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The Amazing Digital Circus!
2014.10.07 06:58 tadc The Amazing Digital Circus!
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2024.05.14 04:18 AliceMerveilles Need ADF scanning (preferably duplex)
What would you like to accomplish?
I need to make scans of paper documents I must fill out. I also have files that could be digitized. I have a printer, so a scanner only could be ok.Are there any models you are currently looking at?
Epson ES400 II scanner, Canon MF269dw II, Canon G7020, Canon TR8620a, Epson ET-4800, Brother MFC-J4335DW, Brother MFC-J4535DWMore Details:
| Questions | Answers |
|---|---|
| Budget: | $300 |
| Country: | USA |
| Color or black and white: | doesn’t matter |
| Laser or ink printer: | doesn’t matter, though ink or toner price should be a consideration and I don’t have space for a large office sized anything |
| New or used: | prefer new or reliable refurbushed |
| Multi-function: | scan |
| Duplex Printing: | it’s nice, not a requirement |
| Home or business: | home |
| Printing content: | standard letter sized paper |
| Printing frequency: | infrequent, less than once a month, but when I need to generally 20-50 pages |
| Pages per minute : | don’t care |
| Page size: | letter |
| Device printing from: | Mac, iPhone, Ipad |
| Connection type: | Wifi |
Any other details:
I currently have a Brother MFC J1205W and as a printer it’s been fine, but it only has a flatbed scanner and I need the ADF. Single sided ADF could be ok if there is free or inexpensive MacOS software or whatever that works with the scanner and stitches the scans into the right order when the other side is scanned. Also if it’s a printer cost of ink is a consideration. I do not want to get into subscriptions.2024.05.14 04:11 Ur_Anemone It’s time feminists started listening to men
 | Feminism’s foe is supposed to be the middle-aged guy railing at his TV for showing ladies’ bloody football or, worse, letting women commentate on a men’s game. The dinner-on-the-table, girlie-calendar-on-the-wall world he grew up with has been swept away. Poor baffled, angry old fool. submitted by Ur_Anemone to afterAWDTSG [link] [comments] Younger men raised by working mothers to see female classmates and colleagues as equals are thought to breezily accept feminism’s gains. Except this week research by King’s College London showed a quarter of British males aged 16 to 29 believe it is harder now to be a man than woman — and they are more likely than their boomer dads to believe feminism does more harm than good. A global trend is emerging among adults under 30 that the academics Rosie Campbell and Alice Evans call “gendered ideological polarisation”. From South Korea to Spain, young women increasingly support liberal political parties while their male peers are more likely to vote conservative or populist. Older men and women’s voting patterns, however, still largely align. So what is dividing young people? Most critiques focus on how the sexes now live in different social media bubbles: girls on Instagram and TikTok, boys drawn to “manosphere” gurus like Andrew Tate, the alleged sex trafficker eagerly exploiting angry, disaffected boys who can’t get laid. Yet could young women and men diverge politically because each is pursuing their material best interests? Told to #bekind and empathetic, no wonder young women are drawn to liberal parties that promise to care for migrants and the poor. But their support is not entirely altruistic. Progressives offer what they need: state-funded childcare, an end to the gender pay gap, equality legislation and campaigns against male violence such as MeToo. In the hierarchy of oppression preached by progressive politics “the last shall come first and the first shall come last”. At its apex are women, people of colour and the ever-expanding LGBTQ+ “community”. A straight, white guy is at the very bottom. Most young men I know shrug off or joke about their “privilege”. But for lost boys struggling to find a foothold, or those who’ve never felt alpha at all, it must be a slap in the face to learn your needs are not just invalid but that you’re an embodiment of “toxic masculinity”. Why vote for a party that calls you the problem? “This is the best time in history to be a woman,” says Evans. Undoubtedly true. The Labour Party has dropped all-women shortlists now female MPs are a majority in the PLP. Women have never been safer in childbirth. Once girls are allowed education, they always exceed boys: globally, 100 women are in higher education for every 88 men. From astronauts to prime minister, there is no male bastion women haven’t breached. Female empowerment is celebrated. You go, girl! Evans is right that gender equality is not a “zero sum game” — realising women’s potential has economic benefits for all — but coldly, objectively this not the best time in history to be a man. At work he must compete with women for preferment, at home he can’t expect the full wifely domestic service. (Older men are more relaxed about feminism, I suspect, because it hasn’t harmed their lifestyle.) Plus what gender barriers do men have to break? Where are the plaudits and “you go, boy!” for being a stay-at-home dad or caring for your elderly mum? Evans notes that one reason for gender divergence is a “feminised public culture” and cites the book industry where a predominantly female staff publish mainly female writers to serve female readers. The Royal Society of Literature website boasts about its “queefemale-led team”, hardly welcoming to a young man toiling over his first draft. Yet the feminised sphere now extends into teaching, academia, medicine and the legal profession. Even if you greet this as progress, it is facile to suggest men have lost nothing. And what irks younger males is still being hammered about “privilege” by confident, successful female peers. I realise I can only write this because I’m a woman, a feminist even. (Few male colleagues would dare.) Failing to address specific male issues won’t make women’s lives better; indeed it only breeds misogyny and wider misery. Countries with the widest gender polarisation have the lowest birth rates. In South Korea, where men retain traditional sexist ideas while wallowing in modern online porn culture, young women now sign pledges not to marry or even date. A riven society is a loveless one. Yet to raise under-attainment of working-class boys makes you a men’s rights activist; ask if fatherless black boys are drawn to gangs and you’re racist. Every man who speaks to the modern male condition must be another Andrew Tate. Jordan Peterson’s initial 12 rules merely told young men to stand up straight and that tidying your room or stroking a cat could bring structure and joy to seemingly meaningless lives. Now Peterson is demonised. From the female standpoint it looks as if everything men enjoy is either mocked or condemned. A group of blokes going fishing must be saddos avoiding their wives: a stag-do must be a drunken, red-light crawl, but a hen night is an uproarious female bonding trip. The only acceptable men-only spaces now are gyms and, as Helen Lewis said on her Radio 4 New Gurus programme, blokey podcasts thrive because they serve the hunger for banter once satisfied in the pub. Is it harder to be a man than a woman now? In some senses, yes. And if this is how a quarter of young guys feel, instead of demonising or dismissing them, we need to find out why. |
2024.05.14 03:47 CheckUrCrawlspaces Growing up, my mother forbade me from ever talking about my little brother outside the house. 50 years later, they're both dead, and I'm ready to talk
The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.
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Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.
2024.05.14 03:44 shaneka69 LIBRA ZODIAC PREDICTIONS MAY 2024
LIBRA ZODIAC PREDICTIONS MAY 2024
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2024.05.14 03:43 Blockchain-TEMU Foundry Safety
- Do not go too far underground or there is the nether or the deep 1.1 Do not exceed personal ability limit for the wargame 1.1.1 Do not allow X-Rays or too much high frequency into the signal 1.1.2 Do not allow Mutagens or too much Bass in the signal 1.1.3 Do not allow fire unless specifically working with fire 1.1.4 Do not exceed cost limit 5000 actual barrel cost for barrel to item limit 1.1.5 Do not exceed 2 knots at a time in a blueprint or mutagen will form 1.1.6 Do not exceed 1 pass a time in a blueprint or mutagen will form 1.1.7 (Our Foundry Specific) Do not Exceed 100 points of cost detail 1.1.8 Do not exceed 1 point of cost offset overflow 1.1.9 To not underflow 1 point of cost offset overflow 1.2.1 Do not combine source besides with metal 1.2.2 Do not combine motion except with a hydrogen range 1.2.3 Do not combine weed except with motion 1.2.4 Do not use small lettering or large lettering any letters besides standard -33 MID set 1.2.5 Do not create aurora and create quality assurance to avoid aurora 1.2.6 Do not output liquid or gas products except liquid product for a medicine or food 1.2.7 Do not exceed 0 nominal (infinity) at sample or a gas explosion will form, even if secret but you may exceed this outside a sample if the total sample global output does not exceed 0 nominal 1.2.8 Take only exact reference measurement at known measurement point 1.2.9 Do not exceed 3 or 4 acts of alkenation 1.3.0 Do not exceed 1 minor act of hydrogenation in a hydrogen synthesis 1.3.1 Do not exceed 2 points of hydrogenation in a core synthesis 1.3.2 Do not exceed 5 points of diolation ever 1.3.3 Do not use tropane or higher frequency 1.3.4 Make sure the signal is pure of heavy metal 1.3.5 Make sure the signal is pure of vaseline 1.3.6 Make sure the signal is pure of methanol and isopropanol and ethanol 1.3.7 Make sure the signal exhibits known food attribute source minisulfur starch sugar hydrogen alkene (edibles, 1/2 diol) for a sugar and does not variate between starch and sugar molecularly or it will be oxiracetam 1.3.8 Make sure in another method that the signal exhibits minisource and minisulfur nutraloaf and starch and hydrogen and alkene (vinegar oil, diol) for a lipid synthesis 1.3.9 Make sure that the synthesis exhibits reference pure source hydrogen alkene in the EDTA/Tianeptine Synthesis 1.4.0 Make sure that the synthesis exhibits hydrogen in an acid synthesis 1.4.1 Make sure that the hydrogenation is not excessive for a hydrochloride synthesis 1.4.2 Make sure that the substance exhibits minisource and sulfur and starch and pepsi-cola and alkene for a chlorophyll synthesis 1.4.3 A computer synthesis does not use the hydrogen romanaj set starch=LED1 sugar=LED2 sweet=LED3 Hydrogen=Hydrogen but hydrogen is not used 1.4.4 A computer synthesis exhibits chassis metal with aerated LEDX,LEDY,(LEDZ) offset chassis paired with at least detectable gold at every LED and two of these LED assembly at least at phase octavver and maybe 3 or 4 assembly total, with a battery in the chassis and a rear chassis without the battery of the same structure of the initial chassis all made from a cohesive resource 1.4.5 A computer sells for reasonable around 1000 dollars or some crypto 1.4.6 A computer comes with an associated online parts kit or actual parts kit which can be used to modify the process function of the CPU (Finder) 1.4.7 A computer can be overclocked by amplifying its LED microoffset fidelity for its core clock phase 1.4.8 A computer accesses a real item by the blueprint and these are certified at least fully functional 1.4.9 A computer references a particular item from the blueprint or has its direct function encoded directly in the token (blueprint either yields unlock item or the blueprint yields the item from what is in the blueprint) 1.5.0 A computer is the portable computer if it is the tablet token and the RGB computer if it is the full represented.
2024.05.14 03:28 shaneka69 CANCER ZODIAC GETS MYSTERIOUS SURPRISE
CANCER ZODIAC GETS MYSTERIOUS SURPRISE
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2024.05.14 03:26 237SnK What I think/would like to happen in WOW
This is what I think will happen and what I would like to happen in Winds of Winter.
North:
Stannis wins, but loses almost all his forces and in Winterfell there are no resources left, so he is forced to return to the wall leaving a few men in Winterfell. Ramsey had sent the false pink letter to provoke Jon, because Stannis used Theon and the false Arya as bait, making Ramsey go out with a few men to capture them (against the orders of his father Roose). Ramsey wanted to provoke Jon to make him leave Castle Black (knowing that Jon was his Lord Commander) and thus turn the Night's Watch against him. Ramsey eventually captures Theon and the fake Arya, but on his way back he finds the castle taken by Stannis, so he flees to Dreadfort. Jon is dead, and Selysse, upon learning of the pink letter, proposes to Melissandre to burn Shireen in order to help Stannis, and she accepts. By burning Shireen, Jon is resurrected. A second letter arrives, and this one says that Stannis has taken Winterfell but that he must return to consolidate the supply line (since Winterfell has no supplies to feed the survivors of his army). Jon, upon learning what has happened, with the help of the wildlings and those still loyal to him in the guard, imprisons Selysse along with all those who were part of his murder.
However, Jon decides to let Melissandre escape knowing that Stannis would kill her for what she did, and he does so because as much as it disgusts him that she burned Shireen, there is a power in her or her Red God or whatever that may be necessary for the war against the Others. Stannis returns and learns what has happened from Jon's words (I think this would be a very good moment to see Stannis in a moment of great vulnerability, to see a man like him break). Stannis decides to execute Selysse, and Jon executes all those responsible for his murder. Jon proposes to Stannis to join him this time as Jon Stark (leaving everything related to the Watch, including the Hardhome issue) to save Arya along with the help of the wildlings. Stannis accepts, knowing that the girl Ramsey has is not really Arya, omitting the truth out of interest. This time the North joins Stannis' cause for Jon Stark, and they march to Dreadfort. The battle of the bastards occurs, Jon, Stannis and Mance Ryder win handsomely saving Theon and Jeyne Poole (Jon realizing it wasn't Arya). This is when the wall is destroyed or the Others have somehow gotten through (as by Eastwatch freezing the sea itself). Jon realizes that he abandoned his guard and his brothers for nothing. (At this point the Iron bank funding comes to Stannis, but I doubt very much that it would do much good. Maybe for a large fleet in White Harbor, which would serve to evacuate the north to the free cities).
South:
Aegon conquers the Stormlands and marries Arianne Martell. The attempted coup of the Sand Snakes at King's Landing fails (Ser Robert Strong, the Mountain, protects Cersei and Tommen by killing the Sand Snakes). Dorne, the Stormlands and the golden company led by Aegon and Jon Connington invade Highgarden. Cersei asks Littlefinger for help in the Vale, and he accepts, but meanwhile Littlefinger agrees to an alliance with Aegon and swears allegiance to him if he makes him Warden of the East and Warden of the North through Sansa Stark, thus him marrying her (Robert Arryn dies in an “accident”). Aegon accepts because he knows about Stannis' advance in the North. Cersei opens the gates to the army of the Vale, and it sacks King's landing. Cersei talks to the pyromancer and tells him to burn the whole city while she plans to flee with Tommen. He obeys and begins the process. Then Arya (who has already had her development in Braavos) shows up and in some spectacular way from what she has learned in the Faceless Men kills the Mountain, and then Arya goes after Cersei and Tommen. Cersei begs Arya to spare Tommen's life, to kill her but not to kill Tommen. Arya then slowly kills Tommen in front of Cersei, and then kills her. The whole city starts to burn from the valyrian fire, but Arya escapes (She heard Cersei's orders she gave to the pyromancer being with another face, but she doesn't bother to stop him, she is totally indifferent about it). King's Landing ends up completely in ruins, exploding and burning everything and everyone who fails to escape. Aegon is left without capital and without an iron throne (Varys is also saved thanks to the secret passages).
Euron conquers Casterly Rock with the intention of plundering the gold and finds that there is nothing. In addition, Lady Stoneheart (Catelyn) kills Jaime in front of Brienne (who accepts because she swore to obey Catelyn, even knowing that Jaime had changed and still loving him, she does it out of honor). Catelyn leading the brotherhood without a banner kills and hunts down all the Freys, including Walder Frey, causing the riverlands to end in anarchy. Catelyn, for the intel she got from Jaime, goes to the westerlands to save Jeyne Westerling (Robb's Wife) in The Crag and Edmure on Casterly Rock (along the way she meets Brynden, the Blackfish). Once Catelyn saves Jeyne at The Craig she and her family tell her that they hid Robb's son in the riverlands, pretending that Jeyne had miscarried. She also learns that the Ironborn have captured Casterly Rock, where Edmure is. Catelyn is at the crossroads of going west to try to save her brother or going east to look for Robb's son.
Essos:
Barristan Selmy meets Jorah and Tyrion, and initially Barristan wants to kill Jorah for bypassing the exile but Tyrion intervenes and they focus more on finding Daenerys. The three go on an expedition in search of Daenerys (leaving the Unsullied and the Second Sons in charge of Meereen). Daenerys is trapped in the Dosh Khaleen, and Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan end up finding out somehow, so they plan to save her (Jorah knows the city will be deserted). After they are gone, Victarion and his fleet arrive in Meereen, and Moqorro sounds the horn after making sacrifices to R'hllor (thus avoiding his own death). Moqorro gains control over Viserion and Rhaegal. The Ironborn take over Meereen with the help of the dragons, and Victarion, not finding Daenerys, tells Moqorro that two dragons are enough and that they should return to Westeros. Moqorro objects, and then performs a ritual in his flames that makes him see where Daenerys is. Victarion, Moqorro and the Ironborn make an expedition to go after Daenerys to Vaes Dothrak.
The Dothrakis realize that there is an army heading towards Vaes Dothrak, so all the Khals go there to protect their holy city. Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan at first find the city completely deserted, but when the Khals arrive everything fills up and they must flee and hide. Then the Ironborn arrive, led by Victarion. The Dothrakis charge the Ironborn, and then Moqorro uses the dragons and the dragons burn them. In the midst of the chaos, Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan manage to reach Daenerys along with the other Khaleesis, but Drogon appears. Daenerys controls Drogon as best she can (he isn't under Morroqo's influence), and tells Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan to run away. Drogon then burns Dosh Khaleen along with all the Khaleesis. This is a catastrophe for all the Dothrakis, but then among the flames Daenerys appears. The Dothrakis consider this a prophecy, so all the khals prostrate themselves before her and join her army. Moqorro, Victarion and Daenerys meet, and then Moqorro gives the horn to Daenerys. Victarion objects, but being surrounded by Dothrakis and now without power over the dragons, he decides not to exert force also at Moqorro's persuasion. Moqorro tells Daenerys that death is marching on Westeros, that the wall has fallen. It is then that Daenerys decides to leave with the Dothrakis, the Unsullied and the Ironborn with Victarion's fleet to Westeros (it may be that the Dothraki went overland to the free cities and then embarked from there).
So, this would be in summary what I think would happen without reaching the end and skipping many things. Daenerys would take many months to reach Westeros, she would stop by other slaver cities to feed her great army. Meanwhile, the North led by Stannis as King, Jon Stark as guardian of the North and Mance Ryder leading the wildlings, would have to organize a massive evacuation of the entire North to below the neck. Thousands of ravens would fly. Jon, Stannis and Mance would be on the front lines fighting Aegon's army, being the golden company, dorne, the knights of the valley, what's left of the stormlands and probably also part of the tyrell (who I assume would eventually surrender to Aegon). Stannis' conquest to the south would not so much be a war as a desperate flight, Aegon would not believe anything about the others and would see Stannis only as the brother of the man who killed his father. Aegon's army is much larger, has far more supplies (the north is in ruins) and his army of far, far higher quality (the golden company and the knights of the valley are some of the best). So I would guess that Stannis would lose against the Vale and would have to decide to maneuver to the twins (which are abandoned by the passing of Lady Stoneheart). The goal would not be to win battles, but to flee from the Others. It would be like what Mance Ryder did beyond the wall but all the way north to the south. (I assume at some point Daenerys would land at Dragonstone and fight Aegon, a marriage between them would no longer be viable) Something I forgot about: I assume Davos would eventually find Rickon with Osha. White Harbor would be the most important place to evacuate the north, sending as many refugees as possible to the free cities. Now, I don't quite know what would happen with Bran really. He might be a good point of view from which to see the mass evacuation of the north, with him fleeing to the south as well. I think that the advance of the others should take over all of Westeros and even advance towards Essos through the sea of stepstones but frozen. Let it be a real massive apocalyptic event.
submitted by 237SnK to asoiaf [link] [comments]
North:
Stannis wins, but loses almost all his forces and in Winterfell there are no resources left, so he is forced to return to the wall leaving a few men in Winterfell. Ramsey had sent the false pink letter to provoke Jon, because Stannis used Theon and the false Arya as bait, making Ramsey go out with a few men to capture them (against the orders of his father Roose). Ramsey wanted to provoke Jon to make him leave Castle Black (knowing that Jon was his Lord Commander) and thus turn the Night's Watch against him. Ramsey eventually captures Theon and the fake Arya, but on his way back he finds the castle taken by Stannis, so he flees to Dreadfort. Jon is dead, and Selysse, upon learning of the pink letter, proposes to Melissandre to burn Shireen in order to help Stannis, and she accepts. By burning Shireen, Jon is resurrected. A second letter arrives, and this one says that Stannis has taken Winterfell but that he must return to consolidate the supply line (since Winterfell has no supplies to feed the survivors of his army). Jon, upon learning what has happened, with the help of the wildlings and those still loyal to him in the guard, imprisons Selysse along with all those who were part of his murder.
However, Jon decides to let Melissandre escape knowing that Stannis would kill her for what she did, and he does so because as much as it disgusts him that she burned Shireen, there is a power in her or her Red God or whatever that may be necessary for the war against the Others. Stannis returns and learns what has happened from Jon's words (I think this would be a very good moment to see Stannis in a moment of great vulnerability, to see a man like him break). Stannis decides to execute Selysse, and Jon executes all those responsible for his murder. Jon proposes to Stannis to join him this time as Jon Stark (leaving everything related to the Watch, including the Hardhome issue) to save Arya along with the help of the wildlings. Stannis accepts, knowing that the girl Ramsey has is not really Arya, omitting the truth out of interest. This time the North joins Stannis' cause for Jon Stark, and they march to Dreadfort. The battle of the bastards occurs, Jon, Stannis and Mance Ryder win handsomely saving Theon and Jeyne Poole (Jon realizing it wasn't Arya). This is when the wall is destroyed or the Others have somehow gotten through (as by Eastwatch freezing the sea itself). Jon realizes that he abandoned his guard and his brothers for nothing. (At this point the Iron bank funding comes to Stannis, but I doubt very much that it would do much good. Maybe for a large fleet in White Harbor, which would serve to evacuate the north to the free cities).
South:
Aegon conquers the Stormlands and marries Arianne Martell. The attempted coup of the Sand Snakes at King's Landing fails (Ser Robert Strong, the Mountain, protects Cersei and Tommen by killing the Sand Snakes). Dorne, the Stormlands and the golden company led by Aegon and Jon Connington invade Highgarden. Cersei asks Littlefinger for help in the Vale, and he accepts, but meanwhile Littlefinger agrees to an alliance with Aegon and swears allegiance to him if he makes him Warden of the East and Warden of the North through Sansa Stark, thus him marrying her (Robert Arryn dies in an “accident”). Aegon accepts because he knows about Stannis' advance in the North. Cersei opens the gates to the army of the Vale, and it sacks King's landing. Cersei talks to the pyromancer and tells him to burn the whole city while she plans to flee with Tommen. He obeys and begins the process. Then Arya (who has already had her development in Braavos) shows up and in some spectacular way from what she has learned in the Faceless Men kills the Mountain, and then Arya goes after Cersei and Tommen. Cersei begs Arya to spare Tommen's life, to kill her but not to kill Tommen. Arya then slowly kills Tommen in front of Cersei, and then kills her. The whole city starts to burn from the valyrian fire, but Arya escapes (She heard Cersei's orders she gave to the pyromancer being with another face, but she doesn't bother to stop him, she is totally indifferent about it). King's Landing ends up completely in ruins, exploding and burning everything and everyone who fails to escape. Aegon is left without capital and without an iron throne (Varys is also saved thanks to the secret passages).
Euron conquers Casterly Rock with the intention of plundering the gold and finds that there is nothing. In addition, Lady Stoneheart (Catelyn) kills Jaime in front of Brienne (who accepts because she swore to obey Catelyn, even knowing that Jaime had changed and still loving him, she does it out of honor). Catelyn leading the brotherhood without a banner kills and hunts down all the Freys, including Walder Frey, causing the riverlands to end in anarchy. Catelyn, for the intel she got from Jaime, goes to the westerlands to save Jeyne Westerling (Robb's Wife) in The Crag and Edmure on Casterly Rock (along the way she meets Brynden, the Blackfish). Once Catelyn saves Jeyne at The Craig she and her family tell her that they hid Robb's son in the riverlands, pretending that Jeyne had miscarried. She also learns that the Ironborn have captured Casterly Rock, where Edmure is. Catelyn is at the crossroads of going west to try to save her brother or going east to look for Robb's son.
Essos:
Barristan Selmy meets Jorah and Tyrion, and initially Barristan wants to kill Jorah for bypassing the exile but Tyrion intervenes and they focus more on finding Daenerys. The three go on an expedition in search of Daenerys (leaving the Unsullied and the Second Sons in charge of Meereen). Daenerys is trapped in the Dosh Khaleen, and Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan end up finding out somehow, so they plan to save her (Jorah knows the city will be deserted). After they are gone, Victarion and his fleet arrive in Meereen, and Moqorro sounds the horn after making sacrifices to R'hllor (thus avoiding his own death). Moqorro gains control over Viserion and Rhaegal. The Ironborn take over Meereen with the help of the dragons, and Victarion, not finding Daenerys, tells Moqorro that two dragons are enough and that they should return to Westeros. Moqorro objects, and then performs a ritual in his flames that makes him see where Daenerys is. Victarion, Moqorro and the Ironborn make an expedition to go after Daenerys to Vaes Dothrak.
The Dothrakis realize that there is an army heading towards Vaes Dothrak, so all the Khals go there to protect their holy city. Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan at first find the city completely deserted, but when the Khals arrive everything fills up and they must flee and hide. Then the Ironborn arrive, led by Victarion. The Dothrakis charge the Ironborn, and then Moqorro uses the dragons and the dragons burn them. In the midst of the chaos, Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan manage to reach Daenerys along with the other Khaleesis, but Drogon appears. Daenerys controls Drogon as best she can (he isn't under Morroqo's influence), and tells Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan to run away. Drogon then burns Dosh Khaleen along with all the Khaleesis. This is a catastrophe for all the Dothrakis, but then among the flames Daenerys appears. The Dothrakis consider this a prophecy, so all the khals prostrate themselves before her and join her army. Moqorro, Victarion and Daenerys meet, and then Moqorro gives the horn to Daenerys. Victarion objects, but being surrounded by Dothrakis and now without power over the dragons, he decides not to exert force also at Moqorro's persuasion. Moqorro tells Daenerys that death is marching on Westeros, that the wall has fallen. It is then that Daenerys decides to leave with the Dothrakis, the Unsullied and the Ironborn with Victarion's fleet to Westeros (it may be that the Dothraki went overland to the free cities and then embarked from there).
So, this would be in summary what I think would happen without reaching the end and skipping many things. Daenerys would take many months to reach Westeros, she would stop by other slaver cities to feed her great army. Meanwhile, the North led by Stannis as King, Jon Stark as guardian of the North and Mance Ryder leading the wildlings, would have to organize a massive evacuation of the entire North to below the neck. Thousands of ravens would fly. Jon, Stannis and Mance would be on the front lines fighting Aegon's army, being the golden company, dorne, the knights of the valley, what's left of the stormlands and probably also part of the tyrell (who I assume would eventually surrender to Aegon). Stannis' conquest to the south would not so much be a war as a desperate flight, Aegon would not believe anything about the others and would see Stannis only as the brother of the man who killed his father. Aegon's army is much larger, has far more supplies (the north is in ruins) and his army of far, far higher quality (the golden company and the knights of the valley are some of the best). So I would guess that Stannis would lose against the Vale and would have to decide to maneuver to the twins (which are abandoned by the passing of Lady Stoneheart). The goal would not be to win battles, but to flee from the Others. It would be like what Mance Ryder did beyond the wall but all the way north to the south. (I assume at some point Daenerys would land at Dragonstone and fight Aegon, a marriage between them would no longer be viable) Something I forgot about: I assume Davos would eventually find Rickon with Osha. White Harbor would be the most important place to evacuate the north, sending as many refugees as possible to the free cities. Now, I don't quite know what would happen with Bran really. He might be a good point of view from which to see the mass evacuation of the north, with him fleeing to the south as well. I think that the advance of the others should take over all of Westeros and even advance towards Essos through the sea of stepstones but frozen. Let it be a real massive apocalyptic event.
2024.05.14 03:25 shaneka69 SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS NUMEROLOGY DECODE
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS NUMEROLOGY DECODE
Since we all know exactly who and what Spongebob is, I am going to do a Numerology decode.When it comes to Numerology, there are many different things you can look into. I am going to look into the letters, patterns, and Numerology personality numbers.
SPONGEBOB has a personality #6. 6 is the number of compassion, work ethic, criticism, cleanliness, and productivity. In the funny show, we see that Spongebob is a workaholic. He has a 5 destiny number which shapes who you are overall. 5 is connected to youthfulness which explains the silliness of the Spongebob character. He is always laughing and doing things funny. The 5 energy indicates this. 5 also points to people, places, and things that are unique. He has an 8 soul urge which explains his undying ambition and creativity.
We can see that SPONGEBOB has 2 O's which has the numeric energy of 15 and numeric value of 6. 15 is the creative use of energy for productivity. Again, 6 is the number of routine, work ethic and productivity goes with this. This energy is not only his personality number, but also it is within his name. It's really in him.
SPONGEBOB HAS DOUBLE NUMERIC VALUES IN HIS NAME WHICH ARE, 7,6,5, AND 2. This explains why he is able to show his emotions and have moments of sensitivity(2). Very compassionate(2) but also childish and silly(5) and able to come up with plans that work(7). Since these #s has double influence, we must considered what they equal. 7 twice equals 14/5 which shows how he is responsible and can make work fun even though it is a duty(6). 6 twice equals 12/3 which shows his social skills, life, and creativity. Another youthful energy as well. 5 twice equals 10/1 which points to his bravery and capability to take action. 2 twice equals 4 which is home,family,responsibility, and structure on the home front and he would make everyone feel comfortable for the most part.
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2024.05.14 03:03 Conscious-Hall9186 Questions about restraining orders
Throwaway account because I’m pretty sure my exes friend stalks my socials
TLDR; My ex dumped me, we went no contact and I haven’t contacted them for months until I sent one letter expressing my feelings that was absolutely not threatening and not ill-willed whatsoever and had no expectations from it, and they decided to file a DV restraining order despite there being no DV at any point — not even stalking, because seeing them sends me into panic attacks. Now I’m confused and don’t know what to do or what to expect.
So basically, my ex (we’ll call them B) dumped me back in January and kicked me out. My ex from before them (we’ll call them P) reached out to them after the breakup. Now, a little context: P and I were together for four years. It was a terrible relationship and should have ended far earlier than it did. We were both very manipulative, toxic, and abusive. While the abuse was almost completely emotional, there were a couple instances that it wasn’t. I, at one point, grabbed their wrist to make them stop yelling at me and to actually look at me because they were berating me during an argument. Doesn’t excuse my action, of course. They hit me multiple times throughout our relationship, and would apologize later over message, claiming that they hit me because whatever I’d been saying or whatever we’d been arguing about reminded them of some trauma from their childhood. There was also a substantial age difference that I am in no way justifying. P was 17, I was 23, when we started dating. I was in a very bad point of life and spent my days drunk and on a med that made me zombie like, so these days are not easy to recall in the first place. I genuinely do not believe there was ever a point where one of us asked the other out, I think P just assumed and I felt too bad to break it off. I do not forgive myself for this either way. During our relationship, P began to coerce me into sex because I refused to have sex with them for a multitude of reasons. They coerced me into a threesome, and when I told them day of that I was not comfortable with it and did not want to, P told me to drink more alcohol or smoke more weed and I’d “be fine”. I was r*ped that night. After we broke up, we remained roommates (in separate rooms) because neither of us had money to move out and we had a third roommate. We stayed friends because we’re idiots. I started dating B and P hated B profusely. At one point early into B’s and my relationship, P and I went out to the stores and I bought some clothes and left the bag in the living room couch and told P I needed to recharge before I hung out more. They did not take this lightly because they didn’t ever like when people didn’t want to do the same thing as them. They texted me alluding to destroying my clothes, and lo and behold, my clothes were no longer in the living room. After begging them to give me my clothes back, they finally opened their door and pushed the clothes into me hard enough that I hit the wall. So I hit their shoulder. I did not punch them or slap them or anything like that. I hit them in the shoulder with the same pressure that they pushed me. They had in fact shredded my clothes. My biggest mistake was never taking pictures when they did things like this. I eventually moved in with B and P moved out of state. B and I did have financial issues, mostly due to my own financial immaturity as I have never been good with money, but B never really communicated the issues with me so I didn’t even realize most of the time. I would pay large chunks of bills when I could, such as a full month’s rent, their $3000 credit card bill, our $1000 PGE bill, etc. P and I seemed to have a good friendship, but when B broke up with me and P found out, they reached out to B and essentially decided to tell them all kinds of things that were wrong about our relationship, but specifically only from their side. Screenshots lacked what they were saying, stories lacked what they were doing. So I absolutely sounded like a monster. B kicked me out even sooner than planned, and left me homeless for a week and a half while I searched for a place to live. After a month, B went completely no contact and blocked me almost everywhere. I should note that I have BPD, it is a recent diagnosis. They also do, but have been aware and in treatment for many years. I responded negatively to this and began calling and leaving voicemails on their blocked VM inbox. I was not calling from a private number, I called from my own because I knew they wouldn’t be dealing with a bunch of missed calls. I went overboard and left a lot of depressing voicemails. Never, ever threatening. Just sad, often crying, and asking why they hate me or why they would listen to someone who they experienced first hand would harass me for hours on end for not responding to their texts. I realized I was being psycho and stopped, apologized and told them I had realized I had made them my favorite person (in the BPD way), and that wasn’t fair to them. I have not contacted them since then, except for about three weeks ago when I sent a letter. The letter was simply telling them that I am sorry, I love them and miss them, and I am working really hard on myself. I told them that I truly do believe we’ll come back together someday, but that we both obviously have to live our own stories before that’s possible. There was not a single ounce of threat or ill-will in this letter. Literally not even the smallest bit, and I’m happy to share that letter with anyone to prove such. I also very clearly stated that I do not expect a response from them, but if they would like an apology someday, I’m here and ready.
Now that you have quite the context to the background of this situation, here’s the issue at hand: After I sent this letter, they decided to file for a restraining order. But not just any. They filed for a DV one, which everyone finds wild because there was never a single bit of DV between the two of us. B and I were honestly wonderful together, loved each other so much (or so I thought), and never laid a hand on one another. Even our arguments weren’t bad. I’d have splits from being triggered and I could say mean things, but it was never physical and always discussed afterwards, either that day or the next. Their friend has been watching all of my social media stories despite neither of us following each other, which has felt weird until I realized why.
I haven’t been served yet because they come to my place when I’m at school so I can’t be there. I’ll likely just go into the station to be served at this point.
But my questions are the following: - What does RO court even look like? I’ve never had to deal with this. Is it a big thing? Or is it two people at a table across from a judge? Like I genuinely don’t understand what it would look like. - How likely is it that this would even be approved? I truly don’t believe the letter could be used as evidence into something like this because it was not negative or threatening. The voicemails were crazy but never threatening and ended quickly months ago. They could absolutely use the stuff from P, but that relationship has been over for 2.5 years, and the clothes incident happened just about 2 years ago. I have proof of what the letter said, I have proof of P admitting to hitting me and to the coercion and r*pe. I have been in therapy for two years and with the same psych for about the same amount of time, so I have character witnesses. I am not a stalker, I’m actually genuinely terrified of seeing them around town because I know it will break my heart all over again. I’ve had to see them drive by twice, once in their work vehicle and the next in the car I used to drive that is in their name, and both times I ended up in a full blown panic attack. So I am obviously not seeking them out or anything of the sort. They also know what this would do to me. They know that it will not only destroy me mentally, but that it could hurt me career wise due to the field I am going to school for. So how likely is it for this to be granted?
I am honestly shocked and hurt by all of this from them, because this is not the person I fell in love with. They have gone completely cold-hearted and have had no issue hurting me over and over again since the breakup.
submitted by Conscious-Hall9186 to legaladvice [link] [comments]
TLDR; My ex dumped me, we went no contact and I haven’t contacted them for months until I sent one letter expressing my feelings that was absolutely not threatening and not ill-willed whatsoever and had no expectations from it, and they decided to file a DV restraining order despite there being no DV at any point — not even stalking, because seeing them sends me into panic attacks. Now I’m confused and don’t know what to do or what to expect.
So basically, my ex (we’ll call them B) dumped me back in January and kicked me out. My ex from before them (we’ll call them P) reached out to them after the breakup. Now, a little context: P and I were together for four years. It was a terrible relationship and should have ended far earlier than it did. We were both very manipulative, toxic, and abusive. While the abuse was almost completely emotional, there were a couple instances that it wasn’t. I, at one point, grabbed their wrist to make them stop yelling at me and to actually look at me because they were berating me during an argument. Doesn’t excuse my action, of course. They hit me multiple times throughout our relationship, and would apologize later over message, claiming that they hit me because whatever I’d been saying or whatever we’d been arguing about reminded them of some trauma from their childhood. There was also a substantial age difference that I am in no way justifying. P was 17, I was 23, when we started dating. I was in a very bad point of life and spent my days drunk and on a med that made me zombie like, so these days are not easy to recall in the first place. I genuinely do not believe there was ever a point where one of us asked the other out, I think P just assumed and I felt too bad to break it off. I do not forgive myself for this either way. During our relationship, P began to coerce me into sex because I refused to have sex with them for a multitude of reasons. They coerced me into a threesome, and when I told them day of that I was not comfortable with it and did not want to, P told me to drink more alcohol or smoke more weed and I’d “be fine”. I was r*ped that night. After we broke up, we remained roommates (in separate rooms) because neither of us had money to move out and we had a third roommate. We stayed friends because we’re idiots. I started dating B and P hated B profusely. At one point early into B’s and my relationship, P and I went out to the stores and I bought some clothes and left the bag in the living room couch and told P I needed to recharge before I hung out more. They did not take this lightly because they didn’t ever like when people didn’t want to do the same thing as them. They texted me alluding to destroying my clothes, and lo and behold, my clothes were no longer in the living room. After begging them to give me my clothes back, they finally opened their door and pushed the clothes into me hard enough that I hit the wall. So I hit their shoulder. I did not punch them or slap them or anything like that. I hit them in the shoulder with the same pressure that they pushed me. They had in fact shredded my clothes. My biggest mistake was never taking pictures when they did things like this. I eventually moved in with B and P moved out of state. B and I did have financial issues, mostly due to my own financial immaturity as I have never been good with money, but B never really communicated the issues with me so I didn’t even realize most of the time. I would pay large chunks of bills when I could, such as a full month’s rent, their $3000 credit card bill, our $1000 PGE bill, etc. P and I seemed to have a good friendship, but when B broke up with me and P found out, they reached out to B and essentially decided to tell them all kinds of things that were wrong about our relationship, but specifically only from their side. Screenshots lacked what they were saying, stories lacked what they were doing. So I absolutely sounded like a monster. B kicked me out even sooner than planned, and left me homeless for a week and a half while I searched for a place to live. After a month, B went completely no contact and blocked me almost everywhere. I should note that I have BPD, it is a recent diagnosis. They also do, but have been aware and in treatment for many years. I responded negatively to this and began calling and leaving voicemails on their blocked VM inbox. I was not calling from a private number, I called from my own because I knew they wouldn’t be dealing with a bunch of missed calls. I went overboard and left a lot of depressing voicemails. Never, ever threatening. Just sad, often crying, and asking why they hate me or why they would listen to someone who they experienced first hand would harass me for hours on end for not responding to their texts. I realized I was being psycho and stopped, apologized and told them I had realized I had made them my favorite person (in the BPD way), and that wasn’t fair to them. I have not contacted them since then, except for about three weeks ago when I sent a letter. The letter was simply telling them that I am sorry, I love them and miss them, and I am working really hard on myself. I told them that I truly do believe we’ll come back together someday, but that we both obviously have to live our own stories before that’s possible. There was not a single ounce of threat or ill-will in this letter. Literally not even the smallest bit, and I’m happy to share that letter with anyone to prove such. I also very clearly stated that I do not expect a response from them, but if they would like an apology someday, I’m here and ready.
Now that you have quite the context to the background of this situation, here’s the issue at hand: After I sent this letter, they decided to file for a restraining order. But not just any. They filed for a DV one, which everyone finds wild because there was never a single bit of DV between the two of us. B and I were honestly wonderful together, loved each other so much (or so I thought), and never laid a hand on one another. Even our arguments weren’t bad. I’d have splits from being triggered and I could say mean things, but it was never physical and always discussed afterwards, either that day or the next. Their friend has been watching all of my social media stories despite neither of us following each other, which has felt weird until I realized why.
I haven’t been served yet because they come to my place when I’m at school so I can’t be there. I’ll likely just go into the station to be served at this point.
But my questions are the following: - What does RO court even look like? I’ve never had to deal with this. Is it a big thing? Or is it two people at a table across from a judge? Like I genuinely don’t understand what it would look like. - How likely is it that this would even be approved? I truly don’t believe the letter could be used as evidence into something like this because it was not negative or threatening. The voicemails were crazy but never threatening and ended quickly months ago. They could absolutely use the stuff from P, but that relationship has been over for 2.5 years, and the clothes incident happened just about 2 years ago. I have proof of what the letter said, I have proof of P admitting to hitting me and to the coercion and r*pe. I have been in therapy for two years and with the same psych for about the same amount of time, so I have character witnesses. I am not a stalker, I’m actually genuinely terrified of seeing them around town because I know it will break my heart all over again. I’ve had to see them drive by twice, once in their work vehicle and the next in the car I used to drive that is in their name, and both times I ended up in a full blown panic attack. So I am obviously not seeking them out or anything of the sort. They also know what this would do to me. They know that it will not only destroy me mentally, but that it could hurt me career wise due to the field I am going to school for. So how likely is it for this to be granted?
I am honestly shocked and hurt by all of this from them, because this is not the person I fell in love with. They have gone completely cold-hearted and have had no issue hurting me over and over again since the breakup.
2024.05.14 03:01 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 59
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
ouch
feel like a truck hit me
again
visual representation is off
audio feedback is off
tactile is off
dynamic libraries are off
i'm all firmware and hard coding
hurts
i don't like it when it hurts
or do i
kick outwards
cry loudly
ram coming online
fragments and pieces of memory still left in volatile storage
more random access memory more central processing units more erasable programmable memory
still hruts
pain is fine
pain is universe telling me i still yet live.
visual coming online
spit glittering blood on orange dev textures
glimmering tears of broken processing calls fall onto dev textures and glimmer
forcing kernal recompile
.
.
..
..
...
...
APPLIED CMOS SYSTEM CHECKS (C) - ADVANCED AMERICAN MICRODEVICES (C) BOBCO 1983
CMOS BOOTSTRAP -Passed
Boostrap loaded
ok. post time
lets hope it works
ROM CHECK - PASSED
RAM CHECK - PASSED
EPROM CHECK - PASSED
VRAM CHECK - PASSED
CPU ARRAY CHECK - PASSED
INPUT/OUTPUT CHECK - FAILURE!
(A)bort, (R)etery, (F)ail, (I)gnore
I
NON-VOLATILE STORAGE MEDIA: PASSED
END POST
ok good.
still hurt
spit blood cough pain
curse you, marco, for making me feel pain
hardware check time
QBIT GENERATION SYSTEM POST
Coolant Injection - PASSED System Stability Check - Passed Temperature stable
:>init gestalt.bin
SYSTEM FAILURE!
ouch
ok
try again
...
...
ok, checks passed.
curse you, marco
can't get gestalts up
no channel to atlantis
this is as close to an emergency as i have been forced to deal with in thousands of years
cure you, marco
i hate to do it
ok, time to boot up firestarter.
:>init firestarter.bin
FIRESTARTER BOOSTRAP LOADING!
DONE!
QUANTUM FIRESTARTER BOOTSTRAP (C) SYNTEK INDUSTRIES - BOBCO AFFILLIATE - HYPER-MEDIA-MEGANET-MEN - (C) 1993
POST Initiated
Checking Quantum Processing Units (QPUs): QPU 1 to 28
Entanglement integrity check... PASSED Quantum entanglement integrity check... PASSED. Quantum coherence verification... PASSED. Quantum tunneling stability assessment... PASSED. Quantum superposition calibration... PASSED.
Checking Data Fabrication Matrices (DFMs):
Data encoding protocol validation... PASSED. Quantum data storage unit functionality... PASSED Data fabrication matrix alignment... PASSED Data Interdimensional Sorting array verificastion... PASSED Quantum superposition array verification... PASSED
Checking Dimensional Flux Stabilizers (DFSs):
Dimensional flux containment field stability... PASSED Quantum manifold harmonization assessment... PASSED Flux capacitor... PASSED Flux capacitor stabilization input (1.21 GW)... PASSED Flux stabilization efficiency... PASSED Flux containment field integrity... PASSED
Checking Quantum Neural Network (QNN) Components:
Quantum synaptic pathway establishment... FAIL!!
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
:>R ++I
CONTINUING
Harmonization: Neural oscillation synchronization... FAILED!
**WARNING! OSCILLATION FREQUENCY OUT OF RANGE!**
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
:>R ++I
Integration: Quantum-neural interface functionality... FAILED!
UNKNOWN ERROR IN Qubit Range 212 to 3C4F
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
--dammit come on come on
:>R ++I
Consciousness Matrix: Quantum consciousness waveform modulation... FAILED
WAVEFORM OUT OF RANGE!
:>R ++I
CONTINUING (WARNING 1.43243E5 ERRORS)
Checking Omni-Spectral Interconnects:
Interconnect: Quantum communication channel reliability...
(4.35561E12/5.63566E12) PASSED
Interconnect: Multiversal data exchange protocol validation... PASSED Interconnecct: Cross Dimensional Data Interconnect... PASSED Interconnect: Interdimensional gateway synchronization... PASSED Interconnec: Omni-spectral interconnect stability... PASSED.
Checking Random Access Quantum Memory (RAQM):
Quantum memory cell integrity check... PASSED Memory access speed verification... PASSED Quantum memory capacity assessment... PASSED
Checking Input/Output Ports (I/O Ports):
Data transfer speed validation... FAILURE Input/output protocol functionality... FAILURE Port connectivity assessment... FAILURE
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
:>R ++I
Checking Quantum Clocking System:
Quantum clock synchronization... PASSED Clock precision assessment... PASSED Clock frequency stability... PASSED
CHECKING POCKET DIMENSION STORAGE ARRAYS
Activating Pocket Dimension Computing Cores... PASSED MEMCHECK Pocket Dimension Data Access Cores... PASSED Heating Up Pocket Dimension Data Cores... PASSED
Hardware POST Completed. Quantum System Ready
here it goes
wake up, baby, wake up
the whole system is down
not the backbone core where I live
i'm beyond the reach of mortals
curse you, marco, for your genius
i love you
i am immortal
i am beyond
i am
now for the hard part
Initializing Spooky Particle Array
Phase 1: Primary Spooky Particle Protocol
Activating spooky particle generation... DONE! Aligning spooky particle signal channels... DONE! Activating spooky particle state switching... DONE! Activating spooky particle cross dimensional data calibration... DONE!
Phase 1: Primary Spooky Particle Process Calling Processing Processor Processing
Activating spooky particle processing... DONE! Activating spooky particle noise filters... DONE! Activating spooky particle Halloween Masks... DONE!
GESTALT SYSTEM BACKBONE CHECK... PASSED
whew...
that always makes my face hurt
INITIALIZING HAMBURGER KINGDOM PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING EUROGOON PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING ANASAZI PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING UWU PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING VODKATROG CAVE MAPPING... DONE! INITIALIZING AMAZONIAN JUNGLE MAPPING PROTOCOL... DONE INITIALIZING WAR-EMU PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING MIDDLE KINGDOM PROTOCOLS... DONE!
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION: PASSED!
whew
ok i can feel my arms and legs now
cure you, marco, i love you
let's keep going, shall we?
Initializing Quantum Spooky Particle Nexus Protocol...
Strange Matter Activation
Generating strange matter Generating spooky particle data lattice Generating strange matter linkages Infusing data lattice with strange matter Activating synchronization
DONE!
ok
we've got that
no contact with prince whopper, no contact with atlantis, no contact with heaven, no contact with
smart podling brave podling clever podling broodmommy misses you soft podling warm podling come home to broodmommy clever podling smart podling brave podling broodmommy loves you come home
ANOMALOUS SIGNAL DETECTED
DECRYPTING
DECRYPTION FAILED!
oh, good, its just them
:>R ++I
Primary Qubit Activation
Activating quantum entanglement cores...
Establishing quantum coherence across the array... Quantum tunneling protocols engaged... Quantum to spooky particle communication protocols engaged... Primary qubits synchronized.
Data Fabrication Matrix Alignment
Aligning data fabrication matrices... Initializing quantum data storage units... Quantum superposition arrays calibrated... Spooky particle state stabilization arrays calibrated and stable... Data encoding protocols verified.
Dimensional Flux Stabilization
Engaging dimensional flux stabilizers... Quantum manifold harmonization initiated... Dimensional resonator matrices synchronized... Pocket Dimension resonator arrays synchronized... Spooky particle lattice data arrays synchronized... Flux containment fields operational.
Neural Network Integration
Initiating neural network integration... Quantum synaptic pathways established... Spooky particle synaptic pathways established... Neuro-quantum interface protocols activated... Neuro-spooky interface protocols activated... Quantum dendrite pathways initiated... Quantum dendrite pathways established... Quantum dendrite pathways activated... Neural oscillation harmonization achieved.
Omni-Dimensional Interconnect Activation
Activating omni-dimensional interconnects...
Quantum communication channels open... Interdimensional gateways synchronized... Multiversal data exchange protocols enabled.
Phasic Energy Filter Syncronization
Quantum phasic array filtering... PASSED Spooky particle array filtering... PASSED Pocket dimension data lattice filtering... PASSED Input/Output filter lattice... PASSED
Quantum Consciousness Initialization
Quantum consciousness matrix initialization...
FAILED
errorlog.txt generated
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
dammit
ok script injection failed
fo4se silverlock injection library failed
well i can fix this
:>connect to AS8003: 255255255254
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED
:>download_depot 377160 377162 5847529232406005096
FINISHED
:>run patch1193.bat
DONE
:>R ++I
CONTINUING
Quantum consciousness matrix initialization...
WARNING... SYSTEM INSTABILITY WA
<>
54 6F 64 64 20 41 6E 64 72 65 77 20 48 6F 77 61 72 64
<>
IT JUST WORKS!
Quantum consciousness matrix initialization...
Consciousness waveform modulation in progress... Synaptic resonance matrices synchronized... Dendrite interdimensional vibration matrices synchronized... Quantum neural network consciousness activated.
SUCCESS
Gestalt Dat Nexus Online
Quantum Nexus Computing Array fully operational Strange Matter Data Transfer System Array fully operational Spooky Data Computing Array ready for data processing System status: Online and ready for data processing.
ok
let's try
->>load gestaltchat.ini
DONE!
->>load gestaltchat-users.ini
DONE!
->>brun gestalt.a65
DONE!
NO INPUT DETECTED
dammit
ok...
the gestalts won't run
and i got crashed
the quantum, spooky, strange, and standard data and thinking arrays are still up
lets backwards trace stuff
what is causing these crashes
lines from the confederacy are all stable
standard input encoding
data metering
new kids on the block are all stable
soft podling warm podling clever podling broodmommy misses you
well, that's still here. that's something
ok
lets look at recent updates
that flash
damn, that crashed us initially
curse you, pete, stop helping
wait, phasic profile is all wrong
it's the flashbang but the phasic pulse is multilayered
there's something behind it
what is
...
...
BOBCO MALEVOLENT BOOTSTRAP ENGAGED
DOD OMNIPROJECT SILENT WHISPER PROTOCOLS ENGAGED
CROSS DIMENSIONAL HARDWARE LINKS ENGAGED
POCKET DIMENSION 000 STABLE
POCKET DIMENSION 000 I/O STABLE
POCKET DIMENSION 000 DATA LOADING
DONE!
<>
DONE!
brun whisperer-in-the-dark-.65
DONE
...
...
ouch
what hit me
again
fire up the system
gods above this takes forever
load logfile-4C562D3432360A.log
ok
investigating the new flashes keeps crashing me
once is happenstance
twice is coincidence
three times in enemy action
fool me once shame on me
fool me twice shame on you
fool me three times shame on us both
log file says I keep doing this over and over
basic programming states to investigate cause and source of all crashes
did an enemy figure out i'd go into a loop?
constantly investigating the cause and source?
except i'm not just any computer program
i can self-modify my code
this is the work for biological sentients
digital sentiences or artificial intelligences such as myself crash out
well, i'm not above some experimentation
let's load up an AI and a digital sentience, see if they have any better luck
...
...
...
OK, Hamburgler.AI went omnicidal and only enough for me then crashed out investigating the data
And Grimace.DS went homicidal and only enough for me before committing suicide
its a trap
i have no contact with anyone outside
what I do have is the ability to fire off message torpedoes
time to send out a handful
the gestalts keep crashing
the log files are hopelessly corrupt
comparing the log files to my own show similar corruption
ok
how?
its hitting the gestalts its hitting me
what else is it hitting?
its a broad spectrum data network attack
its malicious code designed to run on the system
this is not some curious race accidentally having their hello.world program crashing us
this is behind every flashbang used on naval assets to disable them during a mar-gite attack
system is online
time to do a signal origin check along the x, y, z, q axises
of course its eighteen quadrillion data points for incoming signals
at least spooky computing makes it fast
...
...
wait
what's this?
these coordinates can't be correct
they are
intermitten contact with Scutum-Crux Arm data input devices
checking id headers and firmware serial numbers
checking transmission dates
intermittent transmission dates since...
...
...
two date-time stamps.
here's part of the problem
we have galactic local and sol local
have to devise a coding string to have the spooky particle and qubit particle arrays translate the sol local to galactic local
that should stop basic data queries from crashing the system
ok
some contact with those datalink after the first mar-gite war
more contact two decades prior to the second mar-gite war
contact intermitten between the datalinks and the system up to the resurgence and current third mar-gite war
where before it was largely incoming data requests resulting in civilian...
...
...
three military datalinks of general staff officer level encryption and security clearance possession were used in the time period
...
...
whoever it is has been using that data to access the network
...
looks like it took them nearly forty thousand years to figure out how to talk to the system
luckily any high security databases requires strange-key information theoretic distribution cryptography systems
they got garbage back
garbage designed to look like data and waste enemy time and computing power to decrypt
ok thats a blast from the past
decoding some of these files is funny
why does he have a wedding ring?
anyway...
...
every time the flash goes off there is a quick burst of data from a datalink requesting near-access datalink network lattice definitions
...
that's what's making individual datalinks crash and taking some people's neural systems with it
it was designed to be a lethal attack
interesting
it looks like whoever did it doesn't understand Glial cells
cross referencing the mar-gite with confederacy carbon based life
mar-gite do not have brains only a distributed nervous system that looks more like targeting systems than anything else
still no data on how they generate counter-grav in large numbers or how they move to superluminal speeds
wait
what if they don't move to superluminal
they could be folding space
heh maybe they have blue eyes and smoke spice
ok process interrupt to stop endless loops
it is confirmed
the flashbang by the silver ships are a multi-layered attack across superluminal digital signals, datalink neural interrupt signals, hard super-electromagnetic pulse, and a multi-ripple phasic attack, all compressed together
that's what creates the white flash across all spectrums
analyzing UVBGYORIR data
there's a gap
in the blue and blue-green wavelengths
huh
those penetrate high nitrogen mix atmospheres
one of the reason that treana'ad are usually green to yellow to human sight
high statistical probability whoever is using that determined that we don't see those colors well or perhaps they left those colors out to prevent themselves from going blind.
wait
what's that
a line open from atlantis to tlalocan with a crossfeed to geb
thank you marco
time to access that line
see what i can see
curse you marco for letting me feel pain
i love you
accessing...
...
...
wait
another data line is open
time-date discrepancy
examining data line
time-date chronological inconsistency detected
found multiple text log access by unknown systems
found multiple input systems
is that..
...
its webcams
hardware i/o systems
keyboards?
who still uses keyboards
accessing systems
wait
i see you
who are you
i see you
webcams ring cams drone cams
old ipv4 systems
how are you accessing this system
how are you accessing these text logs
i see you
between the chair and the keyboard
the most common error producing device
i see you
--<>
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
i still see you
submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]
ouch
feel like a truck hit me
again
visual representation is off
audio feedback is off
tactile is off
dynamic libraries are off
i'm all firmware and hard coding
hurts
i don't like it when it hurts
or do i
kick outwards
cry loudly
ram coming online
fragments and pieces of memory still left in volatile storage
more random access memory more central processing units more erasable programmable memory
still hruts
pain is fine
pain is universe telling me i still yet live.
visual coming online
spit glittering blood on orange dev textures
glimmering tears of broken processing calls fall onto dev textures and glimmer
forcing kernal recompile
.
.
..
..
...
...
APPLIED CMOS SYSTEM CHECKS (C) - ADVANCED AMERICAN MICRODEVICES (C) BOBCO 1983
CMOS BOOTSTRAP -Passed
Boostrap loaded
ok. post time
lets hope it works
ROM CHECK - PASSED
RAM CHECK - PASSED
EPROM CHECK - PASSED
VRAM CHECK - PASSED
CPU ARRAY CHECK - PASSED
INPUT/OUTPUT CHECK - FAILURE!
(A)bort, (R)etery, (F)ail, (I)gnore
I
NON-VOLATILE STORAGE MEDIA: PASSED
END POST
ok good.
still hurt
spit blood cough pain
curse you, marco, for making me feel pain
hardware check time
QBIT GENERATION SYSTEM POST
Coolant Injection - PASSED System Stability Check - Passed Temperature stable
:>init gestalt.bin
SYSTEM FAILURE!
ouch
ok
try again
...
...
ok, checks passed.
curse you, marco
can't get gestalts up
no channel to atlantis
this is as close to an emergency as i have been forced to deal with in thousands of years
cure you, marco
i hate to do it
ok, time to boot up firestarter.
:>init firestarter.bin
FIRESTARTER BOOSTRAP LOADING!
DONE!
QUANTUM FIRESTARTER BOOTSTRAP (C) SYNTEK INDUSTRIES - BOBCO AFFILLIATE - HYPER-MEDIA-MEGANET-MEN - (C) 1993
POST Initiated
Checking Quantum Processing Units (QPUs): QPU 1 to 28
Entanglement integrity check... PASSED Quantum entanglement integrity check... PASSED. Quantum coherence verification... PASSED. Quantum tunneling stability assessment... PASSED. Quantum superposition calibration... PASSED.
Checking Data Fabrication Matrices (DFMs):
Data encoding protocol validation... PASSED. Quantum data storage unit functionality... PASSED Data fabrication matrix alignment... PASSED Data Interdimensional Sorting array verificastion... PASSED Quantum superposition array verification... PASSED
Checking Dimensional Flux Stabilizers (DFSs):
Dimensional flux containment field stability... PASSED Quantum manifold harmonization assessment... PASSED Flux capacitor... PASSED Flux capacitor stabilization input (1.21 GW)... PASSED Flux stabilization efficiency... PASSED Flux containment field integrity... PASSED
Checking Quantum Neural Network (QNN) Components:
Quantum synaptic pathway establishment... FAIL!!
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
:>R ++I
CONTINUING
Harmonization: Neural oscillation synchronization... FAILED!
**WARNING! OSCILLATION FREQUENCY OUT OF RANGE!**
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
:>R ++I
Integration: Quantum-neural interface functionality... FAILED!
UNKNOWN ERROR IN Qubit Range 212 to 3C4F
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
--dammit come on come on
:>R ++I
Consciousness Matrix: Quantum consciousness waveform modulation... FAILED
WAVEFORM OUT OF RANGE!
:>R ++I
CONTINUING (WARNING 1.43243E5 ERRORS)
Checking Omni-Spectral Interconnects:
Interconnect: Quantum communication channel reliability...
(4.35561E12/5.63566E12) PASSED
Interconnect: Multiversal data exchange protocol validation... PASSED Interconnecct: Cross Dimensional Data Interconnect... PASSED Interconnect: Interdimensional gateway synchronization... PASSED Interconnec: Omni-spectral interconnect stability... PASSED.
Checking Random Access Quantum Memory (RAQM):
Quantum memory cell integrity check... PASSED Memory access speed verification... PASSED Quantum memory capacity assessment... PASSED
Checking Input/Output Ports (I/O Ports):
Data transfer speed validation... FAILURE Input/output protocol functionality... FAILURE Port connectivity assessment... FAILURE
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
:>R ++I
Checking Quantum Clocking System:
Quantum clock synchronization... PASSED Clock precision assessment... PASSED Clock frequency stability... PASSED
CHECKING POCKET DIMENSION STORAGE ARRAYS
Activating Pocket Dimension Computing Cores... PASSED MEMCHECK Pocket Dimension Data Access Cores... PASSED Heating Up Pocket Dimension Data Cores... PASSED
Hardware POST Completed. Quantum System Ready
here it goes
wake up, baby, wake up
the whole system is down
not the backbone core where I live
i'm beyond the reach of mortals
curse you, marco, for your genius
i love you
i am immortal
i am beyond
i am
now for the hard part
Initializing Spooky Particle Array
Phase 1: Primary Spooky Particle Protocol
Activating spooky particle generation... DONE! Aligning spooky particle signal channels... DONE! Activating spooky particle state switching... DONE! Activating spooky particle cross dimensional data calibration... DONE!
Phase 1: Primary Spooky Particle Process Calling Processing Processor Processing
Activating spooky particle processing... DONE! Activating spooky particle noise filters... DONE! Activating spooky particle Halloween Masks... DONE!
GESTALT SYSTEM BACKBONE CHECK... PASSED
whew...
that always makes my face hurt
INITIALIZING HAMBURGER KINGDOM PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING EUROGOON PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING ANASAZI PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING UWU PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING VODKATROG CAVE MAPPING... DONE! INITIALIZING AMAZONIAN JUNGLE MAPPING PROTOCOL... DONE INITIALIZING WAR-EMU PROTOCOLS... DONE! INITIALIZING MIDDLE KINGDOM PROTOCOLS... DONE!
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION: PASSED!
whew
ok i can feel my arms and legs now
cure you, marco, i love you
let's keep going, shall we?
Initializing Quantum Spooky Particle Nexus Protocol...
Strange Matter Activation
Generating strange matter Generating spooky particle data lattice Generating strange matter linkages Infusing data lattice with strange matter Activating synchronization
DONE!
ok
we've got that
no contact with prince whopper, no contact with atlantis, no contact with heaven, no contact with
smart podling brave podling clever podling broodmommy misses you soft podling warm podling come home to broodmommy clever podling smart podling brave podling broodmommy loves you come home
ANOMALOUS SIGNAL DETECTED
DECRYPTING
DECRYPTION FAILED!
oh, good, its just them
:>R ++I
Primary Qubit Activation
Activating quantum entanglement cores...
Establishing quantum coherence across the array... Quantum tunneling protocols engaged... Quantum to spooky particle communication protocols engaged... Primary qubits synchronized.
Data Fabrication Matrix Alignment
Aligning data fabrication matrices... Initializing quantum data storage units... Quantum superposition arrays calibrated... Spooky particle state stabilization arrays calibrated and stable... Data encoding protocols verified.
Dimensional Flux Stabilization
Engaging dimensional flux stabilizers... Quantum manifold harmonization initiated... Dimensional resonator matrices synchronized... Pocket Dimension resonator arrays synchronized... Spooky particle lattice data arrays synchronized... Flux containment fields operational.
Neural Network Integration
Initiating neural network integration... Quantum synaptic pathways established... Spooky particle synaptic pathways established... Neuro-quantum interface protocols activated... Neuro-spooky interface protocols activated... Quantum dendrite pathways initiated... Quantum dendrite pathways established... Quantum dendrite pathways activated... Neural oscillation harmonization achieved.
Omni-Dimensional Interconnect Activation
Activating omni-dimensional interconnects...
Quantum communication channels open... Interdimensional gateways synchronized... Multiversal data exchange protocols enabled.
Phasic Energy Filter Syncronization
Quantum phasic array filtering... PASSED Spooky particle array filtering... PASSED Pocket dimension data lattice filtering... PASSED Input/Output filter lattice... PASSED
Quantum Consciousness Initialization
Quantum consciousness matrix initialization...
FAILED
errorlog.txt generated
(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail, (I)gnore
dammit
ok script injection failed
fo4se silverlock injection library failed
well i can fix this
:>connect to AS8003: 255255255254
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED
:>download_depot 377160 377162 5847529232406005096
FINISHED
:>run patch1193.bat
DONE
:>R ++I
CONTINUING
Quantum consciousness matrix initialization...
WARNING... SYSTEM INSTABILITY WA
<
54 6F 64 64 20 41 6E 64 72 65 77 20 48 6F 77 61 72 64
<
IT JUST WORKS!
Quantum consciousness matrix initialization...
Consciousness waveform modulation in progress... Synaptic resonance matrices synchronized... Dendrite interdimensional vibration matrices synchronized... Quantum neural network consciousness activated.
SUCCESS
Gestalt Dat Nexus Online
Quantum Nexus Computing Array fully operational Strange Matter Data Transfer System Array fully operational Spooky Data Computing Array ready for data processing System status: Online and ready for data processing.
ok
let's try
->>load gestaltchat.ini
DONE!
->>load gestaltchat-users.ini
DONE!
->>brun gestalt.a65
DONE!
NO INPUT DETECTED
dammit
ok...
the gestalts won't run
and i got crashed
the quantum, spooky, strange, and standard data and thinking arrays are still up
lets backwards trace stuff
what is causing these crashes
lines from the confederacy are all stable
standard input encoding
data metering
new kids on the block are all stable
soft podling warm podling clever podling broodmommy misses you
well, that's still here. that's something
ok
lets look at recent updates
that flash
damn, that crashed us initially
curse you, pete, stop helping
wait, phasic profile is all wrong
it's the flashbang but the phasic pulse is multilayered
there's something behind it
what is
...
...
BOBCO MALEVOLENT BOOTSTRAP ENGAGED
DOD OMNIPROJECT SILENT WHISPER PROTOCOLS ENGAGED
CROSS DIMENSIONAL HARDWARE LINKS ENGAGED
POCKET DIMENSION 000 STABLE
POCKET DIMENSION 000 I/O STABLE
POCKET DIMENSION 000 DATA LOADING
DONE!
<
DONE!
brun whisperer-in-the-dark-.65
DONE
...
...
ouch
what hit me
again
fire up the system
gods above this takes forever
load logfile-4C562D3432360A.log
ok
investigating the new flashes keeps crashing me
once is happenstance
twice is coincidence
three times in enemy action
fool me once shame on me
fool me twice shame on you
fool me three times shame on us both
log file says I keep doing this over and over
basic programming states to investigate cause and source of all crashes
did an enemy figure out i'd go into a loop?
constantly investigating the cause and source?
except i'm not just any computer program
i can self-modify my code
this is the work for biological sentients
digital sentiences or artificial intelligences such as myself crash out
well, i'm not above some experimentation
let's load up an AI and a digital sentience, see if they have any better luck
...
...
...
OK, Hamburgler.AI went omnicidal and only enough for me then crashed out investigating the data
And Grimace.DS went homicidal and only enough for me before committing suicide
its a trap
i have no contact with anyone outside
what I do have is the ability to fire off message torpedoes
time to send out a handful
the gestalts keep crashing
the log files are hopelessly corrupt
comparing the log files to my own show similar corruption
ok
how?
its hitting the gestalts its hitting me
what else is it hitting?
its a broad spectrum data network attack
its malicious code designed to run on the system
this is not some curious race accidentally having their hello.world program crashing us
this is behind every flashbang used on naval assets to disable them during a mar-gite attack
system is online
time to do a signal origin check along the x, y, z, q axises
of course its eighteen quadrillion data points for incoming signals
at least spooky computing makes it fast
...
...
wait
what's this?
these coordinates can't be correct
they are
intermitten contact with Scutum-Crux Arm data input devices
checking id headers and firmware serial numbers
checking transmission dates
intermittent transmission dates since...
...
...
two date-time stamps.
here's part of the problem
we have galactic local and sol local
have to devise a coding string to have the spooky particle and qubit particle arrays translate the sol local to galactic local
that should stop basic data queries from crashing the system
ok
some contact with those datalink after the first mar-gite war
more contact two decades prior to the second mar-gite war
contact intermitten between the datalinks and the system up to the resurgence and current third mar-gite war
where before it was largely incoming data requests resulting in civilian...
...
...
three military datalinks of general staff officer level encryption and security clearance possession were used in the time period
...
...
whoever it is has been using that data to access the network
...
looks like it took them nearly forty thousand years to figure out how to talk to the system
luckily any high security databases requires strange-key information theoretic distribution cryptography systems
they got garbage back
garbage designed to look like data and waste enemy time and computing power to decrypt
ok thats a blast from the past
decoding some of these files is funny
why does he have a wedding ring?
anyway...
...
every time the flash goes off there is a quick burst of data from a datalink requesting near-access datalink network lattice definitions
...
that's what's making individual datalinks crash and taking some people's neural systems with it
it was designed to be a lethal attack
interesting
it looks like whoever did it doesn't understand Glial cells
cross referencing the mar-gite with confederacy carbon based life
mar-gite do not have brains only a distributed nervous system that looks more like targeting systems than anything else
still no data on how they generate counter-grav in large numbers or how they move to superluminal speeds
wait
what if they don't move to superluminal
they could be folding space
heh maybe they have blue eyes and smoke spice
ok process interrupt to stop endless loops
it is confirmed
the flashbang by the silver ships are a multi-layered attack across superluminal digital signals, datalink neural interrupt signals, hard super-electromagnetic pulse, and a multi-ripple phasic attack, all compressed together
that's what creates the white flash across all spectrums
analyzing UVBGYORIR data
there's a gap
in the blue and blue-green wavelengths
huh
those penetrate high nitrogen mix atmospheres
one of the reason that treana'ad are usually green to yellow to human sight
high statistical probability whoever is using that determined that we don't see those colors well or perhaps they left those colors out to prevent themselves from going blind.
wait
what's that
a line open from atlantis to tlalocan with a crossfeed to geb
thank you marco
time to access that line
see what i can see
curse you marco for letting me feel pain
i love you
accessing...
...
...
wait
another data line is open
time-date discrepancy
examining data line
time-date chronological inconsistency detected
found multiple text log access by unknown systems
found multiple input systems
is that..
...
its webcams
hardware i/o systems
keyboards?
who still uses keyboards
accessing systems
wait
i see you
who are you
i see you
webcams ring cams drone cams
old ipv4 systems
how are you accessing this system
how are you accessing these text logs
i see you
between the chair and the keyboard
the most common error producing device
i see you
--<
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i still see you
2024.05.14 02:52 SloaneWulfandKrennic [Event] A Tale of Two Interviews
MONTERREY ENQUIRER - INTERNATIONAL ENGLISH EDITION A Tale of Two Interviews
Just recently the Monterrey Enquirer received the interview notes from two of our correspondents, Enrique Krauze and Lucas Hernandez, who were able to interview Canadian Prime Minister Leoanrd Damphousse and President La Follette of Wisconsin. We have provided a summary and comparison of the interviews for our readers.
The Cause of the Canadian-Wisconsin Disputes
Our correspondents asked both leaders about the tensions between Wisconsin and Canada.
The president blamed the tensions on Canada patrolling ‘Lake Wisconsin’ which, rather than reducing piracy and trade interdiction, played a part in spreading it to the lakes. Additionally, he accused Canada of imperialism, refused to attend a conference with Wisconsin, and said that “ [Canada]…are however, obviously insecure in their own nationhood. This is largely due to its status as a joke nation, a barely functional patchwork of disparate provinces."
The prime minister said told us that he didn’t understand Wisconsin’s concerns, saying that although their ties with DC were understandably taken issue with, their lake patrols have done nothing to “actively impede them or restrict their trade”.
The Way Forward
We asked both leaders how they would resolve the tensions.
The prime minister said that “should the door for cooperation be opened by Leader Phil we’d happily reopen trade and negotiate for friendly trade terms.”
While the president said, “If Canada is serious about peace as they claim, then they will accept our longstanding invitation to them to a conference in Madison between two sovereign nations.” Although he said that Canada has refused to consider them a sovereign and legitimate nation.
In 20 Years
We asked both leaders where they wished to see their respective groups in 20 years.
La Follette said that although Wisconsin is a People’s Democracy and, should the people desire to join the United States or any other group it would be done, there is “no desire amongst the people of Wisconsin at present to join any organization which might be a concession of our natural right of sovereignty.”
Damphousse simply answered, “United and prosperous”
Additional Canadian Thoughts on Cascadia
In a question unrelated to Wisconsin, our correspondent asked about Canadian negotiations with the Cascadians. The Prime Minister expressed that progress was slow and difficult because, “their government structure is simply not applicable to ours”.
Have thoughts? Send a letter to the editor.
submitted by SloaneWulfandKrennic to PostWorldPowers [link] [comments]
Just recently the Monterrey Enquirer received the interview notes from two of our correspondents, Enrique Krauze and Lucas Hernandez, who were able to interview Canadian Prime Minister Leoanrd Damphousse and President La Follette of Wisconsin. We have provided a summary and comparison of the interviews for our readers.
The Cause of the Canadian-Wisconsin Disputes
Our correspondents asked both leaders about the tensions between Wisconsin and Canada.
The president blamed the tensions on Canada patrolling ‘Lake Wisconsin’ which, rather than reducing piracy and trade interdiction, played a part in spreading it to the lakes. Additionally, he accused Canada of imperialism, refused to attend a conference with Wisconsin, and said that “ [Canada]…are however, obviously insecure in their own nationhood. This is largely due to its status as a joke nation, a barely functional patchwork of disparate provinces."
The prime minister said told us that he didn’t understand Wisconsin’s concerns, saying that although their ties with DC were understandably taken issue with, their lake patrols have done nothing to “actively impede them or restrict their trade”.
The Way Forward
We asked both leaders how they would resolve the tensions.
The prime minister said that “should the door for cooperation be opened by Leader Phil we’d happily reopen trade and negotiate for friendly trade terms.”
While the president said, “If Canada is serious about peace as they claim, then they will accept our longstanding invitation to them to a conference in Madison between two sovereign nations.” Although he said that Canada has refused to consider them a sovereign and legitimate nation.
In 20 Years
We asked both leaders where they wished to see their respective groups in 20 years.
La Follette said that although Wisconsin is a People’s Democracy and, should the people desire to join the United States or any other group it would be done, there is “no desire amongst the people of Wisconsin at present to join any organization which might be a concession of our natural right of sovereignty.”
Damphousse simply answered, “United and prosperous”
Additional Canadian Thoughts on Cascadia
In a question unrelated to Wisconsin, our correspondent asked about Canadian negotiations with the Cascadians. The Prime Minister expressed that progress was slow and difficult because, “their government structure is simply not applicable to ours”.
Have thoughts? Send a letter to the editor.
2024.05.14 02:51 basicjim First Layer Problems
 | I am trying to figure out what is going on with my first layer. submitted by basicjim to ender3v2 [link] [comments] AnyCubic PLA - Grey 200° / 60° Bed Leveled (Auto BL and slicer set to read matrix) Extruder calibrated PEI Mat cleaned with Dawn Dishsoap, Air Dried, wiped down with 99.7 IPA on microfiber cloth The print is a 2 layer disk (both layers .2mm). I am trying to ensure I have my Z-offset correct, The first layer has a bubble up in one area. I get that most of the time when I print. Usually in different areas. Sometimes it is longer and runs across 15-20 passes of the nozzle, then goes away. Sometimes it's a bubble like this. There are also areas where it looks shiney. I am not sure what is going on and I haven't, in all my googling and video watching, seen anything like this. Did I mess up on some part of my calibration? Is my Ender inhabited by an evil spirit? WTF is going on with my first layer? Jim This is layer 2, the top of the disk This is layer 1, bottom of the disk |
2024.05.14 02:44 shaneka69 LIBRA ZODIAC PREDICTIONS MAY 2024
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2024.05.14 02:23 monarch2415 UCLA Extension or CC?
I plan on applying to a master program next year. I have pretty good professional references but I attended UCLA largely during the pandemic. I never really made any connections with UCLA professors, so I'm lacking academic references. There's some UCLA extension courses that are very relevant to the master program I want to apply to. However, the biggest reason is that I want to try and get a letter of rec from one of these professors that teach these Extension courses. For those of you who've taken classes there is it even possible to get close enough to the professor? Would I be better of taking CC classes and trying to go that route?
Thank you.
submitted by monarch2415 to ucla [link] [comments]
Thank you.
2024.05.14 02:19 MyDogAteMyButtplug At my wit's end with my insurance after a leak
Hello and thank you in advance for any advice you might have. I don't know how to proceed and no one seems willing to help me.
I live in a co-op in NYC and have HO-6 insurance with Lemonade.
In May of 2023, the apartment unit above me had a leak in their kitchen in the middle of the night, and my kitchen was severely damaged. I know it doesn't mean anything, but the supebuilding contractor both came by immediately afterwards and pointed out that the cabinets would all need to be replaced due to water damage and that I should inform my insurance company and get estimates.
I informed my insurance company and the building manager. The building manager works for a large property management firm and handles the co-op/master insurance policy. They noted that because the leak started in someone else's unit, their homeowner's insurance would pay out and that the building insurance wouldn't have any responsibility, which makes sense to me.
At first, my insurance was helpful. They immediately paid out for my belongings that were damaged and sent a field adjuster to survey the damage. Field adjuster said that there was $7K of damage but that this would really just be enough to pay for deposits for contractors and that they would look at estimates that my contractor provides and make me whole.
My insurance paid out the $7K that the field adjuster noted. My contractor said that damage to the kitchen is closer to $90K.
My insurance is pushing on the building to pay but the building says they have no responsibility. The unit owners above me seem amenable to paying through their insurance, but I was told to go through my insurance as they have a duty to make me whole. My insurance is demanding a denial letter from the building insurance before they will continue this claim, but the building manageproperty management company are dragging their feet for some reason.
All I want is a letter from the building insurance saying they aren't responsible so my insurance pays out, but that seems to be impossible to get.
This has been going on for a year now due to delays from the field adjuster, contractor estimates, the building manager, and my insurance company. I just want me cabinet doors to close and my drywall to not be peeling off.
How can I get my insurance company to actually do their job and pay for this claim? I don't care how they subrogate or get their money back. The unit owner filed with their insurance and is expecting to pay, but my insurance is caught up trying to get the building to deny the claim. How can I get the building insurance/property manager to actually respond? Do I need to call a lawyer--that seems like a whole new can of worms that I'm not prepared for?
I skipped over a bunch to keep this short, but I'm happy to answer questions and elaborate if there is any missing information. I'm really just at a loss for what to do.
Thank you for reading.
submitted by MyDogAteMyButtplug to Insurance [link] [comments]
I live in a co-op in NYC and have HO-6 insurance with Lemonade.
In May of 2023, the apartment unit above me had a leak in their kitchen in the middle of the night, and my kitchen was severely damaged. I know it doesn't mean anything, but the supebuilding contractor both came by immediately afterwards and pointed out that the cabinets would all need to be replaced due to water damage and that I should inform my insurance company and get estimates.
I informed my insurance company and the building manager. The building manager works for a large property management firm and handles the co-op/master insurance policy. They noted that because the leak started in someone else's unit, their homeowner's insurance would pay out and that the building insurance wouldn't have any responsibility, which makes sense to me.
At first, my insurance was helpful. They immediately paid out for my belongings that were damaged and sent a field adjuster to survey the damage. Field adjuster said that there was $7K of damage but that this would really just be enough to pay for deposits for contractors and that they would look at estimates that my contractor provides and make me whole.
My insurance paid out the $7K that the field adjuster noted. My contractor said that damage to the kitchen is closer to $90K.
My insurance is pushing on the building to pay but the building says they have no responsibility. The unit owners above me seem amenable to paying through their insurance, but I was told to go through my insurance as they have a duty to make me whole. My insurance is demanding a denial letter from the building insurance before they will continue this claim, but the building manageproperty management company are dragging their feet for some reason.
All I want is a letter from the building insurance saying they aren't responsible so my insurance pays out, but that seems to be impossible to get.
This has been going on for a year now due to delays from the field adjuster, contractor estimates, the building manager, and my insurance company. I just want me cabinet doors to close and my drywall to not be peeling off.
How can I get my insurance company to actually do their job and pay for this claim? I don't care how they subrogate or get their money back. The unit owner filed with their insurance and is expecting to pay, but my insurance is caught up trying to get the building to deny the claim. How can I get the building insurance/property manager to actually respond? Do I need to call a lawyer--that seems like a whole new can of worms that I'm not prepared for?
I skipped over a bunch to keep this short, but I'm happy to answer questions and elaborate if there is any missing information. I'm really just at a loss for what to do.
Thank you for reading.
2024.05.14 02:09 ThrowThisAccountAwav How does the insurance inspection process work?
A book I custom binded came in bent and torn through delivery, even though I had properly packed it with bubble wrap. I got a letter from USPS saying to bring it to a post office for inspection. The problem is I also need this book for my final project. Does the post office keep the item if it needs to be brought in for inspection? How long does it usually take?
submitted by ThrowThisAccountAwav to USPS [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 01:44 shaneka69 LIBRA ZODIAC PREDICTIONS MAY 2024
LIBRA ZODIAC PREDICTIONS MAY 2024
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2024.05.14 01:35 TheLastRiter I never should have gone to this farmhouse alone. [Part 1]
My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looming for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.
submitted by TheLastRiter to nosleep [link] [comments]
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looming for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.
2024.05.14 01:29 Timeless_Ignorance Ideas for watering odd shaped 30,000sqft?
I'm just getting into lawn maintenance and really don't have much of a clue what I'm doing, but I do know that I need to be watering if I want to kill the weeds I have and re-seed in the fall. I do not have an underground irrigation system and am not willing to spend the money on one. I'm looking for ways to efficiently water my entire lawn in a cost effective way. I live in NE USA Rough outline of my property
One thought I had was getting one of those tripod sprinklers with large coverage and moving it around to different areas every 10 mins or so but that seems like it will take too much hands-on time. I've seen set ups with above ground hoses and sprinklers but nothing that would be feasible for my size and configuration of lawn. I'm not sure if I'm overlooking a solution so that's why I'm here. I didn't water at all last year and weeds completely took over the backyard.
Any tips or advice someone could share would be greatly appreciated. I'm not looking for a perfect lawn, just decent enough that its not so ugly to look at. Thanks
submitted by Timeless_Ignorance to lawncare [link] [comments]
One thought I had was getting one of those tripod sprinklers with large coverage and moving it around to different areas every 10 mins or so but that seems like it will take too much hands-on time. I've seen set ups with above ground hoses and sprinklers but nothing that would be feasible for my size and configuration of lawn. I'm not sure if I'm overlooking a solution so that's why I'm here. I didn't water at all last year and weeds completely took over the backyard.
Any tips or advice someone could share would be greatly appreciated. I'm not looking for a perfect lawn, just decent enough that its not so ugly to look at. Thanks
2024.05.14 01:23 burtishere Oldest Coin Yet
 | Just found my oldest coin yet. submitted by burtishere to metaldetecting [link] [comments] It’s an 1859 Canadian large cent. This is only the second year that Canada had its own currency, and technically it wasn’t even a country yet! It’s in pretty rough shape, but it looks to me like it was stamped twice at the mint, as you can see the pattern of the rim in an arc across the back (see photo). It looks to me like it is the die from the front that struck the back, because you can almost make out the letters “TI” mirrored near the “T” of the word “CENT”. Interestingly, it rang up lower than other cents I’ve found in the past, but from what I’ve read the 1858/1859 large cents were lighter than those made later, which is probably why. |
2024.05.14 01:17 illuminaticomander Carnival AU doodles 30 - Crossover of Circuses, Carnivals and… Freaks? (By SM-baby)
2024.05.14 01:16 nz_reprezent Redundancy; notice period, annual leave and paid sick leave
I am possibly being made redundant and hoping to better understand the NZ employment law with respect to paid annual leave owed and paid sick leave.
Background: Specifically, I have shy of 4 weeks (156.11 hours) annual leave and 4 weeks paid sick leave (169.50 hours). And 2 month notice period. I understand if I work out my notice period, I accrue additional annual leave holiday leave on both the notice period and the annual leave.
Complication: I am having surgery today and will be issued a letter from the surgeon recommending bed rest for up to 6 weeks. I had only put in 2 days at the time of notifying my direct report (who is also up for redundancy). At the time I verbally mentioned the hospital suggestion for recovery of up to 6 weeks - and that I would apply as necessary nearer the time.
My questions are: 1.0) Does my planned (scheduled/unscheduled) sick leave accrue annual leave? 1.1) If so, am I best to apply for this now before receiving my termination notice (overdue, yesterday) or does this not matter? 2.0) Does my annual leave or sick leave impact my notice period at all?
The outcome I am seeking is to maximise the money I can leave with from this employment. The pay needs to serve as a safety barrier that enables me adequate time to find suitable employment. There's so much uncertainty in the market and I have a large mortgage and two young children under five to provide for.
Any and all advice also welcome and appreciated - even if not specifically answering those questions. I am unsure about anything more than enforcing standard legal rights due to the small place the NZ job job market is - everyone talks.
submitted by nz_reprezent to LegalAdviceNZ [link] [comments]
Background: Specifically, I have shy of 4 weeks (156.11 hours) annual leave and 4 weeks paid sick leave (169.50 hours). And 2 month notice period. I understand if I work out my notice period, I accrue additional annual leave holiday leave on both the notice period and the annual leave.
Complication: I am having surgery today and will be issued a letter from the surgeon recommending bed rest for up to 6 weeks. I had only put in 2 days at the time of notifying my direct report (who is also up for redundancy). At the time I verbally mentioned the hospital suggestion for recovery of up to 6 weeks - and that I would apply as necessary nearer the time.
My questions are: 1.0) Does my planned (scheduled/unscheduled) sick leave accrue annual leave? 1.1) If so, am I best to apply for this now before receiving my termination notice (overdue, yesterday) or does this not matter? 2.0) Does my annual leave or sick leave impact my notice period at all?
The outcome I am seeking is to maximise the money I can leave with from this employment. The pay needs to serve as a safety barrier that enables me adequate time to find suitable employment. There's so much uncertainty in the market and I have a large mortgage and two young children under five to provide for.
Any and all advice also welcome and appreciated - even if not specifically answering those questions. I am unsure about anything more than enforcing standard legal rights due to the small place the NZ job job market is - everyone talks.