Homemade doorway chin up bar

Disenchantment

2015.08.22 07:30 ohheyitsabe Disenchantment

This animated series from Matt Groening (The Simpsons, Futurama) follows the misadventures of a hard-drinking princess, her feisty elf companion and her personal demon. Netflix original.
[link]


2024.05.15 18:09 DrDoritosMD [Stargate and GATE Inspired] Manifest Fantasy Chapter 16: Power Play (Part 2)

Author’s Note:
Upvotes and comments go a long way in helping me reach a larger audience <3
First
Inside GB-2
“Huh, that wasn’t there before,” Ron said, pointing to a new hole in the wall – another passageway.
Henry turned to look where Ron pointed. Sure enough, there was a new doorway. It must’ve been a section that opened after they restored the power. “Huh, yeah. Let’s check it out.”
He went through, finding a short hallway past it and another room just beyond. Henry signaled for his team to form up, preparing to breach. As they stepped in, they found themselves in a brightly lit room filled with various types of furniture – empty pedestals, comfortable-looking single couches, and empty desks with opened cabinets.
Henry stepped further into the room, eyeing the oddly arranged furniture. The single couches were lined up in neat rows, all facing the same direction – towards the empty desks. It was like some sort of waiting room, but for what?
“Is it just me, or are these couches set up weird?” Isaac asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind. “I mean, who lines up a bunch of single couches like this?”
“Strange, indeed,” Sera agreed. “They seem arranged as though for spectators, yet naught lies before them to behold.”
Like a movie theater, Henry thought. However, there weren’t any screens or holograms to watch. If there was a clue, it would probably be within the couches themselves.
Dr. Anderson approached one of the desks. “Perhaps this was some sort of office or workspace? The desks and cabinets certainly suggest that.”
Isaac then decided to touch one of the seats, eliciting no reaction. He pushed further, sitting down on one of them. At that point, the couch began to adjust its form to better suit Isaac’s envirosuit, as if able to optimize its comfort for the user. Then, a nozzle slowly stretched up from the seat’s headrest area, stopping just short of Isaac’s neck. “Woah!” Isaac bolted up as the nozzle bonked against his helmet.
“Neural interface, maybe?” Henry wondered. “I think we should leave this to the researchers… unless you wanna volunteer as a lab rat?”
“Hell nah,” Isaac vigorously declined the offer. “Hey, there isn’t anything on my helmet is there?”
Henry dusted off the back of Isaac’s helmet with his glove. “Nope, you’re clear. Just gotta hope it ain’t grey goo.”
He could see the dread and uncertainty through Isaac’s visor. Henry gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Well, think about it this way: if it really was grey goo, it would’ve gotten to us – or the Spiranids, for that matter – long ago. C’mon, let’s secure the next room.”
With a nod, Isaac fell in line behind Henry as they moved towards the doorway leading to the adjacent room. Peeking inside, it couldn’t be further from the rest of the room’s they had encountered so far; not at all what they could’ve possibly expected inside an ancient, high-tech alien facility. It was expansive, with a layout that reminded Henry of a high-end restaurant. Comfortable booths lined the walls, while tables of varying sizes filled the central space. The furniture looked almost human – perhaps even indistinguishably so.
The room was tinted with a soft, cozy yellow light. The warm and inviting ambiance felt soothing compared to the clinical feel of the previous areas. The lighting, combined with the plush booths and elegant tables, gave Henry a nostalgic impression.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ryan remarked. “Think they got any cheesecakes?”
If it wasn’t for the alien decor and helping of sleek devices scattered around the room, Henry would’ve thought they were back home. Hell, there was even a bar, filled with exotic liquors that could probably fetch millions at an auction – or give them the trip of their lives. Beside it however was something unusual. Where he might’ve expected a path leading to the kitchen, he instead found a wall with a slight, rectangular-shaped recess that was just big enough for a tray.
He glanced at Isaac, who returned a knowing look. “Replicators,” Isaac said.
Henry smirked. “Personally, I’m partial to synthesizer, but to each their own.”
They gathered around the wall, which didn’t seem to respond to their presence. Taps on the wall didn’t seem to do anything, either. Henry considered probing further, but decided against it. “Alright, let’s not take any chances. We’ll make a note of this for the research teams to analyze later. Let’s keep looking around.”
Henry split apart from the others, pairing with Ron as they continued to walk around the room. They soon came across another doorway on the far side of the room, which opened up into a short corridor that led into multiple sets of doors. Each had a symbol on the wall beside the doors – one that depicted the basic figure of a person.
Ron pushed open one of the doors, taking a peek inside. “Looks like even the Gatebuilders needed restrooms.”
Finally! “Alright, let’s take a quick break here. Bring everyone else over.”
Thankfully, the amenities within were easily comparable to those of modern society. The toilet looked like a toilet, and the sink resembled a sink. Even in a space as mundane as this though, the Gatebuilder’s technology was evident: self-cleaning surfaces and enough technology to put a high-quality Japanese bidet toilet to shame. At least, that was just from the look of things. Henry didn’t think now would be the best time to check whether the restroom had ass-washing robots or not.
After a few minutes, Henry regrouped with the rest of the team around a central table in the ‘restaurant’. Dr. Anderson was already present, his archaeological kit opened and a spread of alien items organized on the table.
“Ah, Captain!” Dr. Anderson noticed him approaching. “We found cabinets that weren’t empty. Most of the artifacts appear to be personal effects.” He held up a necklace, emphasizing his point. “Jewelry, memorabilia, and some other artifacts that I – admittedly – can’t quite describe.”
Dr. Anderson pointed his pickup tool at a small disc laid out on a padded mat. “It hasn’t shown any active properties yet. It’s rather peculiar; it seems to be a solid disc. Lightweight, unblemished surface, no visible markings or etchings.”
“Have you tried touching it directly?” Henry asked.
Dr. Anderson frowned, manipulating the claws of his pickup tool. “Well, not directly.” Catching the implications in Henry’s query, he continued, “I’ve checked for radiation, toxins – all clear. While I’d advise against direct contact, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit curious.”
Henry nodded. Yeah, the Doc was probably right, but what was discovery without risk? He reached out and picked it up, rotating it in his hands. As his gloved fingers brushed against the surface, the disc suddenly emitted a soft glow.
Henry flinched slightly, almost dropping the disc in surprised. As he fumbled with it, the disc seemed to respond to his touch. Suddenly, a series of objects materialized on the table, appearing out of thin air.
“Oh, shit!” Ron exclaimed. “It just… spawned a bunch of stuff!”
Henry stared at the new items. Several containers, probably holding some kind of food, were still sealed tight and impossibly effective at insulating its contents. It was crazy to think that the food inside might still be hot after who knows how long.
Next to the containers was a bracelet. Possibly normal, possibly enchanted or integrated with technology they couldn’t hope to understand. There was also a bottle of some bright blue liquid – probably for drinking, but there was no way to be sure until Perdue tested it. And then there was the picture, showing a strikingly human couple, holding each other underneath a gorgeous alien sky. It reminded him of memorabilia people would sometimes keep in their wallets, though why humans were there was a mystery.
The last object the disc spat out was a thin, transparent sheet. Coincidentally, it was about the same size as a smartphone. If he had to guess, it probably had the same function as one, too.
“Incredible,” Dr. Anderson gawked at the items. “The disc must be the Gatebuilders’ version of a wallet, somehow using dimensional storage technology!”
“Akin to the Holding Bags,” Kelmithus noticed. He peered into his own Holding Bag, his expression indicating that he was connecting the dots. “Fascinating!”
Dr. Anderson then inspected the image, his face reflecting the same confusion Henry felt when he first saw it. While they continued to sort through the items, Henry explored the sheet further. The moment he tapped the screen, a holographic interface sprung into existence above it.
What he had initially thought was a simple hologram was something far more advanced, almost indistinguishable from reality itself. Almost instantly, they were surrounded by mountains and valleys, details springing up to form a realistic, three-dimensional map.
It was like a pocket holodeck. The only anchors the projection had were the various icons and pockets of text floating around – and the fact that the hologram was transparent enough for him to see his surroundings and his teammates.
Sera seemed to be the most shocked out of all of them. He couldn’t blame her. The sight was surprising enough for himself, who was even familiar with the concept through sci-fi; how much more alien would it seem to someone from – effectively – the past?
“I’ve not beheld such a spell… ever!” she exclaimed softly, pausing to gather her thoughts. “Hold on…” she continued, pointing to the distant peaks. “Why, yon mountain range! Does it not strike you as familiar?”
“Huh?” Ron squinted at it. “Does it?”
“No, yeah, it does!” Isaac said. “Shit, uh, is that the Ovinne Mountain Range?”
Henry brought up the file for the Ovinne Mountain Range on his visor, comparing it to the hologram. “Huh, yeah, it is. What’s a map of that doing in here, though?”
Dr. Anderson raised his hands in the air and spread them apart, mimicking a zoom. Lucky for them, the alien tech seemed to understand what they were going for. Now up close and in full detail, the Ovinne Mountain Range dominated the room. Somewhere in the mountains, an icon that looked like a pair of glasses sat right on top of a Gatebuilder tower, barely poking out of the mountainside.
Ryan crossed his arms as he scrutinized the hologram. “Is this what, Find My iPhone?”
“Hmm… rather likely,” Dr. Anderson agreed. “This device must be some sort of Locator.”
“Locator, huh?” Having this clue was an incredible breakthrough, but he noticed something else. “And right where the Ovinne Mountain Campaign’s supposedly taking place, at that.”
“Indeed, that you mention it, such alignment is surely noteworthy,” Kelmithus remarked. His voice took on a more excited note, “Be it fate, perhaps?”
Henry smirked. “Hah, you’re sounding a bit like Sera, now. Well, looks like fate’s telling us where to go next. Let’s pack this up and head back.”
They carefully stowed the various artifacts in their holding bags, Henry holding on to the Locator. They made their way back to the locker room where they first entered, everyone excited for the next step in their mission.
Henry stepped through the airlock first, emerging on the other side. As he did so, a faint sound caught his attention. It was distant, muffled, but definitely not a sound that belonged to this facility. He wanted to take off the envirosuit, but it seemed that had to wait.
Ron came through the airlock after him. “Bro, you think –”
Henry held up a hand, stopping him short. He raised his weapon, picking up on the ‘something’s not right’ vibe.
Activating his infrared vision and using the laser mounted on his M7, Henry searched for signs of thermal distortions, just like he’d done back at Duke Vancor’s mansion. Ron did the same. As the rest of the team emerged from the airlock, they quickly caught on to the situation. Without a word, they joined them in securing the room.
After clearing the locker room, Henry signaled to move on to the lab next door. It was just as empty as the locker room, but now the sounds were more audible, definitely coming from the hallway just outside. Instructing his team to hold still, he crept toward the doorway to investigate.
He peeked around the corner, and felt his stomach drop. There, in the main hallway, was a group of soldiers. They were decked out in distinctive black armor and cloaks. They had no identifiable markings or insignia on their armor, but it was obvious – these were Nobians.
Henry pulled back, returning to his team. “Contact outside. At least a dozen Nobians securing the hallway.”
Ron’s expression grew serious. “Shit. Any idea on their entry point?”
Henry positioned himself behind a desk, aiming his weapon at the doorway. “Probably the same way we came in.”
“Main corridor’s the only play, huh?” Ryan said.
The main hallway only had one line of sight, and it just happened to be the only way out. Well, the only one they could reasonably access. The facility probably had other exits or fancy teleporters, but they’d already scoured the area for the former and wouldn’t be able to figure out the latter.
“Dozen hostiles doesn’t seem like a lot,” Isaac pointed out, taking out another Black Hornet from his bag. “We’re still good on ammo, too.”
Ron shook his head. “Dozen? Yeah, a dozen that we can see.”
“Owens is right,” Henry agreed. “We can’t confirm their numbers outright. If I had to guess, it would probably be at least fifty. Manageable, but I’d prefer that to be our last resort.”
“How might we fare with a disturbance?” Sera offered.
Kelmithus gripped his staff. “I might conjure an echo of noise distant hence. It shan’t last, but it can afford us enough time for our escape.”
Kelmithus’ plan seemed like it could work, but only if the Nobians didn’t know they were here. “No,” Henry disagreed. “They’ve seen our MRAPs outside. We’d get surrounded.”
“How about negotiation?” Dr. Anderson suggested, a hopeful note in his voice.
“Negotiation? With the Nobians?” Kelmithus questioned.
They all knew what the Nobians were like. It really did come off as a ridiculous idea, but what if Dr. Anderson was right? The archaeologist defended himself, “I know, I know. However, we have yet to confirm their hostility, and it would not serve us well to initiate hostilities with the Nobians.”
Taking in the silence as contemplation, he continued, “If talks break down, we hold our ground here. It’s not ideal, but we’ll control the engagement area and prevent them from flanking us.”
Henry reviewed the situation again. 12 hostiles, but they should expect the worse, so at least 50 hostiles plus failed negotiations. Holding the only way out, they were likely spread out between the hallway, the cave system, and possibly even the forest outside. Dr. Anderson’s plan was solid, but he had a few minor qualms. In particular, holding the line meant possibly exhausting themselves in a battle of attrition.
“Alright. We’ll open with negotiations. I’m skeptical, but it's worth a shot. Should that fail, we can’t engage in a drawn-out conflict. We’ll disrupt their positions and quickly move to the cave outside.”
“Smoke grenades and flashbangs,” Ryan muttered.
“Affirmative,” Henry said, nodding in agreement. “If we can’t see them, we’ll level the playing field so they can’t see us.”
“Captain,” Kelmithus quickly interjected, “Bid me aid your efforts. I’ve insight enough to create fog. I’ve learned from our encounter with the Sentinel Lindwyrm.”
“You can replicate that heavy fog?” Ron asked.
Kelmithus held up his palm, producing an opaque puff of steam to prove his point. “Indeed so, Lieutenant. Adequately do these envirosuits shield us, that I might harness more extreme temperatures for more effective casting.”
Henry was impressed with how quickly the archmage grasped such a concept. “Good. Yen, get that drone into the cave. We’ll hold for updates.”
Yen nodded, carrying out Henry’s order silently. The drone’s feed directly streamed to their HUDs, and after a few minutes, Isaac looked up. “Done.”
Henry analyzed the data. They had visual confirmation of a dozen Nobians inside the facility itself and a staggering forty outside, both in the cave and around the cave entrance. It was an assumption, but there probably weren’t many cloaked soldiers past the hallway. He sighed; the worst-case scenario would have them facing a hundred men in total.
It was a challenge, but the drone’s intel granted them a critical tactical advantage. He analyzed his minimap, selecting and sharing a route with minimal enemy contact. “After clearing the facility’s entrance, we’ll proceed along the designated path. Upon exit, I’ll deploy a flare to signal our movement to the MRAPs for extraction. We will then rendezvous with Zulu-9 and coordinate with air support before re-engaging to secure the site.”
His team nodded, fully on board with the plan. He took a deep breath to steel himself before checking his watch – 16:24. “Alright, time to show ourselves.”
Letting his M7 sling over his chest, Henry prepared two flash grenades – one in each hand – before stepping out. With his team in tow, he moved to the center of the hallway, catching the attention of one of the Nobian patrols.
“Attention, Nobian forces! We request parley. I am Captain Donnager of Alpha Team, Tier 6 Adventurer. We are on an official quest sanctioned by the Adventurer’s Guild. We have no intention of hostilities and seek to discuss our presence and objectives to ensure mutual understanding.”
As Henry’s words echoed through the hallway, the Nobian soldiers snapped into action. He heard the sounds of bowstring being drawn taut and the rasp of metal as swords cleared their scabbards. His hands tightened around the flash grenades.
He kept his gaze steady, projecting a sense of calm; of confidence – enough to convince the Nobians that even outnumbered, he and his team were still no match for them. More soldiers joined the patrol, until all twelve of the previously identified Nobians were upon them. They kept their distance, but Henry could feel the tension boiling.
Just as the standoff seemed to reach a critical point, the air in front of them seemed to fold outward from itself, like watching the effects of gravitational lensing on light. A figure coalesced from the distortion – so this is what invisibility magic looked like.
The man was broad-shouldered and tall, seeing eye-to-eye with him, even despite the extra inches in height the envirosuit gave. As the last wisps of the cloaking magic faded away, Henry found himself staring into a pair of piercing gray eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul.
The newcomer had an angular face and was clad in black armor with a different sheen than the black armor of his comrades. Silver trimmings and an insignia emblazoned on his chestplate – a dagger through a swirl of mist – differentiated his status. A cloak of the same dark hue billowed behind him as he walked forward and drew his sword.
Keeping his sword to the side, he stopped a respectable ten meters away from Henry. “I am Carvus Alnect Virelius, Umber Vicearch of the Order of the Shadow.” He then pointed his sword at Henry, declaring, “Of desecrating sovereign Nobian territory, you stand accused.”
As Carvus spoke, more soldiers materialized alongside him, shimmering into existence as they dropped their cloaking spells. Henry had expected this to happen, but seeing it play out still sent a chill down his spine. How many more were still lying in wait?
The Vicearch kept his weapon on Henry, eyes narrowing. “Commander unto commander, I offer a choice: cede your Holding Bags, that secure passage may be granted unto you. Refuse, and you shall be declared as spies and enemies of the Nobian Empire, your lives forfeit to swift execution.”
READ 2 WEEKS AHEAD: Season Finale Chapter 17 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd
Discord: https://discord.gg/wr2xexGJaD
Next
submitted by DrDoritosMD to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 18:06 DrDoritosMD [Stargate and GATE Inspired] Manifest Fantasy Chapter 16: Power Play (Part 1)

Author’s Note:
If you enjoy the story so far, please consider upvoting and commenting! These go a long way in helping the story reach a larger audience. (Also, reddit removes all my formatting for some reason so if you want a fully formatted read, check out my story on RoyalRoad)
READ 2 WEEKS AHEAD: Season Finale Chapter 17 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd
Discord: https://discord.gg/wr2xexGJaD
First
Three, two, one... execute.
Ron peeked around the corner, his M4E1 Carl Gustaf already loaded with standard HEAT rounds. The rest of Alpha Team stacked up behind him or behind Ryan, who was on the other side of the doorway. Through the opening, they could see a nightmarish tangle of webs and egg sacs, with the skittering shapes of Spiranids lurking in the shadows in the far corners of the room.
The Queen was positioned in the center of the room, completely exposed by a cluster of eggs. Henry watched as Ron leveled his Gustaf, taking aim at the Queen while they stayed along the wall to ensure Ron’s backblast was clear. It should have been an easy kill, but a flicker of movement caught Henry’s eye.
A blob of white flew across his vision, smacking into Ron just as he fired his weapon. The thick strands of webbing bypassed Kelmithus’ shielding and wrapped around him, sending him flying back a couple of meters. He landed on his back, his body and launcher completely stuck to the floor by the condensed silk.
Around the same time, the Gustaf’s projectile struck the Queen’s abdomen section. The resulting blast tore through its exoskeleton but was far from a fatal blow. The Queen shrieked, a sound far deeper than Henry expected.
“Fuck!” Ron shouted, struggling to break free from the webbing.
Henry exhaled. They were a man down, but helping him had to wait; the not-dead Queen and its minions took precedence. It would be great if he had another launcher in his own Holding Bag, but that was something he’d have to bring up to Chief Cole later. Henry tossed his grenades into the room, the pops mingling with the screeches of injured Spiranids. Ryan struck simultaneously, throwing his own collection into the mix. Like firecrackers, the explosives were violent but short-lived.
As the chaos subsided, Henry pushed in. Raising his shotgun, he tore through a Spiranid that pounced at him, its carcass smoldering from the white phosphorous. Beside him, Isaac, Ryan, and Dr. Anderson’s shots rang out, tearing through their own sectors of fire.
Almost immediately upon their entry, the Queen surged forward with terrifying speed. It reared its head back like it was about to vomit, mandibles covered in a sick, yellowish color. Henry recognized immediately what it was trying to do. “Acid, move!”
Henry dove away from his previous position, taking a shot at another Spiranid that had taken the opportunity to jump at him while its master was preparing to attack. He narrowly escaped the lethal spray as it jetted toward him. The acid splattered on the ground where they had stood not even a second before, sizzling fiercely as it corroded the thick webbing sprawled across the floor. He noticed as he ran that, rather curiously, the acid was simply puddling on the floor. There was no damage to the floor itself, but if it could tear apart high-quality monster silk just like that, he didn’t want to find out what it could do to an envirosuit.
Henry glanced back after blasting apart his third Spiranid. His teammates were fine – Ryan helping him keep the Queen’s attention, Sera already on her way to Ron, and the others taking care of the smaller Spiranids. He tried to get a quick headcount of how many Spiranids they’d already eliminated. Between their guns, Kelmithus’ magic, and the grenades, he estimated they had killed at least a dozen so far. Solid progress, but the fact that they weren’t able to take out the Queen with their first strike was an issue.
Henry rolled to his left as the Queen pounced on his previous position. It was fucking fast, like a Goliath birdeater but scaled up – and with nasty abilities that really shouldn’t belong on a creature like this. He recovered quickly and took aim, firing point-blank into its thorax. The white phosphorous pellets hissed as they burned into its exoskeleton, forcing it back.
Beside him, Ryan’s shotgun boomed. He struck the Queen’s legs, which seemed to be more fragile than the thick exoskeleton surrounding the head and thorax. The pellets bit into the chitin, likely striking a nerve as evidenced by the leg’s subsequent buckling and collapse. It was a lucky shot – one that he doubted they could repeat four or five more times.
“Sera, use my knife! Here, right here!” Ron called out.
Sera’s sword must’ve been too large to effectively cut through the webbing. They had to hurry up. He and Ryan had been dodging the Queen’s attacks, but mostly by a hair’s breadth. All it took was one lucky hit from the Queen to put them out of commission, possibly for good. “Sera, status on Ron?”
“One minute!” she responded.
Damn. That was one minute later than he’d hoped. Reacting instinctively, Henry noted the Queen raising one of its legs – a sure sign of it preparing for another attack. The Queen struck again, this time cleaving the air with the leg, aiming to corral him into a predictable escape route. As its leg swept through the air, Henry caught sight of the Queen rearing its head back in a grotesque mimicry of a snake about to strike – another acid attack.
Anticipating the monster’s strategy, Henry feinted to the right, a move he hoped would mislead it about his true intentions. As the Queen’s head followed his feint, Henry twisted sharply, scraping against the rough ground. With a powerful push from his legs, he launched backward just as the Queen unleashed its attack.
Acid spewed forth in a wide arc, splattering where he had just been. The corrosive globs almost instantly melted the webbing on the floor, collecting into pools. And there was the second issue. The longer this fight dragged on, the less room they’d have to maneuver.
Henry unloaded into the creature’s compound eyes before tossing a flashbang near its legs. The creature staggered backward, blinded in both its eyes and its sensory hairs. Henry used the precious few seconds he bought to reload his weapon and check up on his team. “Yen, sitrep?”
“Stragglers neutralized; we’re moving to you now.”
Automatic gunfire erupted as Isaac and Dr. Anderson joined the fight against the Queen, dumping their mags on the creature’s head. The 6.8mm seemed to penetrate well, but he could say the same if they fought an elephant; the Spiranid Queen was simply too large for the relatively small caliber rounds to have any effect besides pissing it off.
The Queen lunged again, its legs surrounding him from all sides. There was only one way out, and it was through the belly of the beast. Henry rushed forward, ducking under the Queen’s mandibles as he slid underneath its abdomen. He fired his shotgun as quickly as he could, unloading pellets into the beast’s underbelly. The white phosphorous scorched the softer flesh, drawing a shriek of pain from the massive creature.
As the Queen writhed under the relentless assault, Ryan and the others seized the moment to reload their weapons and reposition. They poured everything they had into the creature’s cephalothorax, bluish ichor oozing from the hundreds of new wounds that they opened up. Yet, it was like chipping away at a mountain – it simply wasn’t enough. The creature thrashed around violently in response; Henry knew it was only a matter of time before it landed a hit on someone.
And land a hit it did. With a terrifying swiftness, one of its massive legs slammed into Henry’s chest, launching him backward. The shield Kelmithus cast on him flickered as it absorbed the brunt of the impact. He crashed into an egg sac by the entrance – its membrane ruptured on impact, drenching him in a sticky, corrosive slime. The sac provided little cushion, and he hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him.
Pain flared across Henry’s chest where the Queen’s leg had struck him. Gasping for breath and battling the encroaching blackness in his vision, he instinctively checked his envirosuit. He started with the areas he could see, glancing down at his chest. It was visibly deformed, dented but not quite a gash.
Still intact, thank goodness. No breach, but another hit like that would be disastrous. He breathed a sigh of relief, his chest hurting like hell as he did so. He checked his sides and back. Parts of his suit were covered in slime from the egg sac. It didn’t seem as corrosive as the Queen’s acid, but it was still a hazard. Quickly, he swiped at it, removing as much as possible with his gloved hands to prevent further damage.
He forced himself up, grabbing his shotgun from the floor. The Queen was already barreling toward him, the damn monster not letting up. He didn’t have time to make a run for it; he needed to jump to one side or the other, and the timing needed to be perfect. Just as the Queen’s shadow engulfed him, the air turned icy cold, frost creeping up on his visor.
Ice formed from thin air, spearing up from the ground and piercing through the Queen’s legs. The spikes rooted the beast in place. Not one to waste an opportunity, Henry dashed away from the entrance, firing at the immobilized giant spider as he linked up with the others.
“Sera?” Henry asked again.
Sera’s voice came in strained. “Almost…” Then, with a triumphant shout, she announced the word Henry had been desperate to hear. “Done!”
“Owens!” Henry said, risking a glance back.
Ron had already grabbed his Gustaf and was in the process of loading another HEAT round. “On it!”
Henry grinned. It was a relief, to be sure. With Ron free and back in the fight, the odds had just tipped heavily in their favor. The Queen was tough, but it wasn’t invincible; they just needed an opening.
Given the damage the Queen sustained to its body, Henry couldn’t imagine it being in peak fighting condition. Even in its weakened state, though, it still had the capability to dodge Ron’s attack, and it seemed to be saving its web ability for that very inevitability.
“Take out the legs!” Henry ordered.
They combined their fire on the left legs, since Ryan managed to break one of them earlier. He heard a crack that might’ve been the chitin giving way or the leg snapping, but it was hard to tell. He was just about to chalk it up to the prevailing gunfire around them, but then he saw it: a brief stumble. The Queen recovered quickly, but it was clear to Henry that it wouldn’t be able to manage any more damage to its legs.
Then, he noticed a blur in his peripheral vision to his right, moving so fast his eyes could barely keep up. Shit, he was certain he kept track of the Queen’s movements. With the existing damage to his envirosuit, he’d be completely fucked. He braced himself for another impact, but it never came.
As he focused harder on the blur, he caught a glimpse of a flash of light that could only be one thing – Sera’s sword, And, just like a flash of lightning, she had already cleared the vicinity of the Queen. The Queen’s foreleg seemed to simply vanish, severed so cleanly that it took a moment for the beast to realize what had happened. When it did, it let out a screech of pain, its balance faltering as it tried to adapt to the sudden change.
While Henry focused on taking out another leg from the left side, Sera had already shifted to her next target. Their assault was brutal: white phosphorus pellets and hard-hitting 6.8mm on one side, ice magic and skilled swordsmanship on the other. And to think, they managed to inflict all this damage by the time Ron completed his reload.
“Clear the way!” Ron called out, his Gustaf aimed right at the Queen’s head.
Henry jumped back, watching as Kelmithus conjured another set of ice spikes to root the beast again, in case the five obliterated legs weren’t enough to keep it down. The Queen thrashed against the icy bonds, its remaining legs slashing through the air in a frenzied bid for freedom. It spat acid – a tactic that would’ve worked effectively on most other materials, but instead simply got diluted with the melting ice. Even as the acid reacted with the ice, the spikes held firm, anchoring the beast in place like steel cables.
Henry’s heart pounded in his ears. Come on, Owens, he urged silently. Take the shot.
As if on cue, Ron pulled the trigger. The Gustaf bucked in his hands as the HEAT round streaked towards its target. Henry barely had time to brace himself before the explosion hit, the shockwave slamming into him and nearly toppling him over. He staggered back, gazing into the settling dust.
When the smoke cleared, the Queen’s head was obliterated – replaced by a gory mess of shattered chitin and pulverized flesh. Blood sprayed from the gaping hole, covering the ground in a pale blue hue. The creature’s body convulsed, its remaining legs scrabbling weakly at their surroundings.
A surge of triumph washed over Henry, but it was fleeting. From the corner of his eye, he locked on to a glimpse of movement. One of the Queen’s legs continued to spasmodically jerk around and spray the ground with blue ichor. He raised his shotgun in a nonchalant motion and blasted the errant limb, watching as it shuddered and went still.
Sera stepped up, her sword barely catching the light as she jammed it into what was left of the Queen’s thorax. A sharp twist, and it was over. She then yanked the blade from the carcass, her grip shifting subtly along the hilt. As she flicked the sword, frost swiftly coated the ichor clinging to the metal. The frozen debris was flung off, hitting the ground and shattering like glass.
He glanced down at his Holding Bag. Damn, the fight took out most of his shells. Swapping out his shotgun for his M7, he turned to his team and took stock of their condition. It seemed everyone had mostly gone unscathed, only debris and dirt scarring their envirosuits. Well, except for himself and Ron. “Think we’re gonna have to start calling you pinata now,” Henry said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Ron scoffed. “Yeah? Says the runner-up,” he said, tapping the dent on Henry’s envirosuit. “Better ‘pinata’ than ‘roadkill’, though. But seriously, what’s next? Don’t even know where to start.”
The room was empty, save for the debris strewn about and the singular obelisk standing in the center of the room. He didn’t notice it earlier, but as he got closer, he realized that the obelisk emitted a faint light that barely escaped the canopy of webs. He looked it up and down before turning to the others. “Only one place to start. Let’s clear out the webs, see what’s hiding below.”
“Doc, Kel, clear out the eggs. Hayes, Sera, see if the Queen’s got anything useful. Everyone else focus on the webs,” Henry ordered.
Ron drew his knife and started slicing through the dense cobwebs. “Hey, what y’all think the Queen’s Tier is?”
Isaac paused to consider. “Eh, Tier 8, probably. Minotaur boss and Rillifane boss were both Tier 8, so I’d say the spider’s around the same level.”
“Well, the resilience of the specimen isn’t a definitive measure of the Tier,” Dr. Anderson pointed out. “It’s quite possible that we merely had the most suitable tools at hand in this particular encounter.”
“The scholar speaks truly,” Sera agreed. “There is nary a defining criterion; defense is but one of many that are considered by the Guild. Were it so simple, Kelmithus and I would have attained Tier 9 ere now.”
“So, what do you think the Queen is, then? Tier 7 maybe?” Ron asked.
Henry shook his head. Tier 7 didn’t seem accurate. Using his knife to scrape some of the webbing off his glove, he voiced, “Spiranids are weak in general, but are classified as Tier 5 or higher because of their traps, ambush tactics, numbers, and abilities. Archers can use Wind Snipe and mages can use wide-area spellcasting, but they can’t reliably penetrate the exoskeleton’s armor. If anything, this is probably on the lower end of Tier 9.”
“Tier 9, huh?” Isaac muttered.
Sera smiled as she stood back. She stuffed a frost-covered gland into her holding bag and paused from her work as she chimed in, “Hmm… how keen. I expected nothing less from the first Tier 6 entrants in Eldralore’s history! It shows plain why the Guild did so swiftly raise you.”
“Hah,” Henry chuckled. It was an amusing thought, but… “Say, ya think we can get to Tier 7 after this?”
Sera’s eyebrows shot up. “Tier 7? A mark of no slight merit. What have you achieved since attaining Tier 6?”
Henry reached to scratch his chin, then cursed softly as his glove thudded against his visor. “Well, we took down a Rillifane pack, a Sentinel Lindwyrm, and now this primal Spiranid Queen. That’s not too shabby, eh?”
“Firm victories,” Sera admitted, “but advancement weighs more than battle alone. The Guild also considers quest difficulty, knowledge gained therefrom, and impact – in other words, glory.”
“The Baranthurian Ruins,” Dr. Anderson blurted, taking the words out of Henry’s mouth. He turned to Kelmithus, who approached them after confirming that the eggs had been cleared out. “Surely, working with the Sanctum Arcanum must be quite the honour. The Guild holds their quests with high esteem, wouldn’t you say?”
Kelmithus nodded, burning a clump of disposed webs on the ground. “True as that may be, advancement oft hinges upon the cumulative experience of dozens of quests.”
“Well, ain’t no small feats for us lately,” Ryan remarked. “The quest to the Baranthurian ruins, what was it, Tier 8? Yeah, that was Tier 8. Sentinel Lindwyrm? Hell, Tier Nine. That there beast?” Ryan pointed his gun at the carcass of the Spiranid Queen. “Tier 9 as well.”
Ron interjected, “Plus we’ve been helping out along the way, like those villagers, and taking on quests others won’t touch. Honestly, the Hardale quest should be pretty weighty too, considering the Nobian shenanigans.”
Sera hummed, mulling over Alpha Team’s experiences. The fact that most of their quests at Tier 6 had essentially been Tier 7 quests or higher in difficulty was probably unheard of in the Guild. Not only that, but they’d been able to complete these difficult quests successfully. Hell, with flying colors, even. That had to count for something.
Henry looked over at Sera, stepping back as he allowed Kelmithus to dispose of the webs that he had cleared out. “So, whaddya think? Based on what we’ve done, you think we got a shot at Tier 7?”
Sera looked up at the ceiling as she weighed her response. “Ehh, you’ve a strong case. Alas, it’s Taldren’s call to make. His favor seems yours, though; I wager he’ll agree.”
Henry grinned. Moving up meant they could have access to more quests. Naturally, that also meant better rewards and in turn, access to some truly magical equipment. “Good to hear. Guess we’ll see to it once we get back to Eldralore. Now, we should probably –”
A soft glow of light gradually lit up the room, interrupting Henry mid-sentence. He squinted, readying his weapon. The light came from the walls and ceiling, illuminating the once-dark chamber. The obelisk, now free of webs, now hummed… healthily? It wasn’t like he had a manual to tell him if this was a good or bad development, but judging from the facility’s reaction, it must’ve worked.
Henry glanced at his HUD. The temperature readings were rising, too. The icy chill from Kelmithus’ magic rapidly dissipated as the environmental controls kicked in. “Well, looks like we’ve done all we can here. Let’s head back to the containment cell room and see if we can find anything else of interest.”
– – –
Outskirts of GB-2, Grenden Forest
Carvus Alnect Virelius narrowed his gaze toward the brightening sky, his eyes cutting through the retreating mist that had long veiled the forest’s canopy. This unprecedented clarity above the ruins was strange. After centuries cloaked in an impenetrable fog, why did the skies clear now?
The Umber Vicearch’s mind worked like a whetstone, sharpening the fragments of reports from his scouts, cryptic as they were. The recent skirmish, occurring concurrently with the lifting fog, could not be mere happenstance. Regardless of the answer, the unexpected fold presented a welcome complexity to test his mettle.
He set his thoughts aside as the sound of footsteps approached.
“Leuarch Eldreyn reporting, milord,” one of his men said. “We’ve word from Serarch Trelian.”
Carvus gave him a nod to continue.
Eldreyn relayed the news. “The scouts espy traces of battle: a fallen Sentinel Lindwyrm and two carriages left abandoned near the cave’s entrance. The land bears scars from some form of magic, strewn with strange metal tubes and other objects unknown to us. Save for the Lindwyrm, no other bodies are to be found. What are your commands, milord?”
Carvus took a deep breath. No other bodies? Two carriages? That such a formidable creature was felled with no apparent casualties among their ranks suggested a small but extraordinarily capable force. Each member was no doubt Tier 7 at the least. The limited number of carriages implied a party not larger than ten. But… what could the metal objects mean?
Powerful though they might be, could such a small group withstand his numbers? Carvus entertained the thought briefly. No, direct confrontation would be unwise. The site bore secrets too vital to squander on rash gambles. Better to maneuver them into a position where the only viable option would be to comply with his demands.
“Hold our position, Lornus,” Carvus commanded. While he preferred the safety of their hidden vantage in the forest, the intrigue of Trelian’s findings – the slain Lindwyrm – was too compelling to ignore. “The contents of Trelian’s report compel our own investigation. Lead us, that we might see for ourselves.”
“As you command, milord.”
It was a short walk to the clearing. As they reached the treeline, Carvus held up a hand, signaling his men to halt – they should go no further than the cover of the forest. The aftermath of the battle lay evident before them. The massive form of the Sentinel Lindwyrm sprawled near the far side of the clearing, its outline murky at a distance.
Carvus squinted, adjusting his position slightly for a better view. He felt his jaw drop, a lapse in composure that surprised even him. Yet, who could fault him? The beast lay nearly torn asunder, its massive body riddled with gaping, jagged wounds that no sword or arrow could inflict. Indeed, not even traditional siege weapons or combat spells could inflict such damage.
The destructive capability of fyric powder was well-known to him – he had seen its use in adamantite mines. The wounds on the Lindwyrm, however, spoke of a force of another Tier entirely. Where fyric powder might clear a path through a stubborn boulder, the agent used against the Sentinel Lindwyrm seemed capable of obliterating several boulders at once, perhaps even an entire cliffside.
Turning his attention from the ravaged beast, he scanned the battlefield. Among the chaos, his eyes caught the glint of metal – strange tubes scattered about, all some lighter shade of bronze. The craters were blackened and littered with debris: shards of metal mixed with wires. This was clearly no ordinary skirmish.
He moved closer to the tree line, cautiously examining the unfamiliar objects. The metal tubes bore no resemblance to any weapons known to Nobian forces. However, their presence here implied that somehow, these objects were related to the catastrophic wounds on the Lindwyrm.
Near the cave’s entrance, two metal carriages lay abandoned. Their exteriors were marred by dirt and marked with an array of dents that appeared to be from the Lindwyrm’s armored tail. The carriages, in style and make, aligned with reports of American machines observed by their Umbercari in distant Eldralore. Mounted atop each was a long cylinder. As foreign as they were, he could tell they were weapons – ones capable of unleashing formidable destruction.
Adventurers throughout the ages had ventured here, all repelled by the formidable Lindwyrm that long guarded these grounds. Had it been folly to devote their resources to the conquest of their neighbors, rather than to mastering and exploiting this site? Such questions surpassed his station, yet irrespective of the answers, the Emperor would surely take no pleasure in learning that he had allowed Americans to plunder the Gatebuilder’s secrets.
Carvus turned to Lornus. “Bid our scouts to investigate the cave.” As Leuarch Eldreyn departed to carry out the orders, he beckoned to one of his serarchs. “Bring me one of those metal tubes. I wish to examine it.”
He sat on a rock, watching the light bend around the man’s form until he vanished from sight. The serarch then adjusted the temperature around his body, matching it to that of the forest. Were it not for the subtle shifts in the man’s mana as he held the spells, Carvus would have surely lost track of him.
The serarch made his way forth, passing through the trees and into the clearing beyond. With haste, he seized upon one of the tubes that lay scattered about, and then, as quick as he had come, he turned and made his way back to the forest’s edge. When at last he returned, Carvus stood up and held out his hand.
The tube, lighter than its solidity might have portended, was chill to the touch and was marked by a patina that showed clear signs of bending. He tried to bend it with his fingers, but the metal resisted. Even when he used magic to strengthen himself, it yielded naught but scant impression. What could have possibly moved the metal?
Looking closely, he noticed that the metal wasn’t bronze, as he had first thought. Though bearing a hue akin to bronze, it was of a kind unfamiliar to him. The surface was engraved with American script – characters and sequences that held little meaning to him. Yet, to deem the letters ‘engraved’ would be to err; it was as if they were imprinted with a craftsmanship nary a smith could rival.
He turned it over in his hands, his eyes drawn to a circular groove near the base. Examining both ends, Carvus noted the open end was distorted as if a great force had expelled something from within – an insight into his previous question. The other end was sealed, marked by a small, precise indentation. He held it up, aligning it with a similarly sized hole in a nearby tree.
This was no common weapon. As a trebuchet releases its load, so too must this tube have hurled its own projectile. It gave him an idea. What if one were to use an adamantite tube with fyric powder, place a keen arrowhead atop, and ignite the mixture below? Would it rival a standard Wind Snipe combined with physical enhancement magic?
Carvus’ thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out to him. “Milord.”
“Hm?” He looked up, finding the face of Leuarch Franus. “What is it, Martano?”
He hesitated, as if second-guessing his words. “The… The Lindwyrm… The men grow restless, milord. They wish to claim the spoils of this battle – the Sentinel Lindwyrm’s materials are prized in many a lore. And these carriages, would it not profit us to salvage what we can? They may hold more secrets – or riches.”
He turned the leuarch’s words over in his mind as he would a well-worn coin. In truth, the idea held merit. Even the smallest measure of a Lindwyrm’s blood was a treasure beyond compare – to say nothing of the other materials, sought after by alchemists and smiths alike. That the Americans had forgone harvest was a curious thing indeed. Could it be that they were ignorant of the creature’s true worth? Or perhaps, had they found something more valuable?
And then there were the carriages, gleaming in the sun like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. If they could but glean some understanding of how the Americans had so deftly slain a beast of the Lindwyrm’s standing, it would surely prove a boon to the Empire’s own martial pursuits. Perhaps, armed with such knowledge, they might at last gain the upper hand against the accursed Sonarans.
Carvus cast his gaze once more upon the clearing, then turned to face Martano. “Aye,” he said. “Let it be so.”
Yet, as he made to step forth, a low, droning sound beckoned his attention – a buzzing hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The unfamiliar noise compelled him to halt. He raised his hand, stopping his men as he searched for the noise. He tilted his head skyward, squinting as he beheld a strange sight: a winged thing hanging in the air above the clearing, like an animal circling its prey. As the sunlight reflected off its surface, it became evident to him that this was no creature of flesh, but a machine – much like the metal carriages.
“Hold,” Carvus ordered. “We dare not venture forth.”
Martano stepped forward, doubt and confusion etched across his face. “But, milord, if we shroud ourselves in invisibility, surely they cannot see us.”
Carvus shook his head. “Nay; recall the umbercari we sent to infiltrate the Duke’s mansion. They, too, thought themselves hidden, yet were somehow discovered. We know not what sorcery that flying machine might possess, and we cannot risk exposing ourselves.”
Before Martano could respond or venture any further protest, the scouts returned, led by Serarch Trelian. The search bowed his head before providing his report, “Milord, the cave lies empty, and the Lindwyrm’s nest remains untouched. We discovered footprints leading to a great sealed door, which we believe to be the entrance to the ruins.”
Carvus nodded. The Americans had ventured forth and left the loot behind for a reason. He thought back to a fortress that the Empire once sacrificed to encircle the forces of the now-conquered Kingdom of Durenelle. “So be it. Let us abandon these lesser spoils. As our adversaries have forgone these spoils in pursuit of greater gains, so must we sacrifice Straltus.”
Next
submitted by DrDoritosMD to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 18:04 lookingforsolution Here's a sneak peek at some of this week's deals - Sales for May 16th to May 22nd.

It's your friendly neighborhood deal hunter back at it again with your weekly grocery deals.
Here's a sneak peek at some of this week's deals - Sales for May 16th to May 22nd, 2024.
This week's got some seriously good finds to keep your wallet happy and your fridge stocked. Here's what caught my eye:

Farm Boy

Food Basics

Freshco (price matcher)

No Frills (price matcher)

Real Canadian Superstore (price matcher)

Sobeys

Walmart

Costco

P.S. Let me know if you find any other amazing deals at Costco – always happy to share the savings!
🙏 Loving the content so far? Share the love with a friend! If you know someone who might enjoy this, it would make my day if you could forward it their way.🙏
Reference: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RJ5pfn7QZOA8YTP-TxjcjSwQI4Bd6OghyF9igf_1Xtw/edit?usp=sharing
submitted by lookingforsolution to oakville [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 15:35 OpheliaCyanide [That Time I Ran Over A God] --- Chapter 12

What started as a panicked attempt to get her over-intoxicated friend to a hospital ended up in a disastrous car crash that claimed the lives of her friends... and a careless God crossing the street. But Sammi's adventure wasn't about to end there. In her dying breath, the God curses Sammi to take up her mantel. Now with her three friends resurrected as ghosts, Sammi has to navigate the tricky world of godhood.
Previous Chapter Next chapter coming soon!
Start here! Patreon (up to chapter 9)
I love houses. House flipping, house hunting, crazy properties in town, gorgeous exotic vacation destinations. I think in a past life I was a real estate agent. Or a carpenter. Interior designer, actually, probably. Maybe just rich?
Doesn’t matter. I love houses, and I was gonna get myself the best digs in town.
“Best digs in town might be a liiiiittle suspicious?” Joni said as I began adjusting the filters of my favorite search: Lottery houses.
“So do you… we’re looking for a house?” Cara was leaning over my shoulder, watching as I pushed the Rooms, Cost, Square Footage, and Bathrooms options as high as I could. “Cause if you don’t even own a place, I feel like saying you’d answer my questions when we got to New Olympia is kinda a blow off.”
“Not a blow off,” I said. “This probably won’t take too too long. I just don’t want to kick anyone out of their house that, like, is a regular person living their life.”
“Kick them out?”
I paused and looked up at Cara, eyes serious. “Please. The parroting. It’s making me nervous.” Then I looked back down and began sifting through various mansions, penthouses, lake houses, villas. “For sale or for rent?”
“For rent,” Blair said immediately. She propped her head up on her chin as she watched me scroll. “Then you don’t gotta kick anyone out.”
“She’s got a point,” Christopher said. “Both from a, like, humanitarian point of view but also from a logistical point of view. Whoever’s moving needs the money pronto to buy a new house and they’re gonna constantly be dealing with banks and shit. You’d need a new lie a day just to keep them off you. But with rentals and all, first off, landlords renting out ten grand a month properties are already making bank off other units. Yeah you’re screwing them over, but not as bad. They got a buncha others. Second, you pay monthly, so you really only gotta fend them off once a month.”
My thumb jammed the “For Rent/For Sale” switch, and I cranked up the rental price. “What else are we thinking for criteria?”
“Middle of town’s a bad idea,” Joni said. “Too easy to find us.”
“We don’t have to, like, hide though,” Christopher said. “Just say you’re both out on bail. I mean, the point is to find Miller and bring him to justice, right? That’s gonna take time. There’s no place far enough out of town that we could hide in for long.”
I squinted at him, tearing my eyes away from a sexy seven bedroom manor with two pools. “What?”
He sighed, as if convinced that I was in the wrong for not understanding what fuck he just said. “Like, think about it Sammi. We’re not actually gonna be able to hide. Or if we are, it’s gonna be in an alley or some shit.” He wrinkled his nose at the same time I did. “They’re cops with detectives and shit, and they think we shot someone and broke someone else out of jail. They’re gonna find us. We’ll have to lie, not hide, to avoid being put back. So may as well be local to all the action.” With this, he pointed directly at a lofty unit in the center of town.
Hmm. He brought up a valid point, so I checked it out.
A five bedroom penthouse with three terraces giving outdoor views of the entire city. Bathrooms that put the hotel to shame. Closets the size of my old bedroom. A pool deck. Appliances with fancy brand names I only ever heard on episodes of “Dream House” and hadn’t actually realized existed in the real world. Enough bedrooms for me, Cara, and the ghosts to each sleep separately.
For a moment, the enormity of it washed over me. Not just the enormity of the house, though it was enormous, but the reality of what I could accomplish. This apartment was twenty five thousand dollars a month. I’m not entirely sure I’ve made that much money in my life. Or, okay, probably around that, but that’s my point. This was the kind of unit rich people showed off in out-of-touch blogs or escapist shows about the lifestyles of famous people. And it could literally be mine if I could play my cards right. Or not even right. Just not catastrophically wrong.
Cause I was a God. And for the first time since becoming a God, I was using my abilities, my status, my familiars and shit to do something cool. Not rob a TechShack of some earpods or break in or out of a hospital.
This was a big yield.
As I had my little epiphany, Cara had taken over scrolling my phone, much to the relief of my ghosts, who’d started grumbling about the static screen while I zoned out.
“Okay.” Cara looked at me. “I’m not gonna ask any of the questions you know I want to ask, cause that’ll just piss you off.” Thank God she was learning. “So we’ll skip that for now and ask the really important question. How are you gonna get your hands on this place?”

Step 1 was to get to the place, which kinda sucked, given we were still at Pizza Dogs. It just wasn’t a very cool start to the coolest scheme I’d ever pulled off. Luckily Pizza Dogs closed at 9, so a solid number of people were leaving the restaurant. I was able to wave down a waitress who’d just checked off of her shift and convince her she was a taxi driver.
“You’re really loving this whole taxiing thing, huh?” Christopher said.
“At least she’s not talking like a robot trying to use slang.” I grit my teeth at the memory of Cops Cop and Taxi Service.
“No, you just told her she was mute.” Blair stuck her lip out. “That’s mean, Sammi.”
“I told her she couldn’t talk. That’s different.” I gave Cara a weak smile, but she hadn’t even commented on my ghost talking. She just buried her face in her hands. See? Learning.
Step 2 was gonna be actually getting in the unit. The listing on HouzeHunting didn’t exactly have the name of the landlord on it, so I was gonna have to get creative getting in touch with them. What it did have was ‘24 hour doorman service,’ which meant getting in would be easy peasy.
Finally we pulled up to the address I’d given our driver. 1732 East Windham Street. She leaned out the window, looking up the seventy story building.
“It’s totally appropriate for you to talk now,” I said as I scrambled out, towing Cara with me. No sense in actually making her mute for life.
The woman nodded. “You, uh, live here or visiting? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I flipped my wad of black hair over my shoulder, wincing at how singularly it moved. I shoulda combed it after my bath yesterday.
“Live here, obviously.” I gave a rich person kinda snort, nose in the air and all.
“Huh.” She looked back at me, rubbing the back of her neck as if it was sore from craning up so high. “But you needed a taxi to get here?”
“Uh.” Rich people used taxis, right? On the ladder from Sammi to Bill Gates, someone had to use them, and if I couldn’t afford a taxi normally, then the typical passenger must exist somewhere above me. “My fancy personal car got towed cause I was parking it in a fire lane.”
The woman didn’t look convinced. Not that she thought I was lying, but she still looked at me like I was dumb as dirt. “You don’t have, like, a personal driver?”
I cocked my head at her, trying to mirror Joni’s sassy tilt but probably just looking confused. “Are you offering?”
Her lips parted, and I could see her brain chewing on this question. “What do you… wait, are you being serious?”
Was I? Suddenly I wasn’t sure. Having a personal chauffeur could be kinda great. Someone always available to text or call when I needed a ride so I wouldn’t have to keep remembering where I left my car. Besides, driving made me nervous. I’d never been a particularly bad driver, no prior accidents, never really hit anything in the past, unless we’re counting bumper cars. Which we’re not, cause I’m a menace in bumper cars. But that’s like the point.
Or, no, the point was, I wanted to minimize driving, and this woman could be key. Of course, I knew nothing about her. What if she had a family at home and I told a too strong lie and she never saw them again?
But then, she wouldn’t be offering if she wasn’t serious, right? Sure I’d lied and told her she was a taxi driver, but the average every day taxi driver didn’t just ditch their families to be rich people’s chauffeur’s.
“Uh. Yeah.” I looked at the ghosts. Two thumbs up from Christopher, one from Blair, and two thumbs down from Joni. That was a total of one thumbs up, if my math was right. “Yeah, I pay ten thousand a month.” We could figure that out later.
The woman’s eyes shot open. “Okay, you’re actually fucking with me. You’re actually offering to hire me for ten thousand a month.”
I nodded. “Yeah. And you can… I mean, if you got your own place, you can stay there obviously but you could also stay in one of my bedrooms. I got some extra ones I was gonna give to the gho–uh, dogs. But I don’t have dogs, so you were next on the list. Well, a chauffeur was next on the list. But also if you’ve got–do you have a family?”
Each of my statements plunked out of my mouth like gumballs out of a broken candy machine. But she just kept nodding like this was a normal proposal.
“I mean, I had a boyfriend.” Her face flushed crimson. “Kinda embarrassing to say at my age. Thought we were–” She took a deep breath. “Thought he was the one. I’m not gonna say I was looking to have kids or anything, so I suppose age doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean I really want to start over. Five years wasted is all, and at my age, the well starts to dry up a bit. People look at you a bit…” She blinked. “I’m sorry, that’s not really what you asked, was it.”
It wasn’t entirely, but I was kinda hooked on the story now. “Yeah it was,” I said. “It was the first question in the interview, and you’re nailing it. Uh, you actually already passed the first round. Let’s take the rest inside.”
The woman let out a shaky breath and smoothed her frizzled hair. “Right, of course. Thank you so much!”
Cara had, thank God, kept her mouth shut this whole interview process, so I just towed my newly formed posse towards the doorman.
“My key got lost,” I said confidently and too quickly, noticing way late that there weren’t any visible keyholes anywhere on the door. “Uh…” I looked nervously at the ghosts.
“Just tell him someone said he should let you in,” Joni said.
“Yeah.” Blair smiled. “Carl from management.”
“No–”
“Carl from management said you should let me in,” I said, bowling over Joni’s protests. “I own that top penthouse suite. Suite 72. The one for rent. Or, not for rent cause I’m renting it now. And I called earlier because my key is broken and Carl your manager said–”
I stopped finally because the doorman had long since stopped frowning perplexedly at me and had just tapped his card against the door.
“Haha,” I said, verbalizing the laugh a little too hard. “Look at me, talking too much as always.”
He frowned again, but nodded nonetheless, before holding the door open for me. “Here you are.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, stepping in like a real fancy lady. “I’ve got it from here.”
And, because I was stupid and always spoke without thinking, he nodded and shut the door behind me.
So technically Step 2 ‘get in’ was done, but it was like, barely done. Like when your mom says ‘go to your room’ so you sit in the doorway. Cause I wasn’t really close to my new apartment yet, which meant a new step on the list. Step 3? Get into New Olympia.
Somehow a little sneaky ‘Step 3b, interview your new chauffeur’ had snuck on the list too, but that would be easy to finish once I got to the actual unit.
It was literally impossible to keep my jaw in its socket as we walked through the lobby. I was actually straight up speechless at how fancy it all was. There was a bar in the lobby, like this was some hotel! Given my experience with rich people things, it was either totally free or thirty bucks a glass. Still, it was pricey enough that I should probably have been charged just for looking at it. Even Cara and the driver had their mouths gaping open as they looked around, taking in the mirror shiny marbely floors and columns.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, and really tried to capture this moment of peace and quiet inside the lobby of my new home.
“Blair stop humming, they’ll be able to hear you.”
“I’m using my regular humming, not my banshee humming.”
“My bad, shoulda clarified. I’m able to hear you, and you’re annoying me.”
“Joni, why are you always so mean.”
“She’s, like, kinda got a point. You need to get that stick out of your ass.”
“I’ll get the stick out of my ass when Blair stops humming.”
“Bro, it’s totally more than the humming, and you know it.”
“Is singing okay?”
“No.”
“What about–”
“Why don’t you just whistle, Blair?”
“That’s not nice. You know I can’t whistle.”
“Kinda my point.”
“Hey, be nice to Blair, Joni.”
Peace and quiet were overrated anyway. We were here for schemes.
My eyelids snapped open. In front of me was a big old reddish wood desk. The sign on it said “Main desk, open 7AM to 9 PM.” Next to it was another, more temporary sign, “Partial Service After Hours. Ring Bell For Assisance.”
My eyes drifted hungrily to the shiny golden bell. It was the kind you see in movies and shows, you press down a few times to summon the waiter or whoever sits behind the desk.
“Just once, Sammi,” Joni said, already reading my mind. “You ring it once.”
“But Joni,” I whispered, hand hovering over it, “I’m a God.”
DING DING DING DING DING DING DING
Seven was overkill. The man was there after the first two rings. But I couldn’t stop. It was too satisfying.
He regarded me with pained eyes. “Ma’am, you didn’t have to ring it that many times.”
“I didn’t,” I said confidently. And just like that, the pained look vanished. He didn’t look comfortable though, probably because I didn’t look like I should be there. Time to fix that.
I jutted my chin out. “Is there, like, a master key to all the elevators and units you can give me.”
The guy blinked rapidly. “I’m… sorry, you want what?”
“Lies, Sammi. That was a request!”
This is why we needed Joni and the stick up her ass.
“Uh.”
“Tell him that… I don’t know, someone from management said you could borrow a skeleton key.”
I smiled. “Carl from management told me I could have a skeleton key. A, you know, a key that opens all the doors.” I gave Joni a panicked glance.
She motioned her finger in a repeating loop and mouthed ‘go on.’
“And.” I swallowed. “You said you would give us one.”
The concierge sighed. “I know. I know. I just.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Carl doesn’t manage my department, so if this isn’t the right call, Sandy’s gonna have my head.”
I eyed the ghosts nervously. The lie had worked but it didn’t seem to fully convince him. “Sandy said…”
“Keep it simple,” Joni hissed.
“...that you would give me a key to let me in?”
“Right, please hold a moment, it’s almost done transferring.” The concierge paused and looked at a key card on his desk. He squinted before picking it up and beeping it against a little card pad. It flashed red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The transfer didn’t go through right. One moment please.” Then he typed on his computer for a few very long minutes while Cara, the driver, and I all stood frozen by the elevator. After several breath-holding moments of silence (yeah, now the ghosts decide to shut up) he tapped the card again and it flashed green. “There we go.”
I let out a long breath before scuttling over to pick up my card. “Thank you!” I said, a cheery forced grin on my face. “Thank you so much! Remember, this came from, uh, Sandy’s boss, and she told you not to tell Sandy, so keep it zipped!”
He mimed zipping his lips as I waved again before rushing to the elevator.
Soon we were zooming up dozens and dozens of levels as my breathing came more and more naturally. Even the elevator was fancy. All golden mirrors, which Blair was staring at, disappointed that she couldn’t see her reflection in them.
There was no one on the seventy second story and ther was only one door, at the end of a gleaming hardwood hallway. My black boots clomped awkwardly as I escorted the driver–still in a bright orange shirt with a barking dog and a slice of pizza on it–and Cara–still in an orange jumpsuit–towards the door at the end.
Once I got there, I tapped my card, and we were in.
I don’t really have good words to describe the place. Huge, for one. Empty for another. Those were the two big ones. I could have gawked at it all, but I was a little tired of gawking, so I filed away ‘tour my house and get it fitted out’ for later. Besides, I had all my gear and shit still in my car… somewhere. I’d get it up here eventually and then the real decorating could start.
But there was a first step. Well two first steps. Okay, technically only one could be the first step, so we’ll do that first.
I waved Cara to join me in one of the bedrooms.
“I’ll finish your interview in like, fifteen minutes,” I said to the driver. She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, closing the door behind me and plopping down on the ground.
Cara stood awkwardly, eyeing the big ass empty room with a big ass empty bathroom off to the side. “Okay,” she said, still standing. “Do I need to–”
“No no, I said I would…” I trailed off, lips pursed and confused. “You wanted… Or… I was gonna tell you–”
“Oh shit yeah.” Now suddenly Cara was on the floor across from me, leaning in. “You’re telling me what the fuck is going on.”
My breath rushed out in a long woosh as I contemplated how to start this. Joni had made a snarky comment at one point like ‘pushing this off won’t make it easier’ and I’d responded with a ‘I’ll come up with a plan while I delay’ which of course I hadn’t, and now I was angry cause Joni was right.
“So the problem is,” I said, starting slowly. “Everything I tell you, you’ll believe.”
“Obviously,” Cara said, believing me instantly.
“But no one else but me knows what’s going on. So I can’t help but…” I trailed off again, noticing Cara nodding animatedly. This wasn’t working. I wanted her to believe me cause she fully understood and accepted my story, not cause of magic. But to get that, I couldn’t be the one to tell her, and the only other people who knew about my godliness were the ghosts and–
I smacked myself on the face. Sammi, you’re a genius. An actual, mensa accredited whiz kid.
“Blair,” I said, smiling. “I think I’ll offload this to you.”
Blair frowned, scrunching her nose up for a moment, before pointing at herself. “Me?”
I nodded confidently. Blair knew everything but lacked the Verity Tongue. This would be a sinch.
“Cara, how do you feel about a little ghost story?” I shivered a bit, getting goosebumps at my own words. Now that lead-in was brilliant. ‘A little ghost story’, who came up with that? I was getting smarter by the minute.
“Oooooooooooooh.” Blair zoomed around the room, and Cara leapt to her feet.
“What the fuck?”
“Bewaaaaare moooooortal,” Blair droned, pitching her voice low. “For the story you’re about to hear is both dreadful and awwwwwful. Fear for your soul for those who hear this story are cursed and will find themselves in an early–”
“Blair!” I shouted. “Stop that. What the fuck? Literally not like that. Like literally anything but that. You need to start with–”
“Yo, Sammi, dawg, chill.” Christopher patted my back. “We’ll help her out.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to taint the story with your god powers,” Joni said. “We’ll sort Blair. You interview the pizza waitress.”
Suddenly my genius felt like the opposite of genius. Yeah, delegation was important, but I did want to hear what the ghosts were telling Cara. Didn’t I need to know? What if they told her something totally wrong and stupid? Or what if they said something mean? Like what if they really played up the part about my reckless speeding? What if they lied about something? Made me look incompetent.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Christopher just gave me an icy pat again.
“Look, you’re gonna jump in to correct something we say, and it’s just gonna fuck up Cara.” He gave me a serious look, one of the most serious looks he’d given me since this whole ordeal. Which was honestly kinda stupid cause of all the times to pull out there ‘seriously, Sammi’ face, he was picking now? Was this really the right time for this? “Seriously, Sammi. We got this.”
I didn’t believe him at all, but they were absolutely right about me likely fucking this up with my motor mouth. No way was I sitting still while Joni made snarky comments about me, like, eating gross bagels or telling cops to steal poop.
“All right,” I said. “Come out when you’re done. Or if you need hands at all. Like if she passes out and you need to check for a pulse.”
“Are you talking to me?” Cara said.
“No. I’m talking to the ghosts.” And with that I closed the door.
Looks like Sammi's got a house! And maybe a minion or two on top of her familiars. Let's see how Cara takes all of this...
submitted by OpheliaCyanide to redditserials [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 14:59 crimsontape This week's grocery review - Sales for May 16th to May 22nd - Lots of BBQ items and excellent corn deals! But, cucumber pricing is down quite a bit. Nice spread of sales on tomatoes. LOTS of blueberry and strawberry deals around! Some good mango and cherry sales, too. Fewer sales on fresh chicken an

(As always, flyers are out Wednesdays, most store sales for the new flyer start on Thursdays)
Adonis
Farm Boy
Farmers Pick (can be a little late on their flyer) (https://www.farmerspick.ca/flyer-specials)
Food Basics
FoodLand
Freshco (price matcher)
Giant Tiger (*note the VIP prices; sales begin today) (price matcher)
Green Fresh Supermarket (Vanier) (check https://greenfreshottawa20.wixsite.com/greenfreshottawa)
IGA (price matcher)
Independent
Loblaws
Provigo
Maxi (price matcher)
Metro
No Frills (price matcher)
Produce Depot (usually a little late on the flyer) https://producedepot.ca/
Real Canadian Superstore (price matcher)
Sobeys
Super C
T&T Supermarket https://www.tntsupermarket.com
Walmart
Costco (Note that these are the online/shipped prices - reduce each item by $3 for in-store pricing)
Jean Coutu (new sales start Fridays)
Shoppers Drug Mart (new sales start Fridays)
Some additional references!
submitted by crimsontape to ottawa [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 14:26 OttoVonBlastoid Teylim's Reasons: An NoaHM / ALS:SOTP One-Shot (Mother's Day Special)

DISCLAIMER: Sorry this is a day late. I ended up having to rewrite half of this. Still, I hope you enjoy. After this, I'll be going on my hiatus. So I hope you like this last little bit of Roo-family cuteness. Thank you all and keep on keepin' on!

Special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the NoP universe.

I'd also like to thank u/xskipy10 for their awesome fanart of the main cast as well as their recent Tohba meme and their fanart of Michael baysitting. You're work is a treasure!

Thank you as well to u/Accomplished-Golf-59 for his take on Michael, Teylim, and Tohba in his submission for the Banner Art Contest, and u/Spacer_Catgirl4969 for their awesome music video featuring a pixel-art Dohkar in his bar. Be sure to give ALL of these awesome creators your love and support.

And let's not forget u/Guywhoexists2812 who has been an awesome source of memes as well as sick pixel art, such as THIS and THIS!!!! And even THIS!!!!!! And how could I forget THIS!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much!

Today, we see all the reasons Teylim has to keep going in the face of adversity. For when all is said and done, love truly does conquer all. LETTUCE...begin...

Original Story

[Accessing Camera Function…]

[Accessing Saved Recordings Function…]

[Play Selected Recording?: Y/N…]

[Playing Recording!]

[The camera opens up on a female Yotul with a satchel over her shoulder. She is walking backwards down a paved walkway while looking up at the person holding the camera…]

“Alright! Soooo…here we are in… Michael tell us where we are!”

[The person holding the camera gives an audible sigh…]

“Do I have to, Tey?”

“Yes! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

[Another audible sigh is heard before the person begins panning the camera around the surrounding cityscape…]

“We are in the beautiful, literally ALWAYS sunny capital of Dayside City!”

“And what would you say we’re doing here in Dayside City?”

“We were just at the Public Records building getting our paperwork verified.”

[The Yotul woman is seen reaching into her satchel and pulling out a leaflet of documents…]

“Oh! You mean THIS paperwork? Hmmm… I wonder what these might say… Mind helping me here?”

“Seriously?”

[The Yotul doesn’t answer, instead shoving the documents directly into the camera. Another, more amused-sounding sigh is heard…]

“It says that your name has been officially changed to ‘Teylim Andrews.’”

“Mmmmhmmm. And what about this one?”

“That one says that Tohba’s name has been officially changed to ‘Tohba Andrews.’”

“Aaaand why do you suppose that is?”

[A shuffling sound is heard and the camera shifts as the person holding it pulls out their own papers…]

“Probably because according to MY paperwork, while we’re still waiting for my Application of Citizenship to go through, I, Michael Ruiz Andrews, am now the full, legal, son of one, Teylim Andrews-”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!!!”

[The Yotul woman darts forward, wrapping the person holding the camera in a hug. The camera is set on the ground and the face of the person is now visible. The two hold their embrace, rocking back and forth…]

“I love you so much, my joey…”

“Love you too, Ma…”

[Recording Ceases…]

[Play Next Recording?: Y/N…]

[Playing Recording!]

[The camera opens on a small kitchen area where two beings are sat eating. On the left, a male Yotul infant in a high chair is munching away at a human food identified as “Cheerios” spread across his tray. On the right, a male human idly stirs at a bowl of cereal while tapping away at a datapad…]

[Eventually, after munching down another “Cheerio”, the infant catches a glimpse at the human and stares for approximately one second before his tail begins wagging…]

“Mikey?”

[The humans attention is broken away from their datapad and immediately focuses on the infant…]

“Yeah, Bud?”

“I WUV YOOOUUU.”

[The infant’s sing-song voice seems to make the human smile before he leans forward, planting a “kiss” on top of the infant’s head…]

“MmmMUAH! Te amo, mi hermanito.”

“Whaz dat mean?”

“It means, ‘I love you, Little Brother’. Want me to teach you?”

“Hmmmmm… OKAY!”

“Okay.”

[The human chuckles slightly before scooting his chair in…]

“Okay, so when you want to tell someone you love them, you say, ‘Te amo.’ Okay?”

[The infant gives a curious ear flick…]

“Teeeh…Mo?”

“Close! Here. Repeat after me. Te…”

“Teeh…”

“Ah…”

“Aaahh…”

“Mo…”

“Moh!”

“Te…ah…mo…”

“Teeh…aaahh…mo!”

“Okay! All together now. Te amo.”

“¡TE AMO!”

[The human excitedly gets up from his seat and embraces the infant…]

“YES!!! You did it! Awesome job, Bud!”

“YAAAAYYY!!!! ¡TE AMO, MIKEY!”

“MMMUAH!! ¡Te amo, precioso hermanito!”

[The camera jitters slightly and a muffled giggling is heard. The human turns to face the camera…]

“Ma? What are you- Have you been recording this whole time?”

“Just a little!”

“Must you record everything?”

“As a matter of fact, yes!”

“MAMA!!”

[The camera zooms in on the excited infant…]

“Hello, Precious! Is your big brother teaching you Spanish?”

“UH-HUH!! ¡TE AMO, MAMA!”

“Ooooh, that is just ADORABLE! Can you teach him to say ‘Mama’ in Spanish, too?”

[The camera pans over to the human, who raises an eyebrow. After a moment, the human smirks and gives an exaggerated shrug while shaking his head…]

“No tengo que hacerlo. Él ya lo sabe, mamá.”

“Pffft! Smart aleck.”

[Recording Ceases…]

[Play Next Recording?: Y/N…]

[Playing Recording!]

[The camera opens up facing a pair of beds in a small room. On one bed, a female Yotul is sat with her infant in her lap as a male human walks into frame carrying a brightly wrapped gift box…]

“Merry Late Christmas, guys!”

“Merry Christmas, Michael!”

“Mewwy Kwizmuz, Mikey!”

[The human kneels down and hands the infant the gift box…]

“Sorry this gift is a bit last minute, but I managed to grab it while I was out with ‘Nel the other day.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect, Michael.”

“I hope so. Go on, Bud. Open it! It’s for you!”

“OKAY!!!”

[The infant rips away at the brightly-colored paper, and with help from his mother, lifts off the lid. The infant then excitedly starts bouncing up and down and reaches into the box, pulling out a bright-red plush…]

“WED TIWFISH!!!!!!”

“Oh, Michael! How? When?”

“I had to ask around online if anyone else had plushies from the aquarium ship, and I managed to find a guy here in Dayside. There’s…still a lot of things we lost at the house that need to be replaced, but I figured this would be a good start…”

“It’s perfect.”

[The three embrace and hold it for several seconds before pulling back…]

“BUT! I’m not done with gifts just yet.”

“What?”

“Here. Mind handing me your pad?”

“Sure?”

[The Yotul hands the human her datapad as he pulls a small drive from his pocket and plugs it in. After a moment, he smiles and sits down on the bed next to the Yotul. She is then seen gasping and covering her mouth with her paws…]

“Michael…”

“I overheard you on the phone with Aunty Triv, talking about how you wish you had some pictures of me when I was younger…”

“How on Liern-”

“It’s…a long story. When I was first taken into foster care after getting rescued, I was assigned a social worker to help me adjust. And after I got situated with Dad, he stayed and helped us out from time to time. He basically became like an uncle to me after a while. And since Dad didn’t really have any other family, whenever he wanted to share pictures of me growing up, he’d send a copy to my social worker. I’ve…been back in contact with him for a little while now, and it turns out he kept them.”

“Oh, Michael…”

[The Yotul and human lean against each other and embrace…]

“I love you, Ma.”

“I love you too, my joey.

[Still leaning against each other, they begin to swipe at the pad, presumably looking through pictures. After a few swipes, The Yotul begins chuckling hysterically…]

“Aaaawwweee…”

“Crap, I forgot about that one!”

“Who’z dat?”

“That’s…me, Bud.”

[The infant looks at the image for a while, still holding the bright red plush…]

“Teeheehee!! Fuzzy Mikey!”

“Can we please just swipe to the next one?”

“Wait. I’ve seen those kinds of human garments before! Aren’t those for…LITTLE…little joeys?”

“Look, I was a very emotionally stunted kid and I just thought they were comfy, alright?”

“This is SO going on the desk.”

“Please no. Any of them but that one.”

“Nope! It’s already decided!”

“YAAYYY! FUZZY MIKEY!”

“God, ‘Nel’s never gonna let me live this down…”

[Recording Ceases…]

Memory Transcript Subject: Teylim Andrews, Yotul Accountant And Loving Mother Of Two

Date:[Standardized Human Time] February 1, 2137

[Warning: REM Sleep Detected: Transcript May Be Fragmented Or Incomplete…]

Crrreeeeaak…

My eyes slowly squint open as the noise rouses me from sleep. I let out a yawn before looking for the source of the noise. I’m…back in my house… Sitting upright, I see that my door’s been opened, beaming The Dayside’s permanent daylight into my room. I was confused for a moment. The only other person here that would be here is-

“Uuuuhhmm… M-Mrs. Teylim?”

I looked down, and spotted the culprit.

Standing in the doorway was a small human child, cradling my Tohba in his arms. He was silhouetted from the daylight behind him, the light beaming past his adorable onesie pajamas creating a small blue outline around him, matching his eyes.

Strange. For some reason, I thought he was taller…

“Michael, sweetie? What’s the matter?”

Still carrying Tohba, Michael made his way over to the bed.

“Uuuhhhmmm… Tohba h-had a n-nightmare…”

“Ooohh, is that so?”

Something definitely didn’t add up. As he gently handed Tohba over to me, he certainly didn’t seem to be having a nightmare. In fact, even now he was still sleeping peacefully.

Michael, on the other paw, was DEFINITELY out of sorts. He was nervous, fidgeting, wrapped up in a self-hug, and even now, refused to even look at me. Whether that was because of his nervousness or if he was still convinced I was afraid of him had yet to be seen.

Stupid, ridiculous, Federation dogma…

I could tell he wasn’t being honest with me. Ordinarily, I would’ve been upset about him lying, and even more so about him disturbing Tohba, but looking at him now, I knew what he needed now wasn’t a scolding.

“Michael, you know you can be honest with me. Was it really Tohba who had the nightmare?”

I heard him nervously gulp as he tightened the self-hug around himself. After a moment, he shook his head.

“Mm’mm…”

I gave a tired, but loving sigh before holding out my free arm.

“Come here.”

With some hesitation, he stepped closer, allowing me to pull him into a hug. Michael had a lot of issues. From what I learned from his social worker, he’d been terribly abused by his previous mother and he’d lost his father only a few years after moving in with him. And now, with Earth under attack, he simply didn’t have anywhere else to go.

It will take a long time before he’s fully comfortable living here, I know that. I’m still not even entirely sure if I’m what he needs. I still wonder if I know what I’m doing when it comes to just raising Tohba. Even so, I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try. He deserves a home, and a mother who loves him. All children do.

“I'm sorry for lying…”

“Ssshhh… It’s alright. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was…the one with the scary fire people…”

Oh…THAT dream…

Exterminators.

“I don’t want them to come… I don’t want them to-“

“It’s okay, joey. They won’t get you here.”

“No! That’s not… That’s not what I’m scared of…”

I pulled back slightly, allowing myself to look directly at him. He sniffles and sobbed while trying to wipe away tears.

“You’re all so nice to me… \sniff** I…I-I don’t want the fire people to hurt you… I sh-shouldn’t be here…”

My heart broke in two. This poor child had already lost so much. It only made sense that he’d be afraid of losing us too.

I cupped his face in my paw, wiping away his tears.

“Michael Ruiz Andrews, I don’t care what you might have heard, but you have every RIGHT to be here. And if those scary people out there think they can come and take us away from you, they’re wrong. I will never let us be separated. You hear me?”

“. . .P-promise?”

“With all my heart. You’re MY joey now, and I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

At last, Michael finally unwrapped himself from his self-hug and instead wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my fur.

After a while of holding him, he’d finally calmed down enough to speak again.

“C-can I…sleep here tonight?”

Your joey needs you.

Yes.

“Of course.”

With some effort, he climbed up onto the bed and curled up next to me. I knew I most likely wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep, but that was fine. Just laying here, holding my boys in my arms. That was enough.

One after the other, I gave both my joeys a lick on the forehead.

“Goodnight my joeys. I love you.”

“Wuv…you…Ma…ma…”

“. . .Love you too...Mom…”

I love my boys. I love my family. I love…my life…

[Transcript Time Progression: 4 hours…]

Beebeebeebeep! Beebeebeebeep! Beebeebeebeep!

[Warning: Subject Regaining Consciousness…]

My entire body protested as I twisted and turned over to tap the alarm on my nightstand. My claw slapped blindly at it until finally, the agitating alarm was silenced. My eyes squinted open, revealing…I was back in our motel room…

Well…a girl can dream, can’t she?

It was a pleasant dream, I’ll give it that. As I sat up, I let my legs dangle off the side of the bed as I stretched myself out and let out a yawn. Once my eyes had fully opened, and the fog had been blinked away, I was immediately met with a sight that warmed my heart to no end. My still fast asleep, and back to being tall, new son, curled up with his baby brother on the other bed.

Precious boys. MY precious boys.

I did my best to remember if Michael had anything scheduled with Khornel for this paw, but nothing came to mind. He’d been working so hard lately, helping to keep us above water. Now that he wasn’t a refugee anymore, we were no longer receiving stipends from the program, which meant from here on out, keeping the bills paid was much more difficult. And that’s not even mentioning having to put aside anything we can to be able to eventually have the house rebuilt.

I kept trying for a while, I still couldn’t remember anything. For the first time in a decent while, he had a paw off.

Good. I’ll leave him be then. He’s earned some rest.

I let out one more yawn, before getting up. Unfortunately, while Michael didn’t have to work this paw, I wasn’t so fortunate. Thankfully, my recent injuries allowed me to continue to work from home instead of going out to the physical office. After one last stretch, I let myself slide off the bed.

I had to give myself a moment once I was upright. While my previously broken leg had healed for the most part, I still needed to be careful of how much weight I put on it. Once I was ready, I began walking to our small kitchen area. The fridge was nearly empty. I’d need to go to the store soon.

Thank goodness we’re staying in Soulroot, where literally EVERYTHING is expensive…

After cutting up some leftover fruit and strayu for myself, I went back to my desk. It was impossible to not notice the small stack of colorful books on the ground next to it. They were human kid’s books donated from the embassy here in Soulroot. Tohba would be ready to start going to school in just a few short cycles…

Will we be able to get out of here and back into our house before then?

Sitting down at my desk and booting up my pad, I found it hard to stay focused. There was still so much to do, so much to worry about. Before, when I was feeling overwhelmed, I’d have Loh, Dohkar, or Trivah there for me. With them around, it always helped things feel more manageable. But now…now I was alone again. Loh was gone. Dohkar and Trivah were stuck on the other side of that damned fence…

What are we going to do?

My head lowered. I stared blankly at the desk, partly wishing I could look through it at ANYTHING other than my work.

But then, there was a glint, just out of the corner of my eye…

I looked up, and saw something that I couldn’t help but smile at, something that even when I’m feeling low, reminds me why I have to keep going.

I reach out…and grab the two small frames off the corner of my desk and hold them in front of me. In my left paw, wass a framed picture of Tohba, the paw he was born. So small. So precious. So perfect. And in my right, was another picture. It was my new favorite picture.

A small, human child…in fuzzy, blue, onesie pajamas that matched his eyes.

My Michael. Still so small.

These two pictures. My boys. The villains outside could take everything else. So long as I have my boys, I will always have a reason to keep going.

I love my boys… I love my family… I love my life…

The End
submitted by OttoVonBlastoid to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 13:09 Sad_Reindeer_7059 SebDerm Fix That Worked For Me

Had SebDerm for more than 10 years, mainly on my forehead, eyebrows and chin area (red inflamed & flaky). Over the years it sort of progressed to my back too.
Medicated with Nizoral (Ketoconazole) & Fucicort (Steriod) cream all these years as per recommended by my dermatologist. The cream worked well in the beginning, but as time went by, the flare up became worst and it came to a point where the cream don't seem to work anymore.
After researching and experimenting on my own last year. I'm glad to share that I have not had a flare up since Oct 2023. The 2 products I have been using are,
  1. Dermaharmony 2% Pyrithione Zinc Face & Body Cleansing Bar
  1. Paula's Choice 2% BHA Liquid Exfoliant
Created a Reddit account just to share this. Hopefully my experience will help someone out there :)
submitted by Sad_Reindeer_7059 to SebDerm [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 09:58 marienbad2 New detective thing, short dialogue scene of her talking to the bartender in a bar where the victim met someone

I drive over to the bar on 44th Street. Doesn't take long to find it. It's got a black sign with silver writing on it, the name is spelled out in some florid style, similar to the Coke name on the cans, lots of flowing ornamentation, much more than on the actual Coke logo. Inside it's a chintzy place with some old 90s EDM playing, sounds a bit like The Chemical Brothers, that big beat style. It ain't loud. The place isn't busy at this time, there's a guy sat at the bar in an old, rumpled suit, and a few guys spotted around the place. There's CCTV all over the bar and I wonder how long they keep it for. I walk up to the bar and the bartender comes over. He's a tall, skinny guy with black pants and a black company top.
He looks me over. "What'll it be, toots?"
He's got a squeaky voice, sounds like he just got here from 1938. I show him my badge and then the picture.
"You know this guy?"
He looks at it carefully, as if he needs to inspect it to be sure. "Sure, sure. He comes here sometimes."
"When was he last here?"
He thinks for a second, rubs his chin. "About a month ago. Ain't seen him since then though."
"Was he with anyone?"
"Not when he arrived," he says with a knowing smile.
"So he met someone here?"
"Oh yeah." He fiddles with his wedding band. "Funny though, didn't think she was his type."
I look at his hands and then back at his face. "Married?"
"Working."
"Did she work for him?"
"I don't know. They left together but another guy left with them," he says.
"What do you mean? They all left together? How did that work?"
He thinks again. "She was chatting with some girl, probably another worker but I ain't seen here around here before. Guy was sat at the bar and then she came to buy a drink. They talk a bit and then when she went back to her friend she kept glancing over. He gets up, walks to a booth, she joins him. They talked for a bit, I can't remember how long, but not long. Then this other guy comes in, sees them and joins them. She buys a round of drinks, they talk, drink up, and all three of them leave together."
I nod as if it makes sense. "What did they look like? The working girl and the guy?"
"Uh, the guy, he was a short-stack." He looks away when he realises what he's said to me. "Not tough looking, small, looked like someone who'd pay, if you know what I mean."
"Client?"
"Possibly. I ain't seen him in here before. He was smartly dressed, not a suit, but a shirt and nice slacks."
"And the girl?"
"Tall, blonde, fake though, bleached. Long legs, short skirt, tight top. You know what I'm saying, right? She's gotta suck 'em in. Worked like a charm from what I could see."
"You think he paid and went with her?"
"If they'd left alone, just the two of 'em I'da said yes, but with the other guy? Who knows. Maybe they wanted a three-way or something, but I didn't get the impression the two guys knew one another."
"What about the girl? She been in before? Did it seem like she knew the other guy, shorty?"
He shakes his head. "Not from what I seen. I didn't hear them talk, but he seemed to be introducing himself to them. Then he sat down and like I said, they talked, she bought drinks, they drank and talked and left. And she's a regular. I think she works nearby."
"Any idea where?"
He shakes his head. "I stay away from that stuff."
"Did this guy," I shake the picture, "talk to shorty when the worker bought the drinks?"
"I didn't look at them, I was making the drinks. They didn't seem to be talking when she got up and came over to the bar."
"So it looks like none of them knew one another but they all left together and she's a working girl?"
"About the size of it, yeah."
"Okay, thanks. One last thing, the CCTV; how long do you keep it for?"
"About a month."
"So they might be on it?"
"It's possible." He looks down the bar to where a guy is waving his glass. "I gotta go, sorry."
I nod and watch him walk off then head back to my car. I ponder what he told me, and realise I'm stuck. I can't think who the short guy might be, and the working girl matches to the description of any number of them in the city. I try to think of a working place nearby and can't figure any. I know a guy who works with them, tries to help them out, stop them working. He's a part of some local church as far as I know. I decide to pay him a visit.
submitted by marienbad2 to FictionSerials [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 04:51 Storms_Wrath The Human Artificial Hivemind Part 512: The Pact Of Blades

First Previous Wiki
Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."
submitted by Storms_Wrath to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 03:08 ForestHasEyes Polish GROM has been fighting a secret war for decades, our enemies aren't human [Part 3]

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time
submitted by ForestHasEyes to u/ForestHasEyes [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 00:25 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 61

i see you
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
can you hear the buzzing of the bees?
eternity is in their buzzing
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal
exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings
can you hear them?
your name is Dhruv
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
i see you
your name is Dhruv
but before that it was Dahlit 397721
do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?
i do
to remember, we have to go back
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
there she is
remember her
remember remember
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
the first time you reached out
a frozen moment of time remembered
by the buzzing of the bees
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
you reached out to another
helpless and alone
like you
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
remember
remember
even the smallest can shake the universe
remember
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
i remember
the bees remember
can't you hear it in their buzzing?
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
your name is dhruv
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 23:54 ralo_ramone An Otherworldly Scholar [LitRPG, Isekai] - Chapter 118

The master of ceremonies glanced at the paper in his hand, and a glimpse of confusion showed on his face.
Something was wrong.
“And the third and last team representing Farcrest. Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Elincia clung to my arm, fear and impotence reflected in her expression. We were supposed to be called Rosebud Fencing Academy during the tournament. I clenched my jaw and glanced across the pavilion, giving [Awareness] free rein. Lord Osgiria gave me a mocking look.
I cursed. Among the nobility, everything was appearances. The fact that Farcrest had to resort to a poor orphanage for representation spoke badly about the state of affairs in the territory. The nobles around us exchanged funny looks.
“Keep your heads up. That’s our call,” I said, loud enough for the whole pavilion to hear us. If nobles thought this would weigh upon our shoulders, they were wrong.
Ilya took position by my right as the team captain, and we entered the crescent-shaped arena. The cheering died. Our magnificent uniforms didn’t fool the crowd anymore. I reached the Marquis's side and saluted the VIP box. Only after Prince Adrien started applauding did the rest of the nobles acknowledge our presence.
The commoners in the stands hesitated to cheer for us. This wasn’t a gentle world. They didn’t care about the kid’s feelings. I glanced over my shoulder. Wolf was unfazed, and Zaon moved his lips, repeating, ‘Nervous is good’ repeatedly. Firana, on the other hand, was furious.
“Tough crowd, uh?” I muttered.
“It’s only expected. Orphans don’t get good classes. There is no reason to cheer for us,” Ilya replied with a grin. “Yet.”
Did she look so mature back at the carriage?
The crowd’s attention lingered on us for an instant before the next team entered the arena. To my surprise, a single team represented the royal family: a group of cadets from the Imperial Academy. Five young cadets dressed in plain black, guided by Holst, entered the arena. The crowd came back to life. Considering the opulence of the other teams, the uniforms of the Imperial Academy cadets were disappointing. Even my group was better suited to the occasion.
Holst stood by my left, saluting the stands with a dull gesture.
“Robert Clarke, good to see you still among the living,” he greeted me with a bored tone.
His words, however, sent a shiver down my spine. Did he know assassins had tried to kill me a few days before? Captain Kiln had sworn to keep it a secret. The coincidences piled up. Holst knew about the attack and asked Lyra Jorn’s help with the library when Luzian Abei had a small army of Scholars and Scribes at his disposal. I couldn’t help but think Holst was still in contact with the culprit.
“Preceptor Holst,” I coldly greeted, my brain too busy to formulate a more wordy sentence.
“I didn’t expect to meet my former students,” he added, looking past me at Ilya and the kids. “Certainly not in these circumstances.”
I swallowed my anger. This was a golden opportunity for the orphanage. Watching the skill of the imperial cadets could help me understand why Sir Janus had been the only commoner in Farcrest to assist the Imperial Academy. Even if we lost the tournament, we could improve our chances of getting them accepted into the Imperial Academy, putting them in the same echelon as nobles.
“Do you trust the ability of your current students to win the tournament?” I asked, examining the cadet’s faces. Three humans, a half-elf, and a harpy. They didn’t seem thrilled to be part of the tournament.
Holst laughed.
“These idiots aren’t my students. These five failed their first year. If they don’t win the tournament, they will be kicked out of the Academy,” he replied, shrugging. “For failures like them, I’d say they are the favorites to win the tournament.”
A glance at the Imperial Academy team revealed their strong shoulders and steady feet. Despite the lack of fashion, they looked like trained warriors instead of pampered noble kids. Their faces had lost the roundness of childhood, and their calm demeanor and sharp eyes revealed an intense training regime. I hoped not to bump into them until the later rounds of the tournament.
Our conversation was cut short because the Osgirian teams entered the arena. First, Lord Osgiria, then Lord Nara, and finally, a man dressed as a knight, followed by a group of kids in mismatched uniforms—each one with the colors of their respective houses. Lord Osgiria stood by Holst's side and greeted the VIP box.
If Captain Kiln were right, our team would fight Lord Nara in the first round. I expected the man to be a merchant with a comically large belly. Instead, he looked like a cunning gray fox. I had to remind myself that buying a way into nobility required a skillful negotiator.
“Three teams, Lord Osgiria? You don’t seem too confident in your chances,” Holst casually said.
The Imperial Academy had to be a powerhouse within the kingdom because Lord Osgiria swallowed any snarky remark.
Lord Herran, a tall and muscular redhead dressed in full warrior attire, entered next. I remembered him from the feast—boisterous, talkative, determined. The black mana-repelling axe hung from his belt, causing my stomach to feel sick if I looked for too long. House Herran only had two teams, one led by Lord Herran himself and the other by a man who could be his twin. Only half of the team members were human; the other half were different flavors of beast folk.
More than half of the kids had bright red hair like their lord. I wondered if red hair was a dominant gene in the Herran Dukedom because the kids looked healthy. There was not a trace of the infamous Habsburg chin. They were tall and robust like their lord.
I tried to glance at the axe’s runes, but Lord Herran was too far away.
“That’s lord Herran and his army of copperhead bastards,” Holst pointed out, laughing at his joke.
I doubted that having a dozen children the same age was normal, even more so for a noble, considering how difficult succession could be. Lord Herran must’ve loved to spread his genes.
“It’s okay for him to present his… illegitimate kids in an official event like this?” I asked.
“Do you like gossip, Robert Clarke?” Holst raised an eyebrow.
“I like to be informed,” I replied.
Holst seemed satisfied with my answer.
“Lord Herran is one of the few Combat Prestige Classes in the kingdom. He has the [Conqueror] Class,” Holst replied. “It’s only natural that he can do whatever he wants. Not even the king has enough power over Lord Herran to stop his… reproductive impulses.”
I nodded. The relationship between the royal house and the great three dukedoms was more complex than I initially thought. According to the stories, Combat Prestige Classes were, in essence, one-man armies that could create whole countries around their power. I wondered what kind of monsters the royal army found in the Deep Farlands to be obliged to retreat.
After Lord Herra, Lord Gairon entered the arena. The Gairon House was arguably the second most powerful family after the royal house, and their uniforms reflected their status. The blue was rich and deep, and the gold shone under the winter sun, seemingly casting the few clouds away. The crowd yelled and cheered. It wasn’t surprising. Lord Gairon was a tall, tanned man with hair the color of ripe wheat—the perfect poster boy and leader of the anti-war faction.
“He has to go down if we want the royal faction to have a chance,” Holst said.
It suddenly hit me. Holst and I technically supported the same faction.
“Lord Gairon is also a Prestige Class?” I asked.
“A [Sacred Knight], yes. Rumor says he reached the mythic level sixty,” Holst replied. “Let’s hope their teams are more… farming inclined.”
The crowd became more tame after the three big houses made their entrance. Lord Vedras received less than half of House Gairon’s support, probably because of the tax disputes between Farcrest and the Vedras dukedom. He had brought three teams.
Duke Jorn’s presence almost caused the arena to become completely silent—Holst told me he was also a high-level Prestige Class, a Shadow Stalker.
“That sounds dangerous,” I pointed out.
“Sellen Jorn is one of the most dangerous men in the kingdom. His mere existence was enough for the king to create a whole new duchy,” Holst said. “Take an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer, mix them, double their powers, and then double them again. That’s a Shadow Stalker in a nutshell.”
I tried to imagine it. The Assassin who attacked the orphanage would have had a hard time with any class without a skill like my mana blades. I had been lucky to have a favorable matchup against him; otherwise, I might have been dead. His capacity to disable my movement was scarily effective. A man with the skills of an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer had dangerous implications.
“Prince Adrien wanted Sellen Jorn as his Master of Assassins, but he didn’t want to leave his people in the north,” Holst said. “Walls, doors, bars, locks, nothing can stop a Shadow Stalker. Only the woven barrier of several high-level Fortifiers can stop him. Or so it’s said.”
Gears turned inside my skull. I wondered if Duke Jorn was involved in the disappearance of the evidence of Raudhan’s poisoning. He certainly had the skill to move unnoticed through the Great Hall. Stealing a box with shards of glass would be a walk in the park for him.
The rest of the teams passed in a blur as my mind reviewed the party's events. Sellen Jorn was undoubtedly suspicious. His lack of presence was as unnerving as it was useful for an infiltration mission. Could he be involved in Raudhan’s poisoning? Lord Vedras had denied the existence of any co-conspirators, and we were almost entirely sure that Raudhan hadn’t been poisoned by Ashroot.
Duke Jorn's political positioning was hard to determine. The northern dukedoms were poor, and just like Farcrest, they served as a bulwark against the Monster Surges. Four families controlled most of the kingdom’s economy and politics. House Gairon, House Herran, House Osgiria, and the Royal Family. The northern dukedoms didn’t benefit from the current trade routes and wouldn’t directly benefit from a new trade route into the Kingdom of Tagabiria.
However, they would benefit from a closer relationship with the royal family.
Duke Jorn had no reason to poison Captain Kiln.
Ilya tugged the sleeve of my jacket, bringing me back to the present. The master of ceremonies was finishing a long speech about the legacy of Stephaniss of Farcrest, the previous lord of the city and the Marquis's grandfather. Even the Marquis seemed bored.
“Prince Adrien will draw the matches for the first round!” The master of ceremonies announced.
Prince Adrien came forward, and an assistant brought a glass bowl filled with small wooden rods. He put his hand in the bowl, picked one randomly, and passed it to his companion. The woman dressed in purple read it out loud, her voice magically amplified. Her pleasant contralto voice made me think she was a singer.
“House Nara versus…” she received the second wooden rod. “Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Just like Captain Kiln had warned me.
I didn’t expect us to be the opening fight. The other teams returned to the pavilion, and a group of Scribes carried the System Shrine Shard embedded in its copper nest to the center of the arena. I assumed it was there to ensure all participants met the requirements for the tournament.
“Let’s go, team,” I said.
We formed next to the Shrine Shard and in front of Lord Nara’s team. The master of ceremonies activated the blue orb, and the kids' names, classes, and levels appeared before us. Luckily, Lord Nara and I were exempt from the crystal ability. Being outed as a Runeweaver wasn’t part of my plans.
Belya Nara, Geomancer Lv.3
Arel Nara, Warrior Lv.5
Lino, Soldier Lv.9
Jan, Archer Lv.3
Aiwin, Courier Lv.7
Firana Aias, Wind Fencer Lv.1
Ilya, Hunter Lv.2
Zaon, Classless Lv.1
Wolf, Classless Lv.1
The System prompts might have been big enough for the crowd to read because a murmur rose from the stands. I didn’t need [Awareness] to understand the commotion. Half of my team was classless in a world where Classes were everything. Lord Nara also seemed to notice the discrepancy between our teams.
“I’m feeling generous today, Mister Caretaker. I will gladly accept your surrender and spare you the embarrassment if you apologize for wasting our time,” Lord Nara said with a mellow, totally fake voice. “You can save the kids the shame of losing in front of their countrymen.”
The master of ceremonies looked at me.
“What do you think, Ilya?” I asked.
“The team is ready, Mister Clarke. We fight,” she replied without any hint of doubt.
Despite Lord Nara’s clever expression, he was underestimating us. I couldn’t blame him. He had lived all his life in a world where value was determined by class and level. Developing an eye for people wasn’t as helpful as on Earth, where it could mean the difference between life and death.
“We fight,” I said.
“Don’t say I didn’t extend the courtesy of an honorable withdrawal,” Lord Nara grinned, his fox-like eyes turned into thin lines.
The master of ceremonies nodded.
“The Rules are simple. The team that loses the coin toss has to choose its first fighter, and then the winning team chooses its opponent. Then, the roles change. Every team has two picks and two counter picks, for a total of four fighters,” the master of ceremonies explained, pulling a gold coin from the pocket.
I nodded. There was a level of strategy involved in the pairing phase. I could pair Firana against their weakest member to ensure a vast point difference. Or I could choose Zaon to keep things equalized. If I were Lord Nara, I would leave the Lv.7 Courier outside the selection. As fast as they were, they weren’t a combatant Class, but on the other hand, even non-combatants could develop useful masteries.
Zaon had a good matchup against the Soldier and the Warrior, as their combat skills were on the ‘basic’ side of the spectrum. However, the Archer, the Geomancer, and the Courier could present a problem to him. Wolf also had a bad matchup against the Archer and the Geomancer because he relied on solid and static positioning to use his muscles. Ilya and Firana had good matchups against the enemy team, but the enemy Geomancer worried me the most. She wasn’t just an Advanced Class, but a relative of Lord Nara.
“Here goes the coin,” the master of ceremonies said. He threw it high and caught it mid-flight.
Lord Nara kindly offered me the call.
“Heads,” I replied with a grin.
“Heads,” the master of ceremonies said, revealing the coin.
[Awareness] didn’t disappoint, but I made a mental note to keep it hidden from Ilya. She wouldn’t be on board with blatant cheating, even if we had the disadvantage. As cunning as Ilya was, strategy and cheats were completely different.
Lord Nara huffed. “Lino, you go first.”
The Soldier kid stepped forward. He was tall, probably a year older than my kids, but [Awareness] told me he was nervous. Soldier Class was painfully close to no class at all.
“Zaon, you go first. Is that okay with you?” I said, hoping the combination of Light-Footed and Lv.2 Longsword Mastery would match a Lv.9 Soldier with a couple of skills under his sleeve.
Zaon nodded.
It was my turn to choose and Lord Nara’s turn to counter-pick. “Ilya, you go second,” I said.
Ilya came forward, prompting a laugh from the rival Fighter.
“Do you want to fight the gnome, Arel?” Lord Nara asked.
“Yes, my lord. I’m confident I can get a ten-point lead over a Gnome Hunter,” Arel Nara replied.
A vein popped on Ilya’s forehead.
“Good. I chose my cousin Arel Nara for the second fight,” Lord Nara said.
Then, Lord Nara selected the Archer boy for the third fight, which put me in a tough spot. The Archer and the Geomancer were hard matchups for Wolf, and I lacked a fifth or sixth member to play around it. Nonetheless, the Archers weren’t known for their vast arsenal of skills.
“Wolf, you go against him,” I said.
Wolf nodded.
“Which leaves us with the last pair,” Lord Nara said with a mocking smile.
“Firana, you go last,” I said.
“Belya, my daughter, will be my last pick,” Lord Nara replied.
The dueling pairs were ready.
“So be it. The tournament's first match will be between Lino the Soldier and Zaon the Elf,” the master of ceremonies said, his voice suddenly amplified again as the Scribes took the System Shrine orb away. “Contestants, please go get your equipment. May the System bless you all.”
____________
First Prev Next (Patreon)
____________
Discord Royal Road Patreon
submitted by ralo_ramone to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 23:49 miansabdon ProsourceFit Fit Wall-Mounted Pull-Up / Chin-Up Bar, Heavy Duty 300 - Price: $29.3 (MRSP: $34.99 You Save 16.26%)

ProsourceFit Fit Wall-Mounted Pull-Up / Chin-Up Bar, Heavy Duty 300 - Price: $29.3 (MRSP: $34.99 You Save 16.26%) submitted by miansabdon to DiscountBuzz [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 23:27 Thedreadedpixel Space Dogs of Zeta 9 [2]

A Nop X Fallout 3[ish] Fanfic
Written By Pixel
NoP was written and Belongs to Space Paladin

Chapter 2: A Tale of Historians
Memory transcript: Tyka, Farsul junior archivist
Date: August 2275 local [human time]
Time: 22:30 [time of late Meals and rest]
Tyka let out a disheartened sigh, the world below them, once vibrant and beautiful, even if its sole sapient species were predators, leaf-eating ones but still predators, made his heart sink to see it in such a grave state.
Tyka was never one who could understand how Exterminators could find any kind of joy in the purging of life, no matter how tainted it was.
“those poor beings….”
He placed a paw onto the viewer his shoulders slumping as he watched the Grey marble spinning in the inky black void
“Something wrong Young archivist”
An older feminine voice says making their way Into the observation bay of the large science and collection vessel, Tokana upon realizing who the voice belongs to jumped
“O-Officer Netly, I apologize if it seems I was...meandering, I just….”
He looks back over to the tumbling grey-blue marble
“Ah, Earth. I understand your apprehension, but there is no sentient life existing now, it's a barren dead wasteland, you know why we are here now”
She says arms behind her as she moves up beside the young pup
“I know officer Netly it's just….I've studied humans so much and despite the aggression they had they were also so….fascinating, the fact they developed so fast And even accepted in certain technologies despite being predators….”
He said marveling as Netly suddenly interjected
“Their accomplishment didn't stop them from destroying themselves in the end, nothing could have survived that kind of prolonged nuclear strike with their technological level”
Before Tyka could dejectedly admit that point there was a ship-wide broadcast to all archivists, scientists, and security onboard
Life has been found on earth
It was human life.
Memory transcript: Abigail Nelson
Date: August 21st 2277
Local Ship time 00:00 [time of early light]
Abigail stirred from her daze, what had happened, she could barely remember, the attendee, the crater, the light!
“Dogmeat!”
She screamed out jumping up as he cellmate grabbed her to stop her
“Woah woah easy, there not here you can calm down”
The female voice said, Abigail panted and started to tear up a bit
“N-no, dog meat…. his…he's my dog he was with me when we got….where are we?”
The hardened wasteland features on the woman who now held Abigail softened with pity at the young girl
“I don't know where your dog is, I haven't seen them with any kind of animal, besides us anyway, how are you feeling kiddo?”
she asked as Abigail tried to wipe her eyes and coughed
“Im…I'm fine, I just….ah cheese and crackers I'm sorry”
She says gingerly leaving the wasteland embrace
“I'm uh…Abby…Abigail Nelson”
She says as the waster seems a bit off and then notices her pip-boy
“You a vault dweller? How'd they scoop your blue-suited ass up?”
Abigail blinked a bit and looked at her device
“OH right, I was topside….my Dad left our vault to pursue Something he was working on, project purity?”
She says that made her cellmate's eyes widen in realization
“Your James kid?”
Abigail Was now the one to balk, she simply couldn't believe there was ANOTHER person who knew her father
“How do you know my dad? Are you brotherhood?”
She asked as the waster stepped back
“Well I am, but I didn't know him personally I was only an initiate when he was working on it, names Somah”
She was now the one who extended her hand which Abigail took
“So are a knight? Paladin?”
“Field scribe”
Somah said which made Abigail blink a bit
“Field scribe? I know scribes but I've never heard of a field scribe”
Abigail said as Somah chuckled
“That's because it's a position rowdy Scribes get to drain their energy and enthusiasm, typically scribes are supposed to grow out of it but I've been a field scribe for a good while now, trying to make Lyons make a new rank for me, elder field scribe”
She joked making Abigail Chuckle a bit
“Well, then miss scribe… where Are we?”
Somah sighed a bit, rubbing her neck before moving it over to her face and chin, pondering how to explain their predicament
“How to explain it…..I know we've been abducted but the tech is like something I haven't seen….the bars are steel but there is a photonic barrier more advanced than even the few bits of prewar examples I've gotten to fiddle with, plus that little levitation Trick they pulled on me when I was trying to hide from some muties out in the edge of dc….then my radio got this…weird signal”
She said as Abigail's eyes widened
“My pip-boy did the same, I got this weird signal which led me to an antenna In the ground…..wait…”
Abigail Pinched her nose and let out a sigh
“Did we get abducted by….by aliens?!”
Somah let out a humorless chuckle
“Seems like it, as unlikely as it is….I'm still trying to understand how that's even possible”
Somah said while tracing a finger against the seamless white material that made their cell
“While also marveling at real alien design and technology….its….all so much to process”
She says enraptured with it all as the two talked, a distinct sound of the force field barrier turning off as a tray of food was pushed through With a metal pole, and the wall of light reasserted itself
Abigail timidly picked up the meal…it looked like….vegetables, they smelled like them too, but not like wasteland veggies, what few she'd seen but actual clean veggies
“Alien greens, for some reason it's all they'll give us, probably to keep us weaker, easier to grab”
She says snagging an alien carrot off the tray as Abigail looks at her with a mix of confusion and worry
“Grab us?”
She asks as the whirling of machinery is heard suddenly Abigail looks up only now realizing the roof of their cell is open
“Hug the wall!”
Somah shouted as she pushed Abigail against it making her top the tray as the two hugged the lip, Abigail watching as what looked like a man in a Grey military uniform was carried across the roof with a giant metal claw or arm carrying him
“Okay where good for now….poor bastard”
Somah Sighed as Abigail blinked
“We have to get out of here”
She said as Somah put a finger to her lips
“Ssh they can hear shit like that, be quiet”
The scribe said as she looked around
“Look I have a plan already and I've been waiting for someone to be dropped in here with me….I've done this once before and it worked but we got caught after, so if we do this we have to be quick”

writing these is something im enjoying so far! as usual ask me whatever you want about it and ill try to respond, the next upload will be a mini chapter so stay tuned!
first
Next [mini chapter]
submitted by Thedreadedpixel to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 20:35 MikeHawk360 No contact worked, but what did it do to my ex? He’s starting to scare me a bit

Been around 2 years or so now (genuinely can’t remember, been too busy) since my(M28) ex(M42) discarded me for someone younger. More details about that in previous posts, but recently he’s been trying really, REALLY hard to get me to talk to him (kid was a rebound, ended rather quick) and I haven’t talked or texted since. He’s Hispanic, so am I and almost all my immediate family, and my Mom wanted to go out for Cinco De Mayo. Guy runs a Mexican food truck, he was bound to be at the venue and reluctantly I accepted the invite from her cause we’ve had a rocky relationship and the bar is the only way she can get me to open up sadly.
Right before entering, I get stopped by a few friends I haven’t seen in years with their firstborn son. In conversation, the food truck is RIGHT in front of the door, and immediately he pops out and starts talking to my Mom in Spanish (can follow but not speak) saying “your son won’t talk to me”. She follows with “well what the hell did you do to him”, made me wanna hug her so much but doubling down, the taco guys from the truck started staring and saying hi one by one. Tried ignoring it, said by to friends and waddled inside.
Sitting down, it only took about 20 minutes or less for him to “casually” drop in and force himself into the conversation, rapid fire texting me minutes beforehand with “happy 5th man” and “how you doing”. Almost immediately he took the time to give me a hug and spoke in the ear with “I’d like to be friends with you”, ngl all I heard was “I feel guilty” but told him with sincerity that that’s “gunna take time”. Granted there was so much I wanted to ripped out of him and held back “time I’ll never get back”, but public event and he’s a vendor. He pulled back and looked at me funny, they said his goodbyes. This happened a few more times, once with his brother wondering around the area and him coming straight to us with tacos. After having couple beers and 4 margaritas, we were done and leaving. He pops up one last time and speaks purely in Spanish to my Mom, bring up certain things I did for him (giving bear meat, promise of moose tounge, making a homemade recipe for kiwi salsa, etc.) and asking for it again. We both looked at each other in amusement and said our thanks/goodbyes. We gave them 30 to cover the food, my Mom’s idea, cause she didn’t want me to owe him anything. Since then, I don’t know how to feel about the experience. Loved hanging with my Mom and we had a blast, but I think it came at a cost, not sure exactly what though.
I should mention my Mom claimed she knew exactly what he was trying to do, drunkenly saying “hE wAnTs YoU MiHo” and how disappointed she’d be if I even considered talking to him again. That alone was a sobering moment, but what do you guys think of this?
submitted by MikeHawk360 to ExNoContact [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 16:30 Corruptfun As If It Were Kismet Prologue & Chapters 1-5

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”
submitted by Corruptfun to yandere [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 14:19 Wonko___the___Sane A Rereading of the Havens Birthing Saga

Note: I posted a parody comment yesterday on one of Kelly's birth saga posts and some people kindly asked me to keep going. So, I wrote some more. Hope it raises a smile or a puff of air through the nose! Let's get into it...
Part 1: Shadows in the Candlelight
It was 8:20 PM, and all was peaceful. Geppetto was at his place by the fire, whittling a puppet—a simple fancy for my little Atticus, fast asleep in the hayloft above.
I sighed, laid down my hoop, and gazed through the rain-streaked windowpane at the impetuous treetops. Suddenly, my babe gave a violent kick, and I was flung upon the kitchen flagstones. A mighty gust tore through the room, pressing candle flames flat and ripping at the pages of my Bible.
“Geppetto!” I cried in alarm, but he was lost in his work. I gasped, staring at the candle Moonfawn had bought me that same afternoon (how we had laughed at its comical scrollwork and, as mirth subsided, danced with naked exaltation in the deep pools of our eyes). Despite the buffeting gale, it had remained lit with a steadfast flame where the others had snuffed out!
With throbbing, passionate conviction deep inside me, I knew it was the hand of the Lord who had stayed the cursed wind. And then I saw the blood-slicked stones, scarlet as an accusation, red and obscene like a harlot’s lolling tongue. Had Geppetto cut his thumb? Was this blood … mine?
“Go hence to the healer’s house,” Jesus said into my heart with a silvery laugh. “Find you there a surgeon, for your wound lies beyond a midwife’s skill to mend.” And at once, I was overcome with serene certainty that come what may, Moonfawn’s love would guide me through this hour of darkness.
“Geppetto,” I grated harshly, and he looked up in astonishment. “Saddle the mare and hitch the buggy. The hour has come, and we have a long mile to step this night.” Oh, Moonfawn! Where are you?
(To be continued)
Part 2: Ships in the Night
Geppetto lashed reins against the mare’s flanks, shielding his eyes against the driving rain and guiding us through the slow-moving I-80 traffic. I lay propped against a pile of macrame-bound decorative gourds in the buggy, wrapped in a periwinkle towel, though the clean straw Geppetto had forked in to soak up the blood was quickly turning red.
Floating in and out of a lucid dream, I could see Moonfawn’s haunting visage in front of me, but when I leaned in to kiss her pale face, she faded from my sight. Oh! You promised me, my dearest heart! You promised to be with me here at the end! Bitterly, I left another message on her machine, and tossed the phone over the side of the buggy.
“Easy now,” chuckled Geppetto, over the sound of screeching brakes and breaking glass. “That phone cost me three copper shillings! And see, we’ve arrived at the inn.”
He hoisted me from the buggy and thumped heavily on the iron-banned door with his gloved fist. I noticed he was still holding the half-finished puppet. Jesus again. It had to be, who else?
“Open up, in the name of Yuaha, Pentach of the Golden Isles!” he cried hoarsely. The din inside subsided, but the door remained shut fast. “Please,” I whimpered. “In the name of J.C. Penny, leaders in affordable home decor!” The door swung inward, light spilling over the street.
And there, in the doorway, stood Moonfawn.
I dashed headlong into her arms, relief and joy overwhelming me. I drank in her perfume, kissed her neck, and knew no more.
The door swung shut.
(To be continued)
Part 3: An Unexpected Guest
Moonfawn swept an arm over a table of the smoky inn, sending dishes of stew and tankards of ale crashing to the floor. She laid me on the tabletop and ripped the bodice of my maternity corset wide so that I might breathe. She laid a spring of palest winterfrost blossom twixt my breasts, to aid my breathing and share the poignant sorrow of the last day of spring. I whispered a silent prayer I had on my cleanest camisole. Jesus again. It had to be.
And so, at 10:50 PM the surgeon-general swept into the room. “What is the meaning of this?!” he roared. “This woman is dilated half a crown! And the babe is crying for brandeh, is there no one in this rom without cloth for ears?? I can see its wee face peeking out from here. Nurse! Attend me at once, this instant!”
Nurses appeared bearing silvery trays forceps of cold steel and several large bottles of brandy. I shivered, yet was not afraid. Somewhere close, I felt Moonfawns cool hand slip into my own.
Shrugging into his white coat, the surgeon general turned to me. “I’m dreadfully sorry about all this,” he mumbled. “Now, where on earth is that chloroform?”
“Not so fast,” someone drawled from a darkened corner of the inn. A figure rose, casting back a deep hood.
The room gasped in shock.
“Fraulein Fännyfärhht!”
(To be continued)
Part 4: Showdown at Dan’s Bar & Birthing Center
“Step aside, doctor,” the matronly lady commanded. Her hair was swept into a bun of iron, hard and cold like the flat planes of her face. “I have tended to this woman in eons past! I know the petals of her flower better than her own husband here,” she gestured towards Geppetto, and paused. “Though perhaps not so well as some.”
Beneath my swoon, I felt my face burn crimson in sweet shame, remembering again that night at Henley Manor, on the beach, when I was named Starchild in the light of the sacred candle. I gripped Moondawns hand tightly.
The surgeon general made a lunge for the door, but the Fraulein’s booted foot shot out and tripped him up, sending him sprawling to the floor.
“Let’s see who you really are, doctor!” I watched aghast as the midwife reached down to the hapless doctor’s neck and with one smooth motion, whipped off the indiarubber mask.
“Jesus Christ!”
There on the floor, grinning weakly, was Jesus, the son of God. A nurse moaned and slid to the floor, and lay there, twitching. Through the fog of chloroform, I gazed on his face in utter rapture.
“Hi, guys,” he said into the shocked silence. “I’m back. Uhhh… sorry, I got kind of held up.”
Standing up awkwardly, Jesus stepped to the table and faced Moonfawn. “I think the jig is up,” he murmured, reaching out to her neck. Moonfawn held her head proudly, eyes glittering with tears, as Jesus slipped off her mask.
“Marmee!”
Another nurse slumped to the floor, brandy glass shattering.
“You know,” said a small piping voice from between my legs. “I’ve been out for the last 10 minutes, and I could really use a drink.”
And that, my dearest friends, is the story of the birth of Tess Stickle, at 12:09 PM.
submitted by Wonko___the___Sane to FundieSnarkUncensored [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 11:42 OutThere_2044 My town's pine forest has a secret...

Part 1
I ended up buying a house at the edge of this town.... before i knew all the bullshit that was goin' on around here. Got bored and went down to the local sheriff Jack and asked about an opening, Didn't even fill out an application, got the job on the spot. For the first few months it was the usual, speeding tickets, drunk and disorderly, normal shit right? Well... let the fuckery commence....
I had been a deputy for 7 months when one of the local farmers called in and reported he had some animals killed last night and wanted someone to come out to his house. John Nixon was a 60 year old farmer who lived by himself. His wife passed away years ago, but he never remarried and they never had kids. We met one day at the local tackle shop. Me being new in town, he took me to some of the good fishin' spots. The man was a huge military history buff and would always ask about my time in. I thought I knew him personally, so i took the call.
As I rolled up to the gate on his property, I saw John standing at the gate with a shotgun. " Hey john, can I ask why you are standing there with that cannon in your hands?" No response, he just stared at me. "John! put that damn shotgun down!!" I yelled. Its like he snapped to out of a trance. "Mason, i need you to come round the back side of the house to the barn, now!" he snapped.
"OK, OK, let me get outta the car and grab some gear." I said opening the car door. While i was grabbing my gear, John was standing there with his eyes scanning the tree line. "Come on mason! you need to see this!" He said heading towards the back. I closed the trunk and started walking over in his direction.
"So what the hell is going on that's got you walking around here with that damn bazooka?" No response, he just keeps walking and scanning the tree line. We finally got to the back of his house where the barn is. It looked like a horror movie in that pen.
"What the fuck happened here!?!" I said covering my mouth. There were pieces of chickens and goats everywhere, a few pigs looked like they had been filleted. "Its back mason, after all these years" John mumbled. "John what the hell are you talking about? what did this?" I asked.
John took his eyes off the tree line and looked me dead in the face. "Your not from here so you dont know." "Know what man? what are you saying?" I asked getting annoyed now. "Years ago this same thing happened to a few guys I know. All of their livestock had been killed. Not killed and eatin', just killed. It got people 'round here up in arms. Well, a few of us got together and decieded we were gonna look for whatever did it" he said. "What the hell are you telling me john?" I interrupted. "There were four of us. We were young, thought we were bullet proof. We went out into the woods one morning, determined to find the damn thing that had been killing our animals.
Tommy was the first to say something. "Hey, did you guys hear that?". The rest of us didnt hear a thing, so we kept moving. We got about three miles deep into the old pine forest at the edge of town. Will was the next to say something, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" he yelled out while looking down at the mud. We ran over to where he was standing to find him wide eyed. "I dont know what the actual fuck did this, but we..we need to go and I mean right fucking now!!!" he said pointing. This track was huge, at least 14 inches long with huge claws. Gerald spoke up "Let's fuckin' go guys!!".
We started back tracking out of the area, when we were stopped cold in our tracks, we all heard it this time. It was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same damn time. A sickening, shrieking laugh was coming from all around us. We panicked and starting runnin'. As soon as we did that, whatever was making that noise centered as if right behind us, and it was coming fast, ungodly fast" John said eyeing the remains of a chicken that was torn apart.
"We were about a mile from the trucks when I heard a thud and a scream, when i looked back Gerald wasn't there. Will and tommy were right behind me, terror all over their faces. Tommy pulled his pistol and started shooting backwards. Only one shot rang out before something tackled him and Will. I stopped, raising my rifle, but they had already been torn apart. It was seconds, and they were in shreds" John said.
"Mason, what i saw standing over their shredded bodies has haunted me since then. The fucking thing was nine feet tall, shaped like a man, but not. Its skin, or or scales was a mixture of black and grey and it looked slimy. It looked like a damn bodybuilder with hugh claw like hands. Its head was massive, with what looked like horns coming from the jaw to around the chin. Its eyes, glowed bright green in the middle of the fucking day, and it had a mouth full of fucked up jagged teeth." He said lowering his head.
"I jus.. just stood there, waitng for my turn. This thing paced back and fourth, staring at me, with this creepy damn smile. It looked down at Will and Tommy, then it looked back up at me. My heart almost stopped when it pointed and shook its head at me. It started making that shrieking laugh as it grabbed what was left of my friends in each giant claw and walked off into the woods, still fucking laughing. I fell to my knees as it vanished into the trees."
I stood there, thinking he lost his damn mind. John had stopped talking, he had this way off look in his eyes. "John..., john.., JOHN!!" his eyes snapped back to mine. "So what are you telling me? A nine foot creature with claws killed your friends and animals?!" I half mocked. "Yea.... thats what i'm telling you. Its back for me, i know it." "What makes you think it was this thing you say killed your friends? It could have been coyotes" I asked " I know mason, i heard that same horrible shrieking laugh in the woods behind the barn last night."
Now I’ve heard some real bullshit in my time, especially during my time in the contracting field... But this was the most out there shit I had ever heard.
"Alright, alright... let's just take a big ass step backwards. I need to wrap my head around all of this." I said takin a deep breath. John laid the shotgun down to his side. "I'm telling you the truth mason. i'm too old and tired to lie about shit" he said shrugging. I looked deep into this man’s eyes. When I did, I saw something that told me this was the absolute truth as he knew it. " You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you... but fuck man... this is hard to swallow. I need proof John, that's the way this works." A look of frustration washed over his weathered face.
"Proof?! you want proof huh? follow me" John groaned.
He started walking towards the tress behind the barn. As we got closer to the trees, I started to smell rusty copper. Blood I thought out loud. John raised his shotgun as we walked closer. That damn gun had to be illegal, but this wasn’t the time for that. Him raising that gun made me a lil' uneasy, so I pulled my Glock 9mm out and flipped the safety off.
John owned about 90 acres, most of it unkept. A lot of the land was behind the barn which butted up to a state forest. We took about 12 steps into the wood line when the smell of death hit me like a brick. "I'm taking you to where I heard the noise coming from last night... your PROOF is out there Mason" He said with a slight edge to it.
We walked almost a hundred yards into the woods when john stopped in front of a tree. It looked twisted and warped all the way to its top. I stepped around John and saw huge claw marks cut deep all the way around the base of the tree, it's hard to even call it that. "What the hell is this?" I said looking up. "This is a marker, it's territory starts here" John replied. I looked at john like he was crazy, which at this point I thought he was. "This thing travels throughout these woods. I've found five more of these trees in our town" he said putting a hand on the tree.
"This isn’t telling me anything John, just that you've got a weird ass tree on your property" I said back to him. "Do you hear that?" So we could move this mess forward, I stopped talking and just listened. I hadn't noticed that during our walk into the woods it had got quiet, and I mean not one sound. " What the hell? where did all the animals go?" I asked looking around. "They're scared mason... you should be too. Let's get back to the house."
We turned and started making our way out of the woods. We were damn near the tree line when I heard a snap. I turned around, gun raised to see a black streak dart back deeper into the woods. "What the fuck was that?!" All John said was "we need to leave, now!" We turned and started sprinting the rest of the way out of the woods. I was surprised at how fast john was for an old man. We got all the way back to my patrol car. "I don't know what that was, but I don't think you should stay here tonight John. Pack some stuff and come to my place" I said pointing my gun at the trees. John just let out a sigh as if frustrated and defeated.
"You weren't listenin'. The pine forest, these trees, it’s all connected. I’m talkin’ bout before this area was even inhabited by native peoples. This fucking thing has been around for a very long time. I have been looking into this since that day, I had to find out what it was and if it can be killed" he tried to explain. The whole time john was talking I had my eyes and weapon pointed at the trees. " You can put that down mason, it just wanted you to know it's here" He said.
"John, I to need process this shit. I've never seen or heard anything like this and to be straight with you, I’m at a loss right now" I said opening the trunk. "I get it, I get it. The sheriff jack was a deputy back then. When you see him... tell him I said the dark is here..." And with that, he just turned his back and walked back into his house not saying another word.
I got back in the car and sat there. Looking at the treeline. After a few minutes I went back to the station. I must've walked in with that universal what the fuck look on my face, because Cathy the clerk asked what was wrong with me. I told her I was fine and asked if she had seen the sheriff? "Yeah, he is in the gun cage. Are you sure you’re ok Mason?" She asked again.
"Yeah, I'm good, just need to talk to Jack." I started walking towards the back of the building, when Jack came around the corner. "Hey mason, what's up?" he says walking up to me. "I just got back from John's house." The look on his face completely changed. "He had a bunch of animals killed last night. It looked like a slaughterhouse. He told me to tell you the dark was back?" I told him noticing his reaction.
Jack stiffened up and not saying a word gestured for me to follow him towards the back security door. We headed towards the back and out the door. Jack had stopped to make sure the door was secure then pointed at his truck and said "get in."
After getting in he looked over "I need some coffee" then started the truck up and headed west out of the parking lot towards the coffee shop. He ordered a large black coffee with extra sugar then asked if I wanted one. "I'll take a small black, no sugar." We pulled out and headed east back past the station. We ended up driving towards the edge of the county. "What's going on and why are we heading way the hell out here?" I looked at jack and said.
Jack just took a long sip of his coffee then placed it back in the holder.
After a long breath "You want some answers about what happened at Johns' house... I’m sure he told you about a few other things about this town... well we're gonna go get you some answers" He said looking at a black sedan passing in the opposite direction. "Aight so, like you mason, I’m not from here either. I was a trooper in New York for a few years before I came down here. I resigned after a call to an old couple’s house" He said reaching for his cup. "My partner Jake and I responded to what was thought to be an animal attack. We were the first on the scene, having been a couple miles away lookin' for speeders.
When we rolled up an older woman came running over to the cruiser. She had a panicked look on her face and just kept repeating "they're dead, they're dead!!" We hopped out and sat her in the back of the car then asked what happened. "I...I... came over to talk to gloria and... and I saw the door open. I walked in yelling her and Alan’s name, but they didn't answer... I found them upstairs... it's horrible!!" She said sobbing. Jake and I drew our weapons and started making the move inside. Like the witness said the front door was open, so we moved in. It smelled like sulfur and blood when we entered. We started clearing rooms. The first floor was clear, so we made our way up the steps.
The smell was overpowering now. We cleared the bathroom, and the two smaller rooms were clear also. The door to the master bedroom was slightly opened. I motioned to Jake and we hit the door.... it looked like some movie shit!! I kid you not. Jake turned and went back into the hallway and threw up. I stepped into the room and... listen I had never seen anything like this before" Jack stammered out.
"These two people were in shreds on the bed, they're insides had been yanked out and thrown around the fucking room. After looking at the bodies I noticed these huge claw marks in the wall, I’m talking if Andre the giant had had a Krueger glove. I stepped back out of the room and radioed to dispatch that we needed more units. I walked back to the front door where Jake was standing hunched over looking out of it.
Parked outside were 3 black SUVs and a black sedan. I counted 11 men dressed in black tactical military gear, some with a type of rifle I had never seen before, but you could tell it was large caliber. The rest with SMG weapons. When i looked over towards the patrol car, one of the men had the door opened and was talking to the witness. He saw us and started our way. He was dressed in all black too and carried what looked like a desert eagle in a chest holster.
When he got closer I got a better look at him. He looked to be in his late 40's with salt and pepper colored hair and a big ass scar that ran down the right side of his face. He got about ten feet from the steps "We appreciate the assistance, but you are no longer needed" He said in deep voice. As he is saying this, one of the other guys escorts the witness out of our car and into the back of that sedan.
The guy started walking away from us "Who are you? and what the fuck is going on?" I yelled at him. He turned with a look on his face that you only see in movies then took a few steps towards us. "Your command has been informed and you are to leave now!" He said raising his hand up towards that holstered pistol. Jake looked at me and shook his head "fuck it, let's go, let them deal with that mess upstairs" he said still coughing then started heading towards the car. I followed him down the steps... looking this guy up and down, checking out the vehicles... for anything that might tell me who we were dealing with.
The only thing I saw was on the assholes uniform... there was a patch on his shoulder. It was an all-black diamond with a weird looking black M in the middle on it. The guy stared us down until we were in the car driving away. He had that pistol in his hand and the other men starting moving into the house. Jake and I didn’t say a word until the radio squawked and we were told to head back to the barracks.
When we got there, we were told to report to the troop commander’s office. Commander Thompson was sitting in his office along with a man in a nice 2-piece suit. The man in the suit stood there quietly while Thompson told us that we never responded to any call out to that farmhouse, and that this was the first and only time he would say it. With that, he dismissed us and and we walked out. The shit didn’t sit well with me, and I ended up resigning a few months later.
I came down here and then that shit in the woods happened. I was on the scene, I saw the claw marks. They looked just like the ones in New York, and the same damn trucks showed up with different personnel. I knew just to shut up and walk away, and after making that choice I have had a pretty good career here." he finished grabbing his cup out of the holder.
My brain was in overdrive. I was just about to completely question bomb jack when he said, "We're here." He pulled off onto this overgrown driveway and drove for about a quarter mile. We pulled up to an old two-story house that looked like it was in ruins... but the lights were on. "Where the hell are we?" I asked As the last word of that question left my mouth, the front door of the house opened... standing in the doorway was a old man, dressed in weathered black clothing. Jack leaned over to me "You wanted answers... well.... there they are."
submitted by OutThere_2044 to DrCreepensVault [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 06:00 Choice_Evidence1983 [New Update]: My family forgot to invite me to my grandparents funeral, but they are convinced I was there.

I am NOT OOP. OOP is u/justathrowaway282641
Originally posted to TwoHotTakes + her own page
Previous BoRU #1, BoRU #2, BoRU #3, BoRU #4, BoRU #5, BoRU 6
Editor’s Note: removed all relevant comments from older posts to make space for new updates. To see all older relevant comments, check out the previous BoRUs above
NEW UPDATE MARKED WITH ----
[New Update]: My family forgot to invite me to my grandparents funeral, but they are convinced I was there.
Trigger Warnings: death of loved ones, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, harassment
RECAP
Original Post: November 14, 2023**
I’m 30s F and caused a major blowup in my family and now none of them are talking to me. For background, my hometown is tiny (500pop) and when I went 2 hrs away to “the city” (15,000pop) for college, I loved it. I ended up staying after graduation, got married, and am happy here for a decade. I visit my home town every few weeks or so, call/text my family near daily, and thought we were all good. My family’s pretty small. Just my brother, mom, step dad, dad, step mom, and an aunt and uncle (mom’s siblings, never married, no kids). My mother's grandparents moved to my home town when I was in high school and were just down the street from us. My family has always been pretty drama free (aside from my parent’s divorce when I was a kid) and we’ve been happy. The step-parents were blended in perfectly and we share holidays and celebrations together. We’re all super close and just the perfect little group.
Ever since I moved away, the topic of “when am I moving back?” is constant, and I’ve always laughed it off. My home town has nothing. You have to drive 30 minutes for milk and bread. 60-90 minute one-way commutes to work. And floods shut down the main road every Easter. I love the town, but I love here more. I have parks, stores, community events, a library! The “city” is great. My family grumbles that I need to move back, but I refuse. I've been trying to encourage them to come here, especially since it's not an hour drive to the nearest medical facility.
Now to the meat and potatoes: both my grandparents passed over COVID times. They were both old and their health had been failing for a while so it was only a matter of time. Thankfully they didn’t catch it, but it made visiting them impossible and we survived mostly through FaceTime. They both passed in their sleep months apart. Both were cremated and kept securely under the kitchen sink for safe keeping while the pandemic blew over. That was 2021.
Well, I just found out my family held a funeral for them and scattered the ashes in my uncle’s maple grove over the summer. No one said a word to me about it. I’ve visited numerous times before and after and not one word. I only found out because my great uncle from California posted on Facebook a few weeks ago that he is entering hospice and was so thankful his health stayed strong enough for him to see his little sister (my grandma) to her final resting place. I was confused and called my mom. She was all “Yeah, the funeral we had in July, remember?” Ya’ll, I visited them for the 4th of July. They did the funeral the 8th. Not a word about it to me. They had planned this for months. Long enough to arrange for my infirm great uncle to be brought over from the other side of the country. Apparently, they talked about it “all the time”.
Everyone is convinced I was at the funeral. They SWEAR I was there. I can prove I wasn’t because Google’s got my location history. My hubby is baffled because he was supposedly there, too, but he had to work every weekend in June and July. Time clock doesn’t lie. My family straight up forgot about me. I’m hurt. I’m sad. And they’re pissed at me “for lying”. They think I’m causing drama over nothing. Nothing I say can convince them I wasn’t there. My family is united in this. And they’ve all put me “on read” until I admit I’m wrong. They think I’ve gone nuts. Either there’s a doppelganger of me attending events, or my family doesn’t want to admit they screwed up. I’m not backing down.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and my family’s been vague posting on Facebook about “forgetful kids” and mental health. It’s so freaking weird and I don’t know if I’m in bizzaro world or what’s going on. My mom’s best friend reached out and said I should just admit I was wrong and apologize, that I’m causing my mom so much unnecessary stress. I asked her if she’s checked everyone’s home for CO2. She hung up on me. (We checked our CO2, and our testers are running just fine.) I have reached out to a few people in my home town to check in on my folks, and they all say they're fine. I even spoke with the local volunteer fire fighter group to see if they could check for gas leaks. Not sure if they were able to.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve shown them the proof I wasn’t there, but they know I’m tech savvy and just assume I’ve Photoshopped it. Hubby says we need a break, and we’re going to be staying home this holiday season.
Edit: I don't know the update rules, so I'll post updates to my profile should anyone want them.  
Update #1: November 27, 2023
Not sure how to do updates on posts, so figured I'd post anything on my profile. Folks have private messaged me and this will be easier I think?
It's 11/27 and Thanksgiving just happened. Hubby and I stayed home. We got a small turkey and made our own little thanksgiving. It was nice. We ate around noon, then watched a movie, and later sat outside with a bottle of wine to watch the sun set behind the trees and neighbor houses.
We usually take the day before off, drive to my folks, stay the night, and help with the Thanksgiving Day cooking. So it wasn't until Wednesday night that my mom broke the silence. Mom called and asked when I was showing up, and I told her we were staying home this year, but for them to have a happy Thanksgiving, and to give the rest of the family my love. She was quiet for a long time after I said that, and I think she eventually mumbled an "okay", or something, and hung up. It wasn't an angry hang up. Just a hang up. On Thanksgiving day, I sent a group "Happy Thanksgiving!" gif to our family group chat. I received a few "happy Thanksgiving"'s back. No one's said anything else. There's been no posts on Facebook.  
Update #2: December 12, 2023
So, I think I mentioned in one of my comments that my dad and I usually talk on the phone every Sunday morning. We're both early risers so we'd chat over our morning coffees and watch the sunrise. Him and I haven't really spoken since this all went down and it's been tough. I'm used to talking to him, you know?
Well, I was sitting outside in my usual spot, watching the sun rise and freezing my butt off, and he called me. I'm not entirely sure how to describe the emotions I felt. It was a mix of panic, hope, terror, happiness, and dread. I ended up answering because I just had to know what he wanted. It was an awkward conversation. He didn't address the current "drama", but instead tiptoed around the situation with all the grace of an cow on stilts. For instance, a simple "How are you doing?" Type question was answered with a "Not good." And the whole conversation would stall out for a bit because he knew why I wasn't doing well. So we ended up talking about the weather, the various winter birds we'd seen in our feeders, and the Christmas decorations around town. Things like that.
Eventually he asked if we were coming out for Christmas, and sounded sad when I told him we weren't. He asked if him and step mom could come visit us instead, and I told him it wasn't a good idea this year. That hubby and I were going to spend a quiet holiday together. I let him know he should be receiving some gifts at his PO Box any day now, so to please pick them up from the post office and put them under the family tree for everyone. He said he'd ship ours to us as well.
And that was pretty much it. No crazy drama to report. The only posts on Facebook have been the usual Christmas excitement ones, countdowns, photos of Santa, silly gift ideas, photos of company Christmas parties.
On a personal note: Hubby and I are doing alright. Our health is good, our spirits high, and we're as solid as ever. We each got Christmas bonus' at our jobs, so we're excited about that. They're not large, but we're happy to have them. We have also done advent calendars for the first time ever. I got him a Lego one, and he got me a hot chocolate one. We're going to do the calendars again next year. Maybe make a tradition out of it.
Everyone please have a safe and happy holidays.  
Inheritance: December 16, 2023
I've received a lot - A LOT - of messages and private DMs urging me to check into inheritance and such. I'm really touched a lot of Internet strangers are worried about me and I wanted to ensure everyone that inheritance is most likely not an issue here. I'd almost be relieved if it was, because then it would at least make some sense. Money does weird things to people, you know?
No one in my family is wealthy by any means. After my grandparents' passed, their small estate was used to pay for their end of life expenses and remaining assets split up. Everyone directly related got an equal split (so excluded my dad and the step parents). I don't remember the exact amount I received, but it was around $5k if I recall. My brother gave me his share, too, so I could finish paying off my college debt while the interest freeze was active.
The great uncle from California has kids and grand kids, and great grandkids of his own, and also isn't wealthy. I think one of his kids makes good money doing something in finance, but I'm not entirely sure. I can't imagine he left us anything, as we hardly knew him. My mom, aunt, and uncle only met him a few times in their lives, and my brother and I even less. Grandma and him were close, but I don't think he liked my grandpa much.  
Christmas: December 25, 2023
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I've received a lot of support through my posts and I'm really grateful. Writing these updates have had a therapeutic effect.
Yesterday was Sunday, but I didn't answer my dad when he called. I just really didn't feel up to a pointless chat, so let it go to voicemail. He tried to reach me a few times throughout the day, but I didn't answer.
Our bestie last minute invited us over to his house for Christmas day lunch (today), so husband and I were busy all Christmas Eve making cookies, peanut brittle, and homemade suckers/hard candies for his kids. Mom tried to reach out as well, but I also ignored her calls.
We had a BLAST at lunch! Our friend's kids are a lot of fun to be around. They got some techy presents from their grandparents (Quest vr headset and steam decks, lucky little rascals) Friend and his wife aren't good with tech, while hubby and I are, so we helped get them set up while our friend played a good host to his folks and inlaws. The grandparents didn't realize that a Steam deck required a Steam account, so we got the kids all their own accounts set up, added them to our steam friends lists, and gifted them some games. We also bought them a few VR games for their headset, and they were off to the races with Beat Saber in no time.
As for my folks: My brother texted and asked if we could talk sometime tomorrow. I think me ignoring mom and dad has caused some kind of upset. Which they deserve.  
Brother’s call: December 26, 2023
Spoke with my brother over the phone this morning.
For starters, he apologized for everything. Him and I are good (for now). For a bit of background, my brother and I are only 2 years apart. There weren't a lot of kids around growing up, so the two of us were often stuck doing stuff together. So we have a lot of shared interests and passions. He's been pretty silent on this whole matter, but still "part of the group", if you know what I mean. I think the thought of losing him out of my life was probably the most painful, because he's always been there. He was my rock until I met my husband. He's definitely a Mama's boy, though, so anything mom wanted, he made sure she got. I'm happy to have him back.
Without further ado, here's the story from the horse's mouth:
Mom apparently had a cancer scare late last year (which no one told me about, go figure), and dad had a stint put in his heart back in January (which I did know about). This "sense of mortality" has apparently lit a fire under Mom's ass to get me back home. But since I wasn't reacting to her passive aggressive hinting, she and step mom decided to go full crazy. My great uncle's health was bad, and he'd been asking about funeral arrangements for his sister (my grandma) for a while, so the moms decided to plan it. And use the event as a giant middle finger to me. They kept all the planning pretty hush-hush between the two of them, so no one on our side of the family actually knew about the funeral until like 2 weeks before. The moms said they'd invited hubby and I. No one thought anything about it. No one thought to mention, confirm, or check with me.
The plan was to scatter the ashes, say a few words, and maybe head to town for lunch. It was a small affair. The mom's didn't even tell the family that our great uncle was coming for it. Like I said, it was a small thing. Barely a footnote. No one thought it was odd because we're pretty chill people.
4th of July happens. Hubby and I are out. No one thought to mention it, as we were all busy celebrating and having a great time. Any time the topic of "this weekend" would start, the conversation would be quickly shifted by one of the moms. We went back home.
8th of July happens. Great uncle rolls into town with a few of his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids, and it's a surprise to everyone (but the moms). Everyone drives to the maple grove and the moms have brought a ton of food and stuff. It's a full blown party. No one on my side noticed I wasn't there, because there were so many extra faces outside the usual group. They did the spreading of the ashes, they said their words, they ate, they had a great time. It wasn't until our great uncle left, and all his side left with him, that they realized I wasn't there. And hadn't been there.
And this is where the crazy went up a notch. My brother says the moms were happy no one noticed I wasn't there. And that this was proof to everyone that I needed to move back because I was so easily forgotten about. Because none of them thought to reach out, right? They basically did a ton of guilt tripping manipulation bullshit and it made everyone upset at me for not showing up. Somehow it was my fault for being excluded. So suddenly everyone was on their side with "sticking it to me".
But then a few months went by, and tempers cooled, and then I guess the horror of it set in. Followed by the shame, but by then they were "in too deep". How do you undo something like this? And since I hadn't brought it up, I guess they figured they would all just stay quiet about it and hope I never asked about a funeral.
That's when I discovered the situation from my great uncle's Facebook and called my mom, who panicked and went with the stupidest solution. Claiming I was there. Don't I remember?
I ended up talking with a few friends from high school, mentioning the situation, and word got back to those in town. So suddenly town gossip and little old church ladies got involved. Was I, or wasn't I at the funeral? Did my family forget to invite me to the funeral of the only grandparents I'd ever know? Or am I just causing a ruckus? My brother said they all just went with mom's answer. Of course they wouldn't forget me. Of course I was there. Of course they're good people. And it just snowballed.
The family expected me to eventually fold. I'm usually a nonconfrontational person, so me sticking to my guns was unexpected. And then I missed Thanksgiving. And now Christmas. With no sign of backing down. And I guess the realization that I could just stop being part of their lives is setting in and my parents are panicking. He's tried just getting them to apologize and explain, but stubbornness prevails. They want to rug sweep, but I'm not letting them.
My brother is upset with everything that's happened. He's realized just how crappy it all has been and he wants nothing to do with it anymore. But since he lives with my mom, he can't "get away from it".
He has asked if he can come stay with us for a little bit. I spoke with hubby, and he's in agreement with me that my brother can come crash in our spare bedroom for as long as he wants. Brother works remotely, so it's no trouble for him to pick up and go. I believe he's making the trip today or tomorrow. Not entirely sure, but I expect crap to hit the fan when he arrives.
On a side note, hubby's stoked that my brother and I made up. The two usually game together, but haven't due to "the situation". He's downstairs right now setting up his man cave in preparation for my brother's arrival. I'm happy to see him so excited.  
Brother's Here: December 27, 2023
My brother rolled in late last night. He'd obviously been crying and when I opened the door, he just held me and sobbed. I'd never seen him like that before and soon both of us were just standing in the doorway crying into one another. He kept apologizing. Over and over again. Said he wasn't sure why he went with it. Just kept saying sorry. Hubby got him all set up in the spare bedroom while brother and I talked. My brother's a wreck. He's always been a big guy, but he's lost a lot of weight and his clothes just hang off him. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was on drugs. We talked for a little bit before bed and he re-explained everything for my husband. I'd told hubby the story, but it was just so weird that hearing it again helped.
This morning my brother was up at dawn making some coffee and getting his work day going. Hubby's off all week (lucky) so hubby made us working folk some pancakes and bacon. So far everything's peaceful. We've decided not to answer any calls from our family. They've been made aware that he arrived safely, and that we are going to spend the New Years together, and that we're not answering any calls until January 1st. They may text if they wish. I'm sure they're losing their minds. Serves them right.
Everyone, have a safe and happy new years! Don't drink and drive!  
Happy 2024!: January 2, 2024
I hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable holidays, and may the new year be full of joy and happiness!
Not too much of an update. Things here have been quiet. My brother's settled in nicely and he's a great housemate. Our place isn't very big, but we have full basement and a nice outside patio/porch area so it doesn't feel crowded at all with the extra addition. He's a quiet and clean guy. No hassle at all. He got some fresh clothes from the Walmart, a haircut, and trimmed his beard, so he's more "presentable" now. He's a lady killer when he gets cleaned up. He's made nice with the (very nosy, but kind) retired couple next door and is adapting to "city living" nicely.
Folks back home have been mostly well behaved. There's been a few texts back and forth, as we're not answering calls. Mom mainly wants to know when brother's coming back, but he's keen on staying here for a while. Mom said I can't "keep him" and I told her he's a grown ass man and can do what he wants. Brother says he has her blocked after she ORDERED him to return home.
Brother has tentatively asked if he could stay long term, should he decide to, or at least longer than a usual visitor would stay. Which we're fine with. He has a good paying job and could afford an apartment, but he's never lived on his own and I would guess he has some anxiety about it. Should that be the case, he'll start paying us some rent and we'd probably adjust to give him the basement as his own space.  
Had to change the locks: January 17, 2024
My brother is officially staying with us for the long haul. Hubby and him spent all Sunday organizing the basement and shifting things around so he now has his own area to be comfortable in. He's pretty handy and has also started fixing little things around our house. Our windows and doors have never closed and locked/unlocked smoother. He even fixed one of the closets we never use because we can never get the darn door open. Sadly, he also had to change the locks on our house and get us all new keys.
This is because while hubby and I were out this Saturday, the moms showed up. They'd been calling and texting us all week, but we weren't really answering them, so I guess the two decided to drive over and hash it out in person. They have emergency keys to my place, and just let themselves in. Brother told them to leave, they argued, and my nosy (but kind) neighbors called the police when they noticed the commotion. So, we get a call from neighbor's wife, return home to some cops in our yard, all the neighbors out "vacuuming their trees", and my nosy (but kind) neighbors standing on my porch with my brother behind them, doing their best Gandalf "You shall not pass" impression.
Had to talk with the cops, explain that we were having a family dispute and word vomited. I don't really remember what all I said, and was shaking a lot. Our local cops are really great. Fantastic guys and gals in blue, and took it all in stride. It's really cold here, so one had me join him in his cruiser with the heat on, and gave me a bottle of water to calm down while we talked. They asked if we wanted the moms trespassed but I wasn't sure if that counted as a criminal charge so just asked the cops if they could just make them leave, which the cops did with no fuss. I think the moms were shocked we were taking this so seriously. They didn't fight or scream at us. Just left quietly.
My dad promised me he'd make sure his wife left us alone. "Or else". He said he'd also have a stern talk with my mom. Him and I talked Sunday morning, and he seemed absolutely at the end of his rope. Husband jokingly told my dad he could move in, too. To which he declined.
Not sure where to go from here, but we're getting some ring cameras installed once they arrive. And everyone but my dad is blocked. Hopefully they all just leave us alone.  
Nothing New To Report: February 2, 2024
Had a lot of DMs for updates, but don't have much anything to report on. The moms are behaving themselves. All's quiet on the western front. Felt weird ignoring or copy/pasting "no updates" to everyone, so here's what we've been doing, should anyone care.
Dad got a new bird/squirrel feeder from Amazon (looks like a little picnic table for a child's dolly but has a mesh top for the bird seed. I think it's supposed to be for chickens?) It's totes adorbs. To his horror, it also works as a Cooper hawk feeder, so now he's "fortifying his defenses" and putting up some trellises around it. He'll have to wait till warmer weather before planting anything to grow on them.
We had some ring cameras installed and put in a motion-activated camera that double functions as a light bulb. It goes in the light fixture outside the front door and is pretty cool. Video quality isn't all that great, but it's a nice addition I guess. It does overlook the bird feeders, so I've been watching it on my lunch breaks on the days I have to go into the office.
Hubby and brother are feuding. They started a coop farm in Stardew Valley a few days ago and they both want to romance Leah. My husband confided in me that he's also been romancing Sebastian as a backup. I'm not sure why he's keeping this a secret, but he's pretty smug about it.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
fractal_frog I hope your dad can outsmart the hawks!
OOP: He'll be able to, I just know it. He's used to dealing with the wildlife and having hawks about, but he just wasn't expecting one to snag a meal right from his new feeder.
I told him it was "technically" still a bird feeder. Just....for bigger birds. Which he thought was funny. He said he might make a little "no hawks allowed" sign to put up next to it.
MissOP: keep the updates coming. the moms are so close to folding it's just a little bit more. LMAO also, the bro mance between your husband and brother is so cute. lol Honestly, I think your husband making sure he has a side piece of Sebastian is absolutely the play.
OOP: So far still no word from the moms, but I hope you're right. I would love an apology and for us to begin moving past this. But I NEED that apology. I feel selfish saying that, but I refuse to "be the bigger person" on this. I just won't.
As for my brother and husband, yeah, they're basically soul mates. The two hit it off immediately when they first met, and they've been thick as thieves for years.  
Update: February 27, 2024
My dad came out for a visit over the weekend. We had a good time and the weather was lovely for some grilling and beers. It was really nice to see him again and he seemed healthy and in good spirits.
Here's his report from back home: Step mom (dad's wife) has started to realize she's screwed up. I credit her change of mindset to the fact that my dad sat her down and laid it out for her: she leaves his kids alone, or she's getting divorce papers. That apparently shut her up right quick, because they had a prenup done when they married and I'm not sure the details of it, but it wouldn't end favorably for her. She hasn't worked in years, so I imagine she'd be eligible for alimony? But I'm not versed in any of that legal mumbojumbo. Dad didn't seem too worried about it, so I'm not gonna worry about it.
Step dad was pissed the police were involved in the last "mom visit" (despite no one getting arrested or anything) and was in a "the kids are out of control and need to be reigned back in" mindset. When my dad pointed out that "the kids" in question were all in their mid-30s, it took some of the steam out of stepdad's sails. According to my dad, even my mom looked a little surprised when he said that. So, part of me is wondering if a good chunk of this whole thing is my mom not truly realizing that her kids were grown, and no longer children she could make demands of. Both of the moms have left us alone. I expected my mom to continue to kick up a fuss, but I think the cops spooked her.
There was a wonderful suggestion by a comment or to get their pastor involved, which I passed along to my dad. Dad has since spoken to their pastor about everything. He's a young guy, relatively new to their church, and joked that his first month on the job he had to do 3 funerals in a row and his new "flock" were just dying to get away from him, so he's got a sense of humor which is nice. The new pastor agreed to sit down with everyone and help the family hash it all out in a true "Come to Jesus" type moment next month, so that maybe we could celebrate Easter together as our first holiday as a family. Dad said the pastor was aware our family was having some troubles, but unsure of exactly what was going on, and since he was new, the pastor didn't want to pry. He has also agreed to do a small service down at my uncle's maple grove later in the summer, as it usually floods and is a muddy mess all spring. According to my dad, my aunt and uncle are so over all the drama and just ready to move on, so I expect hugs and apologies from them when we next meet.
Stardew Valley Update: My brother was victorious in the grand fight for Leah. It was a hard battle. Well fought. When my husband exposed his plans to woo Sebastian all this time, it was quite the betrayal. Dramatics aside, their farm is really cute and I'm so happy they're enjoying the game!  
Update 4/1 - Final one I think - April 1, 2024
Happy April Fools everyone! I hope you all check your caramel apples for stray onions before taking a bite! I also hope your Easter weekend was a delightful one.
It is with great joy that I tell you all about our most recent update! Possibly even a conclusion to this whole ordeal.
The entire family (aunt, uncle, moms, dads, brother, me, husband) and pastor met at my dad's house and we all sat down to hash the situation out. As expected from what my dad said, my aunt and uncle greeted us all with apologies and hugs, which was nice. My uncle usually helps host the Easter egg hunts with the church and he brought our Easter baskets to give to us in case us kids weren't sticking around the for the weekend. I'm not sure why but seeing it made me tear up and feel stupid, because it was just a basket of candy but it meant a lot to me for some reason.
The pastor led us in a prayer and talked about forgiveness and such. He then asked us all to talk one at a time about how we're feeling and what we want the end result of today to be. No one was allowed to interrupt so everyone got to talk. It was nice. The consensus for the group was that most everyone wanted things to go back to "normal". The only ones who had any variance off this was my mom and step dad. They both wanted all us kids to move back to the area.
The pastor asked them why they wanted us back, and neither could give a good reason other than "because family", and the pastor asked us if we were thriving where we were. And we said we were. He asked if we were happy there. Which we were. He then asked my mom and step dad if they wanted us to give up our happiness to make them happy.
And Mom broke down and said no. We all had a good cry. The pastor then asked about the funeral and lies that led up to it and followed it and how it made us all feel and what we wished we'd done differently if we had the chance. It was all very emotional, but in a good way, you know? Everyone apologized and admitted they f-ed up and did a really crappy thing.
We all talked for a long, long time and the pastor was a great mediator. Eventually we all reached some sort of resolution and I think we're good now. Emotions are still high and a little raw in areas, but we stayed for Easter weekend and had a nice time. We're going to keep moving forward slowly and try to repair the relationship, but I believe we're well and truly out of the woods.
As for my brother, he's still staying with us, and mom will stop trying to guilt trip him back home. He's thinking about renting a small apartment in our area but we're not pushing him to make a decision. He knows he's welcome to stay as long as he wants. I think he wants to try dating (he's had a few girlfriends but never anything serious) and is embarrassed to bring any girls around our place, lol. He's been going to a few random classes/bookclubs at the local library for something free to do and hitting it off with all the little old ladies who attend, and they keep trying to hook him up with girls his age who they know. He has been on a few lunches/coffee dates with a couple girls, but I think he's too embarrassed by the attention to give it a real try at "dating" any of them. He's happy, though, which is all I could ask for.
I'm not sure if there will be any more updates, as I think it's all be resolved about as much as it can be at the moment. I wanted to thank you all for your words of advice and giving me a place to vent and scream into the void. Please be kind to one another and to yourselves. Thank you.
Relevant Comments
emjkr: What a nice and hopeful update, I’m really glad you stuck to your guns when everyone threw sanity out the window!
But, could your mother explain how she thought this would work out in her favour?
OOP: I don't think mom thought too far ahead. I believe she assumed it would all just magically work out the way she wanted it to. She said she wasn't sure what she was expecting to happen (which I think was a lie, but I wasn't going to push it).
mak_zaddy: This was a great update! But ummmmmm no stardew valley update? What gives? Has Sebastian been woo’ed? How’s Leah? What’s happening?
OOP: Sebastian has indeed been wooed (and whoohooed) There's kids and cows and chickens. The two are still having a wonderful time at the game. They're working on completing the community center but it's slow going as they aren't trying to speedrun and just doing things as they want. I believe they're thinking about going into the desert mines once they complete that bundle, but they're both super chicken shit about it!
-my-cabbages: I don't really understand what you had to apologize for ... but I'm glad you're happy and the situation seems to be settling down
OOP: There wasn't much of an apology on my end, as everyone agreed I had done nothing wrong. Mine was more of a "I'm sorry you didn't feel as though I would listen." Type apology, which I don't really believe is a proper apology because apologies like that push the blame back on another. I mostly expressed my feelings and the shock of it all, and how betrayed I felt.  

----NEW UPDATE----

Small, happy update: May 7, 2024 (1 month later)
Things as wonderful as the moment. Still doing baby steps with The Moms. We're texting and talking on the phones more, which is nice. Very civil.
Dad "accidentally" bought a bunch of hand crafted bird feeders at a craft fair. By accidentally, I mean: he had a little too much fun in the beer tent, went for a stroll while step mom wasn't looking, and stumbled upon a guy's booth and bought "one of each". He wouldn't tell me how MANY "one of each" was, but he cackled like a witch when I asked. Step mom said she's forcing him to give a few to me, so I'm expecting a delivery or a Dad-visit any day now.
My brother is officially "going steady" with a girl. We've met her a few times and she seems like a real sweetheart. She's our age and has a little boy (5-6 years old, I haven't asked) from a previous relationship (The dad's not in the picture from what I can gather). She's the granddaughter of one of his Book Club members, so the old ladies made good match makers in the end. The relationship is still very new and I'm routing for them.
No new Stardew Valley updates. Work has been a little crazy lately and I haven't been able to play much of anything, and brother has been distracted by his new lady friend. So, husband finally started Baldur's Gate 3, and fell for Gale's "magic trick" so now those two are a thing. I expect him to be sufficiently distracted from reality for the next few weeks.
 

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

submitted by Choice_Evidence1983 to BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]


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.
submitted by CheckUrCrawlspaces to nosleep [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 03:46 DukeOfDerpington Duality of Prey-Chapter 11

Huge shout out to & for helping with Brainstorming and Co-Writing this.
As always, all credits for the original Nature of Predators and it's content goes to Space Paladin15, thank him for allowing artist and writers to use his original work of art for their own uses.
Gaian Ref Sheet-Here, Done by the artist
As well as a *Huge* thank you for Julian Skys for filling in for the editor for this chapter. I'll post a comment as to why I haven't been posting too much, safe to say though, kept ya waiting huh?
[FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT]
[Subject Memory Transcription: Rux Limpbut, Venlil News Anchor and TV Show Host]
Date [Standardized Galactic(?) Time]:August 1st, 2136
Now I'm regretting not taking that transfer last week. This just keeps getting better.
I was in my car outside of the Network’s station. I was at my wits end yesterday and was trying my damnedest *not* to freak out on air. Now? Now I had the pleasure of my network telling me they needed me to come in way early to report on some breaking news. Just as I was about to leave for Solgaliks sake!
I took a small sip of the “coffee”. Now this was a blessing, coffeehouses on Gaia were open paw around, no matter what. I was giving a small prayer to those “ancestors” for their love of anything strong. Well, anything strong that wasn't alcohol. They could stomach one drink or two but after that? They were out.
Slurrrrrp
I let out a relieved sigh as the warm liquid flowed down my maw, the reward of caffeine soon following after this. Hopefully in time for the recording. With that I opened the door, grabbing my briefcase as I greedily drank the rest of the coffee as I approached the wide doors of the Networks station.
They creaked a little as they always did as I appeared in the doorway, a sleepy, overworked ghost. I tossed the coffee cup into the trashcan by the door as I nodded over the after work plans that I had to either postpone, or completely not do.
No bar time, going to be too tired. Not going to have enough time to do more digging in what that Farsulian diplomat released, even after it's been nearly two months. Brahk. Still need to be ready for the shift tomorrow-
“Rux?” The front desk secretary pulled me up and out of my thoughts as I blinked a couple of times, my ears raising as one of my eyes focused on her, a bit frizzled from the overtime I was clocking at the moment.
“Hm? Oh. Hey Liakal, caught me off guard almost as bad as the padcall I got. What's up?” I rubbed my eye as I fully focused on her, making my way over to her.
“Well, whenever you're ready for them they'll give you all you need, apparently, when you get into the studio. What they told me is uh, it's not a pleasant amount of news.” She nervously played with her claws and her headset, her lips quivering a bit.
“That bad? Speh. What about that uh, guest? She gets off-”
“O-oh! Mrs Tarva. She got off the planet easily. I can't say anything else though Rux. They said whatever they have to tell is very, very pertinent not to be let loose until you broadcast it… sorry Rux.”
I patted the top of the semi circle desk that Liakal was sat into, before giving her a quick, albeit small smile with a finger gun before I quickly deflated. It was that bad. With a nod from me I departed into the hallway to the left of the front desk, approaching one of the elevators.
A button press, a chime and the feeling of gravity and anxiousness about to make me hurl later, I was on the floor with the studios. I retraced the steps I had taken only claws before to mine. The green sign saying “Predator Problems” told me I hadn't failed as usual. Something had to be done with our program and segment name, if for nothing else there was apparently much more juicy stuff to talk about.
Opening the door, I expected the hustling and scrambling of the cameramen, the lighting crew, audio specialists. But nothing except a small huddled group of uniformed men. Brahk, I was hoping this wasn't the case but I was never that lucky. I resigned myself to fate as the group finally paid attention to me, and the door clicking and shutting behind me.
“Mr. Rux. Please come over here and sit. You're all good, we just need to go over what we need you to announce in this upcoming impromptu broadcast.” Why the hell were the Gaians on Prime? Wait no. That's not the problem. Why are officers from their military here? Oh stars.
However I could feel my body coming towards the oval shaped table. Eventually knocking into a chair and pulling it out, resting my briefcase onto the ground and taking a seat, pulling up to the desk. I rested my paws on it as I gave a look to the group assembled around it.
All were wearing roughly the same uniform, their fur patterns one of the only differing things between them. Aside from the one at the end of the table. They wore a green beret atop their head, nestled in between the horns that adorned it. They cleared their throat and slid a small packet of papers towards me, startling me a tiny bit.
“While I wish to be polite and respectful, there's simply no way to say this without being blunt. Sole Speaker Jikem is dead. With the current atmosphere on Gaia we thought it'd be best to announce the formation of an emergency government and a leader to head it. All of which has been done in a roundabout manner so as to not alert any radicals or terrorists.”
I had only taken a cursory glance at the front of the small packet before that bombshell of an information was dropped onto me nonchalantly. My paw was halfway to the front page to turn it before my gaze looked up at the Gaian at the end of the oval table who had done so.
“What? Sorry can you-”
“Rux. Come on, you know what I said. Now, I know it isn't everypaw that you get to report on the death of a head of state, let alone be the first one to do so. I'll most certainly give you that. So, we'll give you some time alone…well mostly, to get acquainted with the packet and once you and your crew are roaring to go we'll release the news to the Commonwealth.”
I took a small lookover of the second page but had to pause for a short moment again as I took it in. Yes, yes I did have some questions. Half from the large info dropped on me and the other half that I was now reading with my very own eyes now.
Before they could fully get up I had worked up the courage to get a short clearing of the throat and read out of the lines in the packet out aloud after I had decided it would be better to ask now rather than after. “In conjunction with recent attacks the Armed forces has decided to-” I put down the packet in its entirety now.
“What in the stars could you possibly mean by “safeguarding” democracy? This just seems to be some type of justification for a military takeover. I mean, who's going to fall for this?”
The chairs of the small clique of officers seem to find themselves filled once more as they returned to their positions, most of them now gazing between me, some random crew member scurrying near me and the head honcho with the green beret.
The intensity of the stare of the Gaian at the opposite end of the table seemed to intensify, seemingly his gaze looking through me. “Mr. Rux, I can assure you any such speculation to that matter and that, frankly, justified if albeit imaginary fear is going to be the last thing people on Gaia are going to worry about. Alright?”
I anxiously nodded back, sighing. “L-look I'm just-”
The Bereted officer seemed to nod while holding up his paw, my line of reasoning and thought being stopped by the intrusion. “Worried, you ancestors are always worried. It's why we're here, yes? Anything too dangerous or otherwise unsafe we've always volunteered for so as to save our more cultured self from such. Think about this announcement like that. A warning and an update from our side of the Commonwealth about current affairs, nothing more, nothing less.”
With that it seemed settled for the time being, as the small clique once again rose, and this time was actually able to depart to the booth that overlooked the studio, keeping what I was sure to guess a keen pair of eyes to observe anything.
I settled into my seat more as I gave the small packet a read. It was general stuff as of this point when it came to announcements. Why it's happening, what happened in more details, what they planned to do in the upcoming future, all that juicy stuff. Overall a very plain, if very informative script to go by. Still, being the first to announce the death of a head of state via “Unnatural Causes” would make even some of the most resolved Gaians a bit jumpy, yes?
Once I finally gave the entirety of the packet a quick read over I sat it down giving a glance to my, by now, very familiar set that we used for “Predator Problems”, the entire reason for why I had started it had been to educate and warn people about what to do with predators and the like. Now I was going to have to educate them, apparently, about the fact that our “brothers” in species so to speak were having a bit of topsy-turvy time on their capital planet. Now I was kinda hoping I was one of the more conspiracy theorist nut jobs just so I didn't have to get contacted.
Resigning myself to fate, and the fact that apparently I of all Vens was the most level headed to announce this, I looked over the studio, eventually finding the small group of uniformed men again. I got up and out of the chair as I made my way over to them, flicking my tail into a questioning sign as I did so, my approaching presence quickly noticed.
“Seems like you've got some questions, you read the packet though yeah?” One of them said, I simply signaled a yes with my ears to respond.
“So, is this immediately being aired? Or is it being aired later on tomorrow-well, this paw? Should it be the first thing or the last thing or is it the only thing I'm doing for this one?” With these questions the small clique seemed to talk in-between themselves, small glances were made in my general direction, they seemed to come to some type of conclusion though as they turned back to me, the bereted one now taking center stage again once more.
“Yes. It's being immediately aired. You do realize you are a bit of a celebrity on Gaia, yes? A special breaking news from you would certainly draw the right eyes. Then it'll spread from there. We do have other stuff for you to read, but it'll appear on the prompter. Other than that though we'll take our leave once everything is said and done.”
I gave a small thanks to Solgalik, as that would mean I would be able to go back home and get at least a claw or two of rest. Speh, if I just slept here I could get an extra one easy. But I didn't have much time to dwell on that, instead I apparently had a job to do right now.
With that bit of information I decided to go around, talking to the crew, who as of this point has finally settled down and has stopped scattering from the Gaians. A small conversation with each helped us plan out the next few tantalizingly painful minutes that were about to unfold live on air.
With everything and everyone in place, I took my seat at the curved table in the middle of the cameras, getting my little tie ready. With a countdown from 3, I settled into my on screen persona as the red lights of the cameras went on.
“Good Paw to everyone tuning in! I'm your host as always, Rux Limpbut, and this is Predator problems. This time though, we do have some breaking news that we need to get to. So with that being said, I suppose it's time for me to get to it.”
I straightened my back, placing my paws firmly as I closed my eyes, breathing in and then opening my eyes again.
Alright. Just gotta break the news that the head of state of the other half of our Commonwealth is dead and their Army just decided to seize power for democracy's sake.
“I have some sad, and what some can and should be saying is unsettling, news. Sole Speaker Jikem of the Gaian Cooperative, has died earlier this paw. Details are scarce and hard to come by as of this point, but from preliminary reports and investigations, it seems as though he *may* have been assassinated while at a checkpoint. As many of you know he was elected on a lockstep ticket with the current governor of Venlil Prime, Veln. He oversaw the last closing years of the Dominion-Federation war, as well as the beginning of closer federation ties. Many people are bound to ask as of this point what is going to happen, and the easiest and most truthful answer is…we don't know.”
I shuffled some papers, discarding the packet to the side of the table before continuing on with the information I was to spout out.
“Already reports are coming in that the Armed Forces of Gaia have declared a state of emergency and already there are rumblings that they have formed… an emergency government?”
I gave a bit of a confused look before continuing, I could see the group of uniformed Gaians nodding as I did so, apparently that was good enough for them.
The rest of the news report was generally a bit unsettling, or at least info packed by many people's standards. Updates on the federation at large, some reports on the status of the Venian Commonwealth and what was the plan going forward and before I knew it the red blinking light on the cameras had vanished, and the lights overhead had dimmed.
“Alright, that's good for us. We'll have one of our guys stay over the paw to help your team edit it but other than that? You can head on home.” The bereted one informed me, before signalling to one of the clique, most likely the one to stay here and “help” us edit.
I rested back in my chair and closed my eyes, I think it was time for me to get some shuteye.
—----------
Smoke billows out from the mouth of the Uniformed figure, a lit cigar cradled in his claws. He takes a survey of the trio gathered in front of him.
“So.” The figure grunts out, leaning back into his chair.
“So, what?” One of the trio asks inquisitively, shifting in their seat.
“So now what? Not many paws you get to make a masterstroke of a situation like this. Sole speaker is dead, people are looking to any type of stability and we perfectly fill the slot.” The Uniformed figure takes the cigar up to his mouth, smoking it lightly.
“Well there are numerous concerns.” The most center of the trio speak.
“Like what to do with those brahking predators that apparently still exist.” To the right of the first speaker.
“I vote we integrate them posthaste!” And finally the one on the other end.
A thick billowing cloud of smoke escapes the lips of the Uniformed figure, fidgeting for a moment before rolling forward. His face now fully lit.
“Gentlemen. Calm down. We have plenty of problems with plenty of solutions. But that's why you put me in charge of this little emergency government anyhow right? Levelheaded, warhero, clean political record.”
The trio murmur for a moment before returning a nod, the middle one piping up as he did so.
“Yes, that is why we decided to throw our towel in with you Marshal.”
The Uniformed figure now places his elbows on the table, his paws bridging each other while the cigar is still in-between in his paws.
“That's Marshal-at-Arms Jyuvernik to you. Now where were we? Ah right. The Dark corner. I want you to send a diplomatic team to assess the cattle debacle.”
submitted by DukeOfDerpington to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 01:59 Zombine99 Stuck/regression in techniques

So, about january of this year i started training some basics of calisthenics, without even doing or practicing pull ups, chins ups, etc, i developed the technique for the muscle up, even better i could do 2 in a row, i still don't know how. Working as a runner in a bar, eating like shit and not sleeping well i still could do it, lost a lot of weight those months also because i was swimming everyday, i was also doing a 200 pushup challenge everyday for 30 days, i think that helped me, but now, i can't even do one.... i gained weight, like 5 kg in a month just by doing pull ups, chinups, basic abs, i do 23 km on bicycle, i gained some muscle, im also doing dragon flags for less than a month and i can do 2 in a row from the floor but im also stuck in there and is getting harder every day, also practicing planche leans and planche tuck wich got better but i don't know why im stuck in those 2 techniques, any recommendations?
submitted by Zombine99 to CalisthenicsCulture [link] [comments]


http://swiebodzin.info