded my generation speed with my soul power. Spending soul power to make more soul power, I had likened it to an idle game. Alternatively, entering higher soul stages would provide a boost in soul power and reduce skill costs.
I tried upgrading my soul generation capacity first. I focused my meagre power inwards to expanding my soul, coaxing it to grow. It was… way easier than normal, which made sense I suppose, due to the small state of my soul. Soul power condensed and coagulated around my soul, making it bigger, stronger, giving it more capacity and power. Sure enough, when I checked my status…
Soul power gain multi: 0.02X
Doubled. Not bad, but still pitifully weak. I tried the next strategy. Soul stages were entered and exited based on user willpower, which I fortunately had a lot of training with. Even if my soul was lost, my mind wasn’t. I called upon the will that would have easily allowed me to enter soul stage 1 and…
Warning, soul cannot handle excess soul power.
A sharp pain pulled me out of entering the soul stage. I had apparently reached the willpower requirement, but my shattered soul couldn’t handle the influx of energy. I sighed, stuck as a shattered soul until I could find some way to repair it.
Fortunately, my downed spirit was cheered by the presence of the fresh soup placed in front of me. I gave the man a smile, which he returned before digging in. Despite the mouth watering aroma, a sliver of doubt remained. What if the food was unsanitary, or potentially poisonous? But the battle for hunger eventually won over, and I scooped spoonfuls of the ambrosia into my mouth.
After our meal, the man pulled the book to him, in which he drew a house and a question mark next to it. I took a gamble and guessed he was inquiring about my home. For all intents and purposes, I was homeless, which I illustrated by drawing a stick figure walking away from a home with a cross through it.
The man had a look of understanding, before getting up and rummaging through his cupboards, eventually withdrawing a roll of some sort of soft fabrics. He handed them to me, started drawing again. Drawing a sun half obscured by a line, most likely a horizon, followed by a house with an arrow pointing towards it. He emphasised his point by pointing towards me and pointing down towards his feet. He wanted me to… stay?
I hesitated. I had far overstayed my welcome, but then where else would I stay? This kind stranger offered a roof over my head when I had none, so I wouldn’t turn down his generosity. I nodded and looked for a place to lay down the linen… mattress… thing.
***
Stretching and yawning, I winced as the remnants of back pain and exhaustion faded. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I gathered myself. Memories of yesterday flooded in, and I sighed. Still stuck in this Isekai world, great. Checking my interface, I noticed I had accumulated a bit of SP to work with.
SP: 158
Soul stage: Shattered
Soul power gain: 0.02X
First things first, I would try repair my soul as much as possible. Focusing inwards once more and directing energy towards my soul, I felt it expand much more readily than yesterday. Newly formed solid structures held much of the power together as it coagulated into one. I exhaled and checked my status again.
SP: 58
Soul stage: Foundation
Soul power gain: 0.2X
Empty talent slots: 1
I smiled, noticing my soul stage had transcended from “shattered”. It still wasn’t in the realm of what I was used to, so it was probably still abysmally weak, but a 10 times increase in soul power was very welcome. Though one unfamiliar feature caught my attention. Talent slots? What the hell were those?
The user expresses a strong desire to understand. Filling talent slot
The question vanished as soon it was arose, but a new addition took its place.
SP: 58
Soul stage: Foundation
Soul power gain: 0.2X
Talents:
Worldly information matrix
A subconscious echo popped into my mind as I read.
Talents were permanent emplacements within one’s soul that greatly boosts one specific aspect about the person. Whether it be mana regeneration, or a group of or even just one spell, it will strengthen that aspect significantly. Talent slots are unlocked upon the growth of one’s soul.
How the hell did I know that?
Before I could ponder any longer, shuffling was heard next to me, and the man sat up and stretched.
“Mmm, what’s the time…?” He muttered. His voice was deep, gruff, yet friendly and had an edge of kindness to it.
I looked around for some sort of time implement, and upon finding one, responded, “I don’t know how to read your clocks.” However, the words left my mouth in a language I never knew I could speak. We locked eyes in disbelief, and both made an exclamation of surprise.
“What the… I thought you couldn’t speak our tongue!”
“I didn’t know I could understand your language!” I fumbled over the unfamiliar words in my mouth. But whatever changed, it allowed me to speak this new dialect.
Gathering ourselves after the recent discovery, he sat me at the table as he poured me some form of hot beverage.
“So you can understand me now. Excellent! Now, who are you truly?”
“I am…” I hesitated. I searched my past, urging it to provide me my true identity. I sighed, knowing that my true name was lost to time. Instead I provided the name bestowed upon me by those I protected, by the world I had left behind. “I am Custos. The guardian of Earth.”
“I see. A pleasure to meet you Custos, I am Orion.” He chuckles, “I am no guardian unfortunately, just a humble hermit alone in these woods. It’s not common I get visitors. I have never heard of this ‘Earth’. Would you please enlighten me”
I hesitated once more. These people did not seem to know about interstellar travel, let alone interdimensional. “It’s a land from far, far away.”
He nodded, and sipped from his cup, urging me to do the same. “That explains why you didn’t know our tongue. Speaking of, how did you manage to learn our tongue so quickly? No translation spells around here, I assure you.”
“Apparently I used a talent slot to unlock a-“
The sound of a cup clattering onto the table cut me off. “You used a talent slot for it?! Why?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are they that valuable?”
The man gave me an exasperated look. “Valuable? They’re priceless! Enhance magic, grant infinite strength, and you chose being bilingual.”
“Ah I see. Is this permanent?”
The man shook his head. “Every human has 5 talent slots. Permanent, unchangeable, and once a talent has been assigned there is no way of removing it.”
I pondered his statement. It seemed to conflict with the information my own talent provided me, but I shook it off, disregarding it for another time.
“Unfortunate,” I said, taking a sip from my own cup. It tasted like a mocha, but less strong. “You mentioned you know spells? Are you some sort of wizard?”
He chuckled, “Not really, the mages are really up there in terms of skill. I’m just someone who wanted a bit of peace and quiet and learned a bit of magic along the way. This book has been my magical bible.” He stood and fetched another book from his bookshelf, opening it in front of me.
The words shuffled and morphed into a language I could understand, courtesy of my talent, as I read through it. It contained a comprehensive list of spells, alongside Orion’s notes and diagrams, scrawled over the pages.
“Interesting.” I murmured, a spark of curiosity igniting within me. “Well, best I take my leave. I’ve far overstayed my welcome.”
“Friend, no need to worry about that. You may stay as long as you like. Especially if you haven’t a place of your own.”
This man kindness bordered on naivety, but at least I didn’t have to worry about dying for now.
submitted by Kapten_YeetMstr to HFY [link] [comments]
My ears perked up at the shifting of branches outside of my view. A low growl echoed through the dense foliage that surrounded me. Who was there? What was there?
I had been wandering this forest for what felt like days, but in reality, was only a handful of hours. I was searching for anything, anywhere that could help me on my new journey. Minutes earlier, a hunger and thirst had gnawed at my insides, reminding me I no longer had the soul power to simply ignore hunger and thirst. I had chuckled to myself, recalling the moments my soul shattered and a singular piece ejected into this dimension, continuing my existence, but at a cost of most of my soul.
I instinctually willed power into my hand, shaping it into a sword, before sighing when was warned of using too much before I had finished the hilt.
SP: 14
Soul stage: Shattered
Soul power gain multi: 0.01X
I couldn’t risk losing the final shreds of soul power I had left. With a grimace, I stopped making the sword, willing the power back into my soul, and taking quick glances at my surroundings. Even without my supernatural abilities, I was still a talented fighter.
Is what I would have said if the creature charging at me wasn’t a wolf or boar shaped thing twice my height.
Diving for cover and out of the path of the creature, I booked it. Screw hunting, there was no way in hell I was taking down this freak of nature. Sprinting through the trees, I failed to account for the fact that the gigantic wolf-boar was, in fact, faster than me.
Battle instincts hadn’t disappeared with the rest of my soul, however, as I flattened myself again when the wolf was upon me. I was about to scramble to my feet again when I heard something yell behind me.
The language was unrecognisable, but I stayed down when I saw a flash of light from where the voice originated. A searing hot ball of flame flew over my head, nailing the wolf in the face, stunning it briefly. I looked up to see a man, hands coated in a bright purple light, chanting something. He pushed them forwards, bombarding the creature with a flurry of purple bolts.
The animal screams in agony before crumpling, and the man lands, breathing heavily. He turns to me, grinning and spoke in a language I could not interpret. Right. Isekai worlds, different languages. Duh.
Upon noticing my blank face, he stared expectantly.
I instinctively reached towards a universal translator skill I once had, before realising in that space was just… emptiness. I let out a sigh. Power loss was a steep price to pay for survival.
“Um… do you speak English?” I stuttered out.
The man returned my blank stare.
“Well, I guess that’s a no.” I picked myself off the ground and dusted myself off, checking for any cuts and major damage. A couple of bruises, throbbed, a painful reminder of my loss of healing abilities. When I turned my attention back to the man, he had begun a string of gestures.
First, he pointed to me, then made a mouth opening and mimed putting something in. I supposed it had been an offer of food. Odd, but I nodded in response. I suppose I shouldn’t question the culture of the world, and this man was offering me a free meal, which I wasn’t in the mood to turn down.
He turned, gesturing me to follow, which I did. He lead me back to a small cabin, deeper into the woods and lead me inside. It was quaint, like what someone would expect an abode in the middle of the forest to look like. A brick fireplace, a small bed, a bookshelf, it emanated the sense of rustic comfort.
He picked a book from the bookshelves, flipping it open to an empty page and leaving it on the table with what looked like a writing utensil. Then, he made more gestures. He pointed to me and wrote onto the book. A crude representation of a person, an arrow, and a chair.
Was he asking me to attack a chair with an arrow…?
Wait he wasn’t done. He added an extra symbol that showed the person sitting onto the chair. I mentally facepalmed. So much for universal imagery. I took a seat and pondered the exchange. Even though it seemed like images and their representations were universal, it became very apparent that even the simplest gestures could be interpreted incorrectly.
He put the book and the utensil down and went to the small kitchen area, which held a steaming pot. An aroma of a freshly made stew lingered in the air. Stereotypical, but beggars can’t be choosers.
While waiting for the man to finish making the food, I turned my attention to the fragmented state of my soul.
SP: 15
Soul stage: Shattered
Soul power gain multi: 0.01X
In the 10 minutes we had spent walking, my soul had accumulated a whole extra point of soul power. I groaned at the painfully slow speed and mulled over my options. Previously, I had upgraded my generation speed with my soul power. Spending soul power to make more soul power, I had likened it to an idle game. Alternatively, entering higher soul stages would provide a boost in soul power and reduce skill costs.
I tried upgrading my soul generation capacity first. I focused my meagre power inwards to expanding my soul, coaxing it to grow. It was… way easier than normal, which made sense I suppose, due to the small state of my soul. Soul power condensed and coagulated around my soul, making it bigger, stronger, giving it more capacity and power. Sure enough, when I checked my status…
Soul power gain multi: 0.02X
Doubled. Not bad, but still pitifully weak. I tried the next strategy. Soul stages were entered and exited based on user willpower, which I fortunately had a lot of training with. Even if my soul was lost, my mind wasn’t. I called upon the will that would have easily allowed me to enter soul stage 1 and…
Warning, soul cannot handle excess soul power.
A sharp pain pulled me out of entering the soul stage. I had apparently reached the willpower requirement, but my shattered soul couldn’t handle the influx of energy. I sighed, stuck as a shattered soul until I could find some way to repair it.
Fortunately, my downed spirit was cheered by the presence of the fresh soup placed in front of me. I gave the man a smile, which he returned before digging in. Despite the mouth watering aroma, a sliver of doubt remained. What if the food was unsanitary, or potentially poisonous? But the battle for hunger eventually won over, and I scooped spoonfuls of the ambrosia into my mouth.
After our meal, the man pulled the book to him, in which he drew a house and a question mark next to it. I took a gamble and guessed he was inquiring about my home. For all intents and purposes, I was homeless, which I illustrated by drawing a stick figure walking away from a home with a cross through it.
The man had a look of understanding, before getting up and rummaging through his cupboards, eventually withdrawing a roll of some sort of soft fabrics. He handed them to me, started drawing again. Drawing a sun half obscured by a line, most likely a horizon, followed by a house with an arrow pointing towards it. He emphasised his point by pointing towards me and pointing down towards his feet. He wanted me to… stay?
I hesitated. I had far overstayed my welcome, but then where else would I stay? This kind stranger offered a roof over my head when I had none, so I wouldn’t turn down his generosity. I nodded and looked for a place to lay down the linen… mattress… thing.
***
Stretching and yawning, I winced as the remnants of back pain and exhaustion faded. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I gathered myself. Memories of yesterday flooded in, and I sighed. Still stuck in this Isekai world, great. Checking my interface, I noticed I had accumulated a bit of SP to work with.
SP: 158
Soul stage: Shattered
Soul power gain: 0.02X
First things first, I would try repair my soul as much as possible. Focusing inwards once more and directing energy towards my soul, I felt it expand much more readily than yesterday. Newly formed solid structures held much of the power together as it coagulated into one. I exhaled and checked my status again.
SP: 58
Soul stage: Foundation
Soul power gain: 0.2X
Empty talent slots: 1
I smiled, noticing my soul stage had transcended from “shattered”. It still wasn’t in the realm of what I was used to, so it was probably still abysmally weak, but a 10 times increase in soul power was very welcome. Though one unfamiliar feature caught my attention. Talent slots? What the hell were those?
The user expresses a strong desire to understand. Filling talent slot
The question vanished as soon it was arose, but a new addition took its place.
SP: 58
Soul stage: Foundation
Soul power gain: 0.2X
Talents:
Worldly information matrix
A subconscious echo popped into my mind as I read.
Talents were permanent emplacements within one’s soul that greatly boosts one specific aspect about the person. Whether it be mana regeneration, or a group of or even just one spell, it will strengthen that aspect significantly. Talent slots are unlocked upon the growth of one’s soul.
How the hell did I know that?
Before I could ponder any longer, shuffling was heard next to me, and the man sat up and stretched.
“Mmm, what’s the time…?” He muttered. His voice was deep, gruff, yet friendly and had an edge of kindness to it.
I looked around for some sort of time implement, and upon finding one, responded, “I don’t know how to read your clocks.” However, the words left my mouth in a language I never knew I could speak. We locked eyes in disbelief, and both made an exclamation of surprise.
“What the… I thought you couldn’t speak our tongue!”
“I didn’t know I could understand your language!” I fumbled over the unfamiliar words in my mouth. But whatever changed, it allowed me to speak this new dialect.
Gathering ourselves after the recent discovery, he sat me at the table as he poured me some form of hot beverage.
“So you can understand me now. Excellent! Now, who are you truly?”
“I am…” I hesitated. I searched my past, urging it to provide me my true identity. I sighed, knowing that my true name was lost to time. Instead I provided the name bestowed upon me by those I protected, by the world I had left behind. “I am Custos. The guardian of Earth.”
“I see. A pleasure to meet you Custos, I am Orion.” He chuckles, “I am no guardian unfortunately, just a humble hermit alone in these woods. It’s not common I get visitors. I have never heard of this ‘Earth’. Would you please enlighten me”
I hesitated once more. These people did not seem to know about interstellar travel, let alone interdimensional. “It’s a land from far, far away.”
He nodded, and sipped from his cup, urging me to do the same. “That explains why you didn’t know our tongue. Speaking of, how did you manage to learn our tongue so quickly? No translation spells around here, I assure you.”
“Apparently I used a talent slot to unlock a-“
The sound of a cup clattering onto the table cut me off. “You used a talent slot for it?! Why?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are they that valuable?”
The man gave me an exasperated look. “Valuable? They’re priceless! Enhance magic, grant infinite strength, and you chose being bilingual.”
“Ah I see. Is this permanent?”
The man shook his head. “Every human has 5 talent slots. Permanent, unchangeable, and once a talent has been assigned there is no way of removing it.”
I pondered his statement. It seemed to conflict with the information my own talent provided me, but I shook it off, disregarding it for another time.
“Unfortunate,” I said, taking a sip from my own cup. It tasted like a mocha, but less strong. “You mentioned you know spells? Are you some sort of wizard?”
He chuckled, “Not really, the mages are really up there in terms of skill. I’m just someone who wanted a bit of peace and quiet and learned a bit of magic along the way. This book has been my magical bible.” He stood and fetched another book from his bookshelf, opening it in front of me.
The words shuffled and morphed into a language I could understand, courtesy of my talent, as I read through it. It contained a comprehensive list of spells, alongside Orion’s notes and diagrams, scrawled over the pages.
“Interesting.” I murmured, a spark of curiosity igniting within me. “Well, best I take my leave. I’ve far overstayed my welcome.”
“Friend, no need to worry about that. You may stay as long as you like. Especially if you haven’t a place of your own.”
This man kindness bordered on naivety, but at least I didn’t have to worry about dying for now.
2024.05.07 05:53 IncipitTragoedia0 A wild but somehow convincing opinion: Cloud's true self is already back since Sleeping Forest, at the time he woke up next to the crew
A SChinese vid focused on visual language and bgm language analysis, from a sephikura girl (not talking about the shipping here), who bets on both T's role in LS will be greatly toned down, and (physical form) (omni-)Aerith will eventually leave in Part3; and Part3 will be a significantly different thing from OG.
www.bilibili.com/video/BV1Tu4m1F7j9
The key point of "Cloud's true self is back" of that vid based on bgm hints:
ref to OG:
With some other visual language evidences, and (in JP) the change of Cloud's tone of voice, as support.
The vid suggest this green filter and the green tunnel afterwards is supposed to be lifestream: https://i.imgur.com/hUlJaB3.jpeg
The vid calls the already-in-true-self Cloud "AC-Cloud" (or post-AC Cloud, who has realized LS-Aerith is always with them.)
An interesting one of the evidences that vid provided, is the recent gacha collab of "AC-Cloud", 迷いを断った英雄: https://i.imgur.com/Uswg7Sp.jpeg
"I'm not lost in my life anymore." suggests that all his confusions is now gone. So in Rebirth/Part2 ending, he's not delusional or a schizo, on the contrary, he's the only one senses the reality.
Unlike clotis, they tend to accept goddess-like Aerith and her love and companionship with Cloud. But what we want is she can have a normal life as a nothing special girl, not being a goddess or such.
When I have free time I may transfer more visual language analysis from that vid below this post.
Before that cursed Crisis Core, Zack's personality is: https://i.imgur.com/xvZc9EU.png Full image: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/GLH8h2aasAA2Q44.jpg
The vid insists that these 2d4u lines from sephy: https://i.imgur.com/OpGr7Tu.jpeg
The 7th universe (7-stars Stamp?) where Aerith physically alive will be the real end game. Trust the "7" symbolism.
-2. Blank World, the "midpoint" of Barrier of Fate (運命の壁)
Part1 blank world, all the crew are there: https://i.imgur.com/k2O582J.jpeg
Part2 blank world, only Cloud and (LS-/Omni-)Aerith: https://i.imgur.com/K53D4Q3.jpeg
Only Cloud had crossed over the midpoint of Barrier of Fate in part2. I found a diagram for this:
submitted by IncipitTragoedia0 to cloudxaerith [link] [comments]
www.bilibili.com/video/BV1Tu4m1F7j9
The key point of "Cloud's true self is back" of that vid based on bgm hints:
"Who...Am I?" played in the background at:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eR6fflytw1I
"Who...Are you?" played in the background at:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hryWRDQcduM
ref to OG:
"Who...Am I?" in lifestreamhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0mrS1IXSN8&t=440
"Who...Are you?" when his true self talked to him in his dream at Junonhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHwCCQWZ5nU&t=392
With some other visual language evidences, and (in JP) the change of Cloud's tone of voice, as support.
The vid suggest this green filter and the green tunnel afterwards is supposed to be lifestream: https://i.imgur.com/hUlJaB3.jpeg
The vid calls the already-in-true-self Cloud "AC-Cloud" (or post-AC Cloud, who has realized LS-Aerith is always with them.)
An interesting one of the evidences that vid provided, is the recent gacha collab of "AC-Cloud", 迷いを断った英雄: https://i.imgur.com/Uswg7Sp.jpeg
"I'm not lost in my life anymore." suggests that all his confusions is now gone. So in Rebirth/Part2 ending, he's not delusional or a schizo, on the contrary, he's the only one senses the reality.
Unlike clotis, they tend to accept goddess-like Aerith and her love and companionship with Cloud. But what we want is she can have a normal life as a nothing special girl, not being a goddess or such.
When I have free time I may transfer more visual language analysis from that vid below this post.
What is Cloud's "cool" false-self actually?
The widely spread myths says: It's Zack's personality. However anyone has an IQ higher than 2digits (well, clotis certainly not) can notice that it's not Zack's flirtatious personality.Before that cursed Crisis Core, Zack's personality is: https://i.imgur.com/xvZc9EU.png Full image: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/GLH8h2aasAA2Q44.jpg
Zack is more like a symbol of heroism, "has Zack's personality" is to say "has a heroism complex".As this vid said, Jenova cells copied the image of him inside Tifa's head (the "cool SOLDIER" T always imagining) to build Cloud's false-self.
Then where does that heroism complex came from? It came from the thing in Tifa's head.
ここで奇跡的にティファと再会したのですT made this image out of him because they barely talked to each other in their childhood and never understood each other. (see https://i.imgur.com/OwPUfoo.jpeg ) T just felt it's "cool" to have a SOLDIER as her "childhood friend".
これにより 廃人同然だったクラウドの中のジェノバ細胞が覚醒し、ティファのイメージの中にある理想のクラウド像を擬態能力を持つジェノバ細胞が読み取ってトレース
根暗でクールな性格だが、セフィロスのように強いソルジャーというティファのイメージがクラウドの人格としてジェノバの擬態能力により一瞬で定着します
ここで自分は元ソルジャーという勘違いが彼の中で生まれた
Now for big topics
-1. The world Cloud created (where "an" Aerith alive) will perish or is doomed to fade.The vid insists that these 2d4u lines from sephy: https://i.imgur.com/OpGr7Tu.jpeg
-運命の壁が壊れる時、新たな世界が生まれる。 この星には、幾層もの世界があり、 生み出された世界は、 あるものは続き、 あるものはすぐに消える。means that the universe where "an" Aerith alive will perish eventually. IMO the one going to perish in Part3 is the 5-stars beagle universe,
-仮に長く続いても、いつか消える。
The 7th universe (7-stars Stamp?) where Aerith physically alive will be the real end game. Trust the "7" symbolism.
-2. Blank World, the "midpoint" of Barrier of Fate (運命の壁)
Part1 blank world, all the crew are there: https://i.imgur.com/k2O582J.jpeg
Part2 blank world, only Cloud and (LS-/Omni-)Aerith: https://i.imgur.com/K53D4Q3.jpeg
White Whis + Black Whis (in Part2/Rebirth) = Gray Whispers in Part1/RemakeSo Barrier of Fate made of B+W whis (Rebirth) = Barrier of Fate made of Gray whis (Remake)
Only Cloud had crossed over the midpoint of Barrier of Fate in part2. I found a diagram for this:
https://blog-mikage.com/wp-content/uploads/f3c26b66fa51cff7ca0b435c8ab41a38-1.jpgwip
src: https://blog-mikage.com/ff7-rebirth-aerith-consideration/
2024.05.05 12:27 Affectionate_Lab8665 Sharing my CDC Ubi experience (Dec 2023 to Apr 2024)
Hi all, I just passed my TP and decided to share my experience and some information here to help anyone who might be as lost as I was when I first started! This is super lengthy but I hope it helps :)
Decisions prior to enrolment:
I believe you can book up to 5 lessons before passing BTT, but I chose to do it after passing. For the lessons, you’ll need to wear covered shoes, bring the training booklet and have Singpass on your phone to show your PDL. You can check the location of your assigned car in the app and report to the car for your lesson.
Personally, I took 27 lessons (including 8 revisions) because I wanted to feel as confident as I can for the test. Before TP, I took 3 consecutive lessons, which I found quite useful to keep everything in check. You don’t need so many if you feel that you’re ready!
My lesson breakdown:
I struggled to find lesson slots at first because they removed the release date for common pool, so I followed the tip that most people provided, which is to camp on the app a lot and I was lucky enough to catch the mass release for 2 months.
IMO, simulator, VPC, LDCS had quite a lot of slots and I didn’t have to wait too long, I booked them all after my lessons to save on travelling.
Instructors:
I’ve seen bad reviews online and I personally had some negative experiences as well, but most of my instructors are actually friendly and patient. For me, I’m fine with instructors who make small talks or stay silent aside from giving instructions. I’m also okay with them using their phones as long as they do look up to check on me/safety when necessary. Here’s my personal experience with all the instructors if anyone is curious haha
Positive experiences:
Some small tips for TP:
Others:
I chanced upon a telegram group called CDC Car Learner (can be found on telegram by searching), which has a lot of nice people to answer any of your questions. I also managed to find some useful tips/information by searching the group.
That’s all I have to share, all the best for your lessons and tests!
(These are my personal experiences and thoughts, if you have anything to share, feel free to comment!)
submitted by Affectionate_Lab8665 to drivingsg [link] [comments]
Decisions prior to enrolment:
- Auto or Manual? I chose Auto because my family car is Auto.
- Private or School? I chose school for convenience.
- Common pool, Oneteam, or Elite team? I’ve heard that Oneteam and Elite Team has senior instructors who are nicer, but I didn’t want to pay the extra $$ per lesson so I went for common pool.
- I enrolled in Sep 2023, took BTT in Nov 2023, started practical in Dec 2023, passed TP in April 2024, so I took about 7-8 months in total. (The waiting time wasn’t this long! I just had a lot going on in my personal life so I dragged out my BTT and my first practical lesson)
- Enrolment: Enrolment and eyesight test appointment can be done on CDC’s website. After enrolment, download the CDC app, which allows you to book slots and check your reporting locations.
- Eyesight & photo: Appointments are open on weekdays. It is done at the main building, inside the customer service office (bring your IC/Singpass). I also received the training booklet on the same day.
- Induction: A zoom session to provide basic information such as slot opening dates, class timings, etc.
- BTT & FTT IE: Compulsory to book, but didn’t attend because I didn’t think it was worth travelling to CDC when I can take the e-trial tests at home.
- BTT & FTT: The waiting time was around 1 month each. I did the e-lessons on CDC website but didn’t find that useful. Reading the PDF TP Handbook and spamming the 4x e-trial tests on CDC website + free online test really helped me. The test is located on level 2 of the main building (bring IC/Singpass).
- PDL: Apply on TP website after passing BTT.
- Practical: (Refer below)
- Simulator: It’s a 20 min simulation without pass/fail. Can book after the 5th lesson, and you can do all 3 on the same day, but you can only book alternate time slots. It is located at the main building, opposite the office (bring your IC/Singpass).
- VPC: Can book in module 2, it is a short session that introduces learners to the parts of a car and its maintenance. It is located at the end of the main carpark, inside this white container shed.
- LDCS: Can book in module 3, it is similar to a normal lesson, just that there are cameras in the car to record and measure your performance on the road. I took it in module 3 and treated it as another lesson to practice my driving. It is located beside VPC and EV cars, you will see a sign that states LDCS.
- TP warm up: Bring training booklet and IC/Singpass. Report to the waiting room at the main building 15 min before the warm up timing. Warm up instructor will bring you over to the car (warm up and test car is the same) and let you do warm up in the circuit and go on the road for a short round. They will park the car for you afterwards and you’ll have to remember the car for the test.
- TP test: Tester will look for you at the waiting area and you’ll bring the tester to your car. You’ll have to start the engine yourself and afterwards, just follow the tester’s instructions.
- QDL: Apply on TP website after passing TP.
I believe you can book up to 5 lessons before passing BTT, but I chose to do it after passing. For the lessons, you’ll need to wear covered shoes, bring the training booklet and have Singpass on your phone to show your PDL. You can check the location of your assigned car in the app and report to the car for your lesson.
Personally, I took 27 lessons (including 8 revisions) because I wanted to feel as confident as I can for the test. Before TP, I took 3 consecutive lessons, which I found quite useful to keep everything in check. You don’t need so many if you feel that you’re ready!
My lesson breakdown:
- Module 1: 6 lessons
- Module 2: 7 lessons
- Module 3: 4 lessons, e-brake was done together with test routes
- Test routes: 2 full lessons doing 7 test routes, the rest were done during revisions. It is not necessary to finish all test routes but I happened to complete all because I had a lot of revisions
- Revisions: 8 lessons
I struggled to find lesson slots at first because they removed the release date for common pool, so I followed the tip that most people provided, which is to camp on the app a lot and I was lucky enough to catch the mass release for 2 months.
IMO, simulator, VPC, LDCS had quite a lot of slots and I didn’t have to wait too long, I booked them all after my lessons to save on travelling.
Instructors:
I’ve seen bad reviews online and I personally had some negative experiences as well, but most of my instructors are actually friendly and patient. For me, I’m fine with instructors who make small talks or stay silent aside from giving instructions. I’m also okay with them using their phones as long as they do look up to check on me/safety when necessary. Here’s my personal experience with all the instructors if anyone is curious haha
Positive experiences:
- 0855: Patient, understanding, gives clear instructions
- 1316: Very encouraging, corrects my mistakes immediately, gives feedback
- 0079: Very friendly and encouraging, shares very useful tips, corrects my mistakes immediately, I got him a few times and every lesson felt stress-free and easy
- 0240: Super nice instructor from Kovan. i was late for 10 min and he was very understanding about it, he’s also patient and cleared a lot of my doubts
- 1197: Elite team instructor who was really good at teaching
- 1183: Gives detailed tips in the circuit, drew diagrams for VP and PP in my booklet
- 0727: Got him for LDCS, quite friendly
- 1058: Nice and encouraging, gives good instructions and cleared all my doubts
- 0700: Got him a few times, gives tips and things to take note during my test’s time slot. He told me read my notes everyday to mentally revise for my test, which is a very useful tip
- 7003: Very soft spoken, helped me a lot with VP correction
- 0896, 1258, 7197, 7084, 1166: Ok instructors
- 1134: Generally ok, but he can be very kanchiong. E.g., he kept going “gogogo, no need to think so long” when I stopped at the stop line, was doing my safety checks or waiting for another car to pass while I was exiting the circuit
- 9007: He doesn’t really teach well and likes to grunt/nag at every mistake. Got him for my first 2 lessons and I was so lost since it was my first time operating a car
- 7072: Similar to 9007, but more tolerable
- 0058: Kept raging during the lesson
- 0432: Got him twice and his remarks can be quite sarcastic and rude, he kept quiet and didn’t answer me when I ask him questions about parking
- 0458: The whole lesson was him boasting about his safe driving skills and insulting every drivelearner we met on the road/circuit. What made me 100% fed up was when he insulted a manual learner whose car stalled in front of us. Can’t imagine the insult I would receive if I made a mistake in his car
Some small tips for TP:
- 2 weeks before my TP, I would go through each circuit in my head every night and it kinda helped me to practise on days without lessons.
- Exaggerate safety checks a little just in case the tester didn’t catch it.
- Be sure to look out if your route leads to an expressway. If it does, remember to change to the next lane. (I always blindly follow when instructors tell me to change lane, so I’m really thankful that I saw this tip online before my test.)
- Instructors told me to not show the tester that I’m nervous and that I should look confident in handling the car / know what I’m doing.
- Stay calm when you made a mistake, focus on what’s ahead instead so you don’t blank out.
- Enrolment $178.20 (Excl. $10 deposit)
- Eyesight $1.84
- Photo $6.48
- Induction $23.76
- BTT FTT IE $6.48 x2
- BTT FTT $6.50 x2
- PDL $25
- Lessons $2070.66
- Simulator $80.34
- VPC $28.34
- LDCS $61.04
- TP TEST $328.39
- QDL $50
Others:
I chanced upon a telegram group called CDC Car Learner (can be found on telegram by searching), which has a lot of nice people to answer any of your questions. I also managed to find some useful tips/information by searching the group.
That’s all I have to share, all the best for your lessons and tests!
(These are my personal experiences and thoughts, if you have anything to share, feel free to comment!)
2024.05.04 23:36 Cute_Priority_1453 Starter relay - Chev Spark M300, 2010
Where do I find the starter motor relay of the 2010, M300 Chev Spark? It is not in the under bonnet fuse box or the under dash (interior) fuse box as per all the diagrams found on Youtube. The relay (R11) position shown in the under bonnet fuse box, top right corner, is blank without any wiring. Please help, the starter motor does not turn and no clicking sound of the relay is heard. Battery and all the fuses are ok
submitted by Cute_Priority_1453 to MechanicAdvice [link] [comments]
2024.05.04 11:57 PuffDaCatt How to draw geometric diagrams in powerpoint
Hi all, I'm currently studying to become a physics teacher and I'm struggling to draw clean and efficient geometric diagrams in powerpoint.
For example, when drawing a triangle to demonstrate resolving vectors using trigonometry, how do I add an arc to the inside of the triangle to show the angle I wish to calculate? I've used the arc and curved arrow buttons but they just give me totally wrong or S shaped curves?
Alternatively is there a (ideally free!) website or app I can use to create simple geometric / mathematical diagrams to paste into powerpoint? How does everyone create simple geometry problem diagrams without spending ages on microsoft paint?! I appreciate this may be the wrong subreddit but I'm just stumped and drawing a blank on my searches on reddit and google.
Thanks in advance!
submitted by PuffDaCatt to powerpoint [link] [comments]
For example, when drawing a triangle to demonstrate resolving vectors using trigonometry, how do I add an arc to the inside of the triangle to show the angle I wish to calculate? I've used the arc and curved arrow buttons but they just give me totally wrong or S shaped curves?
Alternatively is there a (ideally free!) website or app I can use to create simple geometric / mathematical diagrams to paste into powerpoint? How does everyone create simple geometry problem diagrams without spending ages on microsoft paint?! I appreciate this may be the wrong subreddit but I'm just stumped and drawing a blank on my searches on reddit and google.
Thanks in advance!
2024.05.03 14:38 Angel466 [Bob the hobo] A Celestial Wars Spin-Off Part 1006
PART ONE THOUSAND AND SIX
[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]
Sunday
Quent pulled up outside the apartment, then handed Kulon the keys and turned to me. “See you in a few hours, buster,” he said with a wink and then vanished as if he’d never been there. Rubin was quick to follow, leaving me to blink at the dual disappearing act.
“I don’t know why you find that so astonishing,” Kulon grumbled, climbing out of the car and opening my door. “You can realm-step just as fast.”
“Not from a seated position like that,” I argued after getting out and turning to hold out my hand for Gerry. “How do you vanish when your butt is literally still in the chair?”
“Invisible, shrink, step. Easy-peasy.”
I squinted at him, not really thinking it was easy at all. But before I could dwell any further on it, Kulon suddenly let out a very unwelcoming growl and stepped in front of me. “What do you want, Choirmaster?” he snarled, his right hand stretched out to keep both me and Gerry behind him.
“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to attack two true gryps on your nesting world in broad daylight?” came the bored, song-like reply. “Even two hatchlings like you?”
The growl from Kulon continued to grow in volume until I put my hand on the small of Kulon’s back to remind him this wasn’t the place. “Easy, buddy,” I crooned, already building up a decent dislike for whoever Kulon was facing off with. It hadn’t completely escaped my attention that while their job was to keep me from losing my temper, I was the one trying to take things down a notch.
“Sam,” the voice then sang, not the way one of those horror movies did it where you knew you were going to die, but more upbeat and wholesome. “Can you please step out from behind your true gryps bodyguard so that I may see you?”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said, trusting my friend way more than whoever this newcomer was. I then lifted my eyes to the second story of our apartment building. “And if you’re not careful, you’ll have a whole lot more than just two angry true gryps to tear you a new butthole, mister, and not all of them are my age.”
Whoever it was huffed and—from the way Kulon suddenly moved to his right—tried and failed to duck around him to reach me. “Keep your distance, Michael, and say what you came to say from back there. You will not get past me to him.”
“Very well. Sam, I’m the chosen messenger from your uncle, and He’s sent me to invite you to speak with Him. He’s given you His solemn vow that you are neither in trouble nor will anything untoward happen to you.”
I knew Dad had a lot of brothers … all of whom I’d never met. My fingers curled into Kulon’s back. “Can he hurt me if I look at him?” I had no idea what I was dealing with here. I knew from my travels that gorgons were a bad idea to look at, and if Kulon was being this cagey, I needed to know why.
“No,” Kulon admitted. “But he is the choirmaster of the Heavenly Host, so if anyone was going to cut you in half, it’d be him.” After a second, he added, “Well, he’d be second. I’d put Uriel’s capability ahead of his.”
From the double snicker I heard from the true gryps in front of me and the one in my ear, I assumed that our visitor hadn’t liked that correction.
I lifted my hand from Kulon’s back and placed it on his right hip, so that he’d know which way I was going, then stepped to that side. Geraldine, I kept behind Kulon, though she was able to peek around his arm.
Her gasp meant she’d seen the guy’s enormous emerald-green wings that he had spread partially to either side of him like a feathery cloak with a high collar. The rest of him looked like something out of ancient Rome. Silver plate mail armour with gold filigree around the edges covered his whole body from the neck down, and on his chest plate was a huge golden crucifix. He had a presence about him that looked like those sculptures where the guy was wrestling a lion barehanded without a single strand of hair falling out of place.
For whatever reason, it was only at that moment that I realised I was thinking of entirely the wrong generation of ‘uncles’, and as such, I’d forgotten all about this one …
…and more importantly, how I’d kinda been bad-mouthing him to Geraldine’s family less than an hour ago.
Ooooh, crap.
Though in my defence, I hadn’t technically bad-mouthed him. I was more … challenging the validity of his core belief. Yeah, that’d be what I’d go with if this was his way of clipping me under the ear.
“What’s he want with me?” I asked, hoping it might not be about that at all, and he was just looking for a social chit-chat.
The angel-boss/masteguy didn’t answer. Just gave me The Look.
“Crap,” I huffed under my breath and turned back to Gerry.
Only to find her pasty and trembling, staring straight at the angel. “H-H-He’s right there, r-right?” she stammered. Her breathing was erratic, and her eyes broke away from the guy to glance at me, then snapped straight back to him. “Angel. He’s an angel. A-a-a re-re-real—a real angel.”
“And you must be Sam’s plus one,” the angel smiled, lifting his already rugged handsomeness to transcendent levels. I was beginning to see why Geraldine hated the idea of me talking to pretty women. Seriously, would it hurt the guy to have some physical faults somewhere?
Oblivious to my internal monologue, the angel rolled forward in an introductory bow. “I am the Archangel Michael, Choirmaster of the Sixth Choir known as the Heavenly Host.”
“And today, a glorified errand boy,” Kulon reminded him.
Geraldine spluttered in horror, and I could have kissed Kulon for his snark.
“I am whatever He requires,” Michael sang, straightening up. Apparently, his friendliness had run its course, for he held his hand out to me and commanded, “Come, Sam. I will take you to Him.”
Since my interactions with angels were rather limited, I looked at Kulon for guidance.
He had that far-off stare that meant he was talking to one of his higher-ups before he dipped his head in either agreement or obedience and refocused on the angel. “Remember, Michael, your tricks don’t work on us. Not your speed. Not your brutality. Not even your establishment field. Before you or your Almighty can summon more angels, you’ll be overwhelmed with so many true gryps, you’ll be crushed under our body weight alone. Sam is ours, and you are no match for us. Are we clear?”
I nudged Kulon’s arm. “Why are you threatening him?”
“I’m not threatening him,” Kulon said, still glaring at Michael. “I’m reminding him of the stupidity of thinking you are anything other than fully protected at all times.”
“Okay … and why’s that relevant?”
Kulon sighed. “Because Michael has been known to go off the reservation occasionally for what he considers the greater good. Of course, he gets reprimanded for it afterwards, but then he gets his old job back because it’s the way the Almighty wants it. Meanwhile, the act itself is still done.” He stared icily at the angel. “Crossing us would be a huge mistake. Do we understand each other?”
“From your mouth to His ear,” Michael answered.
Kulon’s gaze narrowed all the more. “Exactly.”
Michael waved his hand as if he were chasing a bothersome fly. “Enough with this senseless posturing. You were ordered to turn him over to me, were you not?”
Ignoring Michael’s question, Kulon turned to me. “The Eechee has vouched for this visit, Sam, but the choice to go is yours. Contrary to this idiot’s opinion, no one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to. Not while we’re around.”
I glanced at the angel, getting the hint that no amount of ignoring him would make him go away. “Can I walk Gerry upstairs first?”
Gerry’s grip tightened on my forearm. “I don’t want to go upstairs without you,” she said. I was about to ask why not when she added, “If I go in without you and anyone sees me, they’ll know something happened to you. How do I explain all of this when your dad and the others are trying to lie low? And if it gets back to your mom and causes her any kind of stress…” She let that sentence drift off; for my sake, I was sure.
And yeah, I could see where all of that would be bad. “Where do you want to go? Kulon can take you.”
Gerry looked at Kulon. “Could you just … drive me around for a bit? The same problem applies if anyone looks outside and sees the car. Sam can call us when he’s ready to be picked up, and we can come back together again then.”
Kulon looked at me. “This is what you want?”
I cuddled Gerry close and kissed her before guiding her into Kulon’s arms. “You two head off, first.”
I waited until the car pulled away from the curb and then turned to one of the most powerful angels in Heaven, if I was reading the subtext right.
“You have nothing to fear, Sam. He loves His family most of all.”
The angel put his hand on my shoulder, and we walked forward …
…only to stay on our street.
I looked across at him and was surprised to find him scowling darkly. “Do you NOT know how to blank your mind, boy?!” he sang angrily.
“Oh.” OH!
This guy was one of Heaven’s heaviest hitters, and the only reason he’d be telling me to clear my mind was because I was anchoring him … because I was higher up the food chain than him! Oooooh, holy crap!
“Sam!”
Right. Right. Clear head and…
…we realm-stepped away.
[Next Chapter]
* * *
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!
submitted by Angel466 to redditserials [link] [comments]
[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]
Sunday
Quent pulled up outside the apartment, then handed Kulon the keys and turned to me. “See you in a few hours, buster,” he said with a wink and then vanished as if he’d never been there. Rubin was quick to follow, leaving me to blink at the dual disappearing act.
“I don’t know why you find that so astonishing,” Kulon grumbled, climbing out of the car and opening my door. “You can realm-step just as fast.”
“Not from a seated position like that,” I argued after getting out and turning to hold out my hand for Gerry. “How do you vanish when your butt is literally still in the chair?”
“Invisible, shrink, step. Easy-peasy.”
I squinted at him, not really thinking it was easy at all. But before I could dwell any further on it, Kulon suddenly let out a very unwelcoming growl and stepped in front of me. “What do you want, Choirmaster?” he snarled, his right hand stretched out to keep both me and Gerry behind him.
“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to attack two true gryps on your nesting world in broad daylight?” came the bored, song-like reply. “Even two hatchlings like you?”
The growl from Kulon continued to grow in volume until I put my hand on the small of Kulon’s back to remind him this wasn’t the place. “Easy, buddy,” I crooned, already building up a decent dislike for whoever Kulon was facing off with. It hadn’t completely escaped my attention that while their job was to keep me from losing my temper, I was the one trying to take things down a notch.
“Sam,” the voice then sang, not the way one of those horror movies did it where you knew you were going to die, but more upbeat and wholesome. “Can you please step out from behind your true gryps bodyguard so that I may see you?”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said, trusting my friend way more than whoever this newcomer was. I then lifted my eyes to the second story of our apartment building. “And if you’re not careful, you’ll have a whole lot more than just two angry true gryps to tear you a new butthole, mister, and not all of them are my age.”
Whoever it was huffed and—from the way Kulon suddenly moved to his right—tried and failed to duck around him to reach me. “Keep your distance, Michael, and say what you came to say from back there. You will not get past me to him.”
“Very well. Sam, I’m the chosen messenger from your uncle, and He’s sent me to invite you to speak with Him. He’s given you His solemn vow that you are neither in trouble nor will anything untoward happen to you.”
I knew Dad had a lot of brothers … all of whom I’d never met. My fingers curled into Kulon’s back. “Can he hurt me if I look at him?” I had no idea what I was dealing with here. I knew from my travels that gorgons were a bad idea to look at, and if Kulon was being this cagey, I needed to know why.
“No,” Kulon admitted. “But he is the choirmaster of the Heavenly Host, so if anyone was going to cut you in half, it’d be him.” After a second, he added, “Well, he’d be second. I’d put Uriel’s capability ahead of his.”
From the double snicker I heard from the true gryps in front of me and the one in my ear, I assumed that our visitor hadn’t liked that correction.
I lifted my hand from Kulon’s back and placed it on his right hip, so that he’d know which way I was going, then stepped to that side. Geraldine, I kept behind Kulon, though she was able to peek around his arm.
Her gasp meant she’d seen the guy’s enormous emerald-green wings that he had spread partially to either side of him like a feathery cloak with a high collar. The rest of him looked like something out of ancient Rome. Silver plate mail armour with gold filigree around the edges covered his whole body from the neck down, and on his chest plate was a huge golden crucifix. He had a presence about him that looked like those sculptures where the guy was wrestling a lion barehanded without a single strand of hair falling out of place.
For whatever reason, it was only at that moment that I realised I was thinking of entirely the wrong generation of ‘uncles’, and as such, I’d forgotten all about this one …
…and more importantly, how I’d kinda been bad-mouthing him to Geraldine’s family less than an hour ago.
Ooooh, crap.
Though in my defence, I hadn’t technically bad-mouthed him. I was more … challenging the validity of his core belief. Yeah, that’d be what I’d go with if this was his way of clipping me under the ear.
“What’s he want with me?” I asked, hoping it might not be about that at all, and he was just looking for a social chit-chat.
The angel-boss/masteguy didn’t answer. Just gave me The Look.
“Crap,” I huffed under my breath and turned back to Gerry.
Only to find her pasty and trembling, staring straight at the angel. “H-H-He’s right there, r-right?” she stammered. Her breathing was erratic, and her eyes broke away from the guy to glance at me, then snapped straight back to him. “Angel. He’s an angel. A-a-a re-re-real—a real angel.”
“And you must be Sam’s plus one,” the angel smiled, lifting his already rugged handsomeness to transcendent levels. I was beginning to see why Geraldine hated the idea of me talking to pretty women. Seriously, would it hurt the guy to have some physical faults somewhere?
Oblivious to my internal monologue, the angel rolled forward in an introductory bow. “I am the Archangel Michael, Choirmaster of the Sixth Choir known as the Heavenly Host.”
“And today, a glorified errand boy,” Kulon reminded him.
Geraldine spluttered in horror, and I could have kissed Kulon for his snark.
“I am whatever He requires,” Michael sang, straightening up. Apparently, his friendliness had run its course, for he held his hand out to me and commanded, “Come, Sam. I will take you to Him.”
Since my interactions with angels were rather limited, I looked at Kulon for guidance.
He had that far-off stare that meant he was talking to one of his higher-ups before he dipped his head in either agreement or obedience and refocused on the angel. “Remember, Michael, your tricks don’t work on us. Not your speed. Not your brutality. Not even your establishment field. Before you or your Almighty can summon more angels, you’ll be overwhelmed with so many true gryps, you’ll be crushed under our body weight alone. Sam is ours, and you are no match for us. Are we clear?”
I nudged Kulon’s arm. “Why are you threatening him?”
“I’m not threatening him,” Kulon said, still glaring at Michael. “I’m reminding him of the stupidity of thinking you are anything other than fully protected at all times.”
“Okay … and why’s that relevant?”
Kulon sighed. “Because Michael has been known to go off the reservation occasionally for what he considers the greater good. Of course, he gets reprimanded for it afterwards, but then he gets his old job back because it’s the way the Almighty wants it. Meanwhile, the act itself is still done.” He stared icily at the angel. “Crossing us would be a huge mistake. Do we understand each other?”
“From your mouth to His ear,” Michael answered.
Kulon’s gaze narrowed all the more. “Exactly.”
Michael waved his hand as if he were chasing a bothersome fly. “Enough with this senseless posturing. You were ordered to turn him over to me, were you not?”
Ignoring Michael’s question, Kulon turned to me. “The Eechee has vouched for this visit, Sam, but the choice to go is yours. Contrary to this idiot’s opinion, no one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to. Not while we’re around.”
I glanced at the angel, getting the hint that no amount of ignoring him would make him go away. “Can I walk Gerry upstairs first?”
Gerry’s grip tightened on my forearm. “I don’t want to go upstairs without you,” she said. I was about to ask why not when she added, “If I go in without you and anyone sees me, they’ll know something happened to you. How do I explain all of this when your dad and the others are trying to lie low? And if it gets back to your mom and causes her any kind of stress…” She let that sentence drift off; for my sake, I was sure.
And yeah, I could see where all of that would be bad. “Where do you want to go? Kulon can take you.”
Gerry looked at Kulon. “Could you just … drive me around for a bit? The same problem applies if anyone looks outside and sees the car. Sam can call us when he’s ready to be picked up, and we can come back together again then.”
Kulon looked at me. “This is what you want?”
I cuddled Gerry close and kissed her before guiding her into Kulon’s arms. “You two head off, first.”
I waited until the car pulled away from the curb and then turned to one of the most powerful angels in Heaven, if I was reading the subtext right.
“You have nothing to fear, Sam. He loves His family most of all.”
The angel put his hand on my shoulder, and we walked forward …
…only to stay on our street.
I looked across at him and was surprised to find him scowling darkly. “Do you NOT know how to blank your mind, boy?!” he sang angrily.
“Oh.” OH!
This guy was one of Heaven’s heaviest hitters, and the only reason he’d be telling me to clear my mind was because I was anchoring him … because I was higher up the food chain than him! Oooooh, holy crap!
“Sam!”
Right. Right. Clear head and…
…we realm-stepped away.
[Next Chapter]
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((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!
2024.04.30 14:13 arkan_sonney Vamp Noir, chapter 1 (urban fantasy, 4344 words)
I'd love to hear your general opinion. Any specific pros/cons of the chapter would be great too. I really want a sense of how the story feels for you.
Note that there are minor non-descriptive mentions of sexual acts.
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Chapter 1: A somewhat unconventional childhood
Cecile’s letter said mom is gone. There was a shootout at the club, and they have taken her away. Before you ask, Mom is a vampire. She’d been through worse. I suppose that raises some immediate questions. Let me start over.
I never knew my real parents. I’m pretty sure mom killed them both, but I never asked. If you think it’s strange I never asked, that’s because you don’t know me very well. Mom decided to keep me. Maybe it was a trace of human emotion, or perhaps simple utility, but you know what I think? I think she was curious. She found a baby, and decided it would be interesting to raise it. Mom’s hobbies were always a bit peculiar.
Mom is minor nobility in her clan. Owns a night club, the kind that’s fancy in the front and dirty in the back. You know the deal. I grew up fast, as is usually the case when one spends their childhood among creatures of the night. Mom being nobility meant I met some fancy people, so there’s that. Mom being a vampire, I came face to face with death a few times before I even turned ten. I was always a smart kid, and being smart as a kid means mastering one’s home environment. I learned to talk to all kinds of people: politicians, business men, prostitutes, drug dealers, hit-men, you get the deal. Then there were the undersiders: warlocks, demons, anyone who might be friendly with a vampire.
Speaking of vampires. You’ve read the books, you’ve seen the movies, you probably already feel confused about what is true and what is not. Believe me, even I got some of it confused on occasion. When you have to remember details about multiple supernatural species, all while being bombarded by stories that each tell a different tale – in short, I get it. I’ll try not to make it too hard on you, tell you what you need to know and assume you already know the rest. I promise I won’t make it long; I just prefer not to pause later in the middle of the good stuff just to tell you something boring. I know it’s unconventional and therefore a bad choice, but that’s my way of telling you I don’t care all that much what you think of me.
So, vampires. Immortal, beautiful, drink human blood. You knew all that. What you might not have known: they don’t have a human psyche. So no “I’m a vampire but actually I’m a person just like you”, sorry. Vampires are considered psychopaths by many human warlocks, but that’s not entirely true. Vampires have their own psychology, which happens to be different from our human one. They are built to manipulate us into entering dark alleys and getting our blood sucked. They are intelligent, which made it possible for them to coexist with human magical authorities. They won’t kill their prey unless they have to; but that is only because it’s part of the agreement. Still, most of them aren’t interesting in killing – it’s all about the blood. Blood is feeding and fucking at the same time, though no human can imagine what it feels like for them. They can have regular sex, and some claim they do enjoy it, but vampires are a bunch of liars. Truth is, sex is only a tool for them. They get nothing out of it. The easiest way to tell that they’re lying is if they act human: they look sad? Lies. They look happy? Lies. They look alien and incomprehensible? Probably also lies, but there’s a small chance they are showing you their real self. Vampires aren’t as sociable as humans, but they do have their own societies. So naturally, they have conventions for behaving among themselves. Though they are lying to each other constantly, too. You know how when wolf cubs play-fight with each other it’s actually how they train to fight and hunt? Young vampires play-lie to each other as training for manipulating humans.
Mom could have manipulated me into anything she wanted, which is why it’s so strange to me that she chose to tell me the truth. How do I know it’s the truth, you might ask. Maybe I was manipulated after all. What can I tell you? If I am manipulated, obviously I’d be blind to it. That’s how it works. But manipulation tends to fail an intelligent investigation, because reality tends to not care what your parents chose to tell you. Most of what Mom told me about the underside I have verified for myself. Could she have hidden a huge lie among the truths? Definitely. But honestly, I don’t care. The most important thing you need to know about me and mom is this: She raised me with all the love a boy could ask for from his mother. If there’s a secret plan, I just don’t care. I owe her my life, and would gladly give it away for her sake. Human mothers – healthy ones – can’t help but love their children. My mother cannot feel love, and yet she acted like she did, because she knew that’s what a human child needs in order to grow strong and healthy. Do you get it now?
Back to vampire 101: silver can work, as it works on most undersiders, but unlikely to kill a vampire. A wooden stake through their heart will paralyze them, but only because it prevents their heart from healing. A plastic or metal stake would work just as well. Yes, they have a pulse. They aren’t dead and aren’t undead – they’re alive. That’s the part that pisses people off the most, but sorry, I’m not making the rules here. They are cold to the touch, but most can learn to control their temperature. Garlic kind of works against them; it doesn’t hurt them, but they really hate the stuff. Crosses will work if a warlock uses them to focus his magic, but so would any object with symbolic importance. Sunlight kills them rather quickly. It burns them – not in the burst-into-flames kind of way, more like in the pale-skinned-guy-was-left-in-the-desert-sun-for-too-long kind of way, only they die in a matter of minutes under direct exposure.
Me? I’m not important. I’m a twenty-eight year old guy raised by a vampire. I’m a regular human as far as I can tell, but you know what? Humans are the masters of adaptation, and I had to adapt to a very strange environment. I can feel anything a human can feel; but I was raised by a vampire incapable of human feelings; but she had mastered the play-act of human emotion, and raised me like a loving human mother. Are you confused yet? Imagine what I had to go through. That’s what was always missing for me in stories of the supernatural – otherworldly beings were always either human beings with superpowers or killers with the psychological complexity of an alligator. Real magical creatures – a stupid name by the way, which is why I prefer ‘undersiders’ – each have their own unique psychology. They are often intelligent, complex, and yet almost alien. I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you an accurate representation of that, as a human being cannot truly comprehend a consciousness other than his own – and I’m still human. But unlike all those stories you have read, I grew up with these creatures. So I have some advantage.
I left home when I was fifteen. Haven’t been back since. I traveled, I worked, I slept around, got into fights, became a warlock, you know the deal. I’m pretty good at talking people into doing what I want, but I’m nothing compared to mom. Besides, talking can only get you so far. If you lived the life you know: sometimes violence is all you have. I’m good at that too, if you don’t mind me saying. Seeing what I’ve seen, I knew early on I’d have to learn how to protect myself. I’m confident in a normal fight, and adding what I picked up in the darker arts, even a few human men are not much of a threat to me. Being human, I’m still near the bottom of the food chain when it comes to real strength, of course. As strong as I am, mom could kill me in a heartbeat. And mom was never all that strong.
So yea, we’re basically friends now, right?
Just kidding. I don’t know you.
I’ve been staying in this one place for about a month when Cecile’s letter came. I don’t know how she found me, but with magic it’s not that hard. Especially since I wasn’t hiding. The letter didn’t say much, but it didn’t need to. I know Cecile, and I could read between the lines: it’s bad. Not just mom-might-be-dead bad, but also everyone-you’ve-ever-loved-might-die-soon bad. Something big was going on back home. Oh, Cecile is mom’s partner, in a way. They’re kind of like an old lesbian couple: they live together and share everyday life with each other, but being vampires they don’t have sex at all. On second thought, they’re exactly like and old lesbian couple.
Speaking of couples. I’ve been staying with this older woman, early forties I’d say. I could tell how lonely she was and took advantage. She fell in love with me after a day. I knew that if I’d ask she’d give me everything she owned and still let me go my way. So instead I sneaked away at night, stealing her car and the cash she hid under the sink.
Am I a good guy or a bad guy? Having grown up with undersiders, I never felt comfortable speaking the common human moral language. If you do like talking in those terms, then I suppose you’ll have to decide for yourself where I fit into that mess. If you ask me, I’m just a guy. I don’t feel guilty for doing what I like and for getting what I want. But I’ll rarely take it too far. I enjoy the challenge that comes with violence, and I enjoy the sense of power and control that comes with it, but I don’t enjoy violence without a challenge; meaning, I don’t enjoy hurting the weak. You won’t catch me stealing from a starving man, unless I’m starving too. I’d probably help a lost child find their parents. I’d never kick a dog. I’d definitely help a woman who’s about to get raped, because that stuff’s just nasty. Seriously, a guy who needs violence to get laid needs to be taken out of the gene pool. I’d probably help an attack victim, male or female, if I see one person being attacked by several. I have an issue with weakness; when I see someone acts cowardly I feel like kicking them in the teeth, and asking your friends to help you beat someone up fits the bill for me. I might not sacrifice a stranger to save myself, simply because I know I’ll feel like a coward later. Then again, I kind of like being alive. My bravery, as such, is probably just revulsion in the face of cowardice.
Backtracking my way home, I sold the car and picked up all the stashed goods I hid along the path. Most big cities have undersiders, and where there’s undersiders there’s artifacts. Most warlocks carry their tools of magic on their person (except the weirdos from Essertog who do every spell by hand), and I am no different. Though I’d say I’m more creative than the average warlock. My creativity is not rocket science – the average warlock is just dense.
I have a magical shield embedded in my chest, under the skin (most warlocks wear it as jewelry, which is the first thing people will try and take from you). I have several blades on me, including one in my shoe. I have a multi, which looks like one of those multi-tool army knives, only each tool is a specialized tool for magic. I have an assortment of homemade pills, and the herbs I use to make them. One special pill is always hidden in my rectum – yes, I know, It’s gross and too much work to take in and out each time. But one day I’m sure I’ll need it. I have four rings, one earring, and one bracelet. Lastly, I have a unicorn bone in place of one tooth. You won’t believe how much that cost me.
Remember what I said about being near the bottom of the food chain? That would be without my gear. Wondered how humans manage to stand on equal ground with the likes of vampires and demons? Technically, it’s the ability to do magic. Practically, it’s magical tools and artifact. More modern weapons have their uses, but no one likes them on the underside. Magic, even through an artifact, takes a lot of skill and training to master, but anyone can press a button and blow up some TNT. And if one side starts using conventional warfare, the others will just do the same. Also, most undersiders are old, in human terms. And also, in the underside itself, beyond the human realm, guns won’t do you any good.
Do you see what I mean? About the letter? There was a shootout in a club owned by a minor noble vampire. Mom herself was kidnapped, from what I gather. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen.
I stepped into my home city of Veritom. A city can change a lot in thirteen years, but don’t forget: this city is run by undersiders. And most of them aren’t fans of change.
I slipped quietly into familiar alleys, one of my rings acting as an amplifying for an anti-detection spell as I ran quietly past Bobby’s old drug corner. I felt like I was nine again.
The old club was closed; it was already past 6 AM. Entering through the side door, I couldn’t tell the place was shot. They fixed it up, all good as new.
Cecile was there, still awake. I could tell she didn’t recognize me for a moment, because her eyes and lips expressed emotion far too human. She was a slim woman, with the darkest skin I ever saw. Her eyes were full of light for just one single moment.
“Adam”, she said.
Her face lost all emotion in an instant. I never knew if she did that because she felt comfortable to be herself around me, or because she knew she didn’t have to bother pretending.
“You are well. Jane would be happy”, she added in a flat tone.
She meant it. Whatever “happy” meant to a vampire, it was true mom wanted me to be happy on my own terms.
“Tell me what happened”, I said.
I was glad to see Cecile was ok, but said nothing becuase vampires don’t need human emotional support.
She moved her lower jaw. She did that whenever she was worried. While mom always acted like a human in my presence, Cecile gave up the act once I was old enough to know it didn’t mean she hated me.
“Seven attackers. Six days ago. 5 AM. Automatic weapons, magic, paralyzing projectiles. Unprepared. Unaware. Criers came and left. Princess came and left. Waiting.”
Her fingernails brushed against the fabric of her dress. She was feeling the urge to kill. An unconscious attempt to sharpen her nails, I always thought.
Her eyes met mine. A rare thing for a vampire to do among their peers. Then her face filled with human fury, and I knew she wanted there to be no misunderstanding.
“They will die, Adam. We will get Jane back, then we will kill them all”.
I felt anger growing inside me. Until that moment, I wasn’t all that worried. Mom was old, and she’d been through a lot. Most importantly, she always felt all-powerful to me. I suppose it never sank in that she might be in real danger. But she was. Cecile ‘did a human act’, as mom would call it. Cecile hated acting like a human. This time she did it just for me – she wanted me to understand just how bad the situation really was.
“We’ll get mom back”, I reassured her. “You will feed with her again”.
It was reassurance. Under most circumstances, vampires only shared a meal with someone they trusted with their life, and in a place free from any danger. For mom and Cecile to feed together means they will both be in a very safe place, most likely their home, and that they’ll both be comfortable and relaxed, meaning the conflict would be over. Sharing a meal (Oh, and by that I mean sucking the blood from the same human at the same time) was also one of the most intimate things two vampires did with each other. Vampires are all about blood; the don’t kiss, don’t fuck, don’t even hold hands. They can do all those things, they just don’t want to. I know I told you that already, but it felt relevant.
Cecile gave me a soft smile, a hint of tears in her eyes. Again, that was all an act just for me. But it was her way of telling me how she felt, so in a sense it was real.
I got to work. Drew a diagram on the floor, sprinkled powder, chanted words. Both Council and the Throne already did that, but it’s not like they’ll share with me. Oh, Council represents humans, and is comprised of human warlocks. The Throne is high vampire nobility, this case mom’s clan. Mom isn’t very important, but she’s still nobility, which is why a member of the high nobility came personally. Both groups must have began their own investigation of what happened – which is what they are supposed to do. Only, Council doesn’t give a shit about vampires, and the Throne actively hates the minor nobles. Well, not “hate”, but you get the deal. Vampires were never great at working together on a large scale. In human terms, vampires are very tribal. Then again, humans are also very tribal. Why do you think politicians can destroy countless lives without feeling any guilt, yet still care deeply for their own families? Same principle, only worse. Vampire nobles are basically the ideal to which corrupt politicians aspire.
Conjuring a shadow of the past, I could see the event unfold as a play made out of mist. I found mom, saw her jump on one of the men, trying to bite his throat only to be stopped by some physical protection. Mom must have seen the protection beforehand, but her instincts in sudden battle made her try to bite the throat. Though only an image in mist, she suddenly looked so old to me. An old vampire, one who never mastered magic, who never had a gift for combat, biting at an armored neck.
Cecile was right. We will kill them all.
The man staked mom in the heart. Strangely old school. Her body fell, and the man returned to shooting at some other target. Once it was all over, the attackers carried away their wounded, as well as three unarmored bodies.
“Who did they take?” I asked Cecile.
“Jane, Marcus, Miriam”.
Marcus was a vampire. A warlock vampire. Mom’s club wasn’t his usual scene. I had no idea who Miriam was.
“Explain”, I said.
Cecile gave me a blank look, undoubtedly taking a moment to separates in her head what I knew from what I didn’t.
“Marcus came to talk to Jane. Cooperation. Didn’t ask. Miriam is Crier meal. Joined one week before. Twenty one. Unknown relevance.”
So, the men took mom, a warlock vampire who came to talk to mom about something, and a seemingly random meal-girl? Clearly there was more to this. I’ll have to figure out what.
Oh, and “Crier” is what vampires call a human among themselves. Because we cry, get it? It’s the human action vampires find most unsettling.
“Sleep”, I told Cecily. “I will put up protections and stand guard”.
“No”, she answered. “You sleep too. Allies come to guard us”.
I didn’t ask for more details. Cecile wouldn’t say that if she wasn’t sure. And she was right; I had to get some sleep if I wanted to get anything done later. Most of what I had to do could only be done at night anyway.
“Upstairs?” I asked.
“Clear. Sleep”.
There were rooms upstairs. Some for sex, some for discussion. If you’re wondering why the sex, well, humans really like fucking vampires. The vampires don’t care for it, but they do like what comes after. A vampire’s bite inflicts a minor spell on the victim, preventing them from fighting and interfering with their memories the next day. Blood for sex is a common way for vampires to feed in the modern world, though most humans don’t realize it; they think they have a bad hangover. No human likes getting jumped in a dark alley, and no vampire wants a war with Council. So it kind of works.
“Adam?” a voice called once I got upstairs.
“Lily?” I called back.
She hadn’t changed at all. I knew she wouldn’t, but it was still surprising. I am only human. Lily was my best friend growing up. Turned when she was sixteen, mom took her in and taught her about being a vampire. I was twelve. The first year as a vampire is hard, since vampire instincts are on the predatory side, not the civilized side. One time Lily attacked me, but mom stopped her. We became close friends after that. Meaning, she used me to train her human play-acting. I let her feed on me when I was thirteen. We had sex when I was fourteen. She said she never had sex before, and was worried she couldn’t act the part. Took me a couple months to realize that was a lie.
“Adam!” she ran to me and hugged me. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“I’ve missed you too, Li”.
She leaned closer, a mischievous look in her eyes, then kissed me lightly on the lips.
In case you’re wondering how she could be so cheerful with friends having been murdered and mom taken away, let me remind you that it’s all an act anyhow. Maybe you remembered on your own, but even I took time to wrap my head around it, and I grew up with these people. So it felt relevant to remind you. Also, do you sometimes think I’m talking strangely? In general, I mean. If so, you’re not alone. My normal way of speaking is a human-vampire hybrid speaking pattern which I developed accidentally. Wasn’t able to fully get rid of it, even to this day. When vampire use words, they are often simple words used economically and efficiently. Meaning, the opposite of how humans speak. The result can often sound stilted, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Add to that how I never went to highschool, let alone college, and this is what you get.
“Lets sleep together!”, Lily said.
“Ok, but actual sleep”.
She froze. “You thought I meant sex?” there was annoyance in her voice, and a small hint of disgust. “Sorry, Adam, but I don’t feel that way towards you. I did, once, but it was a long time ago. I hope you can understand”.
I looked into her eyes, searching.
“Flawless act”, I said. “You are amazing”.
She smiled. “Thank you!”
She led me by the hand to one of the rooms, then to the bed.
“We can have sex if you want”, she said.
“Thanks, Li. But I’m honestly tired. And you can’t feed on me. I need my strength to find mom”.
She gave me a cheery smile which meant nothing.
“I know. Now that you’re here, I know you’ll get mom back. Your acting got sloppy, so I know exactly what you’re thinking. And I really do love you, even though you went away for a bit”.
I think she meant that love part. Not “love” like a human love, but... you get the deal. And she probably also meant the “for a bit” part. Vampires treat time differently than us humans do. Thirteen years is like taking a day off. Lily wasn’t old yet, merely thirty two, but a vampire’s sense of time is a part of their nature more than a result of their age. It must have rubbed off on me too, since I rarely felt my age. Growing up with vampires makes you think time will never ran out on you. Which I guess is true for them. And maybe it’s why I’m a twenty-eight year old man who still thinks he’s sixteen.
Lily and I always talked like humans to each other. Her acting did get much better, but it wasn’t flawless like I told her. I could still read her well enough, see the cracks behind her mask. Or were the cracks part of the acting? Was I being played for real? No way to know. Fuck.
“Can I give you a blowjob?” she asked.
I didn’t feel a need for it, so she most likely didn’t read that in my body. She knew I’d help mom no matter what, she knew she couldn’t drink my blood, and she knew I’ll love her no matter what she’ll do for me. There was nothing for her to gain. No angle that I could see. If anything, it would only cause me to suspect her motives – which it did. Maybe I’m getting uber-played for some incomprehensible vampiric reason, but if you ask me, I think she simply loved me, in her own vampiric way, and wanted to make me feel good for that reason only.
“Alright”, I said. “I bet you’ve mastered that too”.
She did. It was the best blowjob of my life.
submitted by arkan_sonney to fantasywriters [link] [comments]
Note that there are minor non-descriptive mentions of sexual acts.
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Chapter 1: A somewhat unconventional childhood
Cecile’s letter said mom is gone. There was a shootout at the club, and they have taken her away. Before you ask, Mom is a vampire. She’d been through worse. I suppose that raises some immediate questions. Let me start over.
I never knew my real parents. I’m pretty sure mom killed them both, but I never asked. If you think it’s strange I never asked, that’s because you don’t know me very well. Mom decided to keep me. Maybe it was a trace of human emotion, or perhaps simple utility, but you know what I think? I think she was curious. She found a baby, and decided it would be interesting to raise it. Mom’s hobbies were always a bit peculiar.
Mom is minor nobility in her clan. Owns a night club, the kind that’s fancy in the front and dirty in the back. You know the deal. I grew up fast, as is usually the case when one spends their childhood among creatures of the night. Mom being nobility meant I met some fancy people, so there’s that. Mom being a vampire, I came face to face with death a few times before I even turned ten. I was always a smart kid, and being smart as a kid means mastering one’s home environment. I learned to talk to all kinds of people: politicians, business men, prostitutes, drug dealers, hit-men, you get the deal. Then there were the undersiders: warlocks, demons, anyone who might be friendly with a vampire.
Speaking of vampires. You’ve read the books, you’ve seen the movies, you probably already feel confused about what is true and what is not. Believe me, even I got some of it confused on occasion. When you have to remember details about multiple supernatural species, all while being bombarded by stories that each tell a different tale – in short, I get it. I’ll try not to make it too hard on you, tell you what you need to know and assume you already know the rest. I promise I won’t make it long; I just prefer not to pause later in the middle of the good stuff just to tell you something boring. I know it’s unconventional and therefore a bad choice, but that’s my way of telling you I don’t care all that much what you think of me.
So, vampires. Immortal, beautiful, drink human blood. You knew all that. What you might not have known: they don’t have a human psyche. So no “I’m a vampire but actually I’m a person just like you”, sorry. Vampires are considered psychopaths by many human warlocks, but that’s not entirely true. Vampires have their own psychology, which happens to be different from our human one. They are built to manipulate us into entering dark alleys and getting our blood sucked. They are intelligent, which made it possible for them to coexist with human magical authorities. They won’t kill their prey unless they have to; but that is only because it’s part of the agreement. Still, most of them aren’t interesting in killing – it’s all about the blood. Blood is feeding and fucking at the same time, though no human can imagine what it feels like for them. They can have regular sex, and some claim they do enjoy it, but vampires are a bunch of liars. Truth is, sex is only a tool for them. They get nothing out of it. The easiest way to tell that they’re lying is if they act human: they look sad? Lies. They look happy? Lies. They look alien and incomprehensible? Probably also lies, but there’s a small chance they are showing you their real self. Vampires aren’t as sociable as humans, but they do have their own societies. So naturally, they have conventions for behaving among themselves. Though they are lying to each other constantly, too. You know how when wolf cubs play-fight with each other it’s actually how they train to fight and hunt? Young vampires play-lie to each other as training for manipulating humans.
Mom could have manipulated me into anything she wanted, which is why it’s so strange to me that she chose to tell me the truth. How do I know it’s the truth, you might ask. Maybe I was manipulated after all. What can I tell you? If I am manipulated, obviously I’d be blind to it. That’s how it works. But manipulation tends to fail an intelligent investigation, because reality tends to not care what your parents chose to tell you. Most of what Mom told me about the underside I have verified for myself. Could she have hidden a huge lie among the truths? Definitely. But honestly, I don’t care. The most important thing you need to know about me and mom is this: She raised me with all the love a boy could ask for from his mother. If there’s a secret plan, I just don’t care. I owe her my life, and would gladly give it away for her sake. Human mothers – healthy ones – can’t help but love their children. My mother cannot feel love, and yet she acted like she did, because she knew that’s what a human child needs in order to grow strong and healthy. Do you get it now?
Back to vampire 101: silver can work, as it works on most undersiders, but unlikely to kill a vampire. A wooden stake through their heart will paralyze them, but only because it prevents their heart from healing. A plastic or metal stake would work just as well. Yes, they have a pulse. They aren’t dead and aren’t undead – they’re alive. That’s the part that pisses people off the most, but sorry, I’m not making the rules here. They are cold to the touch, but most can learn to control their temperature. Garlic kind of works against them; it doesn’t hurt them, but they really hate the stuff. Crosses will work if a warlock uses them to focus his magic, but so would any object with symbolic importance. Sunlight kills them rather quickly. It burns them – not in the burst-into-flames kind of way, more like in the pale-skinned-guy-was-left-in-the-desert-sun-for-too-long kind of way, only they die in a matter of minutes under direct exposure.
Me? I’m not important. I’m a twenty-eight year old guy raised by a vampire. I’m a regular human as far as I can tell, but you know what? Humans are the masters of adaptation, and I had to adapt to a very strange environment. I can feel anything a human can feel; but I was raised by a vampire incapable of human feelings; but she had mastered the play-act of human emotion, and raised me like a loving human mother. Are you confused yet? Imagine what I had to go through. That’s what was always missing for me in stories of the supernatural – otherworldly beings were always either human beings with superpowers or killers with the psychological complexity of an alligator. Real magical creatures – a stupid name by the way, which is why I prefer ‘undersiders’ – each have their own unique psychology. They are often intelligent, complex, and yet almost alien. I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you an accurate representation of that, as a human being cannot truly comprehend a consciousness other than his own – and I’m still human. But unlike all those stories you have read, I grew up with these creatures. So I have some advantage.
I left home when I was fifteen. Haven’t been back since. I traveled, I worked, I slept around, got into fights, became a warlock, you know the deal. I’m pretty good at talking people into doing what I want, but I’m nothing compared to mom. Besides, talking can only get you so far. If you lived the life you know: sometimes violence is all you have. I’m good at that too, if you don’t mind me saying. Seeing what I’ve seen, I knew early on I’d have to learn how to protect myself. I’m confident in a normal fight, and adding what I picked up in the darker arts, even a few human men are not much of a threat to me. Being human, I’m still near the bottom of the food chain when it comes to real strength, of course. As strong as I am, mom could kill me in a heartbeat. And mom was never all that strong.
So yea, we’re basically friends now, right?
Just kidding. I don’t know you.
I’ve been staying in this one place for about a month when Cecile’s letter came. I don’t know how she found me, but with magic it’s not that hard. Especially since I wasn’t hiding. The letter didn’t say much, but it didn’t need to. I know Cecile, and I could read between the lines: it’s bad. Not just mom-might-be-dead bad, but also everyone-you’ve-ever-loved-might-die-soon bad. Something big was going on back home. Oh, Cecile is mom’s partner, in a way. They’re kind of like an old lesbian couple: they live together and share everyday life with each other, but being vampires they don’t have sex at all. On second thought, they’re exactly like and old lesbian couple.
Speaking of couples. I’ve been staying with this older woman, early forties I’d say. I could tell how lonely she was and took advantage. She fell in love with me after a day. I knew that if I’d ask she’d give me everything she owned and still let me go my way. So instead I sneaked away at night, stealing her car and the cash she hid under the sink.
Am I a good guy or a bad guy? Having grown up with undersiders, I never felt comfortable speaking the common human moral language. If you do like talking in those terms, then I suppose you’ll have to decide for yourself where I fit into that mess. If you ask me, I’m just a guy. I don’t feel guilty for doing what I like and for getting what I want. But I’ll rarely take it too far. I enjoy the challenge that comes with violence, and I enjoy the sense of power and control that comes with it, but I don’t enjoy violence without a challenge; meaning, I don’t enjoy hurting the weak. You won’t catch me stealing from a starving man, unless I’m starving too. I’d probably help a lost child find their parents. I’d never kick a dog. I’d definitely help a woman who’s about to get raped, because that stuff’s just nasty. Seriously, a guy who needs violence to get laid needs to be taken out of the gene pool. I’d probably help an attack victim, male or female, if I see one person being attacked by several. I have an issue with weakness; when I see someone acts cowardly I feel like kicking them in the teeth, and asking your friends to help you beat someone up fits the bill for me. I might not sacrifice a stranger to save myself, simply because I know I’ll feel like a coward later. Then again, I kind of like being alive. My bravery, as such, is probably just revulsion in the face of cowardice.
Backtracking my way home, I sold the car and picked up all the stashed goods I hid along the path. Most big cities have undersiders, and where there’s undersiders there’s artifacts. Most warlocks carry their tools of magic on their person (except the weirdos from Essertog who do every spell by hand), and I am no different. Though I’d say I’m more creative than the average warlock. My creativity is not rocket science – the average warlock is just dense.
I have a magical shield embedded in my chest, under the skin (most warlocks wear it as jewelry, which is the first thing people will try and take from you). I have several blades on me, including one in my shoe. I have a multi, which looks like one of those multi-tool army knives, only each tool is a specialized tool for magic. I have an assortment of homemade pills, and the herbs I use to make them. One special pill is always hidden in my rectum – yes, I know, It’s gross and too much work to take in and out each time. But one day I’m sure I’ll need it. I have four rings, one earring, and one bracelet. Lastly, I have a unicorn bone in place of one tooth. You won’t believe how much that cost me.
Remember what I said about being near the bottom of the food chain? That would be without my gear. Wondered how humans manage to stand on equal ground with the likes of vampires and demons? Technically, it’s the ability to do magic. Practically, it’s magical tools and artifact. More modern weapons have their uses, but no one likes them on the underside. Magic, even through an artifact, takes a lot of skill and training to master, but anyone can press a button and blow up some TNT. And if one side starts using conventional warfare, the others will just do the same. Also, most undersiders are old, in human terms. And also, in the underside itself, beyond the human realm, guns won’t do you any good.
Do you see what I mean? About the letter? There was a shootout in a club owned by a minor noble vampire. Mom herself was kidnapped, from what I gather. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen.
I stepped into my home city of Veritom. A city can change a lot in thirteen years, but don’t forget: this city is run by undersiders. And most of them aren’t fans of change.
I slipped quietly into familiar alleys, one of my rings acting as an amplifying for an anti-detection spell as I ran quietly past Bobby’s old drug corner. I felt like I was nine again.
The old club was closed; it was already past 6 AM. Entering through the side door, I couldn’t tell the place was shot. They fixed it up, all good as new.
Cecile was there, still awake. I could tell she didn’t recognize me for a moment, because her eyes and lips expressed emotion far too human. She was a slim woman, with the darkest skin I ever saw. Her eyes were full of light for just one single moment.
“Adam”, she said.
Her face lost all emotion in an instant. I never knew if she did that because she felt comfortable to be herself around me, or because she knew she didn’t have to bother pretending.
“You are well. Jane would be happy”, she added in a flat tone.
She meant it. Whatever “happy” meant to a vampire, it was true mom wanted me to be happy on my own terms.
“Tell me what happened”, I said.
I was glad to see Cecile was ok, but said nothing becuase vampires don’t need human emotional support.
She moved her lower jaw. She did that whenever she was worried. While mom always acted like a human in my presence, Cecile gave up the act once I was old enough to know it didn’t mean she hated me.
“Seven attackers. Six days ago. 5 AM. Automatic weapons, magic, paralyzing projectiles. Unprepared. Unaware. Criers came and left. Princess came and left. Waiting.”
Her fingernails brushed against the fabric of her dress. She was feeling the urge to kill. An unconscious attempt to sharpen her nails, I always thought.
Her eyes met mine. A rare thing for a vampire to do among their peers. Then her face filled with human fury, and I knew she wanted there to be no misunderstanding.
“They will die, Adam. We will get Jane back, then we will kill them all”.
I felt anger growing inside me. Until that moment, I wasn’t all that worried. Mom was old, and she’d been through a lot. Most importantly, she always felt all-powerful to me. I suppose it never sank in that she might be in real danger. But she was. Cecile ‘did a human act’, as mom would call it. Cecile hated acting like a human. This time she did it just for me – she wanted me to understand just how bad the situation really was.
“We’ll get mom back”, I reassured her. “You will feed with her again”.
It was reassurance. Under most circumstances, vampires only shared a meal with someone they trusted with their life, and in a place free from any danger. For mom and Cecile to feed together means they will both be in a very safe place, most likely their home, and that they’ll both be comfortable and relaxed, meaning the conflict would be over. Sharing a meal (Oh, and by that I mean sucking the blood from the same human at the same time) was also one of the most intimate things two vampires did with each other. Vampires are all about blood; the don’t kiss, don’t fuck, don’t even hold hands. They can do all those things, they just don’t want to. I know I told you that already, but it felt relevant.
Cecile gave me a soft smile, a hint of tears in her eyes. Again, that was all an act just for me. But it was her way of telling me how she felt, so in a sense it was real.
I got to work. Drew a diagram on the floor, sprinkled powder, chanted words. Both Council and the Throne already did that, but it’s not like they’ll share with me. Oh, Council represents humans, and is comprised of human warlocks. The Throne is high vampire nobility, this case mom’s clan. Mom isn’t very important, but she’s still nobility, which is why a member of the high nobility came personally. Both groups must have began their own investigation of what happened – which is what they are supposed to do. Only, Council doesn’t give a shit about vampires, and the Throne actively hates the minor nobles. Well, not “hate”, but you get the deal. Vampires were never great at working together on a large scale. In human terms, vampires are very tribal. Then again, humans are also very tribal. Why do you think politicians can destroy countless lives without feeling any guilt, yet still care deeply for their own families? Same principle, only worse. Vampire nobles are basically the ideal to which corrupt politicians aspire.
Conjuring a shadow of the past, I could see the event unfold as a play made out of mist. I found mom, saw her jump on one of the men, trying to bite his throat only to be stopped by some physical protection. Mom must have seen the protection beforehand, but her instincts in sudden battle made her try to bite the throat. Though only an image in mist, she suddenly looked so old to me. An old vampire, one who never mastered magic, who never had a gift for combat, biting at an armored neck.
Cecile was right. We will kill them all.
The man staked mom in the heart. Strangely old school. Her body fell, and the man returned to shooting at some other target. Once it was all over, the attackers carried away their wounded, as well as three unarmored bodies.
“Who did they take?” I asked Cecile.
“Jane, Marcus, Miriam”.
Marcus was a vampire. A warlock vampire. Mom’s club wasn’t his usual scene. I had no idea who Miriam was.
“Explain”, I said.
Cecile gave me a blank look, undoubtedly taking a moment to separates in her head what I knew from what I didn’t.
“Marcus came to talk to Jane. Cooperation. Didn’t ask. Miriam is Crier meal. Joined one week before. Twenty one. Unknown relevance.”
So, the men took mom, a warlock vampire who came to talk to mom about something, and a seemingly random meal-girl? Clearly there was more to this. I’ll have to figure out what.
Oh, and “Crier” is what vampires call a human among themselves. Because we cry, get it? It’s the human action vampires find most unsettling.
“Sleep”, I told Cecily. “I will put up protections and stand guard”.
“No”, she answered. “You sleep too. Allies come to guard us”.
I didn’t ask for more details. Cecile wouldn’t say that if she wasn’t sure. And she was right; I had to get some sleep if I wanted to get anything done later. Most of what I had to do could only be done at night anyway.
“Upstairs?” I asked.
“Clear. Sleep”.
There were rooms upstairs. Some for sex, some for discussion. If you’re wondering why the sex, well, humans really like fucking vampires. The vampires don’t care for it, but they do like what comes after. A vampire’s bite inflicts a minor spell on the victim, preventing them from fighting and interfering with their memories the next day. Blood for sex is a common way for vampires to feed in the modern world, though most humans don’t realize it; they think they have a bad hangover. No human likes getting jumped in a dark alley, and no vampire wants a war with Council. So it kind of works.
“Adam?” a voice called once I got upstairs.
“Lily?” I called back.
She hadn’t changed at all. I knew she wouldn’t, but it was still surprising. I am only human. Lily was my best friend growing up. Turned when she was sixteen, mom took her in and taught her about being a vampire. I was twelve. The first year as a vampire is hard, since vampire instincts are on the predatory side, not the civilized side. One time Lily attacked me, but mom stopped her. We became close friends after that. Meaning, she used me to train her human play-acting. I let her feed on me when I was thirteen. We had sex when I was fourteen. She said she never had sex before, and was worried she couldn’t act the part. Took me a couple months to realize that was a lie.
“Adam!” she ran to me and hugged me. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“I’ve missed you too, Li”.
She leaned closer, a mischievous look in her eyes, then kissed me lightly on the lips.
In case you’re wondering how she could be so cheerful with friends having been murdered and mom taken away, let me remind you that it’s all an act anyhow. Maybe you remembered on your own, but even I took time to wrap my head around it, and I grew up with these people. So it felt relevant to remind you. Also, do you sometimes think I’m talking strangely? In general, I mean. If so, you’re not alone. My normal way of speaking is a human-vampire hybrid speaking pattern which I developed accidentally. Wasn’t able to fully get rid of it, even to this day. When vampire use words, they are often simple words used economically and efficiently. Meaning, the opposite of how humans speak. The result can often sound stilted, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Add to that how I never went to highschool, let alone college, and this is what you get.
“Lets sleep together!”, Lily said.
“Ok, but actual sleep”.
She froze. “You thought I meant sex?” there was annoyance in her voice, and a small hint of disgust. “Sorry, Adam, but I don’t feel that way towards you. I did, once, but it was a long time ago. I hope you can understand”.
I looked into her eyes, searching.
“Flawless act”, I said. “You are amazing”.
She smiled. “Thank you!”
She led me by the hand to one of the rooms, then to the bed.
“We can have sex if you want”, she said.
“Thanks, Li. But I’m honestly tired. And you can’t feed on me. I need my strength to find mom”.
She gave me a cheery smile which meant nothing.
“I know. Now that you’re here, I know you’ll get mom back. Your acting got sloppy, so I know exactly what you’re thinking. And I really do love you, even though you went away for a bit”.
I think she meant that love part. Not “love” like a human love, but... you get the deal. And she probably also meant the “for a bit” part. Vampires treat time differently than us humans do. Thirteen years is like taking a day off. Lily wasn’t old yet, merely thirty two, but a vampire’s sense of time is a part of their nature more than a result of their age. It must have rubbed off on me too, since I rarely felt my age. Growing up with vampires makes you think time will never ran out on you. Which I guess is true for them. And maybe it’s why I’m a twenty-eight year old man who still thinks he’s sixteen.
Lily and I always talked like humans to each other. Her acting did get much better, but it wasn’t flawless like I told her. I could still read her well enough, see the cracks behind her mask. Or were the cracks part of the acting? Was I being played for real? No way to know. Fuck.
“Can I give you a blowjob?” she asked.
I didn’t feel a need for it, so she most likely didn’t read that in my body. She knew I’d help mom no matter what, she knew she couldn’t drink my blood, and she knew I’ll love her no matter what she’ll do for me. There was nothing for her to gain. No angle that I could see. If anything, it would only cause me to suspect her motives – which it did. Maybe I’m getting uber-played for some incomprehensible vampiric reason, but if you ask me, I think she simply loved me, in her own vampiric way, and wanted to make me feel good for that reason only.
“Alright”, I said. “I bet you’ve mastered that too”.
She did. It was the best blowjob of my life.
2024.04.29 22:34 HughEhhoule Bait Dog
“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
I decided to update everyone
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/ypogh9ZYrZ
submitted by HughEhhoule to HFY [link] [comments]
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
I decided to update everyone
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/ypogh9ZYrZ
2024.04.29 11:51 geoelectric FO32U2P Gripes
The TFTCentral review got all the good bits for the most part.
The panel is excellent and its build quality is better than MSI. The bezel is very solid and the tone on tone front logo is tasteful. There’s no coil whine, the port setup is nice, and the HDR modes are flexible enough to give a few more (imperfect) options for 1000 nit HDR which aren’t so dim. It doesn’t have an OLED care nag dialog.
I will also say that FreeSync over DP does seem to work fundamentally better than MSI’s. It hops around a lot less and appears to handle stuff near LFC better. In particular GBT’s seems to have a bias for sticking in frame doubled mode once it’s there rather than hopping in and out and flickering.
Edit:
u/WilliamG007 tried this on his 321URX, and it now behaves the same as I saw on GBT: MSI stays in frame doubled refresh the entire 40-60 pendulum demo as if avoiding unnecessary LFC hops and associated flickering.
I think Nvidia must have broadly improved this behavior on the driver side over the last month or so since I tested my own 321URX.
But I do have a few gripes.
I do like the dedicated KVM input switch button. I don’t like that it only works when you’re on an already active input.
On a plus side for that one, the 24”/FHD mode does work with VRR.
Turn that option off and Mac can get 200Hz (no idea why not 240). But what version is USB-C now? 2.0? Are USB-A and USB-B also downgraded? It’s not documented.
Another example is the scaling display modes (other than the 24” one bound to the tactical switch). They’re only enabled if you explicitly turn off FreeSync. The manual mentions those are incompatible but not that setting the FreeSync menu option literally disables their menus in a completely different area.
Example: https://www.reddit.com/OLED_Gaming/s/0T7PvUMBx8
So the angle to the top of the stand casts a tall moving or flashing shadow with a rainbow corona on your wall. It’s distracting as hell.
If you try to configure lighting from the Gigabyte Control CenteRGB Fusion desktop app to fix this, the monitor tries to execute both the OSD and the RGBF light pattern at the same time and you get weird results.
If you turn RGB off from OSD then configure it from RGBF it will only light up half the RGB panel for most of the patterns.
And all this is all just trying to configure the top RGB strip on the back with the Aorus logo. There’s a thin bottom accent strip that OSD modes can use, but which you can’t configure with RGBF at all.
In fact, I don’t think RGB Fusion is compatible with this monitor yet. It had me configuring a diagram of an FI32U RGB layout, not the one for FO32U.
In this monitor it hides one line in the popup: the resolution. But it doesn’t do anything to the popup itself, which overlays an eye catching box at bottom center of screen, with the input name and color space (and an extra blank line where resolution would go). The info popup, unfortunately, comes up a lot.
Example: https://www.reddit.com/OLED_Gaming/s/eLTqN6QRgC
Go in or out of full screen? OSD popup. HDR on or off? OSD popup. Refresh rate changes? OSD popup. Use your volume knob in a full screen game? OSD popup—right on top of where your volume readout goes.Volume knob in borderless VRR game? OSD Popup because that canceled your VRR momentarily.
Edit: that turned out to be dragon dogma 2 doing dd2 things. Other borderless games don’t have the last issue.
The one thing it won’t pop up for, no matter the “Resolution Notice” setting?
Changing your Windows resolution.
I don’t know about this one. I have to admit that I’m a little disappointed.
The core functionality all works great but a lot of ancillary features are rough around the edges. The physical design also seems botched in a lot of ways. A lot of my problems won’t or can’t get firmware fixes, and GBT has a poor rep for post sales support. I’m seriously hoping they’ll prove that wrong here.
For the money I’d tell people to still look hard at the Asus. They’re actively putting out updates, and look like they’re trying to get it right.
If MSI’s upcoming firmware drop fixes their VRR and picture mode bugs, it’s probably still the best choice for a straight panel given US pricing. The GI app for it worked much better than GBT’s, and the panel was great too. It just didn’t have a ton past basics.
And now that Dell has fixed their shipping, they’re the safest choice. I just wish they (and LG) had at least a minimal KVM—I dislike rolling my own and having two things to switch. But I did like the curve. It helped a lot with side reflections.
So I’m not as sure as I’d hoped that this is the one I keep. We’ll see in ~3 weeks when I have to make a final call.
submitted by geoelectric to OLED_Gaming [link] [comments]
The panel is excellent and its build quality is better than MSI. The bezel is very solid and the tone on tone front logo is tasteful. There’s no coil whine, the port setup is nice, and the HDR modes are flexible enough to give a few more (imperfect) options for 1000 nit HDR which aren’t so dim. It doesn’t have an OLED care nag dialog.
Edit:
u/WilliamG007 tried this on his 321URX, and it now behaves the same as I saw on GBT: MSI stays in frame doubled refresh the entire 40-60 pendulum demo as if avoiding unnecessary LFC hops and associated flickering.
I think Nvidia must have broadly improved this behavior on the driver side over the last month or so since I tested my own 321URX.
But I do have a few gripes.
- The stand only has metal legs. The rest is plastic.
- The barrel plug connector for the monitor doesn’t fit through the stand cutout you’d normally use to organize cables.
- The USB hub is inconsistent as to whether my keyboard can wake the computer when the screen is off.
I do like the dedicated KVM input switch button. I don’t like that it only works when you’re on an already active input.
- Some options are horribly explained.
On a plus side for that one, the 24”/FHD mode does work with VRR.
- Some behavior is interrelated in odd ways.
Turn that option off and Mac can get 200Hz (no idea why not 240). But what version is USB-C now? 2.0? Are USB-A and USB-B also downgraded? It’s not documented.
Another example is the scaling display modes (other than the 24” one bound to the tactical switch). They’re only enabled if you explicitly turn off FreeSync. The manual mentions those are incompatible but not that setting the FreeSync menu option literally disables their menus in a completely different area.
- The RGB config for the back-panel lighting is a fucking trainwreck.
Example: https://www.reddit.com/OLED_Gaming/s/0T7PvUMBx8
So the angle to the top of the stand casts a tall moving or flashing shadow with a rainbow corona on your wall. It’s distracting as hell.
If you try to configure lighting from the Gigabyte Control CenteRGB Fusion desktop app to fix this, the monitor tries to execute both the OSD and the RGBF light pattern at the same time and you get weird results.
If you turn RGB off from OSD then configure it from RGBF it will only light up half the RGB panel for most of the patterns.
And all this is all just trying to configure the top RGB strip on the back with the Aorus logo. There’s a thin bottom accent strip that OSD modes can use, but which you can’t configure with RGBF at all.
In fact, I don’t think RGB Fusion is compatible with this monitor yet. It had me configuring a diagram of an FI32U RGB layout, not the one for FO32U.
- The directional shortcut buttons only have like eight options each direction can map to and none of them are that useful. Ditto the Tactical Switch button, which has a completely different set of minimally useful options available. There’s one for a game timer but not for refresh meter or dashboard, etc.
- The much richer keyboard shortcuts to individual features that you can configure in Gigabyte Control Center, which would make up for this, don’t work most of the time.
- The OLED care status displays total hours the panel has been on, period, but doesn’t display the total hours since last pixel care. It’s not obvious how long it’s been since the last time. You’ll know over 4 if the option is ready but not how much over 4.
- The screen change OSD info popup is obnoxious, exacerbated by an ineffective “resolution notice” option.
In this monitor it hides one line in the popup: the resolution. But it doesn’t do anything to the popup itself, which overlays an eye catching box at bottom center of screen, with the input name and color space (and an extra blank line where resolution would go). The info popup, unfortunately, comes up a lot.
Example: https://www.reddit.com/OLED_Gaming/s/eLTqN6QRgC
Go in or out of full screen? OSD popup. HDR on or off? OSD popup. Refresh rate changes? OSD popup. Use your volume knob in a full screen game? OSD popup—right on top of where your volume readout goes.
Edit: that turned out to be dragon dogma 2 doing dd2 things. Other borderless games don’t have the last issue.
The one thing it won’t pop up for, no matter the “Resolution Notice” setting?
Changing your Windows resolution.
- The FO32U has the MSI bug of not running pixel care in standby, except with MSI setting power button to off or enabling 4 hour reminders fixes it. GBT has no workaround.
- The FO32U has the Asus bug of only declaring 465 nits in EDID, even in Peak 1000 mode, so RTX HDR is broken in P1000. MSI, Dell, and Asus (now) all handle this correctly.
- Minor nit: the status LED is on the bottom of the chin—and tilted towards the back! You literally cannot see it from the front of the monitor standing near your desk, unless your monitor is tilted upwards. Your eyes need to be almost even with the bottom of the monitor for it to be visible, if the screen is vertical.
- Other minor nit: the buttons by the joystick are loose and rattly, and there’s a round plastic cone on the stand near the mount that’s also loose and cheap feeling—way more so than any part of Dell or MSI’s stands. Nothing felt cheap on my FI32U.
I don’t know about this one. I have to admit that I’m a little disappointed.
The core functionality all works great but a lot of ancillary features are rough around the edges. The physical design also seems botched in a lot of ways. A lot of my problems won’t or can’t get firmware fixes, and GBT has a poor rep for post sales support. I’m seriously hoping they’ll prove that wrong here.
For the money I’d tell people to still look hard at the Asus. They’re actively putting out updates, and look like they’re trying to get it right.
If MSI’s upcoming firmware drop fixes their VRR and picture mode bugs, it’s probably still the best choice for a straight panel given US pricing. The GI app for it worked much better than GBT’s, and the panel was great too. It just didn’t have a ton past basics.
And now that Dell has fixed their shipping, they’re the safest choice. I just wish they (and LG) had at least a minimal KVM—I dislike rolling my own and having two things to switch. But I did like the curve. It helped a lot with side reflections.
So I’m not as sure as I’d hoped that this is the one I keep. We’ll see in ~3 weeks when I have to make a final call.
2024.04.29 00:05 HughEhhoule Bait Dog
“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
I decided to let everyone know how things are going.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/TQJpCXsGMK
submitted by HughEhhoule to nosleep [link] [comments]
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
I decided to let everyone know how things are going.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/TQJpCXsGMK
2024.04.29 00:04 HughEhhoule Bait Dog
“Get the fuck out of my house with this ‘ old country’ shit Sylvia, I’m serious. “ I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
submitted by HughEhhoule to Pituniverse [link] [comments]
“I give children and idiots three warnings. That’s your first. “ It takes me a second to recognize my aunt’s voice. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and it’s nearly 2am.
“Syl, he’s right, this is crazy. I’m Roma, I’m proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. “ My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and I’m fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
“So you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesn’t mean the other side ignores you. “ Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
“Might as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolas’ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you don’t need him. “ Mom isn’t pleading, but I can hear she’s worried.
“Why are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. “ My dad isn’t worried, he’s angry.
“That’s two. “ Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
“That’s three. “ Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like he’s trying to talk but can’t. My heart starts to race, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
“Syl! Jesus Christ, that’s my husband. “ Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
“Happy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. He’s 16, he has a license, yes? “ I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
“No, he’s not interested in driving. You can’t take him Syl. “ my mom sounds frantic, Sylvia’s steps are measured and heavy.
“Not interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. “ Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didn’t just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that I’m awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driver’s seat, she’s 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, it’s, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
“Any chance of putting both hands on the wheel? “ I say, I’m mad, but I don’t even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and I’m shocked. It’s an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
“Go through too many steering wheels that way. “ She says with a smirk.
“What’s going on? “ I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
“You’re a big boy, so if you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. There’s a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because you’re strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because you’re unknown, and, little one, disposable. “ Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this woman’s energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, “You have to put that out! “ as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor I’ve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
I’m stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe she’s some kind of, I don’t know, mobster or something.
But that isn’t quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. It’s like no one notices what she’s doing.
“How does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I don’t come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. “ Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, “You’ll see when we get there. “.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the world’s oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says “ Gritt Auctions” the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
“They’re family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. “ She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my mom’s family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
“When do I get to know what’s going on? “ I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. I’d say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
“Don’t whine. You’ve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robert’s attitude, rejected by your family.
I don’t want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? “ Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
“No… “ I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I don’t even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
“Next one’s with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? “ Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation I’m in.
“Answer is still no. Because to be angry, I’d have to know a God-Damned thing about what’s going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now I’m standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, I’m your new King. So no, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. “ I’m shocked at what I’m saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylvia’s face seems to soften slightly.
“There’s the Gritt in you. “ She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise it’s half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
“Before I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. “
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see it’s made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
“You’re not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. I’ll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. “ The thing says, it’s voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
“ 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? “ Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps it’s jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
“If I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, I’d be a huge fan. “ I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, “And if anything feels like just telling me what’s going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. “
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
“Augustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets what’s coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. “ Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
“If your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. “ She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
“You’re going to have to turn around sometime kid. “ The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
“Holy shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you don’t even get it. I can see what you’re thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out… “ Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I don’t have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as it’s clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve slept, but I’m brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize it’s been at least a day since I’ve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family I’ve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like I’m a used car.
“I’m always right soft boy. Remember that. “ She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes “Faron’s Funhouse. “
It’s a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but there’s a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen ‘cousins’ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, it’s mismatched eyes rolling in it’s skull.
I don’t hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
“Eyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where you’re going. “ Are her only instructions.
For once, they’re clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and I’m equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what you’d think. I know you’re all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. It’s a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. It’s obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but it’s nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, I’m shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, I’m standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, I’ve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell let’s throw Pokemon and the like in there as it’s basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman I’ve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as I’m locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
“Just hit ya didn’t it, bud? “ He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, “You’re not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly aren’t my fucking partner. “, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, “ You’re a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. “
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
“If I’ve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. “ The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snail’s foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. It’s face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, he’s big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kid’s right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didn’t set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
“Man after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. “ Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
“Don’t be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of us“ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
“You have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. “ Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
“Was that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. “ He’s panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesn’t feel like watching a fight, it’s more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
I’m running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but I’m determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, it’s ugly, it’s not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
“We have to win. “ he says, lunging at me with the blade.
He’s slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as I’d like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad I’m hurt, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I can’t escape.
It's a stalemate, I’m no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but he’s missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. I’m thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I can’t get any leverage. It’s not a stalemate, it’s a war of attrition that I’m losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, he’s too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesn’t matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someone’s life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
I’m frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, “We’ve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. “ he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
“How’s it feel to be a child killer, bud? “, Augustus laughs, “Not that I can’t tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didn’t it? “
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
“I can’t let that go to waste, now can I? “ he slaps me lightly, “It’s going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point I’m going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? “
Of course, I made it out alive. It’d be kind of hard to have posted this if I didn’t.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I’ll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. I’m in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
2024.04.28 17:09 Vast-Remove537 just so no one falls for this scam
 | its a fake no one dm the guy just a waste of money submitted by Vast-Remove537 to igcse [link] [comments] |
2024.04.27 21:55 DDoubleBlinDD Everyone's a Catgirl! Ch. 255: Inventing the Girl
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Cannoli’s heart hammered against her chest. She wanted so badly to look behind her and make sure that Buttons and Freckles went unseen. That the blanket hiding them hadn’t moved. But even the tiniest glance could mean their capture—if Muzhira hadn’t spotted the blazards already.
“S-Sister Cecilia,” Rozalyn stammered, then bowed deeply. “My apologies.”
Sister Cecilia had blue hair the color of the sky that tumbled over the dazzling white and gold of her robes. Dozens of sapphires sparkled from their tendrils, wrapped and twined in mindful placements where none touched the others. Her soft features would suggest a kind face, but her silver eyes glimmered with disappointment. She stood just as tall as Muzhira, and her slender ears and thick tail ended in white tufts of fur.
“Cannoli, you were late to your lesson on your first day,” Sister Cecilia chided. “This is unwise and a bleak look for your future.”
“I’m so sorry, Sister Cecilia! I think my nerves got the best of me.” Cannoli mirrored Rozalyn’s bow. Tears burned in the backs of her eyes, and she forced them down. I will not be a disappointment! “Rozalyn was very kind in showing me this room as a place to catch my breath.”
“There are correctly sanctioned areas of the temple for which you may regain composure, Cannoli. Rozalyn, in your three weeks of attendance, you should very well be accustomed to them by now.” Sister Cecilia’s voice lost its edge.
Cannoli caught her breath. They hadn’t seen the blazards. “I will familiarize myself with them immediately, Sister Cecilia. Outside of my lesson time, of course.” She rose, cautiously searching Cecilia’s face. The pink on the sister’s cheeks had vanished, and her eyes warmed.
“Pardon my interference, Sister Cecilia, but I’m certain I overheard them speaking of hiding something,” Muzhira said, pitching her tone toward curious innocence.
Cannoli’s heart skipped. She forced her features to stay blank. Muzhira had been following them in the shadows.
Rozalyn straightened. “Ourselves,” she replied. “It is as Cannoli says. Such a drastic change in our lives feels overwhelming at times. Not all of us have taken to our path as adeptly as you have, Muzhira.”
For a split second, Muzhira furrowed her brows and frowned. It vanished when Sister Cecilia turned to look at her.
“We are wasting valuable time, ladies. I would ask you to refrain from visiting this wing of the temple and utilizing acceptable resources in the future,” Cecilia instructed. “Now, Cannoli will come with me, and I trust you two will return to your studies?”
“Yes, Sister Cecilia,” Rozalyn and Muzhira replied in unison.
“Very good. Cannoli? If you will?”
“O-of course!” Cannoli skipped forward, forgetting her attempts to soften her steps. After the first two fell like boulders crashing into the ocean, she remembered herself and slowed. Now that Buttons was safe, she couldn’t let her excitement get the better of her.
Sister Cecilia smiled—a warm, genuine reaction that reached her eyes. “Let this be our first lesson.” She gestured to their feet as they entered the cool hallway. “Silent steps require a sound mind and prepared body. We must first be aware of our surroundings and steady our breathing.” Raising her hands to the height of her chest, Cecilia took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled, lowering her hands with it. “We will walk as we breathe. Let us start there. Try to match your steps with mine.”
It sounded simple in practice, but Cannoli realized it required her to pay close attention to the cadence of her breathing alongside the timing of her steps, and that was outside of keeping up with Cecilia. She was so focused on the task that she didn’t see Rozalyn or Muzhira pass her. They reached the hallways and continued around the storage boxes. Cecilia was a patient teacher, offering tidbits of advice here and there, a much different approach to the streams of information Cannoli had seen in the Venicia School of Etiquette.
Cecilia stopped at the double doors to the library and raised a hand. “Very good, Cannoli. We will work on this first thing each afternoon.” She opened the doors and gestured for Cannoli to enter.
When Cannoli stepped across the threshold, her eyes widened, and her breath caught. “Oh my goodness,” she murmured.
Multiple shelves flanked by golden columns protruded from the walls, each housing six rows of polished wood and filled from edge to edge with books. The design continued to the second story, where smooth railings protected curious initiates from stepping over the edge. Painted murals of Saoirse and her masked prophets appeared in detailed circles on the ceiling, surrounded by ivory sculptures and gold filigree flecked with sapphires. The tiled floor featured floral mosaics among the alternating gold and white squares.
Inside the alcoves created by bookshelves were initiates poring over books and taking notes. Others with two thick tomes open seemed to be copying scripts and hymns. A few read for pleasure, curled up in a corner chair with their tails tucked around their ankles.
“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Cecilia asked.
“Yes. Oh my, yes. How many books are here?”
“Fifteen hundred. It is Nyarlea’s largest collection to date.”
Cannoli gaped. “This feels like a dream.” It seemed impossible to have so many books in one building. As a kitten, Mother returning home with a book was a cause for celebration. Cannoli had treasured her small collection of reading material and read them so many times that the ink was beginning to fade.
“Let us hope you feel the same way while you study.” A knowing smile twitched at the corners of Cecilia’s lips. “You will spend much time with these tomes.”
“I look forward to it,” Cannoli replied honestly.
“Good. Today, however, we must attune you to a weapon.” Sister Cecilia marched forward before Cannoli could ask what she meant.
Cannoli skipped to catch up, then focused again on her breathing and keeping time with Cecilia. Her steps had quieted just a little, but it was a start. They made their way to the back of the library, where Cecilia unlocked a white door with a key around her wrist. Cannoli moved inside, and Cecilia locked the door behind them.
“This is the armory,” Cecilia said. “You are only to come here with an instructor, regardless of whether your peer has found an errant key.” A hint of humor touched her words, but Cannoli blushed all the same. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cannoli said with a nod.
“Excellent. Over here, then.”
Cannoli crossed the circular room, noting the different weapons on the walls, the complicated sigils and diagrams sketched on aging pieces of parchment, and the Enchanted lamps that flickered to life as they passed.
“Please shift to [Combat Mode], Cannoli,” Cecilia instructed.
Cannoli recalled so long ago when she’d found so much joy in changing into her [Combat Mode]. The idea of saving her friends and helping her Party had made her truly feel magical. Matt and Keke had teased her, but she still loved turning the routine into a spectacle.
Now, changing into her offensive gear twisted her stomach. It meant something, or someone, was about to die. And there was nothing she could do about it.
“Cannoli?” Cecilia repeated.
“S-sorry. [Combat Mode].” Cannoli watched as the white robes vanished, replaced by the resplendent silks and satins Cailu had purchased for her. The gear was stunning, perfect, and beautiful. Cannoli still didn’t feel like she deserved a single piece of it.
A look of stunned surprise widened Cecilia’s eyes and mouth. “Where do you hail from, child?”
“Ni Island.” Cannoli’s blush deepend. “I’ve been with Matt— …with my island’s man since his birth. We were in a lot of fights, so San Island’s man, Cailu, bought us all armor.”
“They work together? The men?” Cecilia remarked.
“Well, Cailu’s trying to get them all to work together.” Cannoli’s stomach twisted. The duel between Cailu and Magni flashed in her mind’s eye. It felt blasphemous to say what they’d done out loud, especially inside of Saoirse’s temple. “Does…uniting the men go against Saoirse’s teachings, Sister Cecilia?”
“I see you carry difficult questions.” Cecilia observed Cannoli for a long time, eyes thoughtfully searching her face. “While there is not a set precedent for the men uniting, we will make it a lesson for another day. Can you summon your weapon for me?”
Cannoli did as Cecilia asked. Her armor may have been luxurious, but she wielded the same scepter she’d held since she could first access [Combat Mode].
Cecilia held out her hand, and Cannoli passed the scepter over for inspection. “Quite a dichotomy in quality.” Cecilia chuckled.
“I’ve never tried anything else,” Cannoli admitted. “I wouldn’t know what weapon to ask for.”
Cecilia nodded and turned toward the wall of weapons. “This Level of equipment is what I’m more accustomed to seeing from new initiates. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
“You will still gain benefits for using a scepter if you so choose, but it is best to test them all and find what fits you. Your weapon serves as an extension of yourself and thus an extension of Saoirse.” Cecilia selected a hammer and held it across both hands in a display. “Hammers will grant you great Strength and fortitude. They are an excellent choice for those seeking the best protection for themselves or those who journey alone.” She passed it to Cannoli.
Cannoli accepted the handle and was surprised by the weight when she lifted it. Her arm drooped as she choked up toward the carved metal block. “So I would, um, attack things with this?”
“Yes. There are multiple Spells to imbue the end with the holy element. It would also require you to allocate a section of your Stats to Strength.”
Matt cleaving Encroacher after Encroacher came to mind. Cannoli shook her head furiously and held out the hammer. “I can’t use this.”
Cecilia nodded and accepted the weapon before returning it to the wall. She lifted a staff lying horizontally on its two prongs, then turned to Cannoli. “Staves are for those who seek to attack from afar, granting the wielder a fiery offensive holy magic that is incredibly potent against the Defiled.”
The staff was lighter in Cannoli’s grasp, and she found it most comfortable if she held it in both hands. Fiery offensive… But they already had Ravyn’s unmatched fire Spells. Besides, Cannoli didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. She wanted to heal them. Help them. “I don’t think this one is for me, either.”
“Understood.” Cecilia replaced the staff, then reached for the final weapon—a golden scepter imbued with glittering sapphires. “This scepter is of a higher quality, so it may feel different in your hands.” She passed it to Cannoli. “Scepters will grant you additional healing abilities, as well as assistance to your Sigil Spells, which you will discuss with Sister Madeleine in your evening lessons.”
The balance of the golden scepter was perfect, and the grip in Cannoli’s hand felt right. “This is it, Sister Cecilia. This is the weapon I want.”
“Very good, then. Once you’ve passed my initial training, we will forge you one just like it.” Cecilia exchanged the golden scepter for Cannoli’s with a nod. “It seems you’ve had much experience traveling in your Party, Cannoli. I look forward to your sessions.”
“Thank you, Sister Cecilia. I do, too.”
For just a few heartbeats, Cannoli imagined her [Combat Mode] routine again, and she smiled.
Cannoli Pro Tip: I'm glad that scepters will help me heal more efficiently. They feel the most natural to me now. This one's so pretty!
First Previous Next Volume 1 Volume 2 Volume 3 Patreon Newsletter
---------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading!
Advance chapters, Side Quest voting, exclusive NSFW chapters, full-res art, acrylic pins, WIPs, and more on Patreon!
Everyone's a Catgirl! Volume One is available now on Kindle Unlimited and Audible! Volume Two and Volume Three are out on Kindle Unlimited and Paperback!
Matt and Ravyn have a stream!
EaC! is also available on Royal Road!
Let's hang on Discord!
submitted by DDoubleBlinDD to HFY [link] [comments]
Cannoli’s heart hammered against her chest. She wanted so badly to look behind her and make sure that Buttons and Freckles went unseen. That the blanket hiding them hadn’t moved. But even the tiniest glance could mean their capture—if Muzhira hadn’t spotted the blazards already.
“S-Sister Cecilia,” Rozalyn stammered, then bowed deeply. “My apologies.”
Sister Cecilia had blue hair the color of the sky that tumbled over the dazzling white and gold of her robes. Dozens of sapphires sparkled from their tendrils, wrapped and twined in mindful placements where none touched the others. Her soft features would suggest a kind face, but her silver eyes glimmered with disappointment. She stood just as tall as Muzhira, and her slender ears and thick tail ended in white tufts of fur.
“Cannoli, you were late to your lesson on your first day,” Sister Cecilia chided. “This is unwise and a bleak look for your future.”
“I’m so sorry, Sister Cecilia! I think my nerves got the best of me.” Cannoli mirrored Rozalyn’s bow. Tears burned in the backs of her eyes, and she forced them down. I will not be a disappointment! “Rozalyn was very kind in showing me this room as a place to catch my breath.”
“There are correctly sanctioned areas of the temple for which you may regain composure, Cannoli. Rozalyn, in your three weeks of attendance, you should very well be accustomed to them by now.” Sister Cecilia’s voice lost its edge.
Cannoli caught her breath. They hadn’t seen the blazards. “I will familiarize myself with them immediately, Sister Cecilia. Outside of my lesson time, of course.” She rose, cautiously searching Cecilia’s face. The pink on the sister’s cheeks had vanished, and her eyes warmed.
“Pardon my interference, Sister Cecilia, but I’m certain I overheard them speaking of hiding something,” Muzhira said, pitching her tone toward curious innocence.
Cannoli’s heart skipped. She forced her features to stay blank. Muzhira had been following them in the shadows.
Rozalyn straightened. “Ourselves,” she replied. “It is as Cannoli says. Such a drastic change in our lives feels overwhelming at times. Not all of us have taken to our path as adeptly as you have, Muzhira.”
For a split second, Muzhira furrowed her brows and frowned. It vanished when Sister Cecilia turned to look at her.
“We are wasting valuable time, ladies. I would ask you to refrain from visiting this wing of the temple and utilizing acceptable resources in the future,” Cecilia instructed. “Now, Cannoli will come with me, and I trust you two will return to your studies?”
“Yes, Sister Cecilia,” Rozalyn and Muzhira replied in unison.
“Very good. Cannoli? If you will?”
“O-of course!” Cannoli skipped forward, forgetting her attempts to soften her steps. After the first two fell like boulders crashing into the ocean, she remembered herself and slowed. Now that Buttons was safe, she couldn’t let her excitement get the better of her.
Sister Cecilia smiled—a warm, genuine reaction that reached her eyes. “Let this be our first lesson.” She gestured to their feet as they entered the cool hallway. “Silent steps require a sound mind and prepared body. We must first be aware of our surroundings and steady our breathing.” Raising her hands to the height of her chest, Cecilia took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled, lowering her hands with it. “We will walk as we breathe. Let us start there. Try to match your steps with mine.”
It sounded simple in practice, but Cannoli realized it required her to pay close attention to the cadence of her breathing alongside the timing of her steps, and that was outside of keeping up with Cecilia. She was so focused on the task that she didn’t see Rozalyn or Muzhira pass her. They reached the hallways and continued around the storage boxes. Cecilia was a patient teacher, offering tidbits of advice here and there, a much different approach to the streams of information Cannoli had seen in the Venicia School of Etiquette.
Cecilia stopped at the double doors to the library and raised a hand. “Very good, Cannoli. We will work on this first thing each afternoon.” She opened the doors and gestured for Cannoli to enter.
When Cannoli stepped across the threshold, her eyes widened, and her breath caught. “Oh my goodness,” she murmured.
Multiple shelves flanked by golden columns protruded from the walls, each housing six rows of polished wood and filled from edge to edge with books. The design continued to the second story, where smooth railings protected curious initiates from stepping over the edge. Painted murals of Saoirse and her masked prophets appeared in detailed circles on the ceiling, surrounded by ivory sculptures and gold filigree flecked with sapphires. The tiled floor featured floral mosaics among the alternating gold and white squares.
Inside the alcoves created by bookshelves were initiates poring over books and taking notes. Others with two thick tomes open seemed to be copying scripts and hymns. A few read for pleasure, curled up in a corner chair with their tails tucked around their ankles.
“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Cecilia asked.
“Yes. Oh my, yes. How many books are here?”
“Fifteen hundred. It is Nyarlea’s largest collection to date.”
Cannoli gaped. “This feels like a dream.” It seemed impossible to have so many books in one building. As a kitten, Mother returning home with a book was a cause for celebration. Cannoli had treasured her small collection of reading material and read them so many times that the ink was beginning to fade.
“Let us hope you feel the same way while you study.” A knowing smile twitched at the corners of Cecilia’s lips. “You will spend much time with these tomes.”
“I look forward to it,” Cannoli replied honestly.
“Good. Today, however, we must attune you to a weapon.” Sister Cecilia marched forward before Cannoli could ask what she meant.
Cannoli skipped to catch up, then focused again on her breathing and keeping time with Cecilia. Her steps had quieted just a little, but it was a start. They made their way to the back of the library, where Cecilia unlocked a white door with a key around her wrist. Cannoli moved inside, and Cecilia locked the door behind them.
“This is the armory,” Cecilia said. “You are only to come here with an instructor, regardless of whether your peer has found an errant key.” A hint of humor touched her words, but Cannoli blushed all the same. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cannoli said with a nod.
“Excellent. Over here, then.”
Cannoli crossed the circular room, noting the different weapons on the walls, the complicated sigils and diagrams sketched on aging pieces of parchment, and the Enchanted lamps that flickered to life as they passed.
“Please shift to [Combat Mode], Cannoli,” Cecilia instructed.
Cannoli recalled so long ago when she’d found so much joy in changing into her [Combat Mode]. The idea of saving her friends and helping her Party had made her truly feel magical. Matt and Keke had teased her, but she still loved turning the routine into a spectacle.
Now, changing into her offensive gear twisted her stomach. It meant something, or someone, was about to die. And there was nothing she could do about it.
“Cannoli?” Cecilia repeated.
“S-sorry. [Combat Mode].” Cannoli watched as the white robes vanished, replaced by the resplendent silks and satins Cailu had purchased for her. The gear was stunning, perfect, and beautiful. Cannoli still didn’t feel like she deserved a single piece of it.
A look of stunned surprise widened Cecilia’s eyes and mouth. “Where do you hail from, child?”
“Ni Island.” Cannoli’s blush deepend. “I’ve been with Matt— …with my island’s man since his birth. We were in a lot of fights, so San Island’s man, Cailu, bought us all armor.”
“They work together? The men?” Cecilia remarked.
“Well, Cailu’s trying to get them all to work together.” Cannoli’s stomach twisted. The duel between Cailu and Magni flashed in her mind’s eye. It felt blasphemous to say what they’d done out loud, especially inside of Saoirse’s temple. “Does…uniting the men go against Saoirse’s teachings, Sister Cecilia?”
“I see you carry difficult questions.” Cecilia observed Cannoli for a long time, eyes thoughtfully searching her face. “While there is not a set precedent for the men uniting, we will make it a lesson for another day. Can you summon your weapon for me?”
Cannoli did as Cecilia asked. Her armor may have been luxurious, but she wielded the same scepter she’d held since she could first access [Combat Mode].
Cecilia held out her hand, and Cannoli passed the scepter over for inspection. “Quite a dichotomy in quality.” Cecilia chuckled.
“I’ve never tried anything else,” Cannoli admitted. “I wouldn’t know what weapon to ask for.”
Cecilia nodded and turned toward the wall of weapons. “This Level of equipment is what I’m more accustomed to seeing from new initiates. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
“You will still gain benefits for using a scepter if you so choose, but it is best to test them all and find what fits you. Your weapon serves as an extension of yourself and thus an extension of Saoirse.” Cecilia selected a hammer and held it across both hands in a display. “Hammers will grant you great Strength and fortitude. They are an excellent choice for those seeking the best protection for themselves or those who journey alone.” She passed it to Cannoli.
Cannoli accepted the handle and was surprised by the weight when she lifted it. Her arm drooped as she choked up toward the carved metal block. “So I would, um, attack things with this?”
“Yes. There are multiple Spells to imbue the end with the holy element. It would also require you to allocate a section of your Stats to Strength.”
Matt cleaving Encroacher after Encroacher came to mind. Cannoli shook her head furiously and held out the hammer. “I can’t use this.”
Cecilia nodded and accepted the weapon before returning it to the wall. She lifted a staff lying horizontally on its two prongs, then turned to Cannoli. “Staves are for those who seek to attack from afar, granting the wielder a fiery offensive holy magic that is incredibly potent against the Defiled.”
The staff was lighter in Cannoli’s grasp, and she found it most comfortable if she held it in both hands. Fiery offensive… But they already had Ravyn’s unmatched fire Spells. Besides, Cannoli didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. She wanted to heal them. Help them. “I don’t think this one is for me, either.”
“Understood.” Cecilia replaced the staff, then reached for the final weapon—a golden scepter imbued with glittering sapphires. “This scepter is of a higher quality, so it may feel different in your hands.” She passed it to Cannoli. “Scepters will grant you additional healing abilities, as well as assistance to your Sigil Spells, which you will discuss with Sister Madeleine in your evening lessons.”
The balance of the golden scepter was perfect, and the grip in Cannoli’s hand felt right. “This is it, Sister Cecilia. This is the weapon I want.”
“Very good, then. Once you’ve passed my initial training, we will forge you one just like it.” Cecilia exchanged the golden scepter for Cannoli’s with a nod. “It seems you’ve had much experience traveling in your Party, Cannoli. I look forward to your sessions.”
“Thank you, Sister Cecilia. I do, too.”
For just a few heartbeats, Cannoli imagined her [Combat Mode] routine again, and she smiled.
Cannoli Pro Tip: I'm glad that scepters will help me heal more efficiently. They feel the most natural to me now. This one's so pretty!
First Previous Next Volume 1 Volume 2 Volume 3 Patreon Newsletter
---------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading!
Advance chapters, Side Quest voting, exclusive NSFW chapters, full-res art, acrylic pins, WIPs, and more on Patreon!
Everyone's a Catgirl! Volume One is available now on Kindle Unlimited and Audible! Volume Two and Volume Three are out on Kindle Unlimited and Paperback!
Matt and Ravyn have a stream!
EaC! is also available on Royal Road!
Let's hang on Discord!
2024.04.27 05:21 Sodaris Color / brightness flickering issues on 12V WS2815 strip with Athom controller
Issue
I'm new to WLED and purchased an 'all-in-one' WS2815 kit, but have been experiencing constant colobrightness flickering issues.Example video: https://i.imgur.com/5eVi9wn.mp4 (I only left the strip unspooled for a short period)
Link to full album, including images of the controller and connections: https://imgur.com/a/9oRyG8d
Hardware
I'm running the WLED Sounds Reactive ESP32 WS2815 Kit from Athom, which includes:- 5m WS2815 (60leds/m)
- 12V7A Power Supply
- Athom LS8P ESP32 WLED controller
What I've Tried
Many of the troubleshooting I've read online relates to people who have built their own DIY setup using an LED strip wired to an ESP32 board, with suggestions like adding a resistor, etc. That presumably doesn't apply here.I've followed the wiring diagram that came with the board:
- GND to GND (tried both);
- DI to DAT1 (tried DAT2, but unsurprisingly didn't work;
- 12V to VCC (also tried both); and
- BI left unconnected.
I read about people having issues with with grounding. I've tried removing and replacing each wire a few times, including at different 'depths', to no avail. Admittedly I haven't tried stripping back more of the wires – the exposed section of the wire is quite small, but thought I sufficiently tested this when reconnecting them.
The 12V 7A power supply that came with the kit appears to be sufficient. Checking QuinLED's LED Power Usage Sheet suggests that it should be ample. WLED says: "Recommended power supply for brightest white: WS2815 12V 4A supply connected to LEDs.
I've played around the WLED settings, including disabling/enabling automatic brightness limiter. Here are my current settings: https://i.imgur.com/4It4hQn.png
What I haven't tried:
My hope going into this exercise was that an all-in-one kit would require minimal trouble shooting. Here are a few things that I haven't tried, but am not sure if worth exploring:- stripping back more of the wires to ensure a better connection to the pins;
- flashing new firmware; or
- soldering (don't think that's appropriate given the controller).
2024.04.26 05:59 thetabloid_ Too many input arguments. Component:Simulink Control Design Category:Linearization error
 | Hello all, submitted by thetabloid_ to matlab [link] [comments] I have the following Simulink diagram named "harmonic.slx". It has some constants used in it that are defined in the workspace. However this is not an issue as the diagram works just fine. However when trying to use the PID auto-tune (or any type of linearization tool) it gives me the error " Too many input arguments. Component:Simulink Control Design Category:Linearization error". So this next part is what drives me nuts. I copy paste the entire model. All of it identically, and put it in a new blank unsaved diagram. Everything works fine there. This issue has been repeatable on multiple different versions of Matlab/simulink, and multiple different machines (work computer, and personal computer) I already looked at this Matlab thread, and I am using the right path for linearize function. https://preview.redd.it/u1t59xw1zqwc1.png?width=3732&format=png&auto=webp&s=68dffed8d605312b81b425317bf298cfc68168d6 Any help would be greatly appreciated! |