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Body Transformation Fitness Challenge - Round 16

2011.01.15 02:50 Body Transformation Fitness Challenge - Round 16

A reddit-wide competition; 12 weeks to transform your body and win some awesome prizes.
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2011.01.01 18:54 52 Book Challenge

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2010.08.11 21:48 fromITroom 90 Days Goal

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2024.05.15 21:02 Funny-Barnacle1291 Taylor is using Yin Yang & 'Four Beasts' of Chinese Philosophy to foreshadow Karma and coming out; The Man wall is a Yin Yang calendar

Taylor is using Yin Yang & 'Four Beasts' of Chinese Philosophy to foreshadow Karma and coming out; The Man wall is a Yin Yang calendar
Hi everyone,
I want to talk about The Man ‘clock’; Reputation, Karma, and I am proposing a release date of Friday August 23 2024 for Karma! I think it is either a double album with Reputation or Reputation comes some time in September or early spring 2025 (the year of the snake).
Taylor has weaved Yin Yang Chinese philosophy, mythology and astrology throughout TTPD, the Eras Tour and other parts of her work, such as LWYMMD MV, to foreshadow Karma. I believe The Man easter egg wall is actually based on a Chinese Yin Yang calendar, as well as working with the ‘3,2,1’ theory. She is also using it to tell us she needs to make a big life change, and I think that change is coming out. Taylor is telling us she is ‘out of balance’ and she needs to take action to rebalance herself via Karma.
Warning in advance, this is a long post, but if you can bear with me I really think there is something in this.
From what I can see, she has been linking to Yin and Yang philosophy, the ‘Four Beasts’ in that philosophy, and Karma itself for a long time – since 2015/16 but potentially longer – and it’s got louder and bigger as the release of Karma draws nearer. Because yes, it’s definitely happening, and yes, it’s the album to burn it all down.
This is all connected to: TTPD and the use of Yin and Yang, her animal imagery – including outfits, lyrics and Eras Tour and music video visuals, her use of colour, particularly with outfits, and her repeated use of fire and orange, especially. It is based on Chinese philosophy, folklore and mythology, and it is so fundamental to her work at this point you could do an entire re-listen of 1989 onwards and find hints of this everywhere. Yin and Yang directly informs Karma.
I want to start off by saying if I get anything wrong, please do say! I know karma, yin and yang and mythology in general can be really misrepresented, and I want to share a theory most accurate when explaining historical and modern-day Chinese and Japanese mythology. Please just shout (if you feel comfortable) if I miss the mark on anything!
Few important posts and credits:
· u/courtingdisaster with the slideshow for a TTPD P3 with inclusion of the yin yang symbol here
· u/macandcheese359 who showed the links between the LWYMMD MV and Paris outfits here
· u/goldenheart411 with a wee theory in the comments of a post about TSMWEL that the yin and yang is Taylor's public self and her queer self - which i LOVE – and I think really informs this use of Yin Yang, and Karma is what will 'rebalance' this
· u/clydelogan, who has posted about yin and yang, numerology and astrology connections all related to Taylor easter eggings the Karma release, post here, and who has also theorised RepTV will be a double album with Karma as the vault tracks
· I started thinking about this in response to u/macandcheese359's post here on tigers
Yin & Yang
Yin and Yang comes from ancient Chinese philosophy, and it is the concept that all things exist as inseperable and contradictory opposites. Yin is black and Yang is white. As the Yin and Yang black and white circle symbol illustrates, each side has an element of the other which is represented by the small dots. Neither pole is superior: the goal of Yin and Yang is balance between the two 'poles' or 'sides' in order to achieve true harmony. Yin and Yang is so fundamental to China that it is not just contained to philosophy, but medicine and culture too. I also want to add that the original position is the white half on top, the black half on the bottom, as shown in photos. I believe Taylor is using both Yin Yang positions.
Crucially, when we're thinking of Taylor, the circular yin-yang isn't the only way yin-yang can be symbolised. It is also, very often, symbolised through an infinity sign. This is because in the ‘Bagua’, a set of Chinese symbols which illustrate the nature of reality as yin and yang, the number 8 represents infinity, and in the Bagua the number 8 also represents the eight primary aspects of Yin and Yang combinations which represent the universe. Source here.
Karma
When we think about Karma; the meaning of it is to act, to take action. Karma can be the seeds and the fruits of action, to reap what we sow. Karma addresses interior and exterior forces impacting us.
Each one of us has a soul to keep in balance. Upset that balance with some foolish and hurtful misdeed and we spend a succession of lives re-establishing the Law of Opposites reaping that we have sown. The process of balancing is what we call Karma. It owes nothing to religion, but relies upon the knowledge and responsibility that we should (but usually don’t!) have. Yin and Yang is the oriental understanding of karma and that there are positive and negative forces in the universe that balance each other out. They balance due to how karma equalizes the energy flow and irons out all the ripples in the multi dimensional planes.” (source)
Yin Yang Imagery from TS
Taylor has been highlighting Yin and Yang imagery in TTPD, many of us have picked it up.The TTPD logo was released in black and white. The TTPD logo is simply switching the black and the white part of the bottom half; demonstrating a rotation of Yin Yang in her symbolism and therefore two calendars. This helped me figure out The Man wall.
https://preview.redd.it/x7fbf8ftzm0d1.jpg?width=200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8d52acb34da92e1a7912a573317296b14cbdd594
https://preview.redd.it/kxsuk8ftzm0d1.jpg?width=200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6ac8e55b2dcd7a565d545ebd9c395a76a05ca33c
At the TTPD library, there is the hand with the peace sign. Originally it was white. She then at some point changed it to black. This is using 2, ie the two parts of Yin and Yang, and the colour changes signal the fluidity of Yin and Yang. Tiktok in below images here.
https://preview.redd.it/a0mjl7y00n0d1.png?width=200&format=png&auto=webp&s=f8b6dee772c00ccd655bb4555f664f85d7c2e9ac
https://preview.redd.it/cc1hv7y00n0d1.png?width=200&format=png&auto=webp&s=efdc7cac4159986e1fe7f54af235d86a59032f8f
TTPD is both Yin and Yang, shown by using both black and white. The first drop of TTPD has white artwork, at midnight, meaning it is Yang: white, masculine, light, straight (yes, really), energetic, exterior, hard, odd numbers. The second deluxe drop has black artwork, it is Yin: dark, feminine, the moon, cold, discreet, rounded, soft, mental, even numbers. There is always a little Yin in Yang and Yang in Yin, as represented by the dots in the Yin and Yang symbol. Here is the track list of TTPD Midnight edition & The Anthology seperated into their representation of Yin and Yang, based on how each was dropped per imagery above.
https://preview.redd.it/wy25a6x70n0d1.png?width=623&format=png&auto=webp&s=202464871233635e3dac1092bf985dc61518408d
One important thing to notice is the sides are unbalanced. Does Yin represent the side she is suppressing, the side she needs to balance? TTPD has 16 tracks and the anthology 15; this demonstrates an imbalance – Yang represents odd, but Taylor’s Yang side has 16 tracks, Yin represents even, but Taylor’s Yin side has 15. She also is on TS11.
This leads me to my theory that she needs to ‘balance’ her yin and yang through Karma, it is bringing what is out of balance back into balance. She is repeatedly telling us something is wrong, something is unbalanced, hidden, obscured, ‘this is not Taylor’s Version’, that she is sick – and in Asian tradition, to be sick means inner and outer forces are out of balance.
Yin, the part of TTPD which has less songs, is ‘insufficient’ – which represents an over-focus on ‘night-time’ and symptoms like insomnia, and it can be caused by being overworked, it can cause burnout, it can result in feeling lost or not knowing who you are or hiding who you are. Yang represents the exterior and exterior forces, and an excess in Yang can represent that outside forces are at play and you lack honesty, authenticity, crave validation from the same forces which harm you; it could represent that she is ‘allowing’ the threat of the exterior, exterior forces, her career, her brand, her image, to determine what she hides and suppresses, and is paying a price for that. Many of us believe it is exterior forces which have forced her back into the closet.
This draws me back to what Taylor said in Miss Americana about being gone for a year end of 2016-17: “Nobody physically saw me for a year. That’s what I thought they wanted. I had to deconstruct an entire belief system, toss it out & reject it. It woke me up from constantly feeling I was fighting for people’s respect. It was happiness without anyone else’s input.”
Part of my belief in this theory is the use of the colour orange, I’ll go into this more but orange, in Buddhism, is the ‘essence’, it is the colour of flame or fire, it is an incredibly important colour and it describes a process of taking action and burning it all down to gain enlightenment and nirvana. (Source).
Clocks, Calendars and The Four Auspicious Beasts
Importantly, Yin and Yang in Chinese culture relates to clocks, cycles and calendars, which directly relates to The Man wall which I’ll explore further down the post. "The Four Auspicious Beasts" represent different parts of Yin and Yang and correlate to the Chinese calendar.
https://preview.redd.it/tytiyxgd0n0d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c3567bcf2140f18ef0fb6eb6e9a09af61f524546
https://preview.redd.it/qtd8hngd0n0d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bc6bc92f8e46dd232d2d8e475c88b17b7571a676
"The Four Auspicious Beasts" are also known as The Four Symbols, The Four Guardians and The Four Gods. Each Beast has their own season, colour and direction, and one of the five elements of fire, wood, earth, metal and water.
They are:
  • The Azure Dragon (Yang) – which can also be depicted using Serpents or Vipers, representing East, spring, dawn, blue-green, and wood
  • The Vermilion Bird (Utmost Yang), also called The Chinese Phoenix, representing South, summer, midday, red-orange, and fire
  • The White Tiger (Yin) – which can also be depicted as orange, or with orange colours surrounding, representing West, autumn, dusk, white and metal
  • The Black Tortoise (utmost Yin), also called The Black Warrior, depicted with a snake, sometimes the snake is wrapped around the tortoise subduing it, representing North, winter, Black, and water
  • There is also a fifth Auspicious Beast as part of the Five Elements (knowing as wuxing); The Yellow Dragon, representing the centre, midsummer, yellow and Earth
Each animal directly relates to Yin and Yang. The Tiger and The Dragon represent the shape we see of Yin-Yang: they hold the shades of Yin and Yang throughout the relevant seasons on each of their sides of Yin and Yang, whereas the Vemillion/Phoenix Bird represent 'utmost yang' and the Black Tortoise 'utmost yin' – the very top and very bottom of Yin and Yang.
In traditional Chinese philosophy, Yin Yang positioning takes precedence over directional; despite the Vermilion Bird representing South, if Yin Yang is in the traditional position (black being the right, bottom position, white being the left, top position) then the Vermilion Bird is at the top and the Tortoise at the bottom. Yin Yang is sometimes turned clockwise as part of a ‘cycle’, like so:
https://preview.redd.it/wgiv2f4g0n0d1.jpg?width=463&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4ec9148d79bab9705f77fd3298617f24b4203dff
Yin and Yang is always clockwise, the ‘upright’ position of Yin and Yang has Yin (black) is on the bottom right and Yang (white) is on the top left. You move from ‘utmost Yang’ (summer) through to Utmost Yin (winter) and back through to summer, hence why it’s a seasonal calendar.
Whether we listen to TTPD backwards, which would then follow the traditional Ying Yang, it matches up to the Four Beasts!Looking backwards, may be the only way forwards”. This has been theorised before here and here. I’m including You’re Losing Me, honestly because it fits this theory, but it also fits the idea that Taylor uses the last song or couple of last songs to foreshadow the next album. It also fits if we were to listen to her discography backwards, as she points to, as You’re Losing Me being the last song of TTPD and the first song of Midnights.
https://preview.redd.it/krjw40ei0n0d1.png?width=754&format=png&auto=webp&s=b4df38eb263e35c7a00d930f61b5eb4ede9cf222
The Manuscript, “Lookin' backwards, might be the only way to move forward…. but this story isn’t mine anymore”, and then we have
YIN: The White Tiger
Robin: “Long may you reign, you're an animal, you are bloodthirsty… slowed down clocks tethered, all this showmanship, to keep it, for you, in sweetness, way to go, tiger, higher and higher, wilder and lighter, for you, long may you roar…Buried down deep and out of your reach, the secret we all vowed to keep it, from you, in sweetness, way to go tiger, higher and higher, wilder and lighter, for you… You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline, but now we'll curtail your curiosity, in sweetness, way to go, Tiger”
In Chinese mythology, the white tiger represents power, strength, and courage. It embodies the essence of nature’s wrath, serving as a guardian of morality and justice. As the white tiger represents Yin, it is the embodiment of purpose and patience and it is the ruler on Earth. It is a protector, and there are themes of protection and guarded secrets in this song. I greatly believe this is a song about her talking to her younger self, so I find it incredibly interesting it has themes of courage, patience, strength and guarding or righting morality and justice. The tiger is often used to symbolise action being taken to right wrongs, to reveal secrets, and to provide justice.
An excerpt from The Sexual Secrets of The White Tigress, written by Hsi Lai, which is a translation of an ancient Chinese manual, the White Tigress Manual, regarding female sexuality: "If you cannot face directly into your sexuality, you will never discover your true spirituality. Your earthly spirit leads to discovering your heavenly spirit. Look at what created you to discover what will immortalize you. Freedom, joy, peace, love, healing is found when you face your truth. They elude you when you turn away. Face your truths."
Utmost Yin: The Black Tortoise The next songs that are important are Cassandra and The Black Dog, which I believe are meant to be used together to symbolise The Black Tortoise with the snake, and therefore true to ancient Chinese philosophy and mythology. The Black Tortoise generally only represents Utmost Yin when depicted with a snake. The Black Dog sits directly at the point of which sits The Black Tortoise, representing utmost Yin. This is perhaps the least obvious one, because it is a dog, but with the rest of the theory really adding up, and it sitting at Track 15 backwards, I feel it fits. It also represents water, for which Taylor uses a lot of imagery of in the song.
The Black Dog: “And it hits me, I just don't understand, how you don't miss me, in The Black Dog….my longings stay unspoken, and I may never open up the way I did for you…And it kills me, I just don't understand, how you don't miss me, in the shower, and remember, how my rain-soaked body was shaking… that was intertwined in the tragic fabric of our dreaming, 'Cause tail between your legs, you're leaving”
Cassandra: “When the first stone's thrown, there's screaming, in the streets, there's a raging riot, when it's "Burn the bitch, " they're shrieking, when the truth comes out, it's quiet….. so, they filled my cell with snakes, I regret to say, do you believe me now? I was in my tower weaving nightmares, twisting all my smiles into snarls, they say, "what doesn't kill you makes you aware" what happens if it becomes who you are?”
A tortoise intertwined with a snake represents a sense of inner conflict or hibernation, the depths of winter. It can represent guarded secrets or something hidden, a sense of protecting one self, or feeling conflicted about those secrets or the struggle they contain. When the snake is subduing a tortoise, it represents control – it can sometimes signify exterior forces causing this inner conflict or struggle. There are clear themes of subduing with snakes in Cassandra. The tortoises shell signifies resilience, strength, and also safeguarding; it represents a shield to the rest of the world, a protection from harm. The snake or serpent with the tortoise embodies wisdom and adaptability in the face of advertisity, and the power and authority to take back control. When there is cohesion between the two, they are a powerful force: the tortoise signifies quiet, while the snake signifies swiftness to act. There are themes of all of this in The Black Dog and Cassandra; particularly an inner conflict, exterior forces, and ‘longings’, combined with imagery of struggles, fights, and water – emotion.
Yang: The Azure Dragon:
This was probably the hardest to match, but once figured out it becomes quite strong. The Chinese dragon is widely understood to have developed in myth from serpents and vipers, and it is usually depicted as being very alike to a serpent or viper. It represents Spring, dawn and wood, and its colours range from blue to green. Very importantly, ancient drawings of The Azure Dragon depict the dragon’s shape with a horse’s head and a snake’s tail and tendril-like whiskers. The song that draws symbolism for The Azure Dragon is But Daddy I Love Him. There are, however, other songs that have links to it; for example, the Dragon represents Heaven – and there are themes of heaven in several songs on the Yang side.
But Daddy I Love Him: “I forget how the west was won… I just learned these people only raise you to cage you…too high a horse, for a simple girl to rise above it, they slammed the door on my whole world, the one thing I wanted, now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned, screaming "But Daddy I love him!" I'm having his baby - no, I'm not, but you should see your faces, I'm telling him to floor it through the fences… Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid, tendrils tucked into a woven braid, growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all, he was chaos, he was revelry…soon enough the elders had convened, down at the city hall, "Stay away from her" the saboteurs protested too much, Lord knows the words we never heard, just screeching tires and true love…I'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace, I don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing”
The Azure Dragon is a being which brings about order among chaos. It symbolises fertility, youth, sunrise and power, as well as the energy of transformation. It’s also creative and masculine, and represents power over authority. BDILH is a very rebellious song, rebelling against authority and reclaiming your power. The imagery being drawn out is that Taylor is rebelling, reclaiming power and defying authority. One of the things that really stood out to me and solidified this theory for me was “tendrils tucked into a woven braid”: not only does Dragon braids exist, but depictions and descriptions of The Azure Dragon consistently refer to tendril-like whiskers, and these are a large part of the imagery. The Azure Dragon also represents strength and courage, and part of reclaiming power is also reclaiming truth as per Chinese philosophy. The Dragon is also said to control the rain and water; which can be interpreted as learning to better control both surroundings and emotions.
The Vermilion Bird (Chinese Phoenix)
We end with You’re Losing Me: The Vermilion Bird, The Chinese Phoenix, which is ‘Chinese Red’; shades of red encompassing orange. This is incredibly strong, and most importantly it is an image and reference Taylor is clearly drawing from a lot.
You’re Losing Me: ““I'm getting tired even for a phoenix, always risin' from the ashes, mendin' all her gashes, every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes, how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying? I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick, my face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick…How long could we be a sad song, 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore”
The Vermilion Bird of the South represents death and rebirth. The mythology of the phoenix is that when one life cycle is ending, the phoenix bursts into flames to then be reborn; a new life is born from the ashes. The phoenix is ​​a sacred bird not just present in Chinese mythology, but also Greek, Egyptian, Persian and Japanese mythology. The Chinese Phoenix represents daylight, authenticity, truth. It is generally understood that the Vermilion Bird represents a significant life change, but more than that it signifies a rebirth of your self, and to do that it requires burning it all down to rebuild from the ashes. Importantly, it can also represent public reputation; it can signify shedding unneccessary need for validation from exterior forces and prioritising yourself and your truth. The Vermilion Bird symbolises fire, and it is ‘Chinese red’, meaning it is shades of deep red to orange, and it is depicted with red, orange and yellow, often against a backdrop of clouds. See below.
https://preview.redd.it/byutuxtl0n0d1.jpg?width=483&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2480ccc0f9938e36ec452dfbe0faf8caf9dd1349
You’re Losing Me is not the only song she draws imagery of death, rebirth, and fire. It is throughout TTPD, representing that The Vermilion Bird is perhaps the most important part of Taylor’s message and symbolism, in my opinion. Here are some other examples:
BDILH: “I'll tell you something right now, I'd rather burn my whole life down” Guilty As Sin?: “Oh what a way to die, my bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name, building up like waves, crashing over my grave, without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?” The Alchemy: “What if I told you I'm back? The hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map, I haven't come around in so long, but I'm coming back so strong”Cassandra: “In the streets, there's a raging riot, when it's "Burn the bitch, " they're shrieking” / “they set my life in flames, I regret to say, do you believe me now?” / “Bet they never spared a prayer for my soul, you can mark my words that I said it first, in a morning warning, no one heard” (I think morning doubles as ‘mourning’ here).
Imagery of The Auspicious Beasts and Chinese Philosophy
The Chinese Phoenix: Fire, Red Yellow & Orange
Image from u/clydelogan in this post
https://preview.redd.it/fqnrf5kv0n0d1.jpg?width=550&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5ba0aba40be19c69f1f3a347b50ffaae313d9f52
https://preview.redd.it/r7s1s12y0n0d1.png?width=858&format=png&auto=webp&s=18dba6257d71e1eb0397fdba8b9465ab432deead
https://preview.redd.it/hecft02y0n0d1.jpg?width=2048&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=25d8c05e0aa9c15b0af02d8fcb300baaba9e245b
https://preview.redd.it/b8awr02y0n0d1.jpg?width=640&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6edf4a7a832cc72c3c88468a0d67f024173e7361
The Azure Dragon & Koi
https://preview.redd.it/zmeiug411n0d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=98c33ec049719bafd084e594ce3913b92584d794
https://preview.redd.it/a0drye411n0d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c7b1716be59df64cff9550b82110ced995153546
https://preview.redd.it/xqfq6by21n0d1.jpg?width=487&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=fd2fd9cb796cab7def6da65ed68fc94d6bdebbe3
A Fifth Auspicious Beast and Koi
There is also a fifth auspicious beast, The Yellow Dragon. It is the Yellow Dragon of the centre of Yin Yang, and it symbolises the centre of the earth. There’s a really important story concerning the Yellow or Golden Dragon that I think Taylor is drawing from, that I’ll share below.
In Chinese mythology and legend, koi is an incredibly important fish - and it has links to Yin and Yang. Legend is, in the Yellow River there was a large school of fish, koi, that would swim upstream and against the current towards a waterfall. When the koi would reach the waterfall, many would attempt to leap up the waterfall to get to the top. Some versions of the legend believe this attracted local deities who made the waterfall even higher. The koi continued to try to get to the top for 100 years, until finally a single koi made it. The gods rewarded this amazing achievement by transforming the koi into a golden dragon - a very well known Chinese symbol and image. The Golden Dragon can also be The Yellow Dragon; the centre of Yin and Yang, representing true harmony. The waterfall then became known as "The Dragon Gate" and the story is said to symbolise strength, courage, perseverance, telling us to never give up, no matter what, no matter the odds.
Koi is therefore often used to symbolise Yin Yang. In Chinese culture, pairing the Koi with the yin-yang symbol holds great significance; the sides masculine and feminine energies of koi swimming together, perfectly representing the harmony of two opposite energies coming together as one and creating a perfect balance.
See the above images of koi imagery and her recent social media post promoting The Eras Tour (The Extended Version) with a lyric from Long Live “I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you” with a yellow heart, and then a dragon emoji. Here’s the post.
I would also like to point to this post from u/magnificently-cursed highlighting how Virginia Woolf used fish to represent “women’s forbidden desires”.
Colour Theory
Yin and Yang and Chinese philosophy also informs colour theory as we know it today. Earth is represented by Yellow whereas Heaven is represented by Purple. Pointing to a post (see here) from u/glowoffthepavement, Long Live was cut from The Eras Tour Theatrical Version and multiple songs from Speak Now are performed in the yellow dress, which in colour theory can represent closeting. Is ‘Earth’ to her where she has to closet, and so she wants to stay in that lavender haze (heaven)? And is she ready to ‘burn it all down’ and come out?
Orange
I've already pointed out that the Phoenix is the colours of sunset, and how Taylor is using orange and fire throughout her work and visuals. In Chinese folklore and tradition, orange represents rebirth. Buddhist monks wear robes in the colour of orange, which symbolise simplicity and letting go of materialism. Orange is thought to represent the 'very essence of Buddhism' as it signifies wisdom, strength and dignity. Saffron as an orange dye was a natural one available, but there's also other reasons for the robes - saffron symbolises flames, a symbol of truth. It is known as 'the colour of illumination, the highest state of perfection'.
It draws to the mind for me: “I looked around in a blood-soaked gown, and I saw something they can't take away, cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned, everything you lose is a step you take, so make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it, you've got no reason to be afraid” (You’re on your own, kid)
Orange, is, ofcourse, the colour we all think represents Karma, the lost album. I think she is drawing us backwards because something is missing, her art and her work is unbalanced, her story is unbalanced, and she is hiding herself and her truth. I think she is ready to burn it all down, with Karma.
Okay, so what does this all mean? Well, there’s more.
The Man Calendar: it is Yin and Yang symbolism
This is a working theory, but here’s what it looks like. I’ve used both Yin Yangs as Taylor has used both, but so far only Red sits on the traditional Yin Yang, which is interesting considering TTPD’s work sits on the traditional Yin Yang. My theory is she’s attempting to rebalance that.
https://preview.redd.it/ashhv7le1n0d1.jpg?width=800&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a261d015c8746ac1f062739756f3aa67ec86520b
https://preview.redd.it/skxm7nle1n0d1.jpg?width=1584&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=16d7c5ac1cc769a6c0aff5b5007e10554e7f41a9
The release... of Karma the lost album!
If The Man clock works as a calendar based on Yin and Yang, then this is when I theorise Karma and Reputation releases
· I believe Karma sits on the left calendar, the traditional Yin Yang position.
· Therefore, Karma would be summer - I think Karma could be released on 23 August 2024. This would be the six year anniversary of the announcement of Reputation, one day before the six year anniversary of LWYMMD. Given the easter eggs in LWYMMD (post here), I think this could really fit. Karma was meant to be her sixth album. Additionally, 8 is her destiny number, and we are seeing 2’s, 3’s, and especially 5’s, all over the place and 2+3=5.
· If Reputation is also released this summer, it would be on the rotated Yin Yang calendar on the right. This could represent the ‘balance’ of re-releasing Reputation with its ‘sister’ album Karma.
· It could very well be a double album, representing a balance between the two.
· If it is not a double album, Reputation could be released next year in early Spring, to sit on the left calendar. Next year is The Year of the Snake. She could possibly do a drop during Chinese New Year, which is January 29th to February 12th.
So.. that’s it. I’m so sorry this is so long, I did my best to keep it short.
Would absolutely love to hear people’s thoughts and whether or not they think I’m a bit mad.
Thankyou for reading!
TLDR: Karma is coming this summer, either with Reputation or followed by Reputation early next year. Taylor is using Yin Yang symbolism, The Four Beasts and Chinese philosophy to weave ideas of imbalance throughout her work, to Easter Egg the arrival of Karma as a re-writing of the narrative, a redressing of injustice and imbalance in her life. There are consistent themes of needing courage, needing to speak her truth, and needing to rewrite a grave wrong and stop being so impacted by exterior forces. The Man wall is Yin Yang symbolism, highlighting a calendar of when she drops Karma & re-releases. This could be followed by a coming out!
submitted by Funny-Barnacle1291 to GaylorSwift [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 20:13 Weathers_Writing I think God might be real, just not in the way you think

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
submitted by Weathers_Writing to weatherswriting [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 20:09 Weathers_Writing I think God might be real, just not in the way you think

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
submitted by Weathers_Writing to nosleep [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 00:50 Junepero Story’s of panem 114 pre games

"Good evening, tributes, and welcome back to the stories of Panem. Before we begin, I would like to thank Christian Blanco, the original writer of "Tales of the Hunger Games," and Lauren from "Panem Reborn." Now, since I don't have too much else to say, let's go!
Game 114 (150):
District 1: Jacqueline and Facet
District 2: Malona and Crane
District 3: Darlene and Colt
District 4: Brook and Harbor
District 5: Unknown girl and Darian
District 6: Fifi and Atlas
District 7: Bloom and Amarylio
District 8: Scarlet and Carter
District 9: Zest and Mazin
District 10: Zulu and Mateo
District 11: Unknown girl and Lee
District 12: Dorothy and Hargree
District 14: Both unknown
A plethora of excitement crossed the capital over the past year, especially their beloved commentator Camilia Ravenstil's pregnancy, which resulted in her giving birth to twins named Amelia and Cyrus, to honor the past two Game Makers. Even Winnow's victory was still in high popularity.
As the reapings rolled around on July 4th, many of the capital citizens flew to their TVs and viewing parties. Winnow made her journey from district to district with her mother and entourage from the capital. When she landed in District 4 on the late morning of the third day of the reapings, she was greeted by Mayor Chigwell. After a rather long tour of the district's harbors and jewelry stores, they stopped at a nearby seaside diner for a brief lunch. Viewers in Snow Square laughed at Winnow's face of pure boredom as Mayor Chigwell ranted about the latest trends in the district's fashion. Winnow's face soon turned to relief as the mayor brought her back to the district's reaping square.
After a little bit of time, the light blue-catered youths were walked into the square by rather impatient Peacekeepers. Mayor Chigwell finished up his speech before welcoming Winnow to the stage. She gave out a rather tired smile at the district's population before talking about the joys of being a victor. She then asked if any of the girls wanted to volunteer. After hearing no response, she then took out the name of 17-year-old Brook Branachok.
Brook was found in the back of the 17-year-old section. Her platinum blonde hair made her quite noticeable to viewers in Snow Square. She sighed dramatically before flipping her blonde hair back in a dramatic manner as her piercing blue eyes even made some of her nearby peers shudder in fear as Brook arrived at the stage and shook Winnow's hand. "She was later described as a 'rich high school bully' by commentators. The girls in a mood," Winnow laughed before shaking Brook’s hand before walking to the male reaping bowl. After a brief silence, she thrusted her hand elbow-deep before taking out the name of 17-year-old Harbor Zanders. A brief pause soon followed by a discussion as a boy with dark brown curly hair with a smattering of light brown freckles on his face gave a guilt-ridden smile before walking up to the stage. However, as a group of teens his age giggled, Harbor turned back and glared at the giggling boys as they suddenly grew quiet. Harbor soon took out a flask of wine. Capital citizens laughed as Harbor found one of his friends and tossed it to him before walking back up to the stage. Back in the capital, both Camilia and Silca and even most of the audience had been surprised at the pair's striking attitudes.
Harbor then shook Brook and Winnow’s hand before they were announced as this year's tributes for District 4 before moderate applause followed. Winnow soon brought the two tributes to the drawing room before she made her journey to District 3 with her entourage.
Brook was visited by her mother, father, and four younger sisters clinging dearly onto their sister. After successfully removing her sobbing siblings, Brook’s mother calmed her daughter down as her father, Coral, gave the best advice he could offer. Peacekeepers soon came in to bring Brook to the waiting dock. She waved and said she’d "At least try to win."
As for Harbor, he was visited by his mother, father, and his younger and older brothers. As his siblings were saddened as well as his parents, Harbor embraced them all in a tight hug. Before he was needed at the dock, his girlfriend Melanie even joined in this hug causing Harbor to show some emotion.
After a few more minutes, peacekeepers soon brought Harbor out of the room to join Brook at the dock as the pair boarded the jet boat to the capital.
"Man, you've been through the ringer, haven't you?"
"Same goes to you, girl. Haven't seen you in a year."
The pair soon chatted with each other about their experiences at the academy and gossiping about old friends. Brook, in particular, laughed hysterically when Harbor mentioned how his ex-girlfriend got karma returned to her when she crashed a birthday party at Harbor’s dad's bar, resulting in the peacekeepers putting her in the district's jail for a month.
However, as the pair tried to dine upon the food provided, the boat hit a bump resulting in Brook, Harbor, four avoxes, the dining table, and nine peacekeepers to go flying up into the sky. Thankfully, no harm came between the fifteen as the peacekeepers then helped the two back up as a new lunch buffet was arrived. And so did their mentor, Sienna Shoreville, victor of the 105th Hunger Games, arrived in.
"I don't want you two to ally with the 2s, maybe the 1s, depends on how they are."
Brook looked curiously at Sienna before saying, "Didn't Anamaria get her neck snapped by the girl a year prior?"
Sienna groaned in annoyance at remembering this cringeworthy death before walking to the bar carriage before inviting the two to join. As Sienna asked the pair about their lives, she laughed while listening to Harbor telling some stories of working at his dad's bar and the customers who would frequent the place. However, when Sienna asked Brook about her life and possible skills, Brook sighed before saying, "I guess looking pretty’s a skill."
Sienna laughed before replying, "For getting sponsors, yes, but not when you're in a fight to the death."
As this reality check wiped the smile from Brook’s face, she and Harbor finished up their meals before listening more to Sienna’s lecture about the games. And as an act to see if her tributes were actually paying attention, she quizzed them on the dos and don'ts in the capital. As Harbor passed this quiz, Sienna laughed before allowing him some "Capital Goodies." However, as Brook blatantly failed the quiz, she laughed and called Harbor a "suck-up" before walking to her room.
Sienna looked at Harbor for a second before saying, "I guess she’s either related to the mayor or is a spoiled rotten brat."
"She usually brags about her rich family members, always thinks she's better than everyone."
"And trust me, the girl ain't pretty."
Sienna and Snow Square laughed as she then patted him on the back before""telling him to get a 'nap' in before they were to arrive in the capital."
He nodded before Brook returned. It is unknown what the two girls talked about for the remainder of the trip, but our historians have noted that Brook’s scowl from before had dissolved for the time being. As evening rolled around, the pair from District 4's boat landed at Mcaine dock as an excited crowd of capital citizens swarmed the pair from 4 and their very popular mentor, who had been giving out her new jewelry to some of her lucky fans.
Brook and Harbor performed rather well, with the capital citizens enjoying their "feisty sailor attitudes." Even some reporters from Golden 24 put up a most popular tribute poll with Harbor and Brook being in the top 3, narrowly beating Fifi from District 6.
Sienna then thanked the capital for their time before taking her tributes to the limousine. Once it arrived at the accommodation tower, they arrived at the 4th floor. After arriving, Sienna called their stylist, Orivile Cartwright.
Orivile embraced Sienna before showing his tributes his pre-made outfits, which were Sailor themed, which made Brook and Harbor smile. Due to them having a fair amount of time left, Sienna displayed the post-reaping commentaries before turning on the commentary for District 1 as Orivile worked away at the pairs' outfits.
Mayor Cassino greeted a very exhausted Winnow Fraiser. Also accompanying the mayor was Realm Jones, victor of the 101st Hunger Games, and Quintin Mahoney, victor of the 108th Hunger Games, joined Winnow on the initial tour. Winnow appeared to be star-struck sitting between both iconic victors. She even turned around to Quintin saying, "I can't believe I get to meet a legend like you."
Quintin laughed before giving Winnow some comic relief during the tour, telling her about his games and even asking a few questions about her own games. At the conclusion of the tour, Realm's eyes lit up in delight as he saw his own capital mentor, Narcissa Valentions, warmly embracing her mentee.
"So what're you doing here?"
"I had some time off. I figured I'd come by and see how you've been doing. Business at my shop has been bustling as ever, so I figured I’d take a break to see my first victor."
As Realm and Narcissa soon walked over to the talent demonstrations together, Quintin laughed as Mayor Cassino welcomed the scarlet youths. Winnow was then brought up to the stage. She asked if any of the youths wanted to volunteer, becoming surprised when 10 ladies and 8 gentlemen volunteered for the role of tribute for District 1. Silca joked with Camilia, saying, "It's normal for them, isn't it?"
With the ladies' many remarkable weapon displays and archery displays, 18-year-old Jacqueline Faywether had been announced as the final volunteer to try her luck. She smiled at many nearby cameras as even one enthralled boy in the audience fainted seeing the rather extractive career girl.
She shot 10 arrows blindfolded and threw 8 knives in the letter J form, causing even more ripples of laughter sounded in the square. The mayor announced the two passing tributes. As for the two tributes, Jacqueline’s only remaining opponent, Jewel, had almost won the title of female tribute but had a stroke leading to Jacqueline to win the title of female tributes.
As for the guys, 18-year-old Facet Elixithorn had made himself a crowd and capital favorite by his spear-throwing display and to ending in a handstand with wild applause following. Three guys made it to the debate round with Realm this time asking the questions. With poise and dignity, Lance’s strong mind and less nerves had won him the title of male tribute for District 1.
After the pair were bathed and stylized, they were then brought out to the square as they then shook Winnow’s hand before she announced Jacqueline and Facet were announced as the tributes for District 1.
And after a brief meeting with their families and friends with not too much emotion, Jacqueline and Facet were then brought to the train as the train began their journey to the capital.
Narcissa, Realm, and Quintin then greeted their tributes with Jacqueline and Facet being surprised seeing their district's first victor’s mentor. Quintin soon brought the four to the table having a brief dinner with Narcissa asking the two if they had any skills besides their ‘weapons of choice.’ Quintin was pleased to hear of Jacqueline's diverse skills of weaponry before bragging to her district partner about her achievements at the Kobayashi self-defense center. However, instead of being jealous, Facet asked his district partner about her accomplishments.
Realm and Quintin were pleased with their tributes getting along with each other before showing the past reapings in the districts. Facet and Jacqueline laughed hysterically at the District 2 reaping games even Narcissa let out a smile. Quintin then asked the pair if there had been “Other commendable allies besides the non-dazzling loonies from 2 besides Jade and Hermina, they are dazzling.” Realm also chimed in adding that they should “Look for others.”
However, as Jacqueline was going to ask why Realm shushed her and said, “The career pack has their on and off years.” Jacqueline nodded before Quintin continued talking to the pair about the past reapings. Facet and Jacqueline even suggested the girl from 3 and the pair from 4 as potential allies. Realm appeared to consider this before Quintin added in that “He would see what he could do.”
As the pair nodded, the pair from 1’s train arrived in the outskirts of the capital. Narcissa soon styled the pair up, quietly complaining to Realm of how Jacqueline's red hair and Facet's long blonde curls were impossible to tame. The train then arrived in the capital with the usual excited capital crowd marveling scarlet couture. Jacqueline and Facet were both outstanding hits with the capital citizens maintaining proper etiquette. However, two capital lights had to be removed from the audience after heckling Facet about his district partner. Narcissa then wished Jacqueline and Facet luck before kissing Realm and Quintin on the cheek. Realm and Quintin then thanked the capital citizens for their time before bringing the pair from 1 to the limousine as it brought them to their accommodation tower.
Once they arrived at their accommodation tower apartment, they were greeted by their stylist, Aurelia Heavensbee. She smiled at the four of them before whisking them to the dining table showing them her designs for the parade. Jacqueline in particular was marveling at her long ruby dress as Facet jokingly told Jacqueline that they looked like a “walking jewel.” However, Aurelia frowned as Realm glared at Facet as the smile was wiped from his face. The pair then groaned in annoyance at their stylist's bland outfits.
Before the pair were then brought to the parade moments later, Facet and Jacqueline were immediately approached by Malona and Crane, both from 2 introducing themselves. However, Facet cut the pair off from further words, saying, “the career pack is gonna be different this year.” As Malona protested, Jacqueline said, ‘thanks but no thanks.” Both Jade Heath and Herminia Gold looked at the District 1 mentors in bewilderment as they also reciprocated. However, the pair from 1 then came over to the pair from 4 chatting with their mentor.
“Darling, you look stunning.”
“Oh, thank you, you dazzling ruby.”
Brook and Jacqueline seemed to obtain an instant connection. As Facet complemented Harbor’s outfit. Harbor smiled good-naturedly back before chatting away with him about lives in their districts. Facet soon asked the pair if they would be interested in an alliance in the arena; however, Sienna leaned in this conversation asking “Where are the 2s?”
Jacqueline then replied that they were “trying something new this year” before pointing at the pair making fun of Mateo from 10’s cow-themed parade outfit. Sienna shrugged as Brook and Harbor warmly accepted the offer as Facet and Jacqueline smiled saying “splendid see you soon.” When the pair from 1 got back, Realm popped up asking “You with the 4s this year.” As the pair nodded, Realm smiled and nodded with Quintin and Aurelia doing their touch-ups to their tributes' outfits. Sienna commended the pair for “making friends already,” she still urged caution before re-adding in “The 2 mentors there are my ride or dies but still keep your eyes on them if needed.”
The pair then nodded as the parade then began. Regal applause and cheers sounded for the pair from 1, but Nico Anderson lead editor of Anderson Fashion applauded for their strong impression but said the dress was “So Basic.” The pair from 4 were given a large amount of applause as Harbor and Brook waved at the audience even performing an old dance known as a “Jig”. The pair were also given a boatload of flowers and chocolate resulting in both Brook and Harbor sneezing uncontrollably at the end of the parade during President Mcaine's speech. Best dressed was ultimately awarded to the pair from 4 with their sailor-themed couture.
When the pair from 1 arrived back in their district apartment, they were glaring daggers from afar at Aurelia,
“How did it go.”
“How did it feel getting harshly criticized on live TV.”
Quintin shot Jacqueline a disapproving look as Realm asked if there other worthy allies. Both mentors were pleased hearing their success with the pair from 4 before Realm reassured them that they still looked “dazzling” before sending his tributes to bed. However, with the pair from 4, Sienna warmly embraced the two of her tributes on a best-dressed win. As Orville also joined in the group hug has the 4 of them partied till around 11:30 pm until Sienna sent her tributes to bed as she and Orville stayed up a while longer.
Bright and early the following morning, the mentors ushered their tributes to the training center with a very frustrated Apollo Price. Unfortunately, during his speech about the rules of the training center, he tasered Mateo from 10 after he tried to make a break for the door after Price’s speech concluded. Mateo’s mentor Bianca Jr Ramon rolled her eyes before dropping her mentee at the knife station.
The newly made career alliance between the District 1 and 4 tributes conquered most of the training stations with Facet and Harbor bonding over dropping and throwing large weights causing Fifi from 6 to wet herself earning a smirk from the boys. When Mateo awoke from his unconscious slumber, he immediately ran to Mateo asking him to spare. Since Mateo was no older than 14 and he was the youngest tribute the careers laughed before Facet told him to “Buzz off”. However, as Mateo continued to pester the career boys, Harbor gave Facet a knowing look before accepting Mateo’s sparing request.
A short crowd of tributes went to the jousting stations as Mateo and Harbor were briefed on the rules before being allowed to go at it. It was no surprise that Harbor won all 4 rounds.
“Easy”.
Harbor smiled warmly before being tackled to the ground by the 14-year-old boy from 10.
“You think you're better than me HA you rotten career boy.”
As Price Facet Brook and even Sienna tried to step in Harbor held his hand up to stay back. Harbor then threw the boy off him before pinching the nerve on Mateo’s neck knocking him clean out. As training master Price and Sienna looked at him in bewilderment before Price smiled saying
“Good job kid”.
Harbor smiled before Facet and he returned to the weight station and survival, knife and axe stations even giving advice to Amarylio from 7 with starting fires.
As for the girls they mainly gossiped to themselves and having “Girl talk” at the aquatic station sword station and archery stations. When any tribute tried to use the archery station both Jacqueline and Brook would melodicaly but fiercely slam there weapons into the targtes.
At the end of the traing head master price brought the tributes to the asscors room. Due to the request of the new head game maker the tributes assesment scores were kept strictly confidential. However tabloid reporters manage to scoop out that Jacqueline Facet Harbor and Malona from to managed to score at the top of the pack with a 11. Brook and Amarylio scored a 9 and at the bottom of the pack was Mateo and Hargree from 12 scoring a 3 each.
Both Sienna Quintin and Realm were beyond impressed with there tributes scores before they’re stylist sketched up potential outfits with there mentors soon quizing the pairs on interview educate.
Camilia Ravenstil welcomed the excited capital audience modeling a rather gothic dress that made her look like a ghost tree by the audience. The audience even laughed good naturedly as Camilia shook for a second as leaves fell of her costume as if wind had hit her. She then exictedly welcomed Jacqueline from 1. She was adorned in a stunning pink and red dress with her hair put up in braids. The two had some gossip before reavling to the audience that she was a decdent of Emarld Rivelta victor of the 34th hunher games. Camilia slapped her knee and laughed saying “Thats who you resmbl I guessed right I knew it!”
As the girls chatted the audience loved her regal responses to Camilas questions as even mentoning the carrer alliance brought the crowd into rapsous cheers,even when she talked about her allies from 4 openly. She then kissed Camilia on the hand before bowing which caused even more cheers before she was dismissed back stage. Facet was welcomed in next marveling a sleeveless pink suit with ruby jeans making many of the capital audience to swoon over his physeigue. Even Camilia was taken aback by his charm and confidence as he spoke about his training experience and the strength of his alliance with Jacqueline. His witty remarks and easygoing demeanor captivated the audience, earning him loud applause and admiration.
Later on into the night brook was welcomed in next with wild cheers and wolf whistles sounding. With her hair being dyed a pure yellow with a light brown dress resembling sand following her. She proceeded to have the same amount of banter with Camilia as Jacqueline did however Camilia cut her off as she was finshing up talking about her dads money saying “Honey this is the hunger games.”
“Yeah and Ill live how I like before the games.”
As a few jeers sounded the rest of her interview was rather dull the only light being Camilia shooing the “Regina George” of the stage. As Camila then called Harbor loud cheers sounded again as Harbor walked on to the stage with his curly black hair and brown eyes making him quite attrauctive to many even his pirate themed coustume became an over night sensation with many fashion designers stating that they wanted this fashionable suit.
As Camilia asked Harbor about the games becoming pleased with his short but sweet responses. Even cracking some good jokes about the other competitors mainly about Bloom from 7 and Mateo from 10 . To conclude Harbor’s inteviwed he tossed his waist coat to teh crowd as an excited gagle of captial ladies clammered for this waist coat. As his interview ended on a high. Finaly after the interview of the boy from 14 the new head game maker Natellia Swan was welcomed to the stage. Head game maker swan was adorned in a regal black gown also sporting garish make up making her resmble more of ghost then human. After introducing herself to the excited capital audience Camila smiled before shaking her hand saying that “Game maker swan has alot to accept from.” She laughed before giving hint out to teh audience by pointing to both of the laides dresses. Curious osund sof inteirgue soon followed as game maker swan smiled and bowed as she then left the stage as Camilia then ended the interviews there. The next morning tributes were given a breif breakefst before being brought to the arena’s holding room.
This years outfits consisted of black coats with black jeans and snakers with there distristicts nymbers stickered on the back of there coats. Realm visited Facet before reminding him to stick with Jacqueline and Harbor and Brook. However before Realm finished Facet replied “That girl Brook might be problem.” Realm nodded and agreed before reminding him to keep an eye on her before shaking his hand as he went into his tube. Jacqueline was visited by Quintin the pair had a similar conversation as Realm did with Facet before Jacqueline embraced Quintin and thanked him joking “District 1 needs more ladys.” Quintin laughed before hugging her back before walking Jacqueline to her tube. As for Brook she was not visited by Sienna nor Orvilve a fact that suprised her the most but shrugged before patiently puting her hair up in a bun and waiting for the tribute call to sound. As for Harbor Sienna visted him. She embacred Harbor before reminding him to “ Keep an eye on all of them.”
Harbor smiled before thanking Sienna for her mentor ship before Sienna walked Harbor to his tube his tube and at mid day the podiums then arose into the arena.
Arena Ghosty lake Game 114
submitted by Junepero to christianblanco [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 19:32 Sylesth Combat Artificer - 67

My car's transmission is on the fritz, so it's in the shop and I'm working from home for at least today. Thank goodness I can even work from home, or things would be a lot more complicated. Anyways, that's just a bit of a vent. I've also decided that I might do little lore-esque prechapter bits for some extra flavor. Hope you guys enjoy them! I find them to be fun little thought experiments on how people might perceive the world I've created from within vs from my own perspective. Enjoy some crafting and some romance!
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We know that the spots that are caused by looking at a source of light are, in fact, damage of some sort to the eye. This is confirmed by the spots rapidly disappearing should someone be healed whilst experiencing them. But why? Is there a divinity within light, beyond what our mortal eyes can withstand? Is there some sort of invisible emanation that comes alongside the light that damages us in some way? The discovery of light damaging the eye has opened more questions for me than it has closed.
-Musings on the Relations of Light and Fire, by Jarwic Leftun
\***
Xander carefully opened the door, finding Gabrelle already asleep, and sat down on a chair. Maybe he could get that adaptive camouflage to work right on bright colors. Surely he had some colorful things in his inventory.
He did in fact have a few colorful things in his inventory, and he whiled the rest of the night away making small adjustments to the runic array that was embroidered into the cloth. He was satisfied before dawn, the cloth now performing as well with light colors as it had with darker colors. Now he just needed to make a cloak out of it. He briefly considered coating his armor with the array, but discarded it. There might be times where he’d want to be seen. Besides, a hooded cloak would better break up the outline of his figure, the ripples of fabric, especially if he were to crouch or lay prone, obscuring his outline even more. In little time at all, he had a long, deep hooded cloak of the color shifting, runed cloth in his hands. He stashed it in his inventory for now, as he had no particular need to sneak up on something right now. The rest of the time before dawn he spent silently sitting in the chair he’d chosen, trying to keep his thoughts to a minimum, just daydreaming. Night dreaming? He couldn’t sleep anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to let his mind wander.
As the dawn came and the sun began to shine through the window of the room, Gabrelle slowly awoke, once more finding Xander sitting in a chair rather than in bed.
“Mmf,” She grunted as she stretched. “Morning, Xander. You got back late.”
“Morning, yourself,” Xander said, turning his head to look at Gabrelle. “Yeah... Yeah, I guess I did.”
“What were you doing, anyway?” She asked, curious. “You didn’t mention that you’d be out late, just that you were going to go to see Valteria at her shop.”
“I uh... went on a date.”
“I knew it! ‘Comparing notes’ was a date!” Gabrelle exclaimed triumphantly.
“It was not!” Xander complained. “But we went to a tavern in the evening and it sort of... turned into a date on the way there.”
“Awhh, that’s so cute,” Gabrelle said. “Did it go well? Is she nice? Did you kiss?”
“I think it went well. We talked a lot about different projects and ideas we had. I also got to meet another [Godsmarked] - he owns the tavern we went to. I think she’s nice. Maybe a little shy. I think she’s gotten used to being treated differently by people. I don’t think she really believed that I wanted to go on a date with her, at first. ...And yes. We kissed.”
“Ooooh, look at you! You’re growing up so fast!” Gabrelle teased.
“Oh hush. I’m older than you!” Xander huffed, then returned to seriousness. “But ah, if I’m going to be dating someone... we need to have a conversation, Gabrelle.”
“We need to stop sleeping together?” Gabrelle quickly deduced before Xander could say it himself.
“Yeah... It doesn’t feel right, even though it’s just platonic between us. I don’t think I would appreciate being in Valteria’s situation and knowing that the person I was seeing was sleeping with someone else at night.”
“Well, I figured this would happen eventually,” Gabrelle said. “Either you or I were bound to find someone eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Don’t get me wrong, the snuggles were nice, but like I told you a while ago, I don’t have nearly as much trouble sleeping when I’m with the team.”
“Thanks for not being upset, Gabrelle.”
“You know this means you have to start paying for your own room, though, right?”
“Ah, shit, you’re right. I forgot.”
Xander left the room to allow Gabrelle some privacy to get dressed and meandered back down the stairs to see if any other members of the team were already up. Looking around, he spied Graffus eating breakfast at at table and moved to sit with the dwarf.
“Mornin’” Graffus greeted Xander through a mouthful of bread.
“Morning,” Xander greeted back.
“Glad to see you made it back, we were wondering if you’d be out all night,” Graffus told him, after swallowing his bread.
“I was out a bit late, I suppose. I let the time get away from me.” Xander said, not really wanted to be teased again about going out on a date. “So what are you planning to do today?”
“Bah, Frazay has roped me into helping her do research for the drakeling. So reading is what’s in store for me.” Graffus tore himself off another piece of bread from his plate and slathered it with jam. “You going to be going back to that [Tinker] you’ve been spending time with lately?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m supposed to learn more about converting mana types today, and also help her fix the suit of armor that I wrecked.”
“Welp,” Graffus said, now on his last piece of bread, “I hope ya learn something new. Never had much to do with [Tinker]s – not saying I dislike them, just that I haven’t had much experience with them – so it don’t make much sense to me. Using a hammer is about the only overlap in our professions.”
“I think your hammer is significantly larger than the one most [Tinker]s would use,” Xander chuckled. Thinking about what he should be doing before he headed to Valteria’s, he asked Graffus, “Hey, I might need to buy some monster parts or elemental cores, something like that, for practice. You know where I would go to find stuff like that?”
Graffus shrugged. “Dunno. My guess would be an alchemy and reagents shop. That’s generally what we’ve sold monster parts to that didn’t go to a smith or leatherworker.”
“Thanks, Graffus.”
The two of them chatted for a while longer, catching up on what each other had been doing. Graffus excused himself to finish getting ready for the day, saying he needed to tend to his beard, leaving Xander downstairs. Deciding to be productive and proactive, Xander stood as well and headed out of the inn to find an alchemy shop.
It wasn’t long before he found one, a familiar scene of an eclectic collection of powders, liquids, crystals, and strange organic things floating in jars inside the building. The proprietor was a dwarf, seated at a workbench. They were grinding something into a powder as Xander entered. He received a distracted greeting before the dwarf returned to his work.
Xander wandered about the shop for a few minutes, looking at the various materials throughout the shop. He identified what he thought might be an elemental core, a jagged piece of crystal looking material that seemed to have an inner flame. As for the monster parts in jars, Xander had no idea what was what. He finally felt he’d waited long enough and moved closer to the worktable that the dwarf was still sitting at, working away at the mortar and pestle.
“Excuse me,” Xander said, grabbing the shopkeep’s attention.
“Mm?” The dwarf said questioningly. “Can I help you find something?”
“I was wondering if you had any elemental cores. Something small, I just need one to practice with.”
“Aye, I’ve a few of them around the shop. You want something to practice with? So a relatively weak core, then – not all the small ones are weak. Do you need any particular type?” The dwarf stood up and stretched, moving to one of the shelves.
“Uhm no, just whatever is cost effective, I suppose.”
The alchemist rifled through the various bits and bobs on one of the shelves nearby before producing a small chip of what looked to be a semi-translucent stone. It was tinged slightly yellow with streaks of white. “This here is a chip off a lightning attuned core. Pretty weak, but it does still produce mana.”
Xander could see the dwarf’s arm hair standing up as if from static electicity as he held up the stone. “How much?” He asked.
“Twenty gold.”
Xander shrugged. Twenty gold wasn’t an issue for him anymore, and he didn’t feel like haggling. He always hated haggling. “Sure.” He fished out the coin and handed it over to the dwarf.
The dwarf handed over the stone to Xander and the pop of a static electric shock could be heard as a tiny arc passed between the two of them. The dwarf grunted and shook his hand. “Thanks for the business,” he told Xander. “Anything else you find yourself in need of?”
“Not at the moment, but thanks for asking.” Xander waved goodbye to the dwarf and pocketed the tiny elemental core. He continued down the street in the direction of Valteria’s shop, thinking about how he was going to undo the welding job he’d done on Valteria’s armor. He’d need her to guide his repair efforts.
Xander returned to the inn momentarily to grab one of his golems. He settled on Atlas for now, as it was the most basic of the humanoid forms he’d created. No extra arms or weird feet on him, no sir.
Arriving at the building that contained Valteria’s home and shop, Xander knocked before opening the door. “Morning,” he called out.
“Xander! Hello!” Valteria called out. She was at the same work bench she’d been at yesterday. Jarrett didn’t seem to be in the shop at the moment, as Xander wasn’t able to spot the man.
Commanding Atlas to follow him in and closing the door behind him, Xander started walking towards Valteria. “How’s it going?” He asked.
“Good, it’s going good,” Valteria responded as Xander brought a stool over to her workbench. “How about yourself?”
“Not bad. The upside of not sleeping is that I never struggle in the mornings now. I used to hate waking up.” Xander laughed. “I even ran an errand before I came here! Picked up this.” Xander fished around in his pocket until he found the small chip of elemental core and held it up for Valteria to see.
“Core?” She asked distractedly, staring at Atlas. She tore her eyes away and looked closely at the small crystalline stone. “Lightning attuned?”
“That’s what the [Alchemist] at the shop said,” Xander affirmed. “Said it was a very weak one, but that it did still produce mana.”
“Mmm, a good practice piece, then.”
“I thought it would be, too. Not that I know what to do with it, yet.”
“Well, how about this: I teach you to set the stone and make some conduit, and then you can help me fix my armor. All the glue has turned to dust by now, thank the gods.”
“Sounds fair enough. So, how do mana conduits work?”
“Well, the concept is simple enough. It’s a tube which conducts mana,” Valteria began to explain.
“Mmhm.” Xander nodded along.
“What you need is a setting – usually of silver, as it has good mana conductivity – which will be the first step of conduction, taking the mana from the stone. Simply wrapping the core in silver wire can work well enough, drawing in the mana that the core puts out through its surface, but for a more effecient setting, small holes are usually drilled into the core to set the wire into as well, giving more surface area to draw from.”
“So we care about the mana conductivity of the material, then? That makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it. I actually did a little experiment with my rune work to test which fillings were the most conductive.”
“Oh really?” Valteria said, interested. “What were your results?”
“Well, gold and silver were high up there in conductivity, and probably make the most sense for someone who has to physically manipulate material without use of a skill – both for a core setting and for inlaying a rune – but I did find that sapphires and rubies were even more efficient at transferring mana than gold and silver.”
“Mmm... interesting. I’ve heard of gemstones being used in very high-grade settings, as well as various other exotic materials. I read an account of one [Mechanist] who used tubes of mercury to conduct mana, though the relative effectiveness compared to silver wasn’t mentioned.” Valteria cleared her throat. “Uhm, now, where was I? Right, basic settings. Once you have your core – or monster organ, if you’re going that route – you connect it to the conduit. Usually, this is also silver wiring. I like to braid several smaller wires together, personally. I find it to be sturdier and hold up to flexing better. From there, it needs to be tied into a device. Which is a topic for tomorrow.” Looking around the shop, Valteria seemed to identify something on one of the shelves nearby. “I have a core that you could watch me set, and then you could try setting your own, if you’d like.”
“That sounds good to me,” Xander said. “I always love to see a master as work,” he added, opting for a little flattery.
“Follow me, then.” Valteria said, standing up from her stool and waving for Xander to follow.
Xander followed Valteria as she walked over to the shelf she’d been looking at earlier and took a palm sized, bright green stone from it. “Nature attuned core,” She explained, holding it for Xander to see. “I’m told it was taken from some kind of moving tree.” Valteria then moved to another worktable, on which were several of what looked to be drill bits to Xander. There was also an apparatus that look like it was designed to hold the bits, which was confirmed for him when Valteria slotted one of the small drill heads into the device. “This thing,” Valteria said, waving the drill a little bit, “is a life saver. I used to have to drill holes with a hand cranked one. Worth every single coin I paid for it to get an enchanted one.” She turned a dial on one side of the handheld device, which Xander was coming to think of as a magic dremel tool, and it began to come to life, the drill bit beginning to spin with a quiet whirring sound.
“Neat.” Xander commented. He watched patiently as Valteria drilled a series of shallow holes in the stone, the distinct screeching of metal on stone echoing through the shop floor. “So where’s Jarrett today?” He asked.
“Oh, he has the day off today. He asked for it about a week ago, not sure what for, though,” Valteria said distractedly. Soon she was finished with the holes she was drilling into the core, and moved to another workbench. “Now we create a setting for the core. This is a fairly simple way of doing it, mind you, but it is effective.”
Xander watched as she took sections of pre-braided silver wire and fitted the ends into the holes she had drilled. Once each hole was filled with a section of wire, Valteria began to pull wire from a spool, wrapping the stone until it was completely covered with silver wire and binding the braided sections to the stone in the process. “There,” she said, setting the stone down on the workbench. “A perfectly serviceable setting."
“So, if I understand correctly, you coat the core in a mana conductive material – the more surface area, the better, hence the holes – to create a setting?”
“Mmhmm,” Valteria said, nodding.
“Seems fairly straighforward. And then you connect the silver wiring that’s wrapped around it to more wiring, and attach that to your device? Why the distance? Why not just connect the setting directly to the device?”
“You absolutely can, if space isn’t an issue. Technically, the connection between the mana battery and the device, even if it’s just a single point with no distance, is still referred to as a conduit, though, so it’s considered a three part creation.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you want to try making your own, now? I don’t mind lending you a little wire.”
“Sure, but I should be good on material, I can produce it with my skills. Doesn’t last without a source of mana, but I guess the core itself might provide enough. Think this little chip is a bit small to put holes in, though.”
Xander looked at the small piece of crystal in his hand. If he just need as much contact as possible with a mana conductive material, his best bet would be to embed it into a sapphire or ruby. He decided on ruby, for no particular reason. Still holding the chip of core in his hand, he concentrated on his [Creation] ability. Valteria watched, amazed, as a ruby began to take form and grow around the piece of core until it was completely coated in a thin layer of gemstone.
“So, you can just... make things?” Valteria asked, sounding jealous.
“Well, it costs mana, and anything I make that isn’t provided a source of mana that leaves my person disintegrates in a day, but, yes. I can just make things with my skills. But,” he added, cutting off Valteria’s complaint of unfairness, “I have never received a skill that actually lets me improve a material. Sure, I have runes, which generally makes up the difference, but I don’t have any skills that improve the things I make. So, if you made a mana battery, and I made a mana battery the same way with identical materials, yours is going to be better, I assume, because you have skills that passively improve the things that you make, am I right?”
“Okayyy,” Valteria huffed. “I guess that does make it a little less unfair. But ugh! It would be so nice not having to source materials.” She looked at the ruby with a piece of core set inside it that Xander had made. “Well, I guess that about does it for making a setting... I thought it might have taken you longer to make one. I guess we can move on to fixing my armor even sooner! It’ll be nice to have it up and moving again.”
“Sure, sure, we can do that. Where is it, anyway?” Xander asked, looking around the shop again like he somehow would have missed the eight foot tall suit of armor.
“It’s in a shed behind the house,” Valteria explained. “I have it on a hoist so I can work on it.”
“Ah, that would explain why I haven’t seen it around.”
Exiting the shop, stopping for Valteria to put a small ‘closed’ sign on the door, the two of them made their way around the building, where Xander saw the small shed that presumably held Valteria’s armor. It looked like it could just barely hold the armor and one person – two, if they were comfortable with each other – inside it.
“So this is where the magic happens?” Xander asked.
“If by ‘magic’ you mean maintenance and upgrades, then yes,” Valteria agreed. She opened the door of the shed, which comprised most of the front of the tiny little building, revealing her suit of armor, which was currently hanging from several chains attached to pulleys on the ceiling. Plates of armor were laying strewn about the suite, leaving the joints and inner workings more exposed.
Xander whistled, looking at the inner workings of the suit. He could see gears, cogs, and joints, and throughout the entirety of the armor were running filaments of silver wire, which he assumed were mana conduits running to and from elemental cores and the various mana powered aspects of the suit. “This thing really is impressive. Almost as impressive as the woman who made it,” he said.
Valteria giggled, “Stop it! You’re supposed to be fixing this mess, not flirting with me!”
“Awh, can’t I do both?” Xander asked, trying to sound as saccharine as possible.
“Mmm, I suppose that if you are sufficiently skilled at multitasking, I might allow it,” Valteria said in a mockingly thoughtful tone.
“Well, I just so happen to be an expert, so flirt away I shall,” Xander replied. “Now, how about the beauty in front of me shows me exactly where the other beauty in front of me needs some repairs?”
Valteria sighed at Xander’s antics, but he could see the slight flush in her face. “Well, you welded the wrist joints, elbows, and knees. They aren’t welded all the way round, it’s more like you smoothed over a portion of it like it was wet clay. So if you could just... put it back? Shape it back to how it was, that’s should be all that’s needed.”
“Pretty straightforward,” Xander said, standing behind Valteria as she pointed out each joint. He could see the misshapen parts where he’d slapped a weld onto the metal. He leaned over her and put his hands on the elbow joint that they were closest to and began to shape the metal back to its original form.
“You’re... very close,” Valteria murmured to him as he formed the metal.
“Would you like me not to be?” He asked, carefully.
Valteria was silent for a moment before answering, “No...” quietly.
Xander carefully shifted to be a little closer, but still not quite touching, as he moved on to the wrist joint of the same arm. The process itself was simple, but he was enjoying taking his time. As he finished the wrist, he turned to look at Valteria. He found himself looking right into her eyes, as she was staring back at him. Unable to resist the temptation he leaned in a little closer, gauging Valteria’s reaction. When she, too, leaned towards him, he closed the small gap between them, drawing her into another kiss. Valteria pressed herself against him, the shed hiding them from any prying eyes on the street, and let out a small noise as Xander squeezed her tight. She was breathing a little bit harder than before the kiss as they separated again.
Valteria let out a breath. “You’re… a really good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Xander said, pleased with himself. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And you’re a tease, looming over me like that in this tiny little shed,” Valteria continued. “Now you’ve got me all flustered, how am I supposed to work now?” She mock complained.
Xander was glad to see that Valteria was comfortable enough with him to joke like that. “Forgive me,” he said formally, making a deep bow, “How ever can I make it up to the lady?”
“Oh stop it, I will tolerate no bowing and scraping, even in jest,” Valteria said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, as he was still holding the bow. “You can make it up to me by fixing the rest of these joints! And by taking me out to dinner?” She added, hopefully.
“I think that can be arranged,” Xander said. “Is there anywhere you have in mind? I will admit, I haven’t become very familiar with the local restaurant scene, what with my… dietary restrictions.”
“It doesn’t… make you feel bad to go out to a restaurant, does it?” Valteria asked softly, watching his face for a reaction.
“Nah, don’t worry,” Xander said, waving off the question with one hand. “It doesn’t bother me too much. Sure, I miss the taste of a good cut of steak, but I was never that into food. Eating was more of a thing I did because I had to, so I’m not completely devastated by the loss. And I can still get some vicarious enjoyment out of watching someone else enjoy their food. Really the worst part is awkwardly having to refuse ordering anything,” he said with a laugh.
“Alright, if you say so,” Valteria said, letting out a slight breath of relief. “I was just worried that it might be upsetting to you, is all. I know I would miss eating.” She paused for a moment, something clearly on her mind. “What do you miss? If you don’t mind my asking. I just… well, I’m curious what it’s like for you.”
“Mmm, in a lot of ways, life is still the same, and in other ways, I’m technically doing better than I was before. I’m incredibly resistant to damage now, even without my armor. I do miss sleeping, though. I try to give my mind a rest and just sort of daydream and let my thoughts wander or do some meditation during the nights, but it’s just not the same. Also means I’m the one that pulls guard duty through the night,” he grumbled. “Let’s see, what else, what else. Ah, right. I can’t smell anything. Or taste. I haven’t worked out how to recreate those senses, yet. Though no sense of smell can be handy sometimes, I suppose. I don’t know if you’ve done much merc work – you mentioned being surprised that I’m not just moonlighting – but uh… the smells that you encounter on a battlefield are… unpleasant. To say the least. It was weird not having a sense of touch either, but I’ve resolved that. It’s a little bit different than my previous, natural sense of touch, but I’ve become accustomed to it to the point that I don’t much think about the difference anymore. I think I’ve even got the density of receptors down in certain areas compared to others, so I'm more sensitive in some areas than others now, just like I used to be. I’m still immune to being tickled though, so don’t even think about it – that’s a fight you’ll lose.” Growing a bit more somber, Xander continued on. “I think… the biggest thing I miss is just the feeling that I fit in more. Now I always worry about being different, there’s that nagging fear that anyone I get to know well is going to reject me once they find out what I am. Like I’m secretly lying to everyone around me with this façade I have going on.”
Valteria nodded sadly. “I get that. I’ve been… rejected before, too. At least it happens or not right from the beginning for me. I get to know if they look down on me for being different immediately instead of fearing they might later down the road.”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “People can really suck sometimes. But at least I can just, like, not tell people what I am if I so chose. You, my teammates, and the guild, since it’s on my status sheet, are really the only people who know. I keep it pretty private. You can’t do that, so I think you probably have to deal with a lot worse than I do. Not that I’d want you to hide what or who you are,” he added. “I happen to be quite enamored with who you are,” he said, teasing a smile from Valteria’s sad face.
“Sorry to bring up such a dour topic,” Valteria apologized. “I didn’t think much on it before I asked.”
“No worries,” Xander told her. “Honestly, I think it’s good to be able to talk about it with someone. It’s healthy to be able to get you feelings out there. And it helps that I feel like you understand where I’m coming from with it, though from a slightly different perspective.”
“You’re surprisingly thoughtful sometimes,” Valteria said, only half teasing.
“Only sometimes?” Xander asked with a faux expression of hurt on his face. “By the way, you didn’t react much to my comment about moonlighting as a merc. Do you ever go on contracts?”
Valteria shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t describe myself as a professional mercenary. Moonlighter is an apt descriptor, for me, I think. I have gone on a couple, here and there, mostly on kill contracts that would net me a core or organ that would be useful for my work.”
“Mm, that makes sense. I suppose it could be handy having access to the ability to take contracts that would give you access to specialty materials,” Xander said.
“It’s also good for business,” Valteria explained. “Mercs tend to like to buy from someone who has at least been out on a contract or two before.”
“Ah, that makes sense. What kind of things do you sell to mercenaries, anyways? I saw Jarrett with a crossbow yesterday, but I imagine you make other things, too.”
“Oh all kinds of little things. Portable, flameless heaters for cooking. Water purification sieves. Mm, let’s see… I’ve made a few custom order devices, too. One customer wanted to be able to shoot a jet of flame from their gauntlet, that was a fun one.”
“Ooh, that does sound fun… reminds me of my flamethrower.”
“Your flamethrower?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a big tank with a hose attached to it. At the end of the hose is a pump that causes the flammable liquid – I use dragon’s tar – to shoot out. Add a flame that the tar passes over and bam! You’ve got a giant stream of flame that will coat anything it hits with sticky, flammable tar,” Xander said, excitedly describing the device.
“That’s… impressive. And kind of horrifying,” Valteria responded.
“Mm… I guess you’re right. I mostly use it on giant spiders. Blugh,” Xander shuddered. “But yeah, I suppose it’s not the nicest of ways to go. Very effective for area denial, though. Ah, actually I have an idea for crossbow bolt head that would ignite when it shatters! We should make that sometime and see if it sells.”
“Hmm, I think that would draw some buyers. A flaming bolt head you didn’t have to light first could be desirable to certain buyers.”
“Put that on the list and we’ll get around to it sometime.”
“We have a list?” Valteria said confusedly.
“We should!” Xander said with a laugh. “Now let’s get the rest of these joints done.”
The repair of the other arm and the leg joints that Xander had locked into position during the tournament was a short affair. Looking over the bare metal frame of the armor still hanging from the ceiling, Xander clapped his hands together, mimicking dusting them off. “Good as new!” He exclaimed. Looking over to Valteria he asked concernedly, “It is good as new, right?”
Valteria had been staring at the armor as well, lost in thought about how she was going to improve it next. “Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s right as rain again, ready for use. Thank you, by the way. For fixing it,” She said awkwardly.
“Well I’m the one who broke it, so it’s only fair that I fix it. So what do you want to work on next?” Xander asked. “I could do some rune work for you. Orrr… we could kiss some more?”
Valteria flushed at the question, but didn’t immediately say no.
A few minutes later, she found herself on her tip toes and lightly pressed against the interior wall of the shed, her lips pressed against Xanders.
Once the two of them were done acting like teenagers parked in a secluded parking lot, they made their way back into the shop. Stepping inside and closing the door behind them, Valteria let out a breath. “I think… you are going to have to do a lot of rune work to make up for how much you just kissed me, Xander.”
“What, you didn’t like it?” He said with a raised eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that,” Valteria said with a smirk.
submitted by Sylesth to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 04:42 stormyfuck bridgerstoned 2.1

Dearest gentle readers, did you miss me? it’s time for season 2! I’m gonna try to do all 8 episodes before s3 drops
Episode 1
okay good night! thanks for reading
submitted by stormyfuck to BridgertonNetflix [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 23:15 oftenfrequently Comparing the HTT strategies for each of the main families

Comparing the HTT strategies for each of the main families
Fair warning, this is gonna be a long one :)
I started working on this for my own purposes because I’m fascinated by the similarities and differences between the HTT styling approaches Kibbe recommends for the different ID families, but then thought it might be helpful to share with the sub. I always see lots of mention of “lines,” but the overall HTT approach for each ID is sometimes (often) oversimplified. Plus all the other very fun elements that make up a HTT are, imo, getting short shrift! There are a few users who have posted amazing full HTTs for their IDs and I'm hoping even more people will be inspired to explore.
So what even is this post?
Basically, I went through the styling directives in Metamorphosis (Chapter 4) for the main families and directly compared the recommendations for the IDs on a number of smaller, more discrete variables because my brain finds it more digestible that way. I only did the main families because “you’re a [insert family here] first and foremost!!” is a thing regardless of your ID ;) And I thought it was more interesting to compare the elements of the pure families without the influence of any other undercurrents. Also it just would have been a lot of work to do all of them 🙃.
A few notes before getting to the good stuff
  • I tried to mostly focus on the words Kibbe uses to evoke feelings rather than specific items, since the book was written in the 80s and clothing is obviously quite different.
  • Some of the things that fall in the middle of a scale have debateable positioning since the middles are sometimes hard to compare (ex. Is a moderate pinstripe more angular or less angular than a soft-edged plaid? My vote was more angular but your vote could be the opposite!) I included all of the language I used to determine placement on the scales so you can make your own call if you want.
  • I disincluded some, ahem, charged descriptors in a few IDs but I don’t think it changes the overall picture painted of what that ID would be looking to channel in their HTTs
This post includes all of the scales I compared the families on in 6 main categories - silhouette, fabric, detail, prints, color, and accessories - plus some keywords that came up for each family that give the overall impression of the HTT. I might make a second part later with key similarities and differences between the approaches for each pair of families, but we'll see! I'm also interested in any discussion here or observations that others might have on the various categories :)
And of course you can always read Metamorphosis for yourself in full here, which I highly recommend!

1. Silhouette

This section is related to the base silhouette of an outfit - the overall shape of garments that make up a HTT and how they relate to one another. For the purposes of this category, I'm defining "ensemble" as the pieces look related or like they were purchased together, which I believe is the sense Kibbe uses it in.
https://preview.redd.it/8earo8fbm70d1.jpg?width=1965&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=40f17625fbfc45cc723b9cc83d447111428d8b02
Shapes
  • D - “keep shapes sharp and geometric. Triangles, rectangles, and everything sculpted, sleek, and elongated, with crisp edges.” “square, sharp shoulders”
  • R - “keep your shapes rounded with soft edges! Circles, ornate swirls, and intricate flowing shapes” “shoulders should be curved”
  • C - “slightly geometric or slightly curved, blend the same shapes together in your look” “slight, crisp shoulder padding”
  • N - “geometric shapes with soft or rounded edges are the key. Rounded-edged rectangles. Soft oblongs, rounded-edged squares, irregular shapes, and soft asymmetrics.” “soft-edged shoulder pads are very good”
  • G - “small, sharp geometrics” “sharp edges and crisp tailoring” “crisp” “sharp edges and extreme tailoring and construction” “sharp shoulder pads”
Outline quality
  • D - “Always straight, with elongated draping that is sleek”
  • R - “your outline should always be soft and flowing” “lots of gentle draping everywhere” “soft fluidity”
  • C - “smooth and symmetrical with the emphasis on controlled and even edges, soft, straight lines, or smoothly curved lines - softly tailored or slightly flowing.”
  • N - “a relaxed, straight line is the outline of your look”
  • G - “sharp, straight, and staccato” “severe lines with sharp edges” “broken, staccato, animated outline. Utilizing many short vertical lines and many short horizontal lines is also effective.”
Closeness of fit
  • D - “always tailored and sculpted” “streamlined shape” “tailored and sleek” “the more tailored the better”
  • R - “showcase the lush curves of your body” “Sleeves should be tapered at the wrist” “waistline should always be emphasized, with soft gathers, folds, draped sashes, and lightweight and supple belts to give a cinched effect” “[Jackets] should be fitted at the waist”
  • C - “very slight draping in constructed garments” “crisp and finished cuffs” “tailored pleats” “narrow and tailored [jackets] with a smooth outline.” “lightweight unconstructed jackets are fine when they are kept sleek and narrow. Blazers, cardigan-style, elongated Chanel (not cropped) are all good choices” “softly tailored”
  • N - “softly tailored, always unconstructed” “Your outline should be fairly narrow and slim, in a loose and easy way.” “Dropped waist detail (loose sashes, overbloused tops, ties, etc) is excellent, as are slightly dropped shoulders.” “Relaxed shapes” “relaxed and easy fit” “dresses should be simple and unconstructed, with a narrow shape and a relaxed outline.”
  • G - “Precision fitted and crisply tailored” “[a] precisely fitted silhouette is crucial to your look” “Sharp and narrow waist definition.” “very fitted” “[skirts] should be very fitted at the waistband” “Pants should always be very sharply tailored with outlined or animated detail at the edges (waistbands, pleats, crisp cuffs).” “Skin tight stretchy pants are excellent” “Very tailored [blouses] with sharp edges and crisp detail (collars, cuffs, pleats, etc.)”
Length of garments
  • D - “Long, vertical lines are essential.” “generally [jackets] should be long (ending at the mid-thigh area), although a very sleek, Italian-style might be cropped (be sure this has an extremely sculpted, streamlined shape)” “straight and long [skirts]” “a long hem” “long cardigans or pullovers”
  • R - "lengths should be kept gracefully long as uneven hemlines (mid-calf), and short as the tapered styles with an even hemline (mid kneecap)" "[for sweaters] short lengths with waist detail"
  • C - “standard length is best [for jackets] (just below break of hip)” “slightly longer jackets are possible when the corresponding skirt is elongated to match.” “moderate length [skirts]”
  • N - “Elongated [jackets] (ending from the upper thigh on down.)” “Moderate length [skirts]” “Very short skirts for fun/funky looks.” “Nearly all styles [of pants] are excellent, from very casual to very dressy… short, cropped, or long.” “Any and all lengths [for sweaters]”
  • G - “Short, cropped [jackets]” “Straight, sharp, and short [skirts]” “A slightly flared hemline [on skirts] may be slightly longer (top of the calf). Anything extremely long is very tricky, and must have a slit and be pencil slim.” “[For pants] Short lengths, anywhere from cropped at the calf to the top of the ankle.” “Short, cropped cardigans” “Short cropped jackets, vests, and boleros work well with dresses for you”
Cohesion
  • D - “keep individual pieces blended together in an artful way for elegance”
  • R - “include an artful blending of plush textures, draped fabrics, and luxurious colors” “avoid any kind of harsh contrast between top and bottom”
  • C - “A clean, unbroken silhouette is your most elegant statement! Think ‘head-to-toe’, and blend everything accordingly.” “Use [separates] carefully and sparingly” “Make sure colors, textures, and prints blend together”
  • N - “Separates are extremely exciting on you, and should make up the bulk of your wardrobe” “you’ll do better with an artful mixture of patterns, textures and colors than you will with an overly matched look” “designer sportswear” “definitely mix n’ match in the most sophisticated sense of the word”
  • G - “A use of well-coordinated separates with lots of animated and colorful detail can be very exciting to your look.”
Some random observations from me about this category
  • N fam has a truly impressive amount of versatility in terms of the length of pieces they're recommended, probably because they're the only family that's really strongly encouraged to go whole hog with a mix and match/separates-forward approach (a superpower tbh).
  • Although the scale of pieces recommended are obviously quite different, the words he uses to describe the shapes for D and G fams are extremely similar. Definitely two families that benefit from an emphasis on crisp sharpness and angularity.
  • I thought it was interesting that he used "softly tailored" in both the C and N fam sections, although the effect they're going for is very different (blended understated elegance vs. relaxed funky easy vibes).
  • He never uses the word "wide" in the N fam section. He does, however, use "narrow" and "loosely tailored" a number of times 😈 No oversized shapeless potato sacks here!

2. Fabric

This category is pretty self-explanatory I hope!
https://preview.redd.it/94e76p19190d1.jpg?width=1976&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=816214030ae525dd16ec2e071426eab1e571c544
Definition
  • D - “fabrics that hold a defined shape are necessary”
  • R - “fabrics that drape easily” “flowing”
  • C - “beautiful, luscious fabrics are an important element in your understated look” “very slight draping in constructed garments.”
  • N - “loose and easy”
  • G - “must always be crisp, able to hold a defined shape, and be tailored easily”
Range of textures (how many different fabrics can they use)
  • D - “Moderate to heavyweights are best, with a matte finish and a smooth surface” “textures should be tightly woven, and shiny fabrics should be very stiff and ultraglitzy”
  • R - “softly woven fabrics” “ultrashiny fabrics” “ultrasoft or plush textures” “sheer fabrics” “any kind of sparkle is excellent”
  • C - “Matte finish or slight sheen.” “Luxurious to the touch” “lightweight textures” “smooth knits” “smooth chiffon and elegantly beaded fabrics for evening.”
  • N - “All soft textures are excellent” “any fabric with a rough or nubby surface” “any wrinkly fabric works well” “all woven fabrics” “knits are excellent in nearly any weight and thickness, from very finely woven to very heavy and rough” “Plush velours, suede, and soft leather are perfect” “drapable fabrics are best kept to heavier weight jerseys.” “A matte finish is far superior to sheen for daytime” “In the evening, you can go very glitzy with hard-finished sheens”
  • G - “a flat surface or light texture is best” “finely woven knits, especially when ribbed and skinny, are good choices.” “matte finish is best, although hard-finished sheens can be very exciting (especially metallics)”
Weight
  • D - “Moderate to heavyweights are best” “occasionally lightweight fabrics can work if they are extra-structured in the design of the garment”
  • R - “lightweight fabrics”
  • C - “moderate weights. Lightweights in very constructed or tailored garments.”
  • N - "knits are excellent in nearly any weight and thickness, from very finely woven to very heavy and rough." “moderate weights are best, although textures can easily be lighter”
  • G - “usually your fabric will be of moderate weight, though lighter weights that hug the body are excellent”
Some random observations from me about this category
  • Again lots of similarities for G and D fam as far as structure and matte finish, although D also has heavier structured wovens while G has fine knits.
  • R fam and N fam get by far the most diverse recommendations as far as fabric and textures go (again a ton of versatility in N fam!). Seems like you really can't go wrong with something sparkly, shiny, glitzy, or plushy if you're in R fam. And for N fam it sounds like you get to mix far more textures into one HTT than everybody else does, which is exciting!
  • I thought the emphasis on flowing for R fam was interesting. It makes total sense - I haven't read too deeply into R since I am clearly not one lol - but for some reason I had flowing associated with N in my mind.
  • I really love the C recommendations myself - "luscious fabrics" just makes me think about burrowing in a cashmere blanket haha. I could definitely picture Grace Kelly as I was reading them.

3. Prints

Also self-explanatory!
https://preview.redd.it/nn24my93490d1.jpg?width=1920&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3a8d47c3a4d4d5984b6cac8d9deeccdf7da834c4
Pattern
  • D - “bold and geometric: stripes, zigzags, asymmetrics, and irregular shapes.” “Think Picasso and strive for a contemporary feeling”
  • R - “rich and luscious with the emphasis on an abstract, watercolor blend (think Monet). Swirls of color, flowing together, with soft and rounded edges may be used in abundance.”
  • C - “symmetrical, evenly spaced, and regular or realistic patterns. Understated prints (pin dots, pinstripes, checks, blended plaids, herringbone, symmetrical paisleys, etc.)”
  • N - “casual styles that are soft-edged geometrics (plaids, stripes, paisleys, etc.) and funky prints in irregular shapes (abstract asymmetrics, leaves, animal prints, etc.).”
  • G - “Prints should be sharp, colorful, and animated. Small geometrics and angular asymmetrics are excellent. Most of your prints should be very contemporary in feeling (“Picasso-ish”) although humorous styles that are outlined and caricatured can be quite stunning on you as well.”
Contrast
  • D - “Bold color combinations and high-contrast blends work best”
  • R - “swirls of color, flowing together”
  • C - “Make sure colors, textures, and prints blend together” “understated”
  • N - “generally have a softly blended edge”
  • G - “colorful and animated” “outlined” “contrast”
Scale
  • D - “bold”
  • R - “luxuriously large: oversized florals or feathery shapes are especially lovely”
  • C - “understated”
  • N - “moderate scale to slightly large”
  • G - “small”
Some random observations from me about this category
  • Again lots of similarities for D and G for the type (sharp geometric) and feeling of prints (contemporary/Picasso) with the main difference being large vs. small scale (don't worry, they're about to diverge hardcore 😂)
  • R fam is recommended significantly more abstract and organic prints than everyone else. I also thought it was interesting that both D and R call for larger-scale prints - finally something in common!
  • For C fam it seems like the most important thing is that the prints blend in and are understated rather than drawing attention to themselves.
  • Preferring high contrast and sharp prints vs slightly more blended and soft ones seems like a notable difference between D/G and N fam.

4. Garment Detail

This category is related to the details within the confines of the outline of a garment. So things like necklines, collars, effects like beading and sequins, trim, buttons, etc etc.
https://preview.redd.it/342pwi6y390d1.jpg?width=1971&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=64115f1045c7a3cb6d9ac1d6d843754ca943a603
Shape - sharp vs soft
  • D - “angular shapes” “sharp edges” “clean, angular necklines (plunging v’s, skinny turtlenecks, high Mandarins, slashed collars, halters…)” “anything tailored (crisp cuffs, sharp pleats, sharp lapels, etc.)”
  • R - “soft” “[Sleeves can be] very soft and flowing” “lapels should be curved, rounded, or shawl-collared” “gathers, tucks, or bouffant shapes” “any draped, gathered, or shirred touches are wonderful accents”
  • C - “clean, tailored necklines” “crisp and finished cuffs”
  • N - “Any unconstructed or loosely tailored detail works well.” “Simple necklines… are best, and you should concentrate on open necklines for your air of casual chic” “lapels should be tailored, notched, or clean (lapel-less).” “Cuffs should be very plain.”
  • G - “Detail should always be… sharp” “very crisp, staccato, broken up, and multicolored” “lots of crisp trim” “lots of outlining (collars, cuffs, waistbands, lapels) with piping of contrasting colors or fabric, braiding, beads, etc.” “Small, crisp pleats.” “Sharp, angular necklines - also small” “Small, crisp ties (ribbon, leather, etc.)” “Small, tailored lapels or crisp lapel-less with piping.” “Small, crisp cuffs.”
Scale - large vs small
  • D - “bold, sweeping geometrics”
  • R - “oversize bows, flouncy ruffles, and delicate lace are always good choices”
  • C - “[detail] should never call attention to itself”
  • N - “pleats should be soft and deep” “You can use small touches of hand embroidery or rough lace and eyelet for very simple trim.”
  • G - “Detail should always be small” “Small, crisp pleats.” “Sharp, angular necklines - also small” “Small, crisp ties (ribbon, leather, etc.)” “Small, tailored lapels or crisp lapel-less with piping.” “Small, crisp cuffs”
Complexity - clean vs intricate
  • D - “detail should always be clean and minimal”
  • R - “intricate, ornate… with an emphasis on framing your face” “Sleeves should be tapered at the wrist with intricate buttons” “any kind of sparkle is excellent (pearls, sequins, beading, etc.)” “belt buckles should always be intricate” “the more intricate or antique looking your buttons are the better” “ornate detail” “ornate necklines”
  • C - “clean, simple, and minimal - just enough to add an elegantly understated touch.” “never call attention to itself” “clean lines” “minimal detail” “minimum of detail”
  • N - “detail should be kept minimal. Plain and simple is best for you.” “gathers should be minimal” “simple tailored styles with minimal detail” “Simple shapes with easy fits” “Minimal detail”
  • G - “an overabundance of detail” “You can never wear too much detail! An abundance of it and everywhere in your look is one of the most effective tools you have for capturing your animated effervescence!” “Detail should always… call attention to itself (not blend into the lines of your garments)” “lots of animated and colorful detail” “Collar, cuff, lapel, and waistband detail (outlining, trim, piping, ribbing) are essential”
Some random observations from me about this category
  • A very stark divide here between the families that lean minimal/clean (C, N, D) and the families that lean complex (R, G)!
  • Even though R and G both call for a lot of detail, G fam seems to like it literally everywhere (but especially at the edges) while R focuses on framing the face. Another difference between them is that G detail is high contrast, sharp, and colorful while R fam's detail tends to the ornate, flowing, intricate, and sparkly - very different shapes I think.
  • Finally a category where N fam is not running away with the versatility haha - it seems like a more minimal and clean approach to detail really helps them shine.

5. Color

Y'all know what colors are :)
https://preview.redd.it/5he7hmfk790d1.jpg?width=1949&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bc59971dc9518bfbd276300feccba5838f4d7971
Number
  • D - “Always think ‘head-to-toe’ with your color schemes” “All monochromatic schemes are excellent”
  • R - “include an artful blending of… luxurious colors”
  • C - “Make sure colors, textures, and prints blend together” “monochromatic schemes are excellent, although you do not need to be limited to just one or two colors.”
  • N - “Color is an area in which you should have lots of fun! Strive for zip, verve, and lots of pizzazz with bolds, brights, pastels, vivids, and wild color combinations - anything imaginative.” “Break all the rules when it comes to color! Mix ‘n match with ease.”
  • G - “lots of animated and colorful detail can be very exciting to your look” “Your use of color should be bold and sassy; break all the rules here! Multicolored splashes are perfect. Bright and shockingly colored accessories played against a dark or light background. High, sharp contrast and wild color combinations are all very chic on you. Break your line with color!”
Effect
  • D - “color combination should be bold but elegant. Combining bright shades with dark shades achieves this with ease.”
  • R - “should emphasize a watercolor palette of soft pastels and luscious brights.” “rich, luxuriously blended colors” “pale neutrals… are your best accents”
  • C - “accentuate your smoothly blended visual outline. This means that a mixture of colors in an outfit should blend together in intensity so as not to disrupt your clean and smooth silhouette.” “The key is to make sure the tones (intensities) blend, instead of contrasting.”
  • N - “Strive for zip, verve, and lots of pizzazz with bolds, brights, pastels, vivids, and wild color combinations - anything imaginative. Neutrals work well when they are used in beautifully textured fabrics… but you will feel a little dull without a few bright accents, either in accessories or jewelry.” “Colors can be very wild and unusual if you wish, or more muted and earthy-looking”
  • G - “bold and sassy” “Multicolored splashes” “Bright and shockingly colored accessories played against a dark or light background.” “High, sharp contrast and wild color combinations”
Some random observations from me about this category
  • It's been said before but D fam's inability to do anything but monochrome has been greatly exaggerated. Outfits can have high contrast colors as long as they still read bold and sleek!
  • I found it interesting that both C fam and R fam call for a blended effect.
  • Color seems like a key category to focus on for both N fam and G fam - bold color kings/queens 👑

6. Accessories

The category for everything else - bags, hats, shoes, jewelry, belts, etc etc.
https://preview.redd.it/ek7fu7oz790d1.jpg?width=1923&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7c24f3db63656cef4a8da916665ba0f19893cc86
Scale
  • D - “Belts should be bold and wide” “Metal belts will be sculpted and quite large.” “[Hats should have] wide brims” “[Jewelry should have] an emphasis on bold, modern shapes.” “[For jewelry,] Pieces should be large but not overly bulky.”
  • R - “The effect may be lavish, but the workmanship should be intricate and delicate.” “delicate [shoes]” “[For bags,] Delicate shoulder straps. Elegantly slim briefcases.” “Jewelry should always be delicate and lavish, with intricate and ornate touches. Rounded shapes, curves, swirls, and lots of dangles”
  • C - “slender pumps” “narrow heels” “moderate size [bags]” “slim and elegant” “keep [belts] elegant, slim, and narrow with small smooth buckles” “small and crisp [hats] with even brims” “Small [jewelry]”
  • N - “moderate-sized [bags]” “Jewelry should be kept on the chunky side” “It is possible to get away with very minimal chains, tiny diamond studs, etc., but chances are you won’t be satisfied with this once you experiment with a zippier look!”
  • G - “All accessories should be small, crisp, geometric, and colorful” “Small, crisp geometrics [for bags]” “[Belts] may be narrow to moderately wide.” “Small, crisply tailored hats.” “Jewelry should be small and sharp.”
Shape
  • D - “All accessories should be crisp, sharply tailored, and angular with geometric shapes. Keep everything sleek and contemporary in feeling.” “High, straight heels, crisp soles, and elegantly tapering toes.” “Angular envelopes, clutches, or structured briefcases.” “[For jewelry,] thin sharp pieces are good choices, as are avant-garde works of art.”
  • R - “softly sophisticated.” “[Shoes of] Lightweight and supple leather.” “[For bags,] small, rounded shapes. Soft, supple leather or fabric.” [For belts,] soft and supple leather or fabric.” “Soft, curvy [hats]” “Large, fluffy fur hats.”
  • C - “elegant scarves in symmetrical ties” “tapered toes” “elegant leather” “softly tailored flats” “crisply tailored [bags]” “supple leather [bags]” “tailored, symmetrical shape[d hats]” “Keep your jewelry elegant, smooth, and symmetrical” “Small, slightly geometric shapes [in jewelry] are good, as are smoothly curved swirls.”
  • N - “Unconstructed styles with soft or rounded-edged geometric shapes are most effective.” “high heels should be very angular and straight, not tapered” “unconstructed pouches” “Simple geometrics in supple leather” “softly geometric [belts]” “unconstructed [hats]. Large, loose, and floppy. Shaggy-haired fur.” “Soft or rounded-edged geometrics [for jewelry]”
  • G - “All accessories should be small, crisp, geometric, and colorful” “tailored and angular [shoes] in lightweight leather. Unusual shapes in toes and heels are excellent (asymmetrics, wedges, sharp points, etc.) as are bold colors and printed fabric.” “Small, crisp geometrics [for bags]” “Stiff leather [belts] with geometric buckles.” “Jewelry should be small and sharp and in geometric, asymmetrical, or irregular shapes.”
Detail
  • D - “sleek & elegant”
  • R - “ornate” “strappy, slender-heeled [shoes] with tapered or open toes” “[Flats] with ornamentation” “[For bags,] Ornamentation or luxurious detail (beads, gathers, trim).” “[For belts,] All beaded, bejeweled, or sparkly styles are excellent.” “belts are a focal point, and should be selected as carefully as a fine piece of jewelry” “Jewelry should always be delicate and lavish, with intricate and ornate touches. Rounded shapes, curves, swirls, and lots of dangles… sparkly materials are essential… and an antique, baroque, or rococo effect is desirable.”
  • C - “simple, clean, and elegant” “Be careful not to overdo! Go elegant instead of extreme.”
  • N - “Accessories should be kept minimal; plain and simple is your best look here” “evening sandals should be very bare, not strappy” “belts should be simple” “[For jewelry, think] “wearable art”... or it can be bright and funky costume pieces that add pizzazz! Earthy materials are very elegant and sophisticated on you (copper, silver, amber, turquoise, etc.). Hard-finished enamels and glass are fun, especially when used in bold colors for vivid accents”
  • G - “[Accessories] should call attention to themselves as detail” “Contrast is being strived for with your use of accessories, as well as bringing out your wit and a sense of fun.” “[For shoes] bold colors and printed fabric. Flats of all kinds should always be funky and fun (patent leather, trimmed, etc.)” “Brightly colored belts are excellent aids in breaking your line.” “[For jewelry] Brightly colored enamel, stone, or glass are best. Very contemporary avant-garde pieces are excellent on you, as are trendy pieces that accentuate your wit.”
Some random observations from me about this category
  • In keeping with the general themes, D fam again shines more with much bolder or larger scale accessories than everyone else, although they don't need a ton of detail within them. The overall shape seems to do most of the heavy lifting.
  • In contrast, G fam and R fam once again call for a lot of detail within their accessories. They also get the most fun-sounding shoes (to me, a magpie).
  • And again N, C, and D have the cleaner strategies for accessories, although N does have a more G-like approach recommended for fun colorful jewelry.

7. In closing, some keywords

Picked out from the sections for each main family. I find these helpful to kind of paint a word picture of the overall vibe each family is recommended to go for.
  • D - sharp, geometric, elongated, sculpted, sleek, streamlined, defined, structured, clean, bold, sweeping, angular, tailored, elegant, long, straight, contemporary, avant-garde, crisp, modern, chiseled, high-contrast
  • R - soft, rounded, ornate, intricate, flowing, draping, light, shiny, plush, sheer, delicate, curved, tapered, sparkle, gathers, folds, blended, luxurious, fluid, antique, shirred, flounces, frills, fluffy, swirls, watercolor, rich, abstract, sophisticated, strappy, ornamentation, beaded, bejeweled, lavish, rococo, elaborate, colorful, glitzy
  • C - smooth, even, blended, controlled, softly tailored, slightly flowing, clean, elegant, luscious, understated, quality, moderate, simple, minimal, crisp, symmetrical, gathers, slim, beaded, sleek, natural
  • N - geometric, soft, rounded edges, irregular, asymmetric, relaxed, straight, softly tailored, unconstructed, narrow, slim, loose, easy, textured, plush, matte, minimal, plain, simple, open, casual, chic, separates, mix and match, pattern, color, sophisticated, easy, elongated, short, zip, verve, pizzazz, bold, bright, pastel, vivid, wild, imaginative, funky, blended, chunky, elegant, tousled, free, fresh-faced, glowing, radiant, healthy
  • G - small, sharp, geometric, fitted, crisp, tailored, straight, staccato, severe, animated, broken, short, detail, defined, flat, light, matte, sheen, moderate, call attention, colorful, trim, outlined, piping, ribbing, contrast, pleats, angular, ties, lapels, narrow, well-coordinated separates, tapered, stiff, slim, asymmetrical, bold, sassy, splashes, bright, high contrast, wild, chic, contemporary, humorous, wit, fun, angular, unusual shapes, prints, irregular, avant-garde, sleek, beading, tousled, cropped, fresh-faced, glowing, doe-eyed
Phew! You made it to the end. Hopefully it was helpful, or gave you some ideas of smaller, more approachable categories to explore for HTTs. If not, at least it was a great exercise for my own weird brain processing lol. Feel free to drop any observations/thoughts you might have in the comments, I'm curious what everyone else sees or thinks is notable or interesting!
submitted by oftenfrequently to Kibbe [link] [comments]


2024.05.12 02:15 RosemaryandRavens Alaskan Little People are No Joke

It’s been a while. I don’t know why it took so long for me to post. How long has it been? A year? A year and a half? And I have gained plenty of stories to share - while I’ve neglected you, dear friend.
But right now, you’re my catharsis. You, who might listen to me.
I still can’t believe what I witnessed this winter. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t spoken of it sooner. Perhaps that’s why I’m pretending it never happened.
I suppose though, it’s less that I can’t believe it and more that I don’t want to.
Because time can’t alter. Time doesn’t change. Time is time, right? Some missing time is normal, but not for… days. Right? But I have to believe because everyone else says it’s true. Everyone else says that’s how long I was gone, even as the sun hung still in the sky.
This winter in Alaska has been aggressive. Like last year we had record breaking snowfall and cold. Which I loved and adored. The white mountains touching dark skies. The trees bending with the weight of snow. And of course the mounds the plows would make at the end of my street.
I had missed Alaska.
Granted where I stay isn’t the village anymore. I’m in Anchorage. Or near it. You probably don’t know of the tiny towns along the highways. But if you did… well I don’t particularly want you to find me, now do I?
I’ve finally finished processing what happened. Now that I understand what I went through - after a stern tongue lashing from my grandmothers for my carelessness - I can talk about that day I heard a whisper. I wasn’t sure where it came from but it was ancient and spoke to me in Koyukon.
I can confidently tell you, dear friend, that not all monsters are large and hulking. Some monsters are small and spritely. With sharp teeth. And pointy weapons. And an uncanny ability to make the days pass while the sun stays high.
Everyone believes me. Except my father. My father can’t.
Do you know what comes with freezing temps and mounds of snow? Ice. Beautiful, solid, blue blue, blue ice. The beautiful frozen waterfalls that call to me every year.
Every winter I can’t help but be drawn to these natural wonders.
And every year I never fail to climb at least one. No matter how painful the cold is to my scar covered body, it will happen.
It was a normal day for me, all set for my adventure. Well, mostly normal. I woke with that nagging feeling in the back of my skull, as if something is watching, and you can maybe see it out of the corner of your eye. I attributed it to staying up late searching for and preparing my gear.
I was up and raring to go with breakfast and lunch ready to assemble. It was a process I’ve done many times and by the time I was throwing my backpack on my sister came out of her room, yawning. Lazy bum.
“Where ya goin this time?”
“Hatcher Pass. Checking out Hillside Pillars.”
She thought and gave a wave. “Six hours round trip and you’ll probably be out there on the falls with as much daylight as you can possibly suck out.” She stared at me expectantly. “So… see ya at 8 tonight?”
I gave a quick nod. “Yes.”
“Did you check the avalanche warnings?”
“Yup. Things are calm today. And with that, I’m going ‘mom.’”
She shot me a sharp look and stumbled past me to the kitchen. I gave one last grin before running out the door, ignoring the shiver that ran up my spine as I stepped out. It was cold. Very cold. That’s all, right?
The drive was peaceful, I was out well before the annoying traffic that bottles up at those special points along the Glenn Highway and in Palmer. Up the road to Hatcher Pass, getting little spikes of adrenaline as I got closer and closer to my destination.
Once there I chewed on my breakfast, and as soon as the sun rose I was out of the truck, beginning the long trek to the waterfalls. A hike, a river crossing, and a 20-30 ft step climb and I’d be at the main event.
Why am I telling you all this? Because it was the start of a beautiful day. The start of what would be a fun day. A day where I’d conquer a piece of the world in a way very few do.
As I climbed I felt the wind and listened to its gentle whistle through the trees. The shush of snow falling off with every gentle caress. The sound of small animals rushing about to find food or shelter.
A slow ascent, one foot above the other, one axe pull at a time. It was exhilarating. It’s hard to explain the satisfaction of knowing you’re one step closer to a view you can only find during this time of year.
I finished my climb and stood at the top of the WI4 rated beauty and enjoyed the view just long enough to curse the short days. The breeze picked up my loose hair and tickled my nose. It almost felt like it was congratulating me on a job well done. Even as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I shivered. I was just cold, right?
Unloading my pack, I sat down and chewed on a sandwich, taking in the sights. The mountain. The pure white snow. The small movements of life. The skiers and snowmobilers in the distance. As I was wiping the crumbs off my now freezing fingers I heard a sound I had become familiar with. One that would always give me pause. The screech of a hawk came from high above.
I couldn’t help but shudder. It’s the wrong time of year for one to be attracting a mate. What danger was it warning others of? I bit my lip and eyed the surroundings. What would scare a hawk in the middle of the day? Nothing pleasant. Never.
I looked up the frozen river, into the trees and to the foot of the waterfall when I heard a quiet whisper. I swallowed the thickening lump in my throat. I don’t fluently speak Koyukon. Never have I had the desire to. But I knew. I knew what the wind whispered. And it whispered in a rushed manner.
“Run, little flower.”
With that there was deafening silence and as I stood in confusion I felt a shiver that turned into a pain that radiated from the scars covering my body.
I didn’t even give the pain building in me a second thought as I began to see movement out of the corner of my eye.
As I reached for my gear, I heard a giggle like a mischievous child. One giggle turned to two. Two turned to four until I could no longer count as they surrounded me in the wind. I worked faster, gathering my things as the shadows began to move inside the trees.
“Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.” I repeated over and over.
I didn’t have much time, the darkness in the corner of my eye was growing. I made sure my bag was shut tight and secure before tossing it over the edge of the waterfall, hoping nothing in it would break. As I tied myself in I looked up the river and the breath was stolen from my chest.
They looked completely harmless. Child-like. But they were wrong. Out of time. I felt every hair on my body stand on end as if the static in the air concentrated. A group of seven came out of the trees, their giggles and smiles almost infectious. Their clothing were winter parkas and pants straight out of a museum and on a couple seemed comically oversized. You’d almost think they were cute. Harmless.
But their smiles were threatening as they bared their sharp teeth and their eyes shone mercilessly black. Their skin would be as white as the snow surrounding us if it weren’t for the gray undertone.
I practically threw myself at my line and clipped in, barely holding onto my axes as I swiftly threw myself over the edge, beginning my descent.
I felt the wind gust through the trees and I shivered at the implications. What else could I do?
I moved faster and faster, beginning to breathe heavily before my feet were on solid ground. Looking up I realized that the sun had begun to darken sooner than I had expected.
I swallowed back the built up fear and realized a freak storm was building. My brain raced through the only thing it could think. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…”
I shoved the remaining gear in hand into my bag, without regard for how secure my picks were outside of it.
And in the oncoming darkness I heard another screech… quickly cut off. But I heard its final word, a voice that I swore should have been long lost and dead.
It screamed part of a name that it didn’t even have to finish for me to almost lose my stomach. Because its name wasn’t just a warning, it was a promise.
Bringing my attention back to the solid land I now stood on I suddenly felt the wind knocked out of me. I stumbled forward and fell to my knees. Catching my breath, I looked over my shoulder to see a vicious face. As the stars receded from my eyes I noticed the movement out of the corner of them slowly gather nearer. I stumbled to my feet, staring at the little monster.
The monster kept its eyes on me as it tilted its head and snickered. It pointed a spear at me and I shuddered. It had begun to toy with me.
“Well shit. Why do you have to do this to me today?” I uselessly asked.
Slowly raising into a crouch I began backing away. My heel caught on my bag and I reached awkwardly for it, hoisting it onto my shoulder as the small creatures moved in. They began giggling, drowning out any of the calming sounds that had been present in the morning.
Suddenly I felt a shock to the back of my head. I saw stars once again and fell forward. More giggling.
One came forward and pulled off my hat.
Another ran up and pulled my hair.
I heard a rip and turned in time to see my pack sliced open.
That could have been my back, adding more badges of honor to my body.
As I was distracted one of them came and dropped snow on my head.
The group continued giggling all the while.
I shivered as the snow melted down my neck and into my jacket. And the horrifying thought passed through my mind. “They’re toying with me.”
Suddenly I felt pain in my right hand. One had smashed the back of their spear onto it.
Just as quickly I was hit in the side, knocking me off balance. I caught myself just in time before another ran up and pulled on my hair until I hit the ground.
I grit my teeth and fought back as it tormented me. I heard a rip and felt my pack shift as one of my straps was cut.
Then I heard it and felt it all at once. It hurt. It hurt more than you could imagine or understand. I fell back when my hair suddenly released. As one of their knives sliced through it. I stared at the ragged end of one of my braids.
Then I screamed.
Then I cried.
Then I felt pain. I was hit across the face by a spear, busting my nose. It was almost as if they were telling me the old line “I’ll give you something to cry about.”
Their giggle cracked into a cackle. Then one walked up to me, their pitch black eyes staring directly into mine. I shuddered and forced myself not to look away.
I cautiously rolled up onto my feet and they simply watched. My pack swung awkwardly on one arm and I held back a growing gag as blood ran down the back of my throat.
It tilted its head and through its gnashing sharp teeth it told me, “Run.”
I could only feel relief that the sun was still high. Though overcast, I wouldn’t be running through the woods in the darkness. I turned heel and ran past the few behind me, barely dodging the stabs of their spears. They shouted as I began running, their giggles turning into a sound so wicked it echoed in my skull.
Now I was being hunted.
I ran awkwardly through the snow and ice, down the route I had taken just hours before. The high knee hop through the snow that has just been obliterating Alaska recently. As I ran the wind gusted and I would get blown off my feet, or the disturbed snow would fly into my face. Still I ran. I couldn’t quite see them when I looked back but I could sense it. They were behind me. They were next to me. They were above me in the trees.
Every time I tripped I cried out and I realized the voice was still with me. Still whispering “Run. Run. Run little flower or you’ll wilt and die.” I felt like it was mocking me. Mocking my name.
Shuddering, I felt the cooling beads of water on my forehead and cursed. Water means death. It means the minute I slow down hypothermia will kick in. And in the meantime I may frostbite because of the accumulated moisture in my gear.
But I couldn’t care about that. What would frostbite matter if I didn’t live? I’ve fought for my life before, I wouldn’t die this time.
My neck grew sore and I could feel that sense of impending doom. And I ran even harder, them watching my struggle and floundering about. I heard a thud near me and chanced a glance back to see a spear sticking out of the snow.
Gritting my teeth I pushed harder. The wind stroked the back of my neck and brought a sharp assault down the scars on my back. They began feasting on my fear.
But I could see it, the last stretch. I don’t know how I got through the steps but when I finally found the river and came to a pitching halt. I gasped and panted, tired and weighed down, muscles sore, bones slowly getting cold.
I made it to the river. I was safe. I was safe from the ones the hawk warned me of.
Until I wasn’t.
Until I heard a hoot, quickly turn into a screech.
I cursed. “Dena, why do you do this to me? What did I ever do?”
I heard the hoot again and shivered. I screamed at it. “Don’t you dare give me three.”
I didn’t wait for the third as once again they snickered at me.
I gritted my teeth and sprinted across the frozen river. I kept my legs pumping and moving until I tumbled over the other side. The other side and into my father with a shocked look on his face.
“Rosemary?”
I grabbed onto him. Felt him. Squeezed his arms tightly as I caught my breath.
“Ha… Ha ha. I made it.” I laughed out, shock taking hold. My laugh was short lived as I began coughing the blood that had pooled in my lungs from running in the cold.
I watched shadows cross my father’s face. Surprise, shock, relief, and finally something I hadn’t seen since I was a child. Fear.
He squeezed my face between his hands. “Stay with me. Don’t pass out.”
I continued laughing. “Me? Pass out? Never.” I stepped out of reach and bent over to vomit the blood that had built in my stomach from my broken nose.
My father shouted and I heard others come running from down the trail. “Calm down.”
Looking at him I grinned. “I made it.”
But then I heard it. It came through the trees. From all around. A swarm of giggles.
I watched my father pale. I heard the running footsteps from down the trail slow.
I shoved my father in the opposite direction. “RUN!”
And he listened. Bless the man, he listened.
He hurtled down the trail and when he saw the others in front of him he screamed at them to run. I came to a stuttering halt as I herded the others in front of me while the giggles came closer. Grew louder. Began swimming in my head again. I heard the swishing of snow falling as they ran by.
“Keep going!” I shouted at their backs until we got to the trail head, falling into the road. I screamed at the others to get in their cars. Luckily my family knows to listen without question. Their friends not so much. More corralling. More giggles. More movement in the corners of my eyes. At one point… a tug on my hair.
I got to my truck, hurtling into the side of it. Without pause I tossed my gear into the back and jumped inside. It felt like the old truck couldn’t turn on fast enough. All the while the wind swept through the trees and bullied it.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” My mantra of the day.
My head began to feel cold while the blood on my face became even more annoying. I threw my car into first and I practically screamed when I heard a knock on my window. My sister Leah was on the other side. “GET YOUR ASS IN DUMBASS!” The movement in the trees behind her was too close.
I watched the final few people get into their cars and I peeled out. Skipping from first straight into third on the dangerously snowy road. I tried to clench my busted hand around the wheel only to be blasted with pain. Still, I continued driving as quickly as the roads would allow.
I was a mile down the long road when I heard the whisper.
“Shhh… shhh… shhh… shhh…”
And the sound of it grew louder. Slow at first then it became all consuming. I heard the crumbling and rumbling of the mountainside.
I looked toward the sound coming from the east and my jaw dropped as I saw the mountainside sliding in real time. Something told me I was safe. Just a faint whisper in the back of my head and the fact that the pain had receded.
With some remaining trepidation I stopped my truck and stepped out. I watched in terror and awe as the mountain fell… and fell… and crossed the river. I swallowed and shook my head and heard another raptor scream in the distance.
I got in my truck, turned the heat on as high as I could. I was shaking. Clearly from the cold, right? With a shiver I threw my truck into gear again and we made our way back to town. All the while the wind mockingly laughed behind me.
“Where have you been?” Leah asked after several miles.
“At the Pillars.” I whispered through my scratchy throat.
She looked at me, pale. “You left two days ago.”
I frowned. “I left this morning.”
“It’s been a day and a half.”
I didn’t respond. Even after her many pestering questions I didn’t answer. We drove the rest of the way home in silence as my brain tumbled.
Once we were home I stumbled to the bathroom. I stared at my busted nose in the mirror before climbing into the shower. Bruises covered my body and my hand began swelling, broken.
I wasn’t even allowed rest after that though. As I ate a well earned dinner my father sat me down and grilled me on where I’d been. Why I had been gone so long.
I learned a few things from our conversation - that I had been gone more than a day. That I hadn’t been seen on the mountain at all. That supposedly I shouldn’t have been alone with others having climbed the same time as me.
It was as I was chewed out I told my father I saw them. That I had seen the little people of legends. What the Athabascans give no real name to beyond “small ones.” What the Yup’ik call the Ircenrraat. What westerners call fae.
As I explained that I had been caught in a hunt my father’s face grew more and more incredulous. Before finally admitting he didn’t believe me. He dismissed me with few words after that statement. It hurt, but I understood.
I was gone only a day. That’s why my father can’t believe.
They’ve never allowed anyone gone less than a year.
submitted by RosemaryandRavens to nosleep [link] [comments]


2024.05.10 20:04 Vukobasa An observer in the Near East: MONTENEGRO (1907)

An observer in the Near East: MONTENEGRO (1907)
ΜΟΝΤΕΝEGRO
CHAPTER I
THE CITY IN THE SKY
Why I went to the Balkans―The road to Montenegro―Cettinje and its petroleum tins―About the blood-feud―England and Montenegro―Warned not to attempt to go to Albania―My guide a marked man-The story of Tef―A woman's fickleness, and its sequel.
CHAPTER II
AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS
The Palace at Cettinje―A cigarette with the Prince―The policy of Montenegro―A confidential chat―His Royal Highness's admiration for England―His views upon Macedonia―He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania. but I persuade him to help me―His Highness's kindness―Souvenirs.
**
CHAPTER I
THE CITY IN THE SKY
Why I went to the Balkans— The road to Montenegro — Cettinje and its petroleum tins — About the blood-feud — England and Montenegro — Warned not to attempt to go to Albania — My guide a marked man — The story of Tef — A woman's fickleness, and its sequel.
I ENTERED the Balkans by the back door. The luxuries of the Orient Express had no attraction for me. I wanted to see the Balkans as they really are, those great, wild, mountainous countries, so full of race hatreds, of political bickerings, of fierce blood-feuds, of feverish propa- gandas those nations with their interesting monarchs and their many mysteries.
The "Orient" runs direct from Paris to the Balkan capitals, it is true, but if one goes to study a people the capital is not the only place in which to discover the truth. One must go into the country, move among the peasantry, hear their grievances and investigate their wrongs. Therefore I decided to enter the East by Montenegro, and also visit the wild and little-known regions of Northern Albania.
The comfortable voyage by the Austrian-Lloyd mail steamer Graf Wurmbrand from Trieste down the Adriatic, touching at Pola, the Austrian naval station, Lussinpiccolo, Zara- famed for its maraschino-Sebenico, Spalato, and Gravosa to Cattaro, has been already described by many writers. Suffice it to say that it is perhaps one of the most picturesque of pleasure-trips in the world, for every moment one has a fresh panorama of mountain and blue sea, of green, fertile islands with subtropical vegetation, and tiny white villages nestling at the sea's edge, as the steamer threads her way through the narrow and often difficult channels.
At times the wild scenery, especially in the Bocche di Cattaro, reminds the traveller of the Norwegian fiords, and at others the coast is an almost exact reproduction of the French Riviera.
The object of my journey was, however, not in order to write a mere description of men and places. There have been other travellers in the Balkans who have related their story, therefore my mission was to make careful inquiry into the present unsettled state of affairs, try and discover the grievances of both sides, and endeavour to obtain from the rulers and statesmen of the various nations their aspirations for the future. This I succeeded in doing, for the various monarchs of the Balkans graciously gave me audience; and from their Ministers, from the middle classes, and from the peasants, I was enabled at last to form some conclusion as to the real situation-political, economical, social, and financial.
The writer who attempts to place the various Balkan questions impartially and clearly before the public will at once find himself utterly confused, and wallowing wildly in a morass of misstatement and misrepresentation. The Balkans are torn by race hatreds, party strife, and the intrigues of the Powers. The Turk hates the Bulgar, the Serb hates the Austrian, the Roumanian hates the Greek, the Albanian hates the Montenegrin, the Bosnian hates the Turk, while the Macedonian hates everybody all round. What is told to one authoritatively one hour, is flatly contradicted the next; therefore it is not in the least surprising that in the European Press there have been so many misstatements about the various Balkan questions, the real truth being so very difficult to obtain.
I have, however, endeavoured to obtain it, and at risk of being injudicious, to place before the reader the facts as they are, without any political bias, or any seeking to gloss over the many glaring defects of administration of which I have myself been witness.
To describe the beauties of the Bocche di Cattaro, that series of winding channels where the high grey mountains rise sheer from the water, would be only to traverse old ground. Suffice it to say that I landed at Cattaro on a bright, sunny noon, and found upon the quay a tall, lean mountaineer who had been sent to meet me.
To the traveller fresh from the West the Montenegrin costume of both women and men is very attractive, but a few days in the Balkans soon accustoms the eye to a perfect phantasmagoria of colour and of costume. Pero was my driver's name, and I noticed that around his waist was a revolver belt, but minus the weapon. I inquired where it was, and with a grin he informed me that Cattaro, being in Dalmatia, the Austrians would not allow Montenegrins to bring arms into their country; so they were compelled to leave them on the other side of the frontier, ten kilometres distant.
My bags packed upon the three-horse travelling carriage and secured with many strings, and Pero equipped with a plentiful stock of cigarettes, he mounted upon the box, whipped up his long-tailed ponies, and we started on our eight-hour ascent of that great wall of mountain that hides Montenegro from the sea.
As we ascended through the little village of Skaljari we entered upon a magnificent road, said to be one of the greatest engineering feats of modern times, and steadily ascended, until at the striped black-and-yellow Austrian boundary post we crossed the frontier, and were in the "Land of the Black Mountain"-Montenegro. Across the road, at an acute angle, a row of paving-stones marks the frontier, and soon after- wards we found ourselves in the wildest and most desolate mountain region. At a lonely roadside hut Pero obtained his big, serviceable-looking revolver, and I, of course, wore mine in my belt; for in Montenegro or Albania arms make the man. A man unarmed is looked upon as an effeminate coward. Indeed, by order of Prince Nicholas every Monte- negrin must wear the national dress, both men and women, and every man must carry his revolver when out of doors.
Four hours from Cattaro we were in a lonely mountain fastness, a wild, desolate, treeless region of huge limestone rocks of peculiar volcanic formation, which gave them the appearance of a boiling sea. The views over the Adriatic as we turned back were so superb that, despite photographing being strictly forbidden on account of the fortresses in the vicinity, I could not resist the temptation to take one or two surreptitiously. On, through a bleak, uninhabited country, we at last reached the guard-house of Kerstac, and then half an hour later found ourselves upon a plateau where, in the centre, stood the small clean village of Nyegush, the ancestral home of the reigning family, and the scene of most of the Montenegrin wars of independence. Here we halted for half an hour at the post-house, and before we left, the big, lumbering post-diligence, with its armed guard, came up behind us.
Before we moved off again it had grown dark, the moon shone, and for four hours longer we alternately climbed and descended through that wild region of silence and desolation, until at last we saw, deep below, the lights of Cettinje, the little capital, and an hour later brought us to the unpre- tending "Grand" Hotel.
Hardly had I entered my room when there came a loud knock at my door, and a tall, scarlet-coated Montenegrin warrior, armed to the teeth, entered and saluted. For a moment I looked up at him aghast, but the mystery was solved when, next second, he handed me with great ceremony a telegram from a dear friend in England wishing me God- speed. I had taken him to be, at least, one of the Prince's bodyguard, and he was only a plain telegraph messenger!
This was but one of many surprises in store for me in Montenegro. Next morning I went out to look round the clean little capital, when, on passing the Prince's palace, I saw a number of soldiers drawn up, and as I went by, the band suddenly struck up the British National Anthem! I raised my hat, halted, and stood puzzled. Surely they were not honouring me! Another moment, however, and I recognised the reason. In a carriage, accompanied by the Grand Marechal of the Court, there drove up my friend Mr. Charles des Graz, the newly-appointed British Chargé d'Affaires to Montenegro, who was about to present his creden- tials to His Royal Highness the Prince.
Montenegro is perhaps the most interesting country in all the Balkans. Cettinje, a small, clean town of broad streets and one-storeyed, whitewashed houses, is a little city in the sky, lying as it does in a cup-shaped depression at the summit of a high, bare mountain. Its long, straight, main street reminds one very much of a small country town in England, if it were not that everyone is, by law, compelled to wear the national dress, and every man has in his belt his big, long- barrelled revolver, without which he must never go out of doors.
The men, sturdy mountaineers, are of fine physique- handsome fellows, all of them. Their dress consists of dark blue baggy trousers, white woollen gaiters, raw-hide shoes, a scarlet jacket heavily braided with gold, and a small round cap, with black silk around the edge and the crown of the same colour as the jacket, bearing the Prince's initials in Servian letters, "H.I." The women, who are particularly good-looking, wear dark skirts, beautifully hand-embroidered blouses, and a kind of long coat, with open sleeves of soft, dove-grey cloth. Forbidden to wear European hats, they are compelled to adopt an exactly similar cap to the men, except that the crown is embroidered instead of bearing the royal initials.
Nowhere have I seen such glorification of the male as in Montenegro. To the men, born fighters as they are, work is undignified; therefore the women toil while the opposite sex look on. I saw women employed in building operations and performing work which, in other countries, is left to day- labourers.
Cettinje is quaint in the extreme. The only houses of foreigners are the various Legations, and the only foreigners are diplomats with their wives and families. The first thing that strikes the stranger is the number of petroleum tins. Opposite the hotel I saw a great ring of empty tins, numbering some hundreds, ranged around a fountain. A few women were squatting gossiping, and an armed policeman lounged against the water-source. On inquiry, I found that there was a water famine, and the tins had been placed there at dawn to await the moment when the authorities thought fit to allow the people to get their daily supply. The women had gone away to work, and would return later. The Monte- negrins a short time ago constructed a reservoir, but there was a crack in it, so the water ran away. Hence the famine.
The petroleum tin is never out of sight for a single moment in Cettinje. At any hour, and in any street, you see women and children carrying them. They are used for everything, from milk-pails to flower-pots.
In Cettinje one comes for the first time up against the dark-faced, scowling Albanian in his tightly fitting trousers of white wool striped with black, his dirty white fez, and the swagger of superiority in his gait. He is well armed, and for a good reason. The Montenegrin hates the Albanian, because of the constant border feuds over at Podgoritza, where blood is constantly spilt, and where I have seen a Montenegrin in the market squatting over a basket of apples with a loaded rifle.
That morning I was chatting to a man in Montenegrin dress, of whom I had bought some excellent cigarettes, manufactured by the Montenegro Tobacco Monopoly-an Italian syndicate, by the way and happened to mention that I was on my way to Albania. "Ah, gospodin!" he exclaimed, holding up both his hands, and glancing at the revolver in my belt. "Take my advice.
Don't go into Albania or Macedonia. You are not safe there from one moment to the other. For half a word they'll shoot you dead as easily as they drink a glass of wine. No man's life is worth a moment's purchase there. I'm Albanian myself from Kroja-and I know."
This was scarcely reassuring. I looked about me on every hand as I strolled through Cettinje. All was so quiet, so orderly, so very peaceful there, even though the big, burly mountaineers in the gold-laced jackets eyed me with askance as I passed. Not without some trepidation I took a number of photographs, for I had heard that, like the Turk, the Monte- negrin was averse to having his counterfeit presentment put upon paper. Nevertheless, the first feeling of insecurity having passed, I very soon found myself quite at home in Cettinje, and in the midst of very good and kind friends.
A good many foreigners come up from Cattaro to pry about Cettinje for a day or two, buy picture-postcards and antique arms, sneer at the honest Montenegrin, and return into Dalmatia. Towards such, the Montenegrin is not par- ticularly polite. But those who go to Cettinje to seriously and thoroughly study the people and their future will find a great deal of genuine and charming hospitality.
My first day in Cettinje was lonely. Afterwards, until I left, I was always with friends and officials, who took the greatest trouble to answer my questions and explain matters.
Montenegro is entirely unlike any other country in the world. Its air of antiquity is particularly pleasing, while on every hand the beneficent rule of Prince Nicholas is apparent. Every man in Montenegro swears by his Prince, whom he almost worships. They call him their "father," and if His Royal Highness raised the standard of war to- morrow, every man would rise and fight to the death. The Prince is accessible to all his people-more so to them, indeed, than to the diplomats. Sometimes, early in the morning, he will sit in an arm-chair on the steps leading to the entrance of his palace, and there hear the complaints or petitions of his people. In this patriarchal way he often ministers justice. Last year he granted Montenegro a Constitution, and there is now a Skupshtina similar to that of Servia; but the people have not yet quite understood that in future they must go to the Ministers, and not to their Prince. They will see him, and nobody else.
In no country is loyalty and patriotism so strong as in Montenegro. The army is well trained, and the whole country being one huge natural fortress, a foreign enemy would experience enormous difficulty in gaining entrance. In Cettinje, even a constant traveller like myself meets with continual surprises. One day, while walking at the rear of the Bigliardo, or old palace-so called because when built the first billiard table was introduced-I heard the sound of clanking chains behind me. At first I took no notice, but as it continued with regular rhythm I glanced behind, when, to my amaze- ment, I saw a convict in leg-fetters with difficulty taking his afternoon stroll beneath the trees! There were several others on the grass plot before the prison, idling in the shadow or gossiping with their friends, who had come to keep them company!
Inquiriesshowed that most of these prisoners were murderers, not for robbery but for vendetta. In Montenegro the blood- feud is constant, and life is held very cheap. It invariably commences by jealousy, and is of everyday occurrence. Two lovers quarrel, and one is shot. Then the blood-feud commences, and unlike in Italy or other Southern countries, the vendetta is not only upon the murderer, but upon his next-of-kin. Therefore, if the assassin escapes into Servia, Bosnia, or Turkey, as he so often does, the brother of the dead man takes up the feud and kills the assassin's brother without parley when next he meets him. I myself saw a man shot dead one night in Ryeka, at the head of the Lake of Scutari, and the murderer walked coolly away undeterred. It was the blood-feud, and no one took much notice.
"S'bogom!" (God be with you!) It is the expression you hear on every hand in the Balkans. In the streets the peasants touch their round caps in salute and exclaim, "S'bogom!" When you leave for a journey and when you return, when you rise and when you go to rest; even if you go for a short walk-it is the same. Life is so uncertain in those wild regions that the protection of the Almighty is invoked upon you always, and your revolver is ever ready in your belt.
In Cettinje I had a faithful guide and servant, a black-eyed, somewhat sinister-looking Albanian, named Palok. He travelled with me through Montenegro and Albania, and was most faithful and devoted. Besides Albanian and Serb he spoke a little Italian, and possessed a keen sense of humour.
One day, while we were travelling through the wild, bare mountain, a perfect wilderness of huge boulders without a single tree or even blade of grass, we halted for our midday meal, and while eating he told me of a great friend of his who had recently been killed at Spuz for vendetta, and he added, fondling the butt of his revolver, "I too, gospodin, shall die before long."
I looked at him in surprise. His usually humorous face had changed. It was dark and thoughtful, and his black eyes were fixed upon me.
"Is there a blood-feud upon you, then?" I asked, in surprise.
"Yes," he replied briefly; and though I endeavoured to persuade him to tell the story, it was not until the following day that with some reluctance he explained.
"A year ago my brother Tef, away in Scutari, fell in love with a beautiful girl. He had a rival-a young Albanian, a coppersmith in the bazaar. They quarrelled, but the girl-ah! she was very beautiful-preferred Tef. Where- upon the rival one night took his rifle and laid in wait for my brother in the main street of Scutari. Early in the evening he left the house of the girl's father, and as he passed the fellow shot poor Tef dead."
And he paused as his brow knit deeply, and his teeth were set tightly.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well, gospodin. What would you have done had your own brother died a dog's death? I took a rifle, and within a week the murderer was in his grave. I shot him through the heart and then I left Scutari."
"And you are safe here, in Montenegro ?"
"Safe! Oh dear, no," he answered. "One day-it may be to-day-the fellow's brother will kill me. He must kill me. It is Fate-why worry about it? It does one no good."
And the marked man, the man doomed to die at a moment when he least expects it, rolled a cigarette and lit it with perfect resignment.
"And are you not afraid to go with me back to Scutari?" I asked, amazed at his fearlessness.
"Afraid, gospodin!" he exclaimed, looking at me in reproach as his hand instinctively wandered to his weapon. "Afraid! No Albanian is afraid of the blood-feud. I have killed the murderer, and his brother must kill me. It is our law." And the doomed man smiled gravely.
"And the girl?" I asked.
"Ah! They are all the same," he answered, with a quick shrug of the shoulders. "A month ago she married a tobacco- seller a man old enough to be her father. Poor Tef! If he could but know!"
"And the blood-feud still continues?"
"Of course-until I am dead."
Then Palok smoked on in silence, entirely resigned to the fate that awaits him. He knows that one day, as he walks along the road, the sharp crack of a hidden rifle will sound, and he will fall to earth, another victim of a woman's fickleness.
S'bogom! God be with you!
CHAPTER II
AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS
The Palace at Cettinje-A cigarette with the Prince-The policy of Monte- negro-A confidential chat-His Royal Highness's admiration for England-His views upon Macedonia-He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania, but I persuade him to help me-His Highness's kindness -Souvenirs.
HIS Royal Highness the Prince will be pleased to grant you private audience at four o'clock this after- noon, gospodin."
The tall, burly aide-de-camp in the little round cap, high boots, pale blue overcoat, and pistols in his belt, saluted, and we shook hands.
It was then three o'clock, and I was just about to go out to visit Madame Constantinovitch, the mother of Princess Mirko. So I had to return at once to my room and dress for the audience. The kings and princes of the Balkans have a habit of summoning one at a moment's notice, and paying visits at unearthly hours.
Here, in Cettinje, in the heart of these wild, desolate fast- nesses, one seems so far removed from European influence, yet how great a part has this rocky, impregnable country, with its fierce soldier-inhabitants, played in the politics of Eastern Europe, and how great a part it is still destined to play in the near future!
The fact that everybody is armed gives the stranger an uncanny feeling. The man who brings one's coffee wears a perfect arsenal of weapons in his sash, and one quickly acquires the habit of carrying a revolver one's self. Indeed, if you are wise, you will carry a good serviceable weapon from the moment you enter the Balkans to the moment you quit them. But if you approach the Albanian frontier, you will be at once warned not to fire without just cause. A few shots is sufficient to alarm the whole neighbourhood for many miles, and on hearing the alarm every man seizes his rifle and flies to the rendezvous, fully equipped and eager for the fight with those Albanian border tribes, of whom I afterwards had the good fortune to be the guest.
I had already had a long chat with Prince Danilo, the Crown Prince of Montenegro, whom I found a very smart and highly educated man, fully alive to the political difficulties of the neighbouring states and the necessity of Montenegro preserving her independence. He held very strong views upon the terrible state of affairs in Macedonia, and gave me many interesting details about his own country.
Having met him, and also his younger brother, Prince Mirko, I was particularly anxious to make the acquaintance of their father, Prince Nicholas, the ruler of the sturdy, warlike dwellers of the "Land of the Black Mountain "-the principal and most striking figure in this remarkable country, where peace and war walk ever hand-in-hand.
Since 1860, when his uncle, Prince Danilo, was assassinated, he has ruled justly, if somewhat sternly, and has succeeded in raising his nation from a state of semi-civilisation to the high place it now occupies in the Eastern world. In 1888 he gave the country a Civil and Criminal Code, and last year he granted a Constitution. Indeed, he has done all in his power to induce his warriors to follow the arts of peace without forgetting those of war.
At the hour appointed, the royal aide-de-camp called in a carriage and drove me to the Palace, a long, dark brown building of somewhat plain exterior, as befits the home of a fighting race, where I was received in the great hall by half a dozen bowing servants in scarlet and gold. Here I was met by the chamberlain, who conducted me up the grand staircase and into the great audience-chamber, with its many fine paintings and highly polished floor. Then, after a moment, the Prince-a brilliant figure-entered, shook me by the hand, and welcomed me to Montenegro.
These formalities ended, His Royal Highness said in Italian, "Come, let us go into yonder room. We shall be able to talk there more comfortably." And he led me into a smaller chamber, where he gave me a seat at the table where he sat.
The afternoon was gloomy, and dusk was creeping on, therefore upon the table a great antique silver candelabra had been set, and by its light I was enabled to obtain a good view of the ruler of Crnagora, the "Land of the Black Mountain."
Of magnificent physique, tall, muscular, with hair slightly grey, he bore his sixty-five years lightly. Attired in the splendid national costume of scarlet, blue, and gold, with high boots, he wore a single decoration at his throat, the Cross of Danilo, of which Order he is Master. Upon his hand- some, well-cut features the candles shed a soft light, causing the gold upon his dress to glitter, and I noticed, as I asked him questions, how his dark, keen eyes shot quick, inquiring glances of alertness.
After the first few minutes of regal formality His Highness's manner entirely changed. Putting ceremony aside, he pro- duced his cigarette case of crocodile skin, with the royal crown and cipher in gold in the corner-offered me a Montenegrin cigarette, took one himself, lit mine with his own hand, and then we fell to chatting.
In the delightful hour and a half we smoked together I asked the prince-poet many questions, and learnt many things. He explained several difficult points in Balkan politics, which to me, an Englishman, had always been puzzling. We spoke in Italian of Macedonia and of a certain well-known foreign diplomat in London who was our mutual friend, the Prince giving me a very kind message to deliver to him.
Presently I referred to the splendid result of his rule, and related to him a little incident which had occurred to me in Nyegush a few days before, as showing how deeply he was beloved by his nation. A smile crossed his fine open countenance as he replied simply, "I have done my best for my people-my very best; and I shall do so as long as God gives me life. I am happy to believe that my people appreciate my efforts."
"And now, Monseigneur," I asked, "will you tell me what is the present position of Montenegro?"
"The present position is peace," was his prompt answer. "I have granted a Constitution, and the first meeting of the new Skupshtina has been held successfully. Though the Albanian question is always with us, I am thankful to say we are on the most excellent terms with Turkey, while towards Russia we are pursuing our traditional policy. For the Emperor Francis Josef of Austria I have nothing but the most profound admiration, and I owe very much to him."
"And towards England, Monseigneur ?"
"England has been, as you know, Montenegro's very best friend," replied the Prince. "I, personally, have the greatest respect and admiration for your great country. We Montenegrins always remember that it was Mr. Gladstone who gave us the strip of seaboard on the Adriatic with Dulcigno. He was our greatest friend, and his memory is respected by admirer by every man in Montenegro. Of Tennyson, too, I am a great I am very fond of his poems."
"You are a poet yourself, Monseigneur," I remarked, remembering that more than one poetical drama from his pen had been successfully produced on the stage.
His Royal Highness smiled, and puffed slowly at his cigarette.
"I have written one or two little things, it is true; but nothing of late."
"I wonder if I dare ask your Royal Highness to write a few lines for me as a souvenir of my visit?" I asked, not without some trepidation.
"Ah!-well-I won't promise," he laughed. "All depends whether I'm in the mood for it."
"But you will try, won't you?
And the Prince nodded assent.
Then we spoke of Servia and of recent events there; but he was not inclined to discuss the question, and naturally so, when it is remembered that his daughter was the late wife of King Peter.
Returning to the burning question of Macedonia, I saw that he was well informed of all that was transpiring around lakes Presba and Ochrida and down in Serres.
"It is a monstrous state of affairs," he declared. "Something must be done at once, for as soon as spring comes again the massacres will increase."
"But there are outrages, tortures, and massacres every day," I remarked.
"Ah yes," he sighed, "I know. Most terrible details have reached me lately. But you are going to Macedonia yourself, and you will see with your own eyes."
"And what, in your opinion, would be the best settlement of the question?" I inquired.
"There is but one way, namely, for the Powers to call a conference and place Macedonia under a governor - general, who must be a European prince. The reforms would then be carried out, and the Greek bands expelled from the country. How long will Europe tolerate the present frightful state of affairs?"
"The fact is, Monseigneur, that we, in England, are very ignorant of the true state of things, or even of the facts of the Macedonian question," I said.
"Ah, there you are quite correct. If your English public knew what was really happening-how an innocent Christian population is being slaughtered and exterminated because of international rivalry-they would cry shame upon those responsible for this wholesale murder and outrage. But" -he smiled-" I almost forget myself. My position as a ruler forbids me to talk politics, you know!" And we laughed together.
"So you are going to Servia, Bulgaria, Roumania, and to Constantinople-eh?" he remarked a little later, when we had lit fresh cigarettes. "In Bulgaria, and also in Roumania, you will see many things that will interest you. The Bul- garians are very strongly armed, and so are the Roumanians."
"Her Majesty the Queen of Roumania has also promised me audience," I said.
"When you see her, will you please present to Her Majesty my most cordial respects. She is so very charming."
"I want, Monseigneur, to visit Northern Albania, leaving Montenegro by Ryeka and Scutari. Would that be the best route, do you think?"
"What!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Do you actually contemplate visiting the tribes up in the Accursed Mountains?"
"Certainly. Why not?"
"Well, my advice is, don't think of going there. If you do, you will never return. You'll be shot at sight, like a dog. You have no idea what those uncivilised tribes are like. The whole country is utterly lawless."
"So I understand. But I've also heard that the Albanian possesses a deep sense of honour. And I thought that I might possibly obtain permission from one or other of the chiefs."
The Prince was silent for a moment. Then, looking at me across the table, said-
"Do not go. It is far too great a risk."
His advice was the same that my, friends in London had given me; the same that I had received there, in the market-place of Cettinje.
But I was determined, and pressed His Royal Highness to assist me, at last receiving his promise of help. By his kind permission, the Albanian named Palok acted as my guide, and what eventually happened to me in that wild region will be seen in the following pages.
"Well," exclaimed the Prince at last, "if you go up there, it must be at your own risk. I've warned you of the danger. No one has been up there for many years. It has been at- tempted, of course, but travellers have either been held to ransom, and the Turks have been compelled to pay for their release, or else they have simply been shot by the first Albanian meeting them. The country beyond Scutari is the most unsafe in the whole Balkan Peninsula."
I replied that I intended to make the attempt.
"Well, then, I wish you buon viaggio," he laughed. "May every good luck attend you, and as we say in Montenegro - S'bogom! (God be with you!) When you return for I suppose you will pass this way down to the sea-come and see me, and tell me all about the Skreli and Kastrati country -for of course I am highly interested. They are always at war with our people on the frontier."
"I will let your Royal Highness know the moment I am back in Cettinje," I promised.
Then rising, he gripped my hand warmly, saying-
"Then I will help you if I can. Be careful of yourself, for I shall be anxious about you. Again, S'bogom!"
And the Prince accompanied me to the head of the grand staircase, where I made my obeisance, turned and descended through the rows of armed and bowing servants ranged in the hall, charmed by His Royal Highness's graciousness towards me and by the pleasant chat I had enjoyed.
When, after my journey through Northern Albania, I one afternoon re-entered that audience-chamber, and he came forward with outstretched hand to greet me, he exclaimed-
"Well, well! I am so glad to see you back safe and sound. You look a little thinner in the face a little travel-worn- eh? Life in the Albanian mountains is not like your life in London or Paris, is it? But never mind as long as you are safe," he laughed, placing his hand kindly upon my shoulder.
"Come along to this room. It is more cosy," and he led me to the smaller apartment, his own private cabinet.
For nearly two hours I sat relating to him what occurred on my journey, and describing the wild country which had, until then, been practically a sealed book. Even though Cettinje is so near, hardly anything was known of the Skreli, the Hoti, the Klementi, or the Kastrati tribes, save that they were brigandish bands who constantly raided the Montenegrin frontier.
The Prince listened to me with great attention, and put many questions to me as we smoked together.
Then rising, he took from a drawer in his great writing- table a small scarlet box, and as he opened it he bestowed upon me a compliment undeserved, for he said -
"There are few men who would have risked what you have done. Therefore I wish to invest you with our Order of Danilo, as a mark of my appreciation and esteem."
And he displayed to me the beautiful dark blue and white enamelled cross of the Order, the same that he was wearing at his throat, surmounted by the royal crown and suspended upon the white ribbon edged with cerise.
After he had invested me with the Order, saying many kind things to me, which I really don't think I deserved, he added-
"The chef du chancellerie will send you the diploma in due course, and I trust, when you petition your own gracious Sovereign King Edward, that His Majesty will allow you to wear this insignia."
I thanked His Royal Highness, gripped his hand, and a few minutes later passed through the line of bowing servants out of the Palace.
And that same evening I received from His Royal Highness the signed photograph which appears in these pages.
Before I left Cettinje I received the following expressive lines, written especially for me by a Montenegrin poet who is a great personage, but whose name he would not permit me to give. They are in Servian as follows, and I have placed their English translation below :-
S' veledušnog Albiona
Pružiše se dvije ruke
Crnoj Gori da pomogu
U junačke njene muke
S' vrućom rječu na ustima
Gladston diže Crnogorce
A Tenison za najprve
U svijet ih broi borce
Na glas svoih Velikana
Britanski se narod trže
Da pomože da zaštiti
Crnu Goru iz najbrže
Posla svoje bojne ladje
Sto na tečnost gospostvuju
Veledušno da zaštite
Domovinu milu Moju
O fala ti po sto puta
Blagorodni lyudi Soju
Dok je svjeta dok je greda
Nad Ulcinjem koje stoju
Hraniće ti blagodarnost
Ova šaka sokolova
Koima si u pomoci
Stiga putem od valova.
The literal translation in English is as follows:-
From the great-souled Albion,
Two arms were stretched
To help Montenegro
In her heroic sufferings.
With fiery word on his lips
Gladstone lifts up Montenegrins,
Whilst Tennyson declared them
The very first fighters in the world.
On the call of their great men,
British people rose up
In quickest manner, to help
And to protect Montenegro.
They despatched their war-ships,
Which rule over the seas,
Generously to protect
My Fatherland so dear to me.
Oh! thanks to thee, hundredfold thanks,
Noble race of men.
As long as the world lasts,
As long as the mountains above Dulcigno stand,
Will remain grateful to thee,
This handful of falcons,
To whose help thou didst come
By the road of the waves.
- An Observer in the Near East - William Le Queux. Publisher, E. Nash, 1907.
\**
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2024.05.09 14:13 Angel466 [Bob the hobo] A Celestial Wars Spin-Off Part 1009

PART ONE THOUSAND AND NINE
[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]
Sunday
“Dad! For crying out loud, I haven’t got my shoes on or anything!” I shouted, having no clue where we were at that moment and not particularly caring.
“Good thing you’re not walking through the front doors downstairs then, or you might’ve seen the huge sign that says, ‘No shoes, No shirt, No service’,” a different voice said, though I couldn’t see who had spoken with Dad standing between us.
I leaned back and to one side and spotted a guy that had my build and was an inch or so shorter than Dad (but still way taller than me), resting his butt against the front of a mahogany desk with his arms folded and his feet crossed at the ankles. His long black hair was loose and almost reached his elbow, and between that and his skin tone, he was basically a headdress short of a Wild West extra.
With that unasked-for opinion, I realized I was being a world-class jerk and silently apologized to him.
Dad turned with me when I moved around him to stand in front of this guy who looked too much like family not to be Uncle Barris.
“So, you’re my nephew, huh?” he asked, unfolding his arms enough to hold his hand out to me. He didn’t try to stand up, which I appreciated as it kept him at eye level with me.
“Apparently. Sam Willcott,” I said, taking his hand.
“So I heard.”
Remembering my conversation with Uncle YHWH, I hmphed in amusement as I shook his hand.
His grip increased. “What’s so funny?” he asked, no longer quite as friendly as he’d started out.
I saw no harm in telling him. “Uncle YHWH pointed out how often I use the word ‘so’. Maybe you’re where I inherited that trait from.”
Instead of laughing along with me, he suddenly threw himself fully onto his feet with his left hand clamping onto my shoulder as he stared down at me. “When the fuck were you talking to Uncle YHWH?” he demanded, a hair’s breadth away from shaking the answer out of me, I was sure.
“I—yaah—ahhhh…” I blustered, feeling as trapped as any prey he’d ever hunted.
Dad saved me from answering by grabbing Uncle Barris’ fingers and peeling them from my shoulder. “Lay off, Barris. Sam talked with him a while back before he knew what was what, and nothing happened.”
“He could’ve…”
“Uncle YHWH could have done a lot of things,” Dad agreed. “He hasn’t, and it’s not like we haven’t seen his angels around the place. You know wherever they are, he’s watching and hearing everything.”
Which is how he knew about what I’d said at Tucker’s place this morning. I’d been wondering about that after he told me he couldn’t leave consecrated ground. I discreetly rubbed the back of my leg against the front of the other, feeling through my pants the lumps of the braided rope bracelet with a handful of tiny shells woven into it. Somehow, I’d forgotten that part.
“Let him go, Barris.”
The hand that still gripped mine was finally released, but instead of stepping backwards away from him, I went to the side and twisted slightly to look at them both, not sure who I was more annoyed at.
“Take a breath, Sam,” Dad ordered, letting his brother go to focus on me. “You’re okay.”
I did, but not for the reasons he thought. “Uncle YHWH doesn’t hate any of us, and he didn’t attack any of you. How could he? He’s the one guy who’s stuck in Heaven, and you think he somehow attacked all of you in Mystal … which, to my understanding, is nowhere near Heaven.” I had no idea if that was the case or not, but the way YHWH talked about missing his family, I had to assume they were a long way apart not to cross paths sooner.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, boy,” Barris growled, and Dad moved a few inches forward to partially shield me.
“Maybe I don’t,” I agreed if only to end this stupid, circular argument. “Or maybe I do. You know he didn’t do it, so why are you roping him into your ban on all elders? He can’t have done anything. He wasn’t even there.”
“Because he’s still capable of bringing the Elder Court of Mystal to us, Sam,” Dad answered for Barris. “While we stay out in the open, away from the churches, anyone who comes after us has to cross native ’Faolian ground on the pryde’s nesting homeworld to do so. The pryde will be all over them the second they set foot outside a church.”
“However, if we go into said church, he can have the Elder Court in there waiting for us, and there’s nothing we can do to stop what happens next,” Barris concluded.
Dad squatted slightly so I didn’t have to keep looking up at him. “You’re a hybrid, Sam. A blend of mortal and divine. I’ve told you, the first thing they’ll do when they get their hands on you is kill you for existing.”
“No,” Barris said, shaking his head and rubbing his lips. “The first thing Mom’ll do is use him as bait to lure you and the other four in. Then, once she has all five of you in custody, she’ll make you all watch as she kills him slowly to teach you never to spawn another.” His eyes met Dad’s. “This is Mom we’re talking about.”
I died a little inside when Dad breathed out slowly and didn’t argue. “But Mom’s pregnant with three more!” I squeaked, finally getting the picture.
“Not if your grandmother gets her hands on her,” Barris said. “And she will. As soon as she finds out we’re all missing…”
“She already knows,” I said, and that definitely got their attention. “They all do. Uncle YHWH says Uncle Chance has been leading the search for Earlafaol for a while now since the only one to have ever walked the path is Uncle Avis—whatever that means—but he also said something keeps moving the search party around. It takes a bit for Uncle Chance to get his bearings again.”
“They’re on their way here?” Barris repeated, going very pale for an American Indian.
“Listen to what else he said,” Dad barked, shoving his brother in the shoulder to snap him out of it. “Something’s running interference with their search.”
“Sam doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about!”
“But Uncle YHWH does. He always has.”
Again, they both turned their attention to me. “What exactly did he say?” Barris asked.
I knew I couldn’t guess this, so I internalised and relived that hour of conversation up in Inwood before answering. “He said he’s known all along where you all were because he saw Lady Col save you all through the Ophanim she keeps on her.” I glanced at Dad. “And he said Aunt Heshbon has been trying to use her ophanim to come here directly, but he hasn’t been letting them through. C’mon, Dad. You know Uncle YHWH’s on our side here,” I insisted, wishing they’d believe me.
“He might come across as that…” Barris argued.
“Oh, come on!” I snapped, barely resisting the urge to stamp my foot like a toddler. “He is! He didn’t even get mad at me when I unintentionally messed with worshippers this morning!”
“Wait, what?!” Dad was suddenly right in front of me, blocking Barris. “You told me you were going to Gerry’s for breakfast,” he reminded me.
Crap. Me and my big mouth. “I did—I mean, we did. But then her dad’s best friend, who also turns out to be Gerry’s godfather, showed up, and we got into a religious discussion.”
“About what?”
I shrugged, not really wanting to go into it. “Stuff,” I answered evasively. I could tell from the look on his face that that wasn’t going to cut it, and I cleared my throat. “You know I’ve never been interested in religion, and after you showed me … what you did,” I added cautiously, glancing around him to Barris, who was hanging off my every word. “I started asking them questions about how things worked from their side for context. Apparently, that’s a no-no.” I shrugged, almost amused by their slack-jawed look. “Who knew.”
“You talked to him again today?”
I huffed and nodded. “It’s why I didn’t really want to come here. I’d just gotten back from frozen wasteland Chile where he had Michael…”
“Michael?” Barris repeated.
“Yeah – Michael. Big dude. Green wings. Total tool that’s full of himself.”
“That sounds like him,” Uncle Barris said with a nod.
“Anyway, when we got back, he was waiting on the sidewalk for us. He said his boss wanted to talk to me and wasn’t taking no for an answer. Very mafia-ish, if you ask me.”
One of Dad’s hands went to my shoulder. The other cupped my chin and twisted my head from side to side. “And you’re positive he didn’t hurt you?” he asked when he couldn’t find any physical injuries.
How many times did I have to say the same thing? “No!” I insisted. "He said he liked my curious nature, but he explained why I couldn’t ask people questions and asked me to direct all my questions about Heaven to him. Since he asked nicely, I agreed, though I mainly did it because I didn’t want him turning into something else because of anything I accidentally said. I like him the way he is.”
“Llyr, I’ve never really paid much attention to the hybrids,” Uncle Barris said, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and two fingers as if he had a headache. “Are they all this high maintenance?”
“If you think this is bad, wait until you meet his human roommate. And what’s worse, the true gryps have fallen head over ass for that little prick and won’t let anyone touch him. He’s even got War Commander Angus wrapped around his little finger.”
“Aw, fuck off. That cold psycho doesn’t care about anyone but the pryde…”
“HEY!” I shouted, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. “You leave Angus alone.”
Barris stared at me. Genuinely stared at me. “He’s serious,” he finally said, pointing at me while looking at Dad like I had to be crazy for my stand.
Dad smirked and nodded. “Angus has mated, so he’s not the same as he has been. Since his latest return from the border, he’s more or less adopted Sam and all his roommates like an extended clutch. They’re as protective of him as he is of them. Trust me, it takes a bit of getting used to.”
“Wait—Sam and the humans are protecting a true gryps war commander?” Barris asked with a derisive squint.
Oh, I just looooooved being talked about like I wasn’t even there ... especially when I didn't even want to BE there in the first place! “Well, this has certainly been fun. We should do it again sometime. The end of the year sounds soon enough,” I said, throwing one hand up in farewell and already turning far enough away from Dad to walk forward.
“Take one step into the celestial realm, and I’ll hunt your ass down and drag it right back here,” Uncle Barris warned.
“Then include me!” I shouted back, rounding on him. “Stop talking about me like I’m not even here, or I won’t be!”
Dad’s hand clamped firmly on my shoulder again, and I genuinely thought after his last warning that he was going to knock me into next week for my crappy attitude. But when I looked up at him, he was practically beaming with pride.
“That’s my boy.”
Wait, are you … taking credit for…whatever this is? When I realised he was, I wanted to kick him in the shins so bad—just not quite badly enough to commit suicide. What surprised me was Uncle Barris started chuckling.
“Spoken like a Mystallian,” he said, walking around his desk to sit down in the high-backed office chair. He leaned to one side, pulled out one of the lower drawers and placed three tumblers on the desk, along with what was becoming a very familiar nameless wine bottle.
“None for me, thanks,” I said as he uncorked the wine bottle and poured two fingers into the first glass.
His querying gaze met mine. “Why not?”
“The first time I tried it, I didn’t think I could get drunk and overindulged.”
“Too shitfaced to stand,” Dad clarified. “My staff had to bathe him, and he remembers just enough to be humiliated.”
I slowly turned my head towards Dad. “Thanks,” I deadpanned, for I could’ve gone the rest of my life without Uncle Barris knowing that.
Uncle Barris chuckled some more and added the same amount of ambrosia to the other two glasses. “Here,” he said after passing the first one to Dad. He nudged my arm with the other. “This small amount won’t do anything; you have my word. Not even a buzz. I’d like a decent toast with a real drink to commemorate our first meeting.”
I thought about that, knowing I could stick to my guns and say no, but also appreciating the fact that he hadn’t tried to strongarm me. He’d said what he wanted, and if I said no, I think he’d have been disappointed but okay with it.
As such, I accepted the drink. “It’s on you if muscle memory kicks in and I throw up all over you,” I warned.
“Good luck hitting a hunting god.”
“Cheers,” Dad said, raising his glass.
Uncle Barris and I tapped our glasses against his and I threw back the drink.
And wonder of wonders, I didn’t die. Not even when I licked the remnants from my lips and sighed happily at the empty glass.
I could’ve also done without the knowing look Dad and Uncle Barris shared though …
…just saying.
[Next Chapter]
* * *
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!
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2024.05.08 23:26 Angel391982 The Everyday Chaos of Children

Cambria-Morning
The day for the inhabitants of the estate begins usually, when the sun is starting to become visible. However, today was not one of those of days. Little Riki, Layra and Ferra, woke up with such high, playful energy, the early morning servant staff were surprised to see the three youngsters invade the kitchen.
Bellanna trotted through the north hall of the estate with a pair of servants in tow. "We're so sorry Mistress Annabella, but those three got away from us!" one of the servants explained. She had no idea when it happened, but apparently Riki, Layra and Ferra became a threesome of trouble. It was bad enough Riki and Layra were troublemakers in their own right, but they somehow influenced Lanara's first daughter to join them.
"I wouldn't worry about them getting away from you, it's not being able to find them, that becomes an issue" Annabella replied, her long white hair was done in a braided tail. it bobbed, swayed and bounced with her movements. Knowing who she'll be helping recapture, she chose to wear breeches instead of the form fitting dress she liked wearing. Vaylin and Fangir's only son Riki has been known to be a skirt diver. Whether he picked that up from his father, or he just learned it on his own, is unknown. But little Riki knows quite a few of the women in the house, gush about him and shower him with attention and love, which seemed to make him brazen. Fangir has been seen correcting that behavior out of his son, but in the same breath, show huge amounts of affection toward Vaylin which includes both of them getting handsy with each other. Especially after what happened with Kiora and Roth being lost on two different planes of existence. Their love was almost unrepairable, but they held on. So, ever since then, the two were inseparable.
"Over there!" the other servant cried pointing two a little tail vanishing around the corner. Annabella and the two servants made their way in that direction. The trio can hear their playful giggles as they got closer. Rounding the corner, all three children squealed playfully and made a run for it. Little Riki dodged under one of the servant's skirts, causing the Tiefling woman to gasp and lock her legs, falling to her knees blushing while the three kids got away.
Lashara, Slithera, and Fangir's two sisters were in the playroom watching Baby's Astra, Wicca, Nissa, Nessa and Samus crawl around while giggling wildly. However, the noise of the three energetic toddlers, got them to smirk. "They're at it again" Kaila commented while picking up Samus who crawled to her.
Lashara chuckled, Tyrande was still a little too young and hadn't figured out crawling yet, so she was in a sling napping against her chest.
"I so want a baby now!" Kaila spoke up suddenly, after putting Samus back down to resume crawling. Hannah chuckled but shared the sentiment. "What about you Slithera? Have you thought of having a baby?" Hannah added looking to the Gorgon woman who became one of her good friends.
Slithera blushed but smiled at the thought of having a baby. "Not really. With all that has been going on over the years, I haven't really had time to even think about becoming romantic with anyone, let alone have a one nighter with someone" she shrugged as she picked up baby Nissa. The baby Tiefling giggled and toyed with Slithera's coiling, slithering, long scales while giggling wildly.
Inara and Vlaad entered the playroom, which resulted in all the babies smiling big. It was Wicca and Astra who apparently got overly excited while giggling, their little hands grasping, when both of them let off little flashes and pops from their hands. This startled them, which caused them to do it again, which then resulted in both baby girls begin to cry. Which ended up becoming a domino effect for the other babies including the once sleeping Tyrande. It was a huge, loud chorus of crying that can be heard all over the estate.
Vlaad and Inara both couldn't help but wince at the noise while they comforted Nissa and Nessa. The other three as well as a couple of servants who were in the playroom, successfully calmed the babies down, just as Vaylin and Fangir entered the room and took Astra and Wicca into their arms, comforting them further.
"It's not just Kiora and Roth who have powers, Wicca and Astra also have them" Inara spoke up, nuzzling Nissa, while Vlaad did the same with Nessa.
"Really? So soon? extraordinary!" Vaylin commented while nuzzling one of her twins, causing her to burst out in giggles. Sure enough, Astra giggled so much, her little hands emitted the same little spark, which startled her again, but Vaylin kissed her and soothed her before she can start crying.
Out in the back gardens, twin siblings Burai, Kou, Vaylin and Varina, oversaw Kiora and Roth, their cousins, sparring. They were impressed with how quickly the pair of nine-year-olds picked up the training when they turned eight. It also occurred to them how alarmingly similar the two girls were to their adopted sister Vaylin. They even looked like smaller versions of their mother, even with the subtle Elvish differences from Fangir.
Kiora and Roth continued to train using their wooden swords. The clacking revealed patterns and even beats as if they were musical instruments. Both girls were identical in fighting styles for the most part. They would charge, spin in place, their swords clacking together, then proceed to strike, block, strike, block and strike again. They never really witness their mother fight, but they somehow knew how she moved. It helped, Vaylin would spar with them whenever their baby siblings were asleep or looked after by the other adults in the estate. Then the girls used their sound attack, when they clacked their wooden swords together. The force pushed the girls back and away from each other a few feet. The two pairs of siblings gawked in shock at the display of sound magic. Then their resumed sparring until both girls stumbled back from each other, breathing heavily and visibly tired.
"Well, it seems they have greater control over their magic output. From What Kiora has explained, she was taught how to harness and concentrate her magics and powers" Varina spoke up and handed her two exhausted cousins water skins. "That will be enough for the day" Varina said softly as her twin sister Vaylin helped them up.
The trio of troublemakers finally started getting picked off. Little Ferra was the first. She didn't see her mother hiding above her until she swooped down gracefully, plucked her up and glided away onto the nearest set of stairs. She giggled wildly from it. Next was little Layra, her mother snuck up on her from another hallway and snatched her up, tickling her, she giggled wildly as well.
Little Riki finally noticed his sister and cousin weren't with him. The funny thing about Riki being one of the three major troublemakers, he was also a scaredy cat. If he found himself separated and alone, he would begin to fuss and even cry. Which he started to do now. He heard footsteps approaching him and looked through teary eyes and saw his father. "Poppa!" he cried while Fangir picked up his son and soothed him.
Vaylin watched from afar and smiled lovingly at the man she loved dearly. She still feels guilty for almost ruining what they had due to fear. She then approached them, kissed her son, then Fangir. Their children calming down now, they joined the rest of the family.
The babies were being passed around; laughter was in abundance. Chit chatter was equally abundant. Fangir bonded with his son, as did Tommen with his. Little Layra and Ferra both made a mess of their food, causing them to erupt in wild giggles. The servants were highly amused and aided the parents by cleaning their little faces with wash cloths.
Annabella just got Astra in her arms when the distinct sound of a wet poot happened, the sudden shock on the baby's face came then the very familiar scent and Astra beginning to wail. "Uh oh, someone needs changing!" Annabella chuckled but held a hand over her nose. Wicca, who was just being passed to Slithera from Lashara, did the same. "Wow! Even you?!" she chuckled and comforted the soiled child while holding her nose as well.
Vaylin guffawed and with the aid of Fangir, they took their crying babies upstairs to be cleaned up, while Layra and Riki remained at their seats amusing themselves again. After a few minutes, Inara herself noticed Vaylin and Fangir were taking a little longer than needed to change their children. When they returned, with both babies in their arms, she noted the highly satisfied grin on Vaylin's face.
"Do I need to spray you two with water next time?!" Inara asked chuckling. Fangir and Vaylin blushed brightly, knew they were caught, and skillfully distracted everyone by passing Wicca and Astra to them again.
"You didn't, you know, in front of them, did you?!" Lanara came over to Vaylin and whispered into her ear. Vaylin shook her head "No" and resumed their lunch.
Fangir and Vaylin just put Wicca and Astra down for their naps, when Vaylin's hands started caressing his sides and hips. The obvious, predatorial smirk on her face as he returned her energy, and they started kissing again. Her arms around his neck, her tail wrapping around his waist, they were hungry for each other again, but were interrupted with an amused, clearing of the throat, catching their attention.
Inara stood there, left brow arched, an amused smirk on her face, her hands covering Riki and Layra's eyes. "I swear, I definitely need to carry cold water with me everywhere now. Do I need to have Slithera take you to another plane, then go back for you after a while?" she asked rolling her eyes.
Fangir chuckled, letting go of Vaylin and checking on their two youngest who were sound asleep, while Vaylin patted her son's and daughter's hair after Inara took her hands away from their eyes. "I'm sorry Momma, but I still feel incredible guilt over what I did to Fangir. I can't help but show him how much I love him" she replied with a smile looking back at him. Fangir chuckle and kissed Vaylin's cheek and the three guided the two toddlers out of the room.
"I've already forgiven her too. But even I feel guilty for how our union almost ended. I was in such a dark place, I was willing to kill that woman after finding out what her plans were and even if she told me there was no way to undo what happened, I would have killed her anyway. Then I was greatly heartbroken from Vaylin's words, spoken from a place of intense fear, that I actually got my things out of our room and packed up because I had plans of traveling to find a portal spell to search for our daughters" Fangir explained as Vaylin nuzzled his neck, rewrapping her arms and tail around him.
Inara chuckled and caressed her adopted daughter's face and Fangir's with a caring smile. "I am glad you two rekindled your love. I'm also glad you didn't kill that woman. I admit, I wanted to as well, I was so scared for my grandbabies. But that has passed now. You two are stronger than ever. Try to space your alone time out though and contain yourselves around your children" she replied and left with Riki and Layra to put them down for their naps, giving them a hint they are now free for now.
Back in their room, Fangir sat naked on their bed, watching Vaylin strip out of her casual dress. He watched her and found himself, not only still very much in love with her, but also still highly impressed by her. When she approached, he caressed her sides, her belly, her soft, heavy breasts. He traced the scars on her body, on her bust, her arms, hips. Each caress got her to sigh to him. Her tail slowly swaying. He loved everything about her. They both gained some weight over the years from having six children, but they remained fit. She straddled him and they started to kiss deeply, taking their time with each other.
"My love. I forgive you. Always have. Marry me again" he whispered, and she smiled, tears flowing down her cheeks as she kissed him. "Yes. I belong to you. You belong to me" she whispered back, and they made love uninterrupted.
Inara and Vlaad just put down Riki and Layra, as well as Nissa and Nessa. Holding each other's hand, they slow danced to no music, just to themselves.
Lanara and Tommen just put their two children down for their naps and it must have been in the air, because they quietly retreated to their rooms, stripped and made love as well.
The two sets of teenagers, along with Lilianna, Kiora and Roth, Annabella, Slithera, Hannah, Kaila and Lashara with a napping Tyrande in her sling, decided to go into town.
"What do you think sister? Will Momma bless us with another child or two?" Roth spoke up with an amused smile on her face. Kiora chuckled, as did Lilianna and Slithera. "Did you see how our lovely parents act with each other? Especially after we returned from lost on different planes. They can't keep their hands off each other, so it's a good bet, we may have another sibling or two in the future" Kiora replied with a chuckle.
The group wandered the shops and carts. Tyrande awoke at some point, became fussy with hunger, Lashara adjusted the top of her dress to feed her.
At some point, the group was on their way back home, when Roth spotted movement in the shadows of the woods. Curious, she made her way over to see, catching the others by surprise.
"Roth? What do you think you're doing?!" Lashara spoke up first, her mother voice coming out, a look of concern on her face. Though Kiora and Roth were not her children, their father was the father of Tyrande, while she tried not overstepping any boundaries or lines, she felt she must treat these two as if they were her own.
"I saw something Aunty Lashara, I was curious" Roth replied still heading in the direction of the movement she saw. Lashara gulped, she then looked to Slithera who nodded and went after her. The group as a whole, chose to follow Slithera's lead anyway, who followed Roth.
"Sister, what did you see?" Kiora whispered as they entered the bush and exited, now entering the woods. It was Varina who spoke up next.
"Roth, you do realize that none of us are armed right?" Varina whispered as well. To her mild annoyance, her little cousin ignored her as well. Eventually the group came upon what Roth was curious about.
"Oh no!" Hannah whispered, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. The group came upon a dead Owlbear, freshly killed and around the animal was three cubs. All sitting, nuzzling their mother's paw. One of the cubs, a brown with black spots decorating its hide and front arms, turned to see them and instead of becoming fearful, the little animal made a mournful sound.
Kiora and Roth both let out little sad sighs, visibly on the verge of tears when they just approached the little trio. Oddly, all three went over to them as well when the other two finally noticed them. The two girls hugged them while Slithera approached and placed a hand on the larger animal.
"She's gone. I can't bring her back. If she were still alive, I could have healed her" Slithera spoke up sadly and gently closed the former mother's eyes. The group then became aware of a pair of rough sounding, male voices approaching.
"I told you she came this way. The poison she ate wasn't enough" one male voice spoke up. The pair of human men finally appeared, they were hunters, both dressed in boiled leather and had armor bits. Both also had long swords in scabbards on their backs. They stopped when they saw the group of women and children. Two of the children were holding the cubs.
"Well, well, besides getting 50 gold pieces for the cubs, I think we can get even more for a Drow, a few Tieflings from the looks of them, some kind of Elf I've never seen before, oh and a few are children as well" the taller of the pair spoke up, causing the darker skinned Elf to clutch her sleeping baby closer to her.
"So, you're the monsters who took these cubs mother from them. Cowards. Especially if I heard you right that you used poison" Slithera spoke up, her long scales coiling in agitation, her briefly shining.
Burai and Kou both stepped forward and got into side view fighting stances that mirrored each other. One fist clenched, one hand open and flat in a "Stop" position. "I can tell you now, you won't be alive much longer, if you don't simply turn around and go" Kou spoke up staring right at them. Vaylin and Varina also stepped forward and mirrored their brothers except both girls had one palm open and facing down, the other open and facing up.
The pair of hunters simply smirked and unsheathed their swords and began to approach when they both grunted, pausing in their tracks and before the curious siblings' eyes, turned to stone.
"Enough of that. Let's go home" Slithera spoke up. She placed a hand on the dead Owlbear, whispered some final words to her and reluctantly let nature take its course.
Inara, Vlaad, Lanara, Tommen, Vaylin and Fangir were in the dining room chit chatting when they heard the estate doors open and the voices of their loved one's float to them. But then they heard three new sounds, little squarks and coos from three animals.
"Momma! Look what we rescued!" Kiora called to her mother. A look of dread showed on Vaylin's face as the children and adults that accompanied them came into the dining room.
Inara let out a startled noise, her eyes getting big. Vlaad closed his eyes and sighed, as did Fangir and Tommen. Lanara was just simply shocked into silence.
"Girls, what did you do?!" Vaylin spoke up finally and stood up from her husband's lap approaching slowly. The three cubs watched her curiously and when Kiora and Roth whispered to both of them, the three cubs seemed to cheer up and trotted over to her.
"We couldn't just leave them there, momma. Their own momma was dead, poisoned by a pair of hunters. They wanted to take us as well to sell us, but Aunty Slithera stopped them" Kiora explained as her mother couldn't help but give the three cubs reassuring pats. Fangir approached as well, his hand glowing green, the cubs accepted him as well.
"You two realize looking after them is a huge undertaking, right?" Vaylin said to her two eldest daughters. "That includes exercise, food, where they sleep, so on" she added.
"We understand Momma, they can sleep in our room!" Roth spoke up with a huge smile, which got a startled reaction from Inara herself. Vlaad just face palmed but was highly amused. The two girls then took the cubs out into the bag gardens to show them around.
Slithera and Lashara approached once the girls were out of earshot. "Roth is more like you, I think. She saw movement and went to see" Slithera explained with a chuckle.
"These hunters, did they see you?" Vaylin asked, a serious tone to her voice while she watched her eldest girls go out back. Slithera explained everything including the part where the hunters were no long a threat since she turned them to stone. Vaylin nodded, then smiled at Tyrande and took her from Lashara, nuzzling her, causing her to giggle and squeal.
"Ahh, the chaos of children" Inara spoke up causing laughter to erupt all around. The day went on and ended with the newest members of the family settling down in Kiora and Roth's room in little beds of their own. The servants were now aware of the Owlbear cubs and accepted this new reality, as did the entire family.
submitted by Angel391982 to dndstories [link] [comments]


2024.05.08 01:58 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 56

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
What were supposed to do? Be sent back to Telkan where the next attempt on our lives would surely succeed?
No.
We went with the Mad Lemur of Terra, part of Decken's Irregulars.
And we fought. Fought to the bitter end. Fought in the ashes. Fought in the emerging green of a new spring. Fought in the jungle of ignorance and barbarism.
We raised our voices and shouted "WE WILL NOT SUBMIT!"
And emerged both more and less than we had been on that fateful day we went to see the Cathedral. -Meditations on the Barrier War, Lancer First Class Imna, Free Telkan Press, 25 Post-Terran Emergence
Captain N'Skrek doublechecked his tunic before the lift doors opened onto the 'show bridge', which was at the 'rear' and 'top' of the massive siege engine ship.
While the primary bridge, the battlebridge, even the aux-con, were all in the middle of the ship and heavily armored, for some reason he felt as if it was only right for him to stand on the "show bridge" for what he was about to command to be done.
As he stepped out the crew on the show bridge did not turn away from their jobs. Contrary to popular media, nobody yelled out 'Captain on the Bridge" or "Attention on deck!" or anything close to that.
N'Skrek knew the drill. They had all done a mic-check to ensure they could hear each other over the show-bridge com-channel, then over suit links, then over general coms. Then their consoles had been checked for function and connection.
Now, they were all busy.
True, there was a half-dozen consoles open with greenies working on them, green mantids that had been found frozen in cryo-bays in a section of the ship that nobody had found for the thousands of years the ship had been in operation.
New corridors, passages, storage spaces, berthing areas, manufacturing facilities, were being found and mapped every day.
N'Skrek cleared his head as he pulled a self-light from where his antenna merged with his skull, putting it between his mandibles and puffing on it to get the self-light to work.
LT (Junior Grade) Scarlet Strontium Sunset-6371992, the shipboard master digital systems control digital sentience, appeared in the holotank off to the side as N'Skrek headed to the main holotank.
"Nav-Int has suggested placing message torpedoes, multi-stage ones, to go to the missing systems, then backtrack back into Confederate Space, with recordings of everything that happened here," Sunset stated.
N'Skrek nodded.
"Additionally, at Nav-Int's suggestion, the computer systems in the fruit flies, torpedoes, missile pods, all show that they were launched from Weber-VII class missile wagons as part of a Task Force that was over here," Sunset said. She tapped a box in the holotank eight light-hours up and to the 'left' of the rings. "Just in case the enemy manages to somehow salvage viable non-volatile computer memory and storage."
"Excellent idea," N'Skrek said. He sat down and folded his bladearms in front of him, resting his chin on the armored and spiked 'wrist' joint. "What are Nav-Int's projection of how the artificial singularity will perform?"
"Anything out to a light week will be pulled back in. Everything out to a light month will be slowed by a large factor. Nav-Int estimates that if the artificial singularity holds up for at least six months anything within two light weeks should be pulled back and into it," Sunset said. "It should slow the other constructs down far enough that starvation effects should reduce their size considerably."
N'Skrek nodded, still staring at the holotank.
"Additionally, it will pull in and destroy any clusters that warp out from the previous waypoints in the re-energizing ladder," Sunset said.
"Any idea what wavelengths they're using to recharge the clusters?" N'Skrek asked.
Sunset nodded. "Yes. They're emulating standard cosmic ray output of a G2V stellar classification mass."
"My compliments to Nav-Int," N'Skrek said. He looked it over. "Signal DEFCON to stage one. Wake up the fruit flies," he said. "We will execute the fire plan fifteen minutes after we get green on at least 80% of the elements."
Sunset nodded, able to feel the tension ratchet up on the show-bridge.
99999
He was clad in a pressurized flight suit that held his body together. His visor was sealed and closed, liquid atmosphere moving through the tube implanted in his chest, so he technically didn't 'breathe'. He knew that his body was unfinished, mostly existing as a life support system for his brain, but he also knew that it didn't matter.
Clone War Lyfe, baby.
Rickytofen-773E6A, "Ricky" to his friends, closed his eyes as he went over his most recent memories.
Being launched as something called "Sucker Punch", he could remember heading toward the massive interdimensional wormhole that had been disgorging strange, almost 'grown' ships into the system.
I wonder if I made a difference in that war so long ago? he thought to himself. If I tagged at least two enemy ships, I made a difference. I wonder if I survived through the wormhole? I wonder if what I did mattered at all?
He shrugged, the atrophied muscles off of his neck not really connected to any support structure.
It didn't matter. That was the last mission, the last war.
This mission.
This war.
That was what mattered to a Clone War Trooper.
His ship was a high tech marvel. Coated with stealth materials, a millipede drive that used tiny rippling 'flows' of grav-energy spikes to travel silently and stealthily to the target. The ship was basically a cockpit, sensor package, drive, and energy plant wrapped around an artificial singularity C++ mass driver, with four 'wings' of missile pod launchers that launched twelve pods each. Those pods contained twenty-four missiles wrapped in a circle around a C++ cannon.
He knew that when he fired, the singularity cannon would compress all the mass down and add it to the payload. The artificial singularity would 'spin up' while the 'round' flickered in and out of hyperspace. He would be crushed down, his mass added to the singularity, his mass the leading tip of the 'lance' that would strike the target.
Around him were hundreds of his fellow 'fruit flies', all of them like Ricky.
All of them Clone War Troopers.
Not the vaguely feline faced 'cat-girls' or 'anime girls' of the Dead Hand Systems.
Actual Clone War Lyfe.
His ship was connected to the nearest four via a thin cable of superconductor, to keep all emissions at the bare minimum, so they could all talk to each other.
It was largely silent on the Clone Channel.
Like Ricky, the others were processing their last memories.
There was a beep and he checked it. Request for pre-mission initiation status check.
He thumbed the button for green.
Ricky knew there was a weird thing with the SUDS and Clone War Lyfe.
For a split second, maybe even as long as a tenth of a second, the SUDS would record the experience of his existence after death. When he was reloaded or when his brain was spun up in the Born Whole system, he would be able to remember that split second.
What it was to be pure mathematical packets rather than matter as most people knew it. The red-shift and streaking of the stars. The split second, too small to really understand, filled with sensations that couldn't be explained.
He felt his SUDS spin up and start recording live.
The DEFCON strip, using old incandescent bulbs and colored plastic, went from DEFCON TWO to DEFCON ONE.
He flipped up the cover on the firing stud and loaded the targeting data.
Ricky closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
"ENGAGE" lit up.
He pressed the button, felt the missile packs unload the missile pods.
Then the strange sucking, pulling, stretching feeling as he was converted into the C++ singularity tipped shell.
99999
The superluminal communications buoy went live, activating the superluminal sensor network.
The majority of the massive siege engine ship shut down, going to emergency zero-point reactors and metal over silicon integrated circuits with firmware level programming. Only the show-bridge and the deeply buried secondary aux-con stayed powered. Quantum computers shut down, molecular circuitry went dead and were 'pumped' to be in a neutral state.
Captain N'Skrek watched the results in the main holotank of the show bridge, slowly breathing through his leg spiracles.
Tens of thousands of Fruit Flies launched within 0.75 seconds of the order.
There were between twelve and twenty 'rings' per 'chute' that the Mar-gite clusters were moving through. Eight chutes. Just over nine thousand Mar-gite clusters waiting to 'refuel' by going through the rings over the course of an hour.
Each 'ring' took fifteen to twenty hits by the C++ cannons. Each 'strip' that connected the rings together to form the 'chute' took five to seven, usually two on the terminal attachment end and one in the middle.
Additional missiles and singularity tipped C++ rounds streaked out to strike at the Mar-gite constructs. Even if the singularity held for an entire five seconds, the Tera and Peta size constructs could, theoretically, survive even two to four hits.
Unlike other vessels and structures, a damaged Mar-gite Construct, even if ripped into multiple pieces, would just join back together into a smaller construct.
For a second, it looked like nothing had happened, even as flashes appeared on the structure of the rings and the 'straps' that held the vast megastructure together.
Then plain physics did its work on the megastructures. Rotation, sheer forces, and structural stresses started ripping the entire structure apart.
"Scanning and Science are getting good readings back from the radiation cascades from the hits," Sunset said.
N'Skrek just nodded, staring with his chin on his bladearm wrists. He tilted his head slightly so his captain's hat, festooned with gold braid, tipped down slightly, covering his large compound eyes slightly.
He could feel the show-bridge crew's confidence increase at his own blasé attitude.
A massive section of one of the rings tore free and scythed through the Peta-Cluster that was charging as well as the four Mega-Clusters and four Tera-Clusters orbiting around it, all them slowly rotating. Chunks, that Captain N'Skrek knew were billions, trillions of Mar-gite, flew off, shedding smaller pieces.
The singularity tipped C++ rounds and the singularity missiles hit the constructs less than a second after the ring was hit. Some, the smaller Clusters or Kilo-Clusters, vanished, pulled into itself. The larger ones tore into two, three, four pieces.
"Wait for it," N'Skrek said softly.
"CONTACT! NEW CONTACTS! ONE, THREE, FIVE, SEVEN! CONFIRMED SEVEN!" someone called out.
The new contacts flashed in the holotank, which was driven by micro-vac tubes rather than integrated chipsets.
"Here it comes," N'Skrek said.
He heard the whistle over the copper wire shipboard communication system to alert all hands to prepare for what N'Skrek knew was coming next. Sunset curled up in the fetal position, closing her eyes, and seemed to get sucked away into the vanishing point of an invisible horizon.
SAFE appeared in red letters in the holotank.
The bridge closed their visors on their armored vac-suits and went to passive only, atmosphere maintained by pressure systems rather than electronics.
There was a series of white flashes that permeated the show-bridge. Shadows vanished as everything disappeared in the equivalent of a flashbang the consumed the entire bridge. A few consoles imploded, sparks and arcs of electricity crackled around various metallic surfaces. The speakers gave a howl of static.
Then it was over.
N'Skrek blinked away the purple spots in his vision.
"Seven flashes, each separated by one tenth of a second," one of the sensor crew called out.
"Confirmation of high bursts of artificially generated phasic energy in pulse," another called out.
N'Skrek wished he could smile as he knew what was happening now.
'Submarines' had been positioned around the area, sunk deep into the subspace foam, their torpedo tubes hot and loaded. The 'flash' would knock out their 'periscope' and they'd be surfacing already, their instruments running hot.
For long moments the only thing N'Skrek could hear was the hissing in his suit. Then his HUD rebooted, crashed, rebooted again. The fans came on and N'Skrek took a deep breath. His visor cleared and he could see around the show-bridge.
The lights flashed three times.
Power came back to the bridge.
"Targets breaking up. Looks like the subs at Box-Tango were only six seconds torpedo time from the contacts," someone said.
N'Skrek just nodded.
"Wait for it," he said softly.
"SubTac-Tango diving," N'Skrek heard.
He just nodded.
Time went by slowly. The huge megaconstructs were breaking apart, the Mar-gite clusters were still shredding.
"Nav-Int has a probable vector for Mar-gite and Unknown Contact approach," someone else called out.
N'Skrek just nodded.
Time ticked by.
"CONTACT! Near Box-Echo!" was called out. "SubTac-Echo surfacing!"
"Contact is in the gigatons, unknown ship, no attendants," tactical operations relayed.
N'Skrek nodded. "Shut us down again."
Everything went dim, the incandescent bulbs taking a moment to warm up to light the bridge.
"You are about to see why one trick ponies lose to the most adaptable," N'Skrek said softly.
"Echo firing," was said softly but with firm authority. "Echo is diving."
There was another flash. This one made sparks jump off of almost every surface. N'Skrek saw his faceshield go completely white for a split second before it blanked out again. He could see hundreds of dead pixels scattered across the transparent display film.
Fans kicked back on, the lights flashed three times.
The bridge went live again.
"Target is drifting. Massive damage," someone called out.
N'Skrek unfolded his bladearms slightly, tapping the surface of the console in front of him with the needle points.
"Send the nearest boarding parties," he said softly. "Lets find out who these guys are."
99999
Private First Class Jaskel felt the dropship he had been napping inside of go live. He opened one eye, looking around the bay at the rest of the company.
Everyone was in their Helreginn Mark VI Type IX Anti-Mar-gite Full Contact Powered Combat Personal Protective Equipment Systems, AKA Hell Suits, everyone tricked out for boarding action.
Wonder what we're heading for, he thought to himself.
He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
We'll get there when we get there.
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.07 09:41 Away_Instance1008 Feel like I’m waiting for the inevitable.

The past two years have been a hard one for my husband and me. We started trying two years ago, and from the start I had a feeling it wouldn’t work out. A year later we confirmed that my husband had MFI and we would have to do IVF.
I didn’t really want to do IVF, I didn’t think it would work, and that we’d be sinking money into false hope. But, I thought I would also regret not trying, that I had to try so I didn’t have any doubts or regrets.
Almost another year and two rounds of IVF later, we got pregnant with our daughter. She was the only embryo we got.
After almost two years of fighting, we were very cautious with our happiness. It felt like every time we let ourselves think this was it, we had to remind ourselves that it might not be. We didn’t make any announcements, didn’t buy and baby things, didn’t do anything except take the prenatal vitamins.
Then we had our 12 week scan. And it was good. Everything looked good. A healthy baby. We finally started to be happy, started to plan. My husband started to clean out the spare room to use as a nursery, we told friends and family. We started to picture our life with our baby girl.
And then we had the 20 week scan. Ventriculomegaly, on the high-end of mild, low-end of moderate. Might resolve on its own. Has a 90% chance of a ‘normal’ outcome.
It felt like the end for us. While the statistics indicated we should have hope, we had already fallen on the bad side of statistics so many times before.
2 weeks later and the measurements are a little bigger. Not indicative of anything, within the normal range of error for the imaging. I wasn’t convinced.
Now, at 26 weeks, it’s progressed to severe ventriculomegaly. The doctor said we should wait for the mri in two weeks, that we just don’t have enough information to know the outcome yet. My husband wants that information too, but to me it feels like delaying the inevitable by another two weeks.
I don’t know how to get through another two weeks of this. Of eating healthy, taking my vitamins, and showing up to work like my life isn’t falling apart. Another two weeks just to be told what I already know?
It kills me seeing my husband so destroyed. We both know this will be our only baby. There’s no way we can do IVF. He would have been an amazing father. I still have visions of him showing our daughter around the garden he’s spent years cultivating. Can still see him taking her to her sport matches. Braiding her hair.
We have a nine month old puppy, who would have been her best friend and partner in crime.
This all feels so cruel after the last two years. We fought so hard to only get 6 weeks of happiness. Then six weeks of the most unimaginable pain of my life.
I just want this to be all over. The only reason I want this next two weeks is so I can finish the two blankets I am working on.
I know I have to somehow get through this next two weeks, but it’s so hard when it’s just going to be for the inevitable.
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2024.05.07 02:49 artisfunyeah Confusion and possible realization? (In a weird hard to read ranty formation!)

So my whole life I always thought people were lying, I mean in school we’d do group meditation, and they’d describe a scenario and tell you to picture it in your mind. I always just saw the back of my eyelids, I mean I could “imagine” it but I didn’t actually see anything? So normally I’d just go to sleep and take it as an excuse to skip gym.
I never realized, that people weren’t lying, they could actually see! Not just their eyelids?
Now here’s where my confusion sets in, because I can imagine things? Like an apple it’s red, round with two bumps on top, but I can’t see it? Like I can? But I can’t see it? Its confusing.
When reading books I do visualize but I don’t think I do? Let me explain, so like my friends say they can see it like a movie in their head, not just the words on the page? How? I can’t see anything, I can think of it, like associating “ok the grass is green, there’s a river over there” because I know what a river and grass is, but I can’t see it, it’s not an actual image, it’s just… components? If that make sense?
I struggle to decide whether I’m assuming I have something, or if I actually do, because I understand it as a concept? I can imagine things, but I can’t see them?
I dream every night multiple times a night, when I think back to my dreams they aren’t a clear visual though, I mean I can think that I know they’re in first person most of the time, but often I only remember the plot, not what I actually saw?
I have an active imagination and I like to draw, but I don’t “see”my drawings beforehand? I do but I don’t? like I know what I want to do, and how I want it to turn out, I don’t see it though, it’s more of a concept if that makes sense? But I do see it? I don’t know how to explain that.
When I try these little experiments, I find 1) I don’t actually see anything, I just know it is a thing, it exists, I can describe it. 2) I’m often thinking of specific or past situations to come up with the “visual” or idea or whatever? Like the ball on the table test, logically I thought of a pool table because where else would you roll a ball? The ball was white, on a pool table, it was a man pushing it, but he had no face, more like a 3D model for a video game? However I’m so confused if I just made that up after the questions were asked or if I visualized it? I think I visualized it? I don’t know?
This is rambely and weird I know I’m sorry, I’m just so confused of what people mean when they can picture something? Like am I picturing it? Am I seeing it? I don’t see anything, my mind is blank but it’s a concept and a vague idea of something in my mind that I picture, and I can see it but I can’t!?!?
I don’t know! I talked to my friends after reading through some stuff, and like the way they say they just see things baffles me? Like I know they don’t actually see it in the real world, but like what?
I tried that test thing, but it just confused me because I don’t know if I’m seeing or imagining or visualizing or what!
I sent a thing of how I think and imagine and visualize, to my friends and they said they couldn’t read it, like it didn’t make sense?
The thing was me coming up with a concept for a fortnite skin, I’ll add it here (copied from a tweet):
Hi! It’s a new day, and I back with another Fortnite Greek Myth skin concept!
For this thread let’s do Demeter, Persephones mother and the goddess of the harvest!
Todays random side fact: I’m mainly basing these off of the Homeric Hymns, The Iliad, The Odyssey, Hesiods Theogony and Metamorphosis, as well as my knowledge of Greek art.
So that is why there is some conflicting information, because there’s multiple myths telling multiple different versions of the same story, as well as many different translations, so it would be impossible to be 100% accurate.
Anyways let’s get into it, so while Demeter is a goddess and would keep a youthful appearance, I want to make her appear more mature than Persephone.
Poems often talk about Demeter having blonde hair, so obviously I will start with that. Being a goddess that is so often depicted working very hard, she would have her hair up, so a messy over the shoulder braid would look nice on her. Like Persephone I think she should have green eyes, since nature.
I want to relate her heavily to agriculture, so I’m picturing a gardener type outfit. However she’s still a goddess so let’s put her in a white sundress with green flowers decorating it. At the front of the dress there should be a small apron that has golden gardening tools sticking out of it.
(I want to take a more modern approach with this skin since my other female designs haven’t really taken it.)
So let’s face it, she wouldn’t have gloves because she wouldn’t be afraid to get her hands dirty, so simply bare arms with slightly chipped pink nail polish to match the pink nail polish I put on Persephone.
In my Persephone design I added a golden necklace with a barely pendant that she got from her mother, I want Demeter to also have a matching pendant.
(Side note: you may be wondering why Demeter is so heavily related to Persephone in my design, well that’s because her Homeric Hymnn is pretty much just her grief over loosing her daughter, she loves her daughter dearly, and I think that’s crucial to her character.)
I’m thinking that maybe her dress could have small patches of dirt to show she’s been working on gardening, her knees slightly scuffed up from kneels to tend to the harvest (I know she uses powers but go with it for character design.)
She’s not like the other gods with the clean designs because she does dirty work, which is crucial to the mortals surviving.
For her shoes a simple pair of white flats would suffice, and for the little bows that are often on them it would be a snowflake instead, to symbolize how she makes winter come when Persephone is not with her.
I also think it would be important that out of the apron there is barely/wheat stalks in the pouch.
Now I think it’s only fitting that she has a sun hat, white to match her dress with the brim being decorated with green flowers.
As another small easter egg, I think one of her back shoulders, she has a frozen poppy tattoo, as it is her main flower, and another nod to the icy winter she brings. I know this design is rather simple, and doesn’t scream goddess, but I feel Demeter is far more motherly in nature, and I don’t enjoy the way media portrays her as an overbearing mother because they twist the tale of Persephones abduction into a romance story for their own obsession with the love story of good girl x bad guy. The actual poem is sad and distressing, and it states multiple times how Persephone did not want to go with Hades, she was abducted and tricked by him.
While I know ancient times were different, people hold Zeus and every-
I’m cutting that off earlier because it just goes into me rambling, but basically I’m asking, is this how you guys think as well? Like when I thought of it, I didn’t “see” it? I just.. words? But I did see it?
I asked my parents to imagine the red star with closed eyes, one couldn’t see anything like me, the other said they could perfectly and was baffled we couldn’t.
This post is all over the place I’m sorry, I’m just so confused, I should add I have diagnosed ADHD and OCD (which affects 2% of the population, which is another low statistic similar to this? Is there a connection?) if that often correlates?
I tried to use an AI to explain it to me like a toddler, but the AI said stuff about a movie theatre and yeah it just confused me more.
Two last things: I’ve always excelled academically because I think in numbers and words, and I think logically about things. I’ve seen that mentioned too? I also have terrible eyesight, like astigmatism and a really high prescription, coke bottle lenses.
I preferred chapter books as a kid as opposed to picture books because I could imagine, but I never saw a movie in my head? I saw words on a page, that I would often have to reread over and over to fully grasp. I still have to reread lines over and over often, my mind wanders, but I’m pretty sure that’s the ADHD.
I also asked my friends about the taste thing, and apparently they can ACTUALLY taste things when they see/think of them? I can’t, what the hell do they mean they can taste?
When I draw I more or less just go with the flow, which is a statement that contradicts my other one but it also doesn’t in a weird way in my brain? Like I have an idea of what I want, but I also develop as I go.
I just don’t understand, because I see but I don’t? Am I normal and overthinking the human psyche, or am I like you guys?
What are your experiences, are they similar?
I would also like to add, I’m not like complaining, I’m just confused, and intrigued with the weird psychology of the human mind.
I’m sorry if this post makes no sense, I just kinda type as I think haha
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2024.05.06 12:34 book59213 Hair style help

I have very long hair and I don’t know how to style it. Currently, it reaches halfway down my thighs and it’s a lot to have untied. If it’s down it just gets caught on everything and everyone so I rarely do that. I usually have it braided so it can stay out of the way, but I really want a way to frame my face so I look a little more put together. Ponytails don’t really do anything but lift my hair off of my neck, they don’t hold my hair out of the way. My face is a bit round and too masculine and I want to have a bit more of a feminine presentation. What should I try to frame my face but also keep my hair out of my way and protected?
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2024.05.05 19:13 Opposite-Distance-85 AITA for not wanting to pay a professional to do my hair and makeup for my friends wedding?

I (22F) am the maid of honor in my friends wedding (also 22F) in a little less than a month. She is marrying her high school sweetheart. I have been friends with the bride we will call her Ellie since childhood. I moved out of state after high school and she stayed in the state where we grew up. To visit, it costs roughly $1000 round trip for flights and abt a 12 hr travel day due to connection flights and certain airports only having certain airlines.
When I visit I typically try to do so in a week long period so I have travel days spread apart and can see family and friends over the week.
Ellie and I have spent a lot of time on the phone planning her wedding and other wedding events like the bachelorette party etc. Our drama started when she wanted me to go in person to all her wedding coordinating appointments. Like go to multiple venues, floral shops, cake testing, picking out a wedding dress etc. I mentioned how I would absolutely love to but with being a full time student out of state I really can’t afford to visit on random weekends and miss working at my part time job. I have to pay for school, rent, food etc and I don’t make a ton of money at my job atm.
She sounded pretty upset over the phone and didn’t understand why I couldn’t make it. (She also was raised in a very wealthy household and is the only daughter who has been respectfully spoiled in many ways and not told “no” too often) I tried to explain my money situation and said I was sorry I just couldn’t make it unless it was during my summer break (I’m also taking summer classes so there’s about a week between the end of spring and summer semesters) and we try to make all the appointments fit in that time frame and I visit her and my family that week.
She hung up on me then called back about 20 minutes later saying if I was going to make her do it all at once then I should pay for our accommodations and transportation to and from the different appointments. I was a bit confused what she meant but thought maybe she meant like she wanted me to drive her to the different spots and maybe pay for food/snacks on the way. Since I assumed she was getting married near where we grew up. I said sure and we left it at that.
I booked flights back home for summer break and about a week leading up to summer break I get a Venmo request from Ellie for $800. I messaged her saying she requested the wrong person for rent money since it was near the begging of the month. It was then followed by another $750 requested labeled “rental car”. I called her to ask what was going on and she said the $800 was for a hotel for us while I was visiting, 4 hours away from our hometown where she wanted to look at wedding venues and the $750 was for a rental car to get me from the airport and to that area. I asked why she would get a wedding venue that’s 4 hours away from where all her guests live including herself and future husband and what he thought about it. She said she wanted to see what else was out there besides the venues everyone in that area always uses. I started getting a bit pissed off cause this was the first time this was mentioned to me and this was what she had been expecting me to pay for. Also I wouldn’t have any time to see my family while I was in town. I said I can’t afford to do that and she said I can’t afford to be her maid of honor then.
I hung up and called my mom and asked her to pick me up from the airport when I arrived. Since it was too late to cancel flights and I wanted to see my family anyway I would just stay with them and possibly go with Ellie to closer venues to where we live if she changes her mind. I want Ellie to have a wedding she enjoys but I don’t see how I’m expected to pay for her travel fees and accommodations as the MOH for a potential venue.
Ellie called back saying if I wasn’t going to help her pay for that then I can at least help her pay for hair and makeup since it will be needed for the bridal party. I asked how much it was going to be and she said she can’t put a limit on her beauty for her wedding day and never gave me a number. Later that evening I got a Venmo request for $1000 dollars titled “hair and makeup”. I immediately declined it and called her asking why she wants me to pay that much. She said that would cover the cost of EVERYONE and it would be a nice gift to the other bridesmaids. I said no and I can either pay my own portion of hair and makeup or just do it myself since it’s out of my price range. She got furious saying how I wanted her to be ugly and I would be the only one to look good since I can do my own hair and makeup (she’s never learned how to braid I always would do that for her). I tried my best to keep my cool and just think that she’s a bridezilla but she’s not normally like this. I mentioned if price is a big issue for her I don’t mind helping her and the others get ready and would be more than happy to. She then said I would sabotage her and make her look bad on her wedding day. That pissed me off and I asked if that’s how she really felt why is she friends with me and asked me to be her maid of honor. She responded with “that’s a great question” and hung up.
I told my mom and started crying asking what I should do and she said I could help pay for some of the costs perhaps but it shouldn’t all be on my shoulders. She didn’t know if the wedding issues was worth ruining our whole friendship over.
Now I’m here asking what I should do? Maybe I’m just more on the broke spectrum and don’t know how much I’m supposed to be paying towards a wedding I’m in? AITA?
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2024.05.05 16:29 Yurii_S_Kh The Grandeur of Greek Pascha

The Grandeur of Greek Pascha
Xenia Klimova
Pascha is the principal festival of the Greek calendar. Preparations for Pascha begin from Holy Week, and Paschal holidays start on Holy and Great Friday, when the Orthodox have permission to be absent from work and pray in church. Xenia Klimova, an expert in Greek traditions and folklore, senior lecturer at the Department of Philology of Lomonosov Moscow State University, Ph.D in Language and Literature Study, speaks about Paschal dances, traditional cakes and cookies, and other customs associated with the celebration of the Radiant Resurrection of Christ in Greece.
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—Xenia, how do Greek people prepare for Pascha?
—Like in Russia, preparations begin from Holy Week. In Greek it is called «Εβδομάδα των Παθών» (that is, “the Week of Passion”, or “the Passion Week”) or «Μεγάλη εβδομάδα» (“the Great Week”). According to their custom, even those who didn’t keep the fast during Great Lent shouldn’t eat meat and milk products during Holy Week. Many people, especially the elderly, try to fast on only bread and water through this week. On Holy and Great Friday they only drink water into which they add some vinegar because the Savior was given vinegar when He was on the Cross.
Bells don’t ring on Holy Week in Greece. As Greeks say: «οι καμπάνες χηρεύουν» (“bells are widowed”).
Special preparations commence on Holy and Great Wednesday: people tidy up their homes and collect food for the Paschal meal. In rural areas priests visit villagers’ houses and bless Paschal food. Though in cities priests normally don’t visit homes of the faithful for this purpose, parishioners can come to church to have their Paschal food blessed.
Tsoureki
—Do they bake kulichi on Holy Thursday, as we do?
—Yes, they do. And Greeks have several varieties of Paschal cakes and cookies. For example, «τσουρέκι»—that is, “tsoureki”, which is a sweet rich braided cake topped with sliced almonds.
The second most important cake is «Λαμπροκουλλούρα». Pascha in Greek is «το Πάσχα», or «η Λαμπρή», meaning “shining”, “luminous”. Hence the name of Paschal round loaf.
It is decorated in a very interesting way: there is a cross in the center, and there are various cosmogonic patterns, like birds, spirals, and herringbone patterns, on either side.
Traditionally baking Paschal bread was associated with marriage. Unmarried young women did the baking and thus demonstrated their skills as future housewives. They would arrange fairs on Pascha and choose the best Paschal bread. The maiden who baked it was considered “a good catch” (likewise, the guy who could retrieve the cross from water on the feast of Theophany was regarded as “a man any girl would marry”).
Some of interesting examples of the so-called folk etymology are connected with the most important Christian festival. “Pascha” is a lexeme borrowed from Hebrew. But in popular consciousness it is associated with the Greek verb “pascho” (πάσχω), meaning “to suffer”. Therefore, the meaning of the feast is associated with the Passion of Christ on the Cross.
—Do they color eggs on Holy Thursday as well?
—Yes, by tradition Paschal eggs are red. But nowadays (like in Russia) eggs come in a variety of colors. They say that those who are in mourning dye their eggs blue or dark purple, though I personally have not seen this.
Commercial production is developed so much in Greece that colored hard-boiled eggs are sold in supermarkets before Pascha.
—Were there any special ceremonies observed on Holy Week?
—In Thrace, for instance, on Holy and Great Thursday or Friday people made an effigy of Judas, dressed it in old clothes, carried it around the village and sang ritual songs:
Ράτσα, κεράτσα δωσ'μια κληματσίδα να κάψουμε τον Οβριγιό πόχει πολλή κασσίδα. Οβριγιός φορεί φτερό στο κεφάλι το ξερό...
“Hey, Kind Lady, Give us a grapevine, We will burn down a Jew With bad eczema, The Jew has a plume on his withered head…”
In effect, it is a variation of the ceremony of burning a dummy of “winter” (of Maslennitsa in Russia) on Pancake Week preceding Great Lent.
—Are there Paschal holidays in Greece?
—Yes, and they last almost a week after Paschal Sunday. But in fact for many they begin from Holy and Great Friday, when people get a day off. When believers want to take their time off on Holy Friday, their employers are very understanding.
In schools and higher education institutions Paschal holidays are long enough to allow students living in Athens to travel to their native villages in the regions and back.
—How do Greeks celebrate Pascha?
—The feast begins the night before Paschal Sunday. Most Greeks come to church only to walk in the procession and then go home to celebrate the festival. Despite this, first and foremost Pascha is a religious festival for them, and they look forward to the moment when the most important event is announced: “Christ Is Risen!”
Greeks stock up on large candles beforehand. The Greek for “large candle” (for example, a Paschal or a wedding candle) is λαμπάδα. Thus, some of our terms differ. The Greek for “icon lamp” which usually hangs in front of an icon is καντήλι; the Greek for “censer” is «θυμιατήρι».
—Are Paschal candles always red?
—In Greece they are not necessarily red. When Greeks come to Russia for Pascha, they ask in amazement: “Why are your candles red?!”
—Is the Paschal meal arranged in parishes?
—No, Greeks celebrate at home. Following the festal service families gather and go to somebody’s place to eat Paschal soup, μαγειρίτσα, made of lamb pluck. As a rule, they go to the hostess who cooks this dish perfectly. This soup is not too heavy and very tasty, so it is just fine after the service. Then all go to sleep, and next morning they get up and begin the preparations for large-scale celebrations. They roast a lamb or a goat on a spit in the yard.
The μαγειρίτσα “magiritsa” Paschal soup
In Greece Paschal dinner is the most lavish meal of the year. There is even a special verb in Greek, πασκάζω, meaning approximately “to enjoy hearty and delicious food, as on Pascha”.
A wide range of dishes are present on the table: the above-mentioned cakes and cookies, colored eggs, meats…
—Do Greeks practice egg-tapping, too?
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—Yes, they call it τσουγκρίζω. One member of each family becomes the winner in this “fight”. Many Greeks like to tell stories about how one or another family member tried to trick them by using a wooden colored egg instead of a chicken egg. Greeks are sure to tell you that once one uncle had allegedly beaten everybody, that they had wanted to eat that miraculous egg, but he hid it and his fraud was exposed. Similar horse stories are also widespread in the army.
There is a custom in northern Greece (Thrace, Macedonia) which is called χάσκα. Χάσκω means “stare with one’s mouth open”. A Paschal egg is attached to a string and suspended from the ceiling, and the contestants should try and catch it while it is spinning. He who manages to eat this egg is called “a Paschal lucky player”.
Formerly, people used to collect eggshells and bury them under fruit trees so that they could produce more fruit.
In some regions of Greece people observe the custom of building bonfires on Pascha. Paschal fire is very important to them. Unlike Russians, Greeks don’t bring the fire of Holy and Great Thursday home but take Paschal Flame with them. If you observe the faithful walk home after the midnight service in Athens, carrying candles ignited with this fire, you will find that it is a beautiful sight.
At home people would cross their windows, doors, household, animals and fruit trees (not least the trees that wouldn’t bear fruit) with Paschal Flame.
Paschal Fire
Vigil lamps were lit from it and burned throughout the year or at least over a period of Bright Week.
The Paschal Flame is also conveyed to their neighbors—elderly and sick people, and those who couldn’t go to the Paschal service.
—How do they celebrate Pascha in Bright Week?
—Festivities continue in Bright Week. The first day is called «Δευτέρα της α γάπης»—that is, “Monday of love”. In the Greek regions where blood vengeance was widespread the ritual of αδελφοποιϊα (meaning “sworn brotherhood”, “fraternization”) was performed. Members of the feuding parties would make cuts on their own hands, mix the flowing blood, shake one another’s hands and thus become “blood brothers”. Of course, not only enemies could do it, but this ritual was above all associated with reconciliation.[1]
This custom has pagan roots (they would sometimes pour blood out into one cup and take turns drinking it), but the time chosen was Pascha. This tradition is familiar to everybody, though it has not been observed recently. It was very vividly described by Nikos Kazantzakis (1883—1957) in the early twentieth century. Some of my informants recounted how they “had sworn brotherhood” with somebody else decades ago.
On Bright Monday dancing parties were arranged in the square in front of the village church attended by the whole village.
In insular Greece, lads used to swing lasses or swing together with them in Bright Week. While swinging, they would sing mantinades—folk-style short romantic songs that contained two rhyming fifteen-syllable lines. As a rule, they were sung by guys. Sometimes a youth would compose such songs on the spot at the first try. For example:
Κούνια μου, κούνησέ μου την, για να βραδιάσει η μέρα, να ξημερώσει, να τη δω, να πάρει ο νους μου
“O swings, rock this girl for me, so that the evening can set in and then dawn come, so that I can see her and lose my heart to her.”
And young ladies could respond:
Που να χαρείς τα χέρια σου τα μαργαριταρένια που κούνησαν κι άλλες πολλές, τώρα κουνάν και μένα
“Admire and be proud of your pearly hands, which have swung many others and are now swinging me.”
Sport competitions are held during Paschal fairs. The winner was rewarded with the best Paschal cake baked by the most desirable prospective bride.
The festivities are normally arranged by church. Today each village has a folk society, and people try to play folk instruments, sing traditional songs and dance.
Pascha in Perachora. The 2000s
—Do priests dance too?
—Everybody dances on Pascha in Greece, and the priest is always the first to come out dancing. I used to collect local folklore in the village of Perachora in the south of mainland Greece. There are two churches there, and each family is registered in one of these parishes so it attends only one of them. On Bright Monday they would perform a spiral dance, each family in its own parish, headed by their priest. First they danced in a circle inside church, and then went outside and danced around the church. There is a road in the village which connects these two churches. So the two groups of parishioners got on the road dancing, met, danced in front of each other for some while, exchanged greetings, and walked in opposite directions towards each other’s churches while dancing, danced there, and then walked back to their respective parishes to continue their celebrations. Again, a kind of “sworn brotherhood”.
Pascha in Perachora. The 2000s
Curiously enough, now that all the old priests who used to dance on Pascha are dead, the Church has assigned new young priests to these parishes, but they refuse to dance. And old women from Perachora are absolutely displeased. They complain: “Our fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers danced, all of our priests danced, but these refuse!”
—And what do Greeks sing on Pascha? Are there any special songs, like Christmas carols?
—As a rule, these are Pascha-themed songs, but here we don’t see as much diversity as we see on the Nativity of Christ or Pancake Week. Judas is often mentioned in songs, but not necessarily.
Σήμερα Χριστός Ανέστη καιστουςουρανούςευρέθη...
“Today Christ is our Resurrection, and He has ascended into Heaven...”
True, there are metaphors and elements of cosmogony in a number of songs. For instance, we can find a metaphor of cosmic jubilation or similes which are a typical feature of folklore: “There are youths, standing like strong trees, and young maidens, like lemon trees adorned with flowers.”
But all in all, all the texts are within the limits of Christian tradition.
—But there must be some rites in addition to what you’ve mentioned.
—For example, in northern Greece, τουλούπα was prepared on Bright Wednesday. It was a torch made of sheep’s wool. A woman would kindle a huge flame and carry it while dancing at the head of a line of dancers.
As a matter of fact, sheep are traditional “Paschal” animals. One week before Pascha people would sometimes take their lambs home for a week to fatten them up. They would give them names which were associated with the feast—for example, “Lambros” (from “Lambri”), “Paschalis” etc.
Despite varying degrees of religiousness, Pascha is still the most important feast for Greeks. In Greece it is celebrated with a greater magnificence than any other festival.
Olga Bogdanova spoke with Xenia Klimova

[1] This practice is of course not condoned by the Church, and some holy Greek fathers of the Churchs have spoken against it.
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2024.05.05 13:23 DikkeVetteVlinder First garment! (Second, if you count the mockup!) Made with Ash L G’s zero waste skirt tutorial

First garment! (Second, if you count the mockup!) Made with Ash L G’s zero waste skirt tutorial
Hi sewing!
It’s been a busy week off from work! I’m a sewing novice, and before this week I had one whole drawstring bag under my belt, but this week I’ve made a basket cover to put my fabrics in, a pincushion (that I redid three times before accepting its fate, at least for now, it’s in the last pic), and then these skirts! I used Ash L G’s video on ‘the zero waste 18th century skirt that always fits’ for this specific project, but prepared for it through numerous tutorials on sewing in general, in hopes of just getting an idea of what generally works well for people. Here is the video: https://youtu.be/6xHOnS4fK2c?si=fK3gGUvRk49DueFf This skirt is one that is adjustable through ties on both the front and back, and shallow slits in the sides at the top. So, you tie it in the front and back.
For the proper skirt, I used a textured linen (I do not know the fiber content), and for the waistband a braided synthetic band. Both come from local markets and stores.
I did not need that many measurements; just waist, multiplied for desired fullness, 3x in my case, widest part of bottom, and desired length of the skirt (a meter), which made getting the properly sized panels very easy.
The mock-up was made from a really old bedsheet. I would not be surprised if it’s been around for 15 years easily, I think my folks gave me a few old ones when I moved out to study, so it was all but transparent and the original seams were yearning for disintegration. That made it great to just experiment with, but also very different from the eventual linen, which was much more firm and could be creased by hand while I’d be reaching for pins or my iron. I want to use the mock up for some experimentation with dying too, I think.
Still, it taught me many things! And by the time I was going to dive into the real deal, I felt a lot more confident. Ash L G’s video was very concise on a lot of the issues I might run into, too. I also liked the tone of video a lot; it really emphasized how many ways there are to go about something, and made this all seem a lot less daunting I still ran into quite some things (my thread is way too light for that waistband, for example, so I may end up embroidering over that), but I am very excited about the end result all the same. I struggled with getting the pleats even and they’re still not all the way there, but even though this skirt was intended to be part of a renfaire outfit, I am lounging in it as we speak. It sadly does not have pockets, as I figured without those this project would have enough things in it I was unfamiliar with that I would have my work cut out for me.
Especially the first, bedsheet, skirt has had me swearing out loud a few times, resulting in a concerned boyfriend peeking around the corner, but all the same I am greatly enjoying this hobby so far. I love long skirts, but can rarely find anything I like in retail, so the ability to make things exactly to my taste is great. Desired future projects include; pirate shirt that is technically part costume but which will absolutely worn year round, engageante sleeves, also for both renfaire and daily use, so I can live my best life, and a very cautious attempt at a corset belt, because I would love to slowly work my way up to something like a real corset. But all in due time! For now, I am very happy with my skirt!
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2024.05.05 01:44 DDoubleBlinDD Everyone's a Catgirl! Chapter 256: Through the Evergreens

First Previous Next Volume 1 Volume 2 Volume 3 Patreon Newsletter

A/N: Volume 4 Signed Paperback Bundles are now available for preorder in the Merchants of Nyarlea! NSFW bundles include sexy artwork of Naeemah!
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The last few days of their journey were some of the hardest for Keke. With each passing sun, the inevitable parting between her and Matt grew closer. The time spent began to feel shorter, and she struggled to fill the space with interesting topics or activities. The task was made more difficult considering she was stuck in a carriage for most of her waking hours.
When the day of her departure at last arrived, she struggled to stay calm.
“We are almost there,” Cailu said, peering out the window. He’d insisted on riding with her and Matt that morning, and Keke was too nervous to object.
She bobbed her leg up and down on the ball of her foot to relieve the anxiety she felt. Cailu shot her a perturbed glance but said nothing. At least the man knew when to leave a girl alone.
Matt rested a hand on her bouncing knee. “It’s a lot greener out here.”
Even from inside the cabin, Keke could smell the aroma of dew-laden leaves, fresh soil, and the excited chirps of birds in search of food for their young. As the carriage continued along the path, the scents grew stronger, and they granted her a calm she hadn’t felt in weeks. The bouncing of her knee slowed, and for a moment, she felt at peace.
“It smells incredible,” Keke remarked.
“The locals prefer to live alongside nature,” Cailu said. “Few places compare when training to become a [Hunter].”
Keke peered through the window to her right. Spires of thick trees passed them by as crystal-clear droplets of water fell from the tips of leaves. The carriage shifted as it traveled up an incline, and Keke leaned against the seat as the forest enraptured her with its beauty.
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful forest,” Keke said in a voice barely above a whisper. Her body itched to explore and see what the thicket was hiding under every rock, every mound of dirt, and what plants grew here that she had yet to see. “This…this is Khasstead?”
She glanced at the elf as he nodded.
“Excited?” Matt asked.
A pang of guilt wracked her frame, drawing up the hairs on her skin. She bowed her head and leaned back, placing her hand over his. “To leave you? Never.” The truth was that her body felt as if it were being pulled in opposite directions. To think that it could be days, weeks, or even months before she saw Matt again crushed her. But thoughts of exploring the vast growth and how to traverse it more effectively fought to bury those feelings.
The carriage traveled upward for some time, and Keke wondered just how high they had gone. After a few minutes, she opened her mouth to ask when the carriage resumed a flat stride and turned to the right. A large fountain came into view, and the carriage rounded it, stopping at the opposite end from where they entered. The weight of the cabin shifted, and the door to Keke’s right opened.
“We’ve arrived in Khasstead,” the chipper coach said, gesturing for them to exit.
Cailu motioned for Keke and Matt to leave first. Keke took the lead, nodding her thanks to the coach on her exit. She strode forward a few steps, gasping with eyes wide. Somehow, the trees were even taller than they had initially appeared. A pair of unfamiliar, strikingly red birds flew overhead into a tree behind her. She’d only just arrived, and already she’d seen a species of Encroacher she would’ve never encountered on Ni Island.
Matt came to her side, furrowing his brow. “Do they just keep going?”
“Huh?” Keke asked, broken from her reverie.
“The trees.” He frowned. “I’ve never seen trees this tall. Makes me feel like they could fall over at any moment.”
She giggled. “I guess they do feel that way, huh?”
“Extra for your service,” Cailu said behind them. Keke turned around to see the elf put a few Bells in the catgirl’s palm. “We will depart in a few hours.”
“Very well! I’ll be at the tavern when you’re ready!” the catgirl saluted before jumping back into her seat and whipping the reins.
Ceres, Kirti, and Zahra approached from the carriage that had been following them. Ceres was practically running, waving her arm through the air like a kitten.
What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of energy, Keke thought as she smiled.
“Sir Matt! I beseech you to inhale deeply!” She shut her eyes, breathing in deep through her nostrils, then out through her mouth. “Have you ever tasted better air?”
“How incredible,” Zahra said with awe. “I had no idea such forests even existed.”
“You trained on San Island, didn’t you? Don’t they have some pretty dense forests?” Matt asked.
“I did,” Zahra said, shaking her head, “but never anything like this. It feels like the land has a voice.”
“That’s because it does,” an approaching woman said. Keke and the others turned to the source of the sound to see a catgirl with a build similar to her own. Long brown hair tied into innumerable braids framed a fair-skinned face with vibrant green eyes. Tight, form-fitting leather garbbed her generous curves from head to toe. A brown fur cloak draped over her shoulders, giving her the air of an experienced leader. “The land is always talking. You just need to listen.”
“A-ah,” Zahra stammered.
“Mm, yes. I think I hear the trees now,” Kirti said, wearing a familiar smirk.
Cailu stepped forward with a hand to his chest. “Forgive my Party member’s ignorance. My name is Cailu Raloquen.” Keke watched and fought down a laugh as Matt mouthed Cailu’s next words in time with Cailu. “First of his name. Are you Sylva?”
“I am.” Sylva crossed her arms. She flicked her head toward Keke. “Are you Keke?”
Keke blinked. “Yes, that’s me. How did you—”
“Cailu informed me of your coming weeks ago.” She came closer, sniffing the air mere inches from her face. Afterward, she drew back, and the slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You smell of the forest. How long have you been a [Scout]?”
“About four years.” It felt weird to say it. Choosing an initial Class was a very personal thing. To share it openly with so many others listening and watching felt intrusive. “It’s always been a part of me.”
Sylva seemed to think nothing of it, though. “I can see that.” She looked up, and her gaze caught a large black bird deftly flying between the trees. “Let’s get inside. Looks like it’s starting to rain.”
As Sylva led them away from the fountain, Keke took in every sight she could. Unlike the villages and towns she’d visited prior, the dwellings appeared to be crafted from several logs stacked on top of one another. The buildings had awnings on each side, protecting fires, crafts, and penned Encroachers from the oncoming drizzle.
What Keke found most interesting, however, was that despite the amount of women laboring outside, the air was quiet. Each of them worked with steady hands, talking in smooth tones and treading lightly wherever they went. She liked to believe she had an ear for the subtle, but she found it difficult to hear much of anything.
“In here,” Sylva said, opening the door to one of the dwellings. Inside, a hearth was burning at the back of the room, blanketing the room in a vibrant orange glow. Sylva strode in first, Cailu and his Party close behind her. Keke entered with Matt and Ceres afterward, awestruck by the design. She’d never seen finer carpentry in her life. The chairs were lined with furs to make them softer, and the heads of Encroachers were mounted on the walls. “Take a seat, please.”
Cailu offered Sylva a nod before she disappeared behind a pair of batwing doors. Keke frowned, then took a seat on one of the larger couches closer to the hearth where a long table stood. Matt and Ceres flanked her while Cailu and his Party took the couch on the other side of the table.
“This reminds me a lot of the camping trips I took as a kid,” Matt said.
“Camping trips?” Keke asked. She loved hearing about his previous world.
“Yeah. My parents loved the outdoors. They’d fight a lot, but going out to the forest was kinda nice. We’d dig for bugs, cook some of the fish we caught, and—” He stopped, then bowed his head.
“It’s not forever,” she whispered. She knew he hated to make a scene in front of others. “I’ll be right back by your side before you know it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just thinking is all.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, we’d sleep in cabins like this one. It’s kind of nostalgic.”
“It sounds like it. Believe it or not, Cannoli’s the one that likes digging up bugs.” Keke giggled. “We can try it together when we’re back on Ni.”
Matt nodded and gave her a weak smile.
Sylva returned with her left hand closed into a fist. She walked up to Keke and then opened her hand to reveal a small trinket. Thin sinews wound together in a web pattern in the center of a wooden hoop, holding a pure white feather in their grasp. “Wear this at all times, Keke. This marks you as a [Hunter] in training. Consider it your heart.”
“I will. Thank you,” Keke said, taking the medallion. She turned it around to find a small clasp on the back. She slid the clasp onto her collar, then shook it to make sure it was secure. A chill shot down her spine, and she fought down the urge to gasp. “What was that?”
“The medallion has recognized you,” Sylva said. “It acknowledges you as one of its own. I’ll explain it more tomorrow.” Keke nodded, and Sylva took a seat opposite the hearth. “We don’t have a tavern, but we would be happy to feed you before you leave.”
“We would be most grateful,” Cailu said, nodding.
“Think nothing of it. Bring back a large Encroacher next time I see you, and we’ll consider ourselves even.”
“We could at least pay you,” Keke offered.
Sylva cocked a brow. “Did Cailu not tell you?”
“Tell us what?” Matt asked.
“Your Bells have no value here,” Sylva said. “We deal in trade, not in coin. Coin is the purveyor of greed.”
“I admire your traditional outlook,” Kirti said with a playful smile.
“Kirti,” Cailu warned.
Kirti hummed.
“You deal in trade alone?” Zahra asked, genuine curiosity coloring her tone. “I’ve never been somewhere like this.”
“Coin deceives and corrupts. Only the land is honest and true,” Sylva explained.
Ceres put both hands to her chest. “My goodness. I am overwhelmed by such purity.”
“Give back, and you have nothing to fear. It is as simple as that.” Sylva glanced at Cailu, then at Matt. “With that said, I would make a request of the men.” Matt and Cailu looked at her. “Our clan leader’s daughter seeks to have a child of her own to pass on her lessons. Would either of you be able to assist her?”
Keke’s heart skipped a beat.
Cailu blinked, and Matt wrung his hands.
“Yeah, I can help you out,” Matt offered. “What’s her name?”
“Lily. After dinner, I can take you to her cabin.”
Matt nodded. He seemed to be chewing on the thought. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll help her out after dinner.”
“You have our thanks,” Sylva said, offering the first warm smile Keke had seen since their arrival. “She’ll be elated.” She rose from her seat. “I’ll see to it that dinner doesn’t take long. As grateful as I am for your help, we prefer to avoid as much foreign influence as possible.”
“We understand,” Cailu said.
Sylva smiled briefly again, then disappeared behind the batwing doors.
Keke wanted to ask him if he was sure, but not in front of everyone like this.
“I’m going to step outside for a minute,” Matt said, getting up. “The wagon and the cabin aren’t doing much in the way of fresh air.”
“I’ll join you,” Keke offered.
Matt paused, glanced at her, then smiled. “Okay.” He gestured for her to follow, and the two stepped outside, closing the door behind them.
The rain had worsened since they arrived. It was a steady downpour, washing out the other scents Keke had smelled earlier. Now, all there was was water. As the droplets pelted the rooftops, catgirls shared meals with one another under the safety of the awnings. Amusingly enough, she could hear them better now.
Probably because they have to speak louder.
That wasn’t important. The man standing beside her was.
“Are you okay with doing that, Matt?” Keke at last asked.
Matt glanced at her. “I have to be. Besides, it’ll give me some good Experience and Bells.”
I don’t want you to look at it like that.
“I need to take it more seriously, so I will.” He crossed his arms and drew a deep breath. “It’s weird, isn’t it? What would’ve happened if you didn’t pull me out of the water? Would I have ended up in some other catgirl’s care? Would I have gotten eaten by a Defiled?”
“Why are you talking like that?” His tone worried her. It wasn’t the tone of a person who was saying goodbye; it was the tone of a man who’d given up. “You know that the first thing I’m going to do as soon as I change to [Hunter] is send for you, right?”
“I know,” he nodded. “I’ve just…been thinking a lot, I guess. Now that we’re finally here, the day we met is just playing through my mind a lot. I keep repeating it in my head, and a part of me wishes I could stop it.”
“Matt…” She nudged closer to him and pulled his left arm free before wrapping her arms around his elbow. She leaned against his shoulder. He felt so strong and solid, and yet she could practically touch the turmoil in his heart. She sympathized. “Things will work out, you’ll see.”
“Yeah. I know. I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic is all.” Matt sighed. “Jeez, listen to me. I gotta stop that. I should be trying to look at this like another adventure.”
“Hey. We can both think about the next adventure later.” She nuzzled his bicep. “For now, let’s just enjoy the time we have.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
They watched the rain fall together in silence.
Maybe this will do us some good. Our relationship is becoming…dangerous.

Ceres Pro Tip: I feel as if I could run for days on end in this beautiful outpost! My lord, we must make a point to return!
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submitted by DDoubleBlinDD to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.03 02:54 RainbowArrow12 fantasy 4700 words

I'm not sure If I like this, I've been getting into writing more and wanted to make something I'm proud of. It's supposed to turn into a medieval apocalyptic survival but I haven't gotten to that point, any pointers are appreciated!
Prologue
An Unprecedented Danger
Astrid had warned me numerous times not to go on raids alone. “We don’t have supplies to waste on useless runs.” She would say. But tonight was much different. Rather than just the theories in my own mind. I had received a good amount of information. A man in the pub was blackout drunk, I doubt he even realized what he was saying before he mentioned a rich courier of supplies, he was waiting for. He had been ordered to take them to the king once they arrived in the providence. He claimed the escorts were armed to the teeth with sanctioned knights, but I was hoping that that was a working of the keg of ale he consumed. Either way if I could pull this run off my bandit guild would be set for 3 months at least. I didn’t believe in teams, most of the time they were always too slow to be of any use, but this group had saved me from an abusive father back when I was just a boy. I owed it to them to give a hand until they decided I had paid off their favor. It had been many years since then and I was a working adult, bakers’ hand by day and bandit by night. My thoughts were interrupted when I saw a distant light down the trail. This must be them I think to myself. Nobody would be travelling this late at night unless it was meant for the king, I shuffle slightly in the brush I’m waiting in. I was purposely in wait in the densest part of the forest so no noise would be heard by any other traveling groups that may have camps nearby, which also means I wouldn’t be found if something went wrong. The caravan draws closer, and I hear the clanking of metal on metal. Knights, the bloke wasn’t kidding. I saw fully armored knights, their longswords reflecting the wobbly lantern light held by the caravan driver. Helmets covered the entirety of their heads except a slit they use to see. They must’ve been expecting some rebels to be holding an ambush because there’d be no other reason for them to have their whole suits of armor. They all bear the king’s crest, it’s an image of an eye, with golden trimming; an emerald color is the color of the iris and an outline of black surrounds everything. This must be a valuable load, there’s not much in this world that is worth that much protection. The knights get closer, there seems to be about 6 of them; they get closer to where I’m in and I see a glow behind the steel helmets they’re wearing. It’s their eyes, they were completely absent of any semblance of life; I notice their pupils are surrounded with a thin white aura, and their limbs seem to drag behind their sluggish movements. I stay as still as I possibly can. The caravan driver is now visible, and I now see his face clearly. His cheeks are sunken in, and his skin is loose around his bones. His mouth lays open with rotten teeth crowded inside. This isn’t normal; no matter what occurred I had to stay perfectly silent. Whatever these were they weren’t human. I must survive and warn the city about what was coming. I wince as I suddenly hear a horrid screeching sound coming from the inside of the caravan, I move in shock, but the knights don’t seem to notice the sound. My eyes are drawn to the caravan and the cloth covering flaps as a small leather bag slips out. I’ll collect it once they’re a good distance away. I watch as they move past where I’m hiding at a snail’s pace. The back of the caravan, also covered with a curtain, so I’m unable to peer inside. As the light disappears around the curves of the road I crawl out of my bush, dirt and leaves now caked on the sleeves of my clothes. Walking tentatively towards the leather bag, it’s about the size of a child’s boot. I look around, making sure to be warry of any unwelcome beasts. Before grabbing the bag and putting it in my jacket pocket, there seems to be something small inside, but I don’t have the time or vision currently to check what it is. My current mission is to make it back to The Guild and tell them what I saw. I turn towards the brush and begin sprinting, I would beat the caravan if I didn’t run into any trouble, the shortcut The Guild uses used to be a game trail but is hardly traveled by anybody. Creatures stay away from it because of the elden sap we had smeared on the trees. So, it makes it useless from a hunter’s standpoint. Tree branches reach for my body as I run through the dense forest. The Guild’s signature mask protects my face from the twigs eagerly trying to cut my face. The mask is reinforced with iron-silk, so it was extremely durable, with a lotus emblem on the bottom right to signify my allegiance. I’m sprinting as quickly as I can, and the ground becomes a blur, and the sky uses rays of moonlight to pierce the dense foliage. The moonlight occasionally hits my eyes, and they reflect their brown color. If not for the full moon I wouldn’t be able to see the logs I was now vaulting over. I had been running for around 20 minutes before I had to stop and eat some miners’ ichor, which reinforced my muscles and fixed the fatigue I felt, making it so I could run at the same pace for at least another hour or so. With the power of the ichor, I swiftened my pace taking advantage of a skill I had learned from a man in the Guild to avoid tripping hazards while moving at quicker speeds. It took me a while still before I saw the glow of the town through the forest. I just needed to make it a little further until I could warn the guild of what was coming. I had hope of that goal until I began feeling a tingling feeling in my legs, shortly after, bursts of needles shot up my leg with every bound. The miners’ ichor was wearing off and my movements become heavier and less exact, the blurry ground now becomes more visible as I lose momentum. Before I even realized, I had tripped on a large root and was lying on my stomach, inhaling dirt with every shallow breath I made. I need to make it to the guild, I must… Warn them… and my eyes blur my vision and force themselves shut, my frantic thoughts skid to a halt and I pass out from exhaustion.
Chapter 1
(The Grave and The Unsuccessful)
I wake with a splitting headache and an aching body, wishing nothing more but to go to sleep but I’m nowhere near comfortable. I sit up slowly being certain to not make any fast movements lest I anger my headache further. I got lucky I hadn’t landed on a rock and died right here. I maneuver myself on the ground, so that a tree trunk is supporting my back. I sit there for a while attempting to gather my bearings and remember everything, but my headache makes it harder than it should be. It couldn’t’ve been a dream; I remember it all too vividly. The image of their seemingly glowing eyes burned into my retina. I remember the sound that came from inside the caravan and shivers run down my spine, angering my muscles as it does. I have a thought and remember I still had yet to see what was in the leather pouch that had fallen out of the caravan the night prior. I slip my hand into my jacket’s pocket, and I’m relieved to find that it hadn’t fallen out during my desperate dash. I slip it out of my pocket and examine the bag, nothing seems out of the ordinary at first but on the leather strip that ties the bag closed lies a rune etched into its skin. Damn it. A locking spell had been cast on it and I wouldn’t be able to get it open without a mage’s help. There just so happens to be a sorcerer in the guild that specializes in unlocking such runes, but I’d have to get to the town first. I realize that there’s a large chance that the town was attacked by whatever I saw last night. I couldn’t warn the town of what I saw, but it was also foolish to think that I would’ve been able to convince the guards that what I was saying was true anyways. Slipping the bag back into my pocket I look up in the direction the town is supposed to be, I’m only a mile or so away so any large amount of smoke would be visible from here. I stand up using the tree I was resting against as a temporary brace to get myself up. As I stand my legs give out and I must hug the tree to prevent my fall. My tripping must’ve been more violent than I first thought. I stand up by using the tree as a back brace. Reaching into my satchel I take out a light healing tonic and drink it in one movement. It tastes disgusting and leaves a bitter taste in the back of my throat, I really wish there was a way to make that stuff taste better. But it does its job quickly and the pain from the bruises on my legs fades away. I drop the empty bottle back into my satchel, and I’m able to lean away from the tree and begin walking to the town. It takes me around 45 minutes of travel until I find the sewer exit, my nose finding it before my eyes do, it lies at the bottom of a hill that doubles as the secret exit the guild uses. I squat and grab the bottom of the grate and it gives an aggressive whine in protest as I lift it open. Lowering myself down the ladder I take a moment to close the grate behind me as I climb down. The stench fills my nose completely and I gag. No matter how many times I travel down here I never get used to it. I reach the end of the ladder and begin my trek. It is a straight path until I reach under the city, and I take the 4th left turn and then an immediate right to climb up into the ladder that the Guild’s bakery is at. The baked goods we make are the best in town but not many people come by because of the rumors tied to guild activity. I climb up and knock on the trapdoor. “Aperire sesamum.” I say loudly and a familiar gruff voice sounds over the rushing water of the sewer. “It’s ‘bout time you came crawling back.” The trapdoor swings open and a bearded face peers back at me, Brodnar. He was the dwarf that had been put in charge of ordering spices and ingredients in the bakery but he mostly stayed in the basement organizing and making sure nothing unwanted came through the trapdoor. “Astrid has some choice words she’d like to share with ya’.” He says as I crawl through the opening. “She always has choice words for me.” I say with a slight smile just glad I’m back in semi-one piece.
“That’s beyond the point though I found something while I was out, and I need to consult the mage about it.”, I say.
“ou’ll be lucky if you survive talking to Astrid boy, let alone if she doesn’t take what ye found for the guild.”
“I’m doubt she could possibly be that upse-”
I’m cut off by somebody’s steps coming down the stairs. Astrid’s face becomes visible in the lantern light, and we lock eyes. Her piercing blue eyes stare into my soul, she’s older than me by a good bit, probably 6 years or so more. Her caramel hair rests gently against her shoulders, she stands with a displeased stance and folds her arms over her chest. “Come upstairs.” Her tone icicles, and it cuts into my soul. I don’t dare speak back to her in this moment, so I start up the stairs, and she follows me up as I do so, I walk up through the back room of the bakery and into the Guild’s lounge area I feel my companions’ eyes on me. Astrid walks by me and leads me into her quarters, She sits behind her wooden desk and tells me to sit down as well. Awkward silence fills the room as the sounds of the Guild ensue outside of it. “You can begin by telling me where you were in the 3 days you were gone.” 3 days? The shock must’ve been visible in my eyes because she continued.
“I’ve told you explicitly that you weren’t to play such games, especially when the guards are just a step behind us.”
“I know I understand but-”
“No! No you don’t understand, with the guards being precautious because of the rebellion, one wrong move, just one mess up and all of us get hung. You’re blinded by your own selfishness and immaturity; you act as if you were still a young boy and the worst punishment you could be given is no supper. But you’re not just a boy and every time you go out rogue you endanger everything we’ve worked for, for years. You’re lucky I don’t give you to the guards myself to protect my Guild.”
Her words are filled with spite. And it’s quiet for a while. A lump appears in my throat as I take in what she just said to me.
“I’m sorry.” I say doing my hardest not to choke on my words. The chatter that was once outside the room was now silent.
“A ‘sorry’ wouldn’t be able to fix the damage you could’ve caused to the Guild. Now get out of my sight I need time to decide what to do with you.” No more emotion could be found in her voice.
I stand up without another word and walk out of her quarters. As I exit, nobody looks me in my eyes, and I walk to the stairs and make my way to the backroom. Maybe a bath would help me clear my head. I walk through the exit under the stairs and enter the alleyway. A stray cat skitters away from me and into the shadows. I walk out into the street and the sun blinds me momentarily. My vision clears to see a busy marketplace, children run rampant trying to tag their friends. Beggars sit in wait attempting to gain enough money to afford a meal, people are bartering for different goods trying to get their goods for a cheaper price, I begin routing myself to the bath house taking turns and maneuvering through crowds. A magician garters a large crowd as they show off their trick magic. Real mages were rare and often only held one type of magic, elemental, physical, psychological, or shielding. The one the guild employed happened to have shielding magic which also meant she had power over runes. I glance away from the magician reading some young mans mind and glance over to the bath house, it is connected to an inn just by the front gates which sheltered many passersby and travelers. I turn down the road and see the familiar sign “Olde Hearthstone Inn” and I make my way inside to pay for their services. A maid greets me, takes my payment and tells me what stall I will be in. I thank her and get in my booth, throwing my clothes in a corner so they won’t get wet. This was one of the best bath houses I had ever been in despite the much travel I had done. The tub was large enough for your whole body lengthwise and the room was spacious enough for you to feel comfortable. The whole inn had been placed on top of a spring, so the water was heated perfectly. It feels amazing to scrub the dirt out of my pores, my face loosens as I rest for a while, letting the steam of the water encase me in its heat. Once I had had enough relaxation, I put all my clothes back on and exited the bath house. I think to begin walking back to the bakery but suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of dread. I look up to see a very familiar crest and a single knight with his back turned towards me.
Chapter 2
(idk its just chapter 2)
Only one of them? When I had seen them there had been much more, around 7, Maybe even 8? I couldn’t remember anymore. Regardless he stands there across the street unbothered by whatever was going on around him. What confused me the most was that nobody paid him any mind, acting as if they had already seen him around. Which I know shouldn’t be the case as knights like this rarely come through this town, because of the rebels that have taken over the roads to the west. As I examine him, I notice his eyes no longer were visibly glowing from behind his visor, and his movements seemed like a normal human. Perhaps it all was a dream, or a trick of the light. The knight lifts his helmet momentarily as he says some words to somebody he is talking to, and I’m able to take a glimpse of his face. I’m not quite able to put my finger on it but he doesn’t look natural, maybe it was the bags under his eyes, or maybe how his face looked awfully young, but it was horribly wrinkled. I feel a hand touching my shoulder and I nearly yell out of surprise. It was the maid, holding a bucket of water. “Would you mind movin’?” She says with a kind farmhand’s accent I utter an embarrassed “Sorry” and step out from in front of the doorway, she walks by dumping the bucket of dirty water on the street. Moving my attention back to the knight I notice the person he was talking to was in fact the man that I had gotten the tip from in the pub. I should question him. I begin following him trying to catch up through the dense crowds, shopkeepers are yelling that they have the best goods and at cheaper costs. I then see his balding head round a corner to a less traveled road, and I break my way through a crowd that had formed in front of an mythical creature caravan. I see the man and his body language tells me he wasn’t in the mood to be pestered “Excuse me!” I yell out to him anyways; he turns his head and his expression changes to a grimmer one once he sees it’s me. I do a quick jog to make it, so we are talking face to face. “What do you want?” he says, quizzically.
“I want to know about the knights and their load.” I say
“What is there to know? I already told you all about it when you took advantage of my drunken state.”
“What about the knights? It’s been days since they’ve been through here why is one still here?”
“That’s what I had just asked him, he said we could have a more in-depth conversation tomorrow, were going to meet and speak more.”
“If you would, I’d like to meet with you afterwards to hear what his business staying here is.”
“I don’t see why not; I know you’d probably stab me if I didn’t.” he says as he motions towards the lotus on my mask.
“Your gang of thieves should invest in more subtle identification, meet me at the pub at star rise. I’ll tell you what I find out then.” He says. I give him a nod
“Don’t gyp me, I have eyes everywhere.” I say, as a warning.
“I know.” He says, and he turns away continuing on his way.
I would normally just interrogate the knight myself but I doubt I would be able to get the information that the man would. The only question is if he is trustable, I don’t even know his name after all. I start walking back to the Bakery and notice the knight that had once been prominently gleaming had since disappeared. I bring my attention to the travelling caravan of mythical animals; it was unusual for one of such merit to come to town. The crowd had dissipated since they put away their main focal point which had been a kitsune pup; but they still had many various beasts on display, a massive spider spins itself a web, a couple fae fly in a jar, but what catches my eye the most is a gremlin a creature that was usually impossible to domesticate was instead sitting in his cage like a drunken man that had just realized he was in debt. Looking closer he looks almost defeated. Gremlins are sought after because of their ability to manifest a coin purse that can store an infinite number of valuables. I notice something in his eyes and look closer, I can hardly believe my eyes when I notice a sliver of purple in it’s eyes. I immediately catch the attention of the man that looked like the owner of the caravan. His hat is decorated with a carpet of phoenix feathers and a large dragon scale atop it as if it were a jewel. His clothes are made of shiny silk “What do you want.” He says without care.
“How much for the gremlin?” I say disregarding his tone. ijiraq.
“That ugly thing? I should be paying you to take that eyesore. All that beast does is sit there, it has a broken will, doesn’t even move.” He demonstrates as he violently shakes the cage and its body is flung limply against the cage. I put my hand firmly on his arm. “That’s enough.” I say. He grimaces as he retracts his arm and brushes off where I had touched his silky shirt. “3 gold.” He says with boldness in his tone.
“That’s hardly fair, you said yourself that it is barely useful as a parchment weight, 50 silver.” I say contradicting him.
“It’s still a creature that is hardly common, 2 gold fifty silver.”
“After you shook the cage like that I doubt it’ll even be mentally functional, 1 gold 5 silver final offer.” 
“Fine. But don’t expect any insurance when it dies.” I open my satchel and dump my coin purse contents into his palm. “That should be exact.” I say as I grab the “gremlin’s” cage. He gives me a look that tells me that he is questioning my sanity. But I pay no mind and turn away. Looking at the little creature in the cage looked like it was in horrid shape now that it had been taken away from its charmed environment. The “gremlin” was now visibly abused, bruises appear and it’s ribs now appear much more prominent than they had been before. I decided that I would take it to Tara. Tara was a druid we had saved from an opposing bandit camp a few years back, she was tall and had fair white hair that reached her collar bone. Her eyes were a piecing green and her ears came to a faint point, she had ashen skin that was painted with dim freckles. When we found her. Her clothes consisted of vines with heavy leaves that she had allowed to grow on her body. We had since switched her to a farmhand’s attire to match the smudges of dirt that were often on her face. Her round nose often looked as if she had been sniffing the dirt. We wouldn’t have had an issue with her in her vined clothing but druids were hunted for the healing properties found in their blood, as druids were treated as lesser beings many join the rebellion which had just worsened the racism they were already facing, being more treated as a game animal rather than a thinking being. They more related themselves to the ogres, trolls, seafolk, and beasts than they did the oppressive humans. Tara’s own village had been raided by the king’s knights, and in her running had run directly into a bandit trap, then we found the bandit camp on a scouting trip and the rest is history. Tara didn’t usually speak unless she was spoken to which made our conversations far and few. The times we did converse however, she was nothing but kind to me despite what humans had done to her. I looked up to her in a way. Hell, I was even taught by my father that druids were savages and should be exterminated from this world. She simply had an unfathomable ability to forgive or perhaps not to forgive but to separate those who hurt her from those that rescued her. I continue walking through the street, using my body to cut the crowds and towing the cage behind me. I no longer had money on me so I wasn’t tempted by the treats being advertised that I would usually indulge in. Children stop their games to point and gawk at the “gremlin” that now lies on its back eyes closed. Its shallow breaths are exaggerated by the lack of body fat. I finally reach a spot where I can see the bakery. I make sure to not swing my arm, so the gremlin doesn’t get flung against the cage anymore than it already had. I open the front door and a fresh sent of goods fills my nose. Farren is working the oven, his back turned to me he’s currently pulling some muffins out of the oven. He’s easily 3x my own stature paired with a well-kept flowing beard, which he would often have intricately decorated with flowers and braids by the orphaned children he would visit on his time off. I step in fully and notice the obviously undersized apron he had tied on. It is thoroughly covered with various ingredients. He stoops down to reach the top rack of the stone oven and he places the muffins on a cooling rack. He turns as I take another step to see who had entered and the joy is visible in his eyes as he sees that it’s me. “Ryland! I was beginning to believe that Astrid had gotten rid of you!” He says this as he opens his arms as if trying to hug me over the counter but then turns to reach for a muffin. “Here let me get you situated; I want you to tell me what it was this time.” He says whilst plating a muffin, jam, and fresh orange juice for me. I place the cage on the counter “Starting off I found this when I was out.” I say, lifting the cage to he could see the creature inside.
“A gremlin? I suppose it does look quite malnourished.” Farren says.
“Not a gremlin entirely, I don’t believe the man that sold it to me knew what it was either.”
“And what do you think it is?”
“I’m not sure but I’m certain it isn’t just a gremlin.”
“Here I’ll take care of the miserable thing.” Farren grabs the cage over the counter and moving it to the back counter and makes a bowl of honey mixed with water to insert it inside the cage for it.
“Besides the ‘gremlin’ though, I received a tip from a fellow in a pub that had ended as a failure.” I take a bite of jam and muffin and chase it with some orange juice, I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I had food in my stomach. I guess I haven’t eaten in 3 days. In fact before I say another word to Farren I devour the muffin he had given me and 2 more before He stops me. “Cmon now you can eat some more once I hear about the details.” He says with a laugh. “Well, there’s not much to tell. It was simply false information.”
Hey! Thanks for reading (or scrolling down to the bottom) here are my goals for the plot. The item in the satchel is going to be a ring, that once put on turns the user into a vampire. The rebels sent a convoy of ghouls to the capitol, the convoy is carrying a load of rats with a version of the black plague that had been altered to turn the infected people into zombies. Once it reaches the capitol it will spread to all adjacent cities, and so the apocalypse begins. In the future of the story the protag will meet a vampire chick in the apocalypse and protag will have to choose between her and Astrid (keeping his humanity or completely becoming a vampire) and he will have to drink the blood of other survivors to not only stay alive but also feed his vampiric abilities.
I realllly hate the pacing I feel like I'm going so slow, and I feel like I'm going in too much details for characters im not going to keep in the story. I need a tonn of help I notice the ametureness in the writing but I dont know how to fix it entirely.
Thoughts? Ideas? what do you hate what do you love?
edit1: I have no clue what the slider bar is or how it got there
submitted by RainbowArrow12 to stories [link] [comments]


2024.05.01 11:37 Stage-Piercing727 Best 9mm Tracer Rounds

Best 9mm Tracer Rounds

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Whether you're an experienced shooter or a novice just starting out, using the right ammunition can make all the difference in your performance. In this article, we're diving into the world of 9mm tracer rounds - a unique type of ammunition that can add a whole new level of excitement to your shooting experience. We've compiled a list of the top 9mm tracer rounds on the market, giving you the lowdown on their features, performance, and value for money. Get ready to illuminate your targets like never before!

The Top 12 Best 9mm Tracer Rounds

  1. 9mm Tracer Rounds: Power-Up for Nerf Rival Blasters - Gift your teen a thrilling experience with the Adventure Force 150 Tactical Strike Rounds, designed for ages 14+ and compatible with most Nerf Rival Blasters, ensuring endless fun and excitement!
  2. Durable 304 Stainless Steel Round Tube Pipes for Precision Applications - Uxcell's 304 stainless steel round tubing offers high strength, durability, and versatility in various applications, seamlessly meeting your specific needs with a 9mm OD and 1mm wall thickness.
  3. Micro 100 9mm Blank Round Carbide Tooling, Metric, Precision Drill Blank - Experience the superior performance of MICRO 100's high-quality solid carbide tools with exceptional durability and extended tool life, designed for manufacturing various carbide tooling.
  4. Darice Orange 9mm Opaque Pony Beads for Crafting (1000 pc) - Crafting classic: High-quality opaque orange 9mm pony beads in a 1000-piece pack for diverse projects and purposes. Available in various sizes and colors.
  5. Colorful Czech Plastic Opal Pony Beads for DIY Projects - Light Turquoise - Create endless possibilities with 1,000 light turquoise Czech plastic pony beads, perfect for children's crafts, jewelry making, and more.
  6. Premium Quality Acrylic Round Cabochons for Crafts and Jewelry Making - Add a touch of glamour to your projects with these 9mm Green Emerald .MD Flat Back Acrylic Round Cabochons, featuring lead-free and CPSIA/RoHS compliant material. Perfect for jewelry making, scrapbooking, and body art.
  7. Lyman 9mm Tracer Rounds Mold with Flat Nose Bevel Base - Lyman 9mm bullet mould delivers top-notch precision and versatility, making it the go-to choice for discerning shooters.
  8. Premium Stainless Steel 9mm Tracer Moon Clips, 5-Round Capacity - Experience reliable, accurate, and easy-to-use tracer rounds with the Ruger Full Moon Clips SP10 - Luger 3-Pack, featuring stainless steel construction for durability and made right here in the USA.
  9. 9mm Pastel Assortment Rhinestones for Versatile Craft Projects - Unleash your creativity with the 1000-Piece Round Rhinestones, 9mm, Pastel Assortment from The Crafts Outlet, featuring versatile gems for a multitude of craft projects.
  10. Beadtin Camo Mix Matte 6mm x 9mm Pony Beads (500pcs) for Safe, Durable Craft Projects - Unleash your creativity with the Beadtin Camouflage Mix Matte 9mm Barrel Pony Beads, featuring a versatile 9x6mm barrel design, camouflage color mix matte finish, and non-toxic polystyrene plastic material for safe and fun crafting projects.
  11. High-Quality 9mm Aluminum Tube for Scratch Builds and Modeling - Experience K&S 9811's premium 9mm x .76mm heavy wall aluminum tube - perfect for scratch builders, modelers, and more, all backed by exceptional 5-star service.
  12. Czech Plastic Beads: 1,000-Piece Light Turquoise Collection - Ideal for creative projects, the John Bead 9mm Opaque Plastic Pony Beads come in a variety of vibrant colors and are perfect for children's crafts, jewelry making, and so much more!
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Reviews

🔗9mm Tracer Rounds: Power-Up for Nerf Rival Blasters


https://preview.redd.it/xya1y97vbsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=391586ed7434c21b0cf7215b3c21f614df640bb3
Treat your kids to a thrilling surprise with the Adventure Force 150 Tactical Strike Rounds! These high-performance round refills come in a vibrant orange color, making them perfect for tracking during intense backyard battles. The rounds are compatible with all Tactical Strike Ball Blasters and most standard Nerf Rival Blasters, ensuring everyone can get in on the fun.
As a parent, I appreciate the competitive price of these rounds, considering the quality and features they offer. The Adventure Force Tactical Strike Rounds provide countless hours of entertainment for teens and even serve as great ammunition for a slingshot. The bright orange color makes them easy to find in any setting, and the sturdy foam construction ensures they hold up well, reducing the likelihood of broken windows.
One of the main pros of these rounds is the compatibility with a variety of blasters. The cons, however, lie in the different price points of other brands, which can make them more attractive at first glance. Nonetheless, once you try the Adventure Force Tactical Strike Rounds, you'll have a hard time going back to the higher-priced alternatives.
Overall, this product is a fantastic option for families looking for affordable, high-quality, and fun ammunition for their blaster collection. Your kids will love the action and excitement these rounds bring to their playtime.

🔗Durable 304 Stainless Steel Round Tube Pipes for Precision Applications


https://preview.redd.it/q7rwuxrvbsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=001abeddd8ac3efad786a332442bea44174fa4eb
As a product reviewer, I recently had the pleasure of using Uxcell's 304 Stainless Steel Round Tubing in my daily life. This seamless straight pipe tube is a real game-changer for me. The 9mm OD with a 1mm wall thickness makes it ideal for various applications, and its 250mm length is perfect for projects that require precision.
One of the things that stood out to me was the material quality. The fact that it's made of 304 stainless steel ensures not only high strength and weld-ability, but also remarkable resistance to oxidation and corrosion. It's impressive how such a small piece of tubing can withstand the test of time without losing its touch.
The seamless, smooth interior was also a plus, making it suitable for applications where precision matters. Whether threaded or welded, this tube has got you covered. However, one thing I noticed was the lack of clarity in the dimensions. It would have been helpful if the provided length included shipping measurements too.
Overall, I highly recommend this Uxcell product to anyone looking for reliable, durable, and versatile seamless stainless steel tubing. While there's always room for improvement, the pros definitely outweigh the cons in my experience.

🔗Micro 100 9mm Blank Round Carbide Tooling, Metric, Precision Drill Blank

https://preview.redd.it/0653ql3wbsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=de3d239ee09c82249d9d9af0bfc8b3759c98581d

As a reviewer, I've had the chance to use the Micro 100 SRM-090-310 round blank in my daily life for various tooling needs. This product's unique feature is its ability to create precise and long-lasting solid carbide tooling that works wonders for end mills, drills, and other stationary tools. The exclusive treating process for the substrate enhances tool life and performance, making the MICRO 100 a reliable industry leader for over 45 years.
However, the lack of a coating on this uncoated blank may require additional finishing steps, which could be considered a drawback for some users. Nevertheless, this exceptional 9mm tracer round has earned a solid reputation in the tooling world, providing a dependable solution for all types of material.

🔗Darice Orange 9mm Opaque Pony Beads for Crafting (1000 pc)


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I recently had the pleasure of working with these Darice Opaque 9mm Pony Beads in orange, and let me tell you, they were a game-changer. With 1000 pieces included in the package, the variety ensures that no project is too big or too small.
The beads themselves are an impressive 6mm by 9mm in size, perfect for some intricate jewelry making or adding a touch of charm to keychains. However, it's worth mentioning that being imported, there may be slight variations in size and color.
One of the aspects I loved the most is that these opaque orange beads can be used for a myriad of purposes, making them a versatile addition to any art or craft workspace. Despite their quality, I must admit that they are quite lightweight, coming in at just a pound.
Overall, I highly recommend these Darice Pony Beads for anyone in need of a reliable, high-quality, and versatile beading option.

🔗Colorful Czech Plastic Opal Pony Beads for DIY Projects - Light Turquoise


https://preview.redd.it/oinve8rwbsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2ec82e5dcef60dfddeea11c207d415da29d1f084
I had the pleasure of using the John Bead 9mm Opaque Plastic Pony Beads in Light Turquoise recently, and let me tell you, they didn't disappoint. These beads come in a plethora of colors, which I absolutely love. They are a decent size, measuring at 9mm, making them perfect for projects that require a bit more stability.
One of the aspects that stood out to me is the fact that each bead comes with a total of 1,000 pieces. This means that you'll have an abundance of beads to work with, allowing for more creativity and less worry about running out. However, I did notice that the hole in the bead is quite large, which might not be ideal for certain projects.
In my experience, these beads are incredibly versatile and can be used for a variety of activities, from children's crafts to stylish hair braids. Teachers might even appreciate these beads for use in the classroom. The high-quality plastic ensures that they'll last for a long time, and the vibrant colors make them a joy to use.
Overall, I'd recommend the John Bead 9mm Opaque Plastic Pony Beads for anyone looking to add a bit of color and creativity into their day-to-day life.

🔗Premium Quality Acrylic Round Cabochons for Crafts and Jewelry Making


https://preview.redd.it/33vbsr4xbsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=36976731660320d76cbf90926af77a4e086460db
I recently had the pleasure of using these 9mm Emerald Green Acrylic Round Cabochons, and I must say, they were a game-changer for my crafting projects. With a diameter of 9mm or 11/32", these little beauties are perfect for adding a touch of sparkle to any creation.
What stood out to me the most was their lead-free and safe-for-skin properties, making them an excellent choice for body gems and accessories. And not only that, but they're also versatile enough for use in scrapbooking, card making, jewellery making, and more.
However, one thing I noticed was that they require a bit of extra care when handling since they're quite delicate. But overall, these 75 Pro Grade Acrylic Round Cabochons were a delight to work with and truly elevated the look of my projects.

🔗Lyman 9mm Tracer Rounds Mold with Flat Nose Bevel Base


https://preview.redd.it/carq6gmxbsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=37cf27d5865f4f415732ccd96e6e690ed8290bbf
The Lyman 9mm Pistol Bullet Mould is a versatile and high-quality tool for bullet casters. It produces consistent, flawless bullets with its 4 cavity design, making it a popular choice among enthusiasts. The Lyman brand is renowned for its top-notch quality, and this mould is no exception.
Despite being a bit heavier than aluminum counterparts, it's built to last a lifetime – a feature many users appreciate. However, some reviewers have encountered challenges with the block alignment and mold break-in, which can impact bullet precision. Overall, the Lyman 9mm Pistol Bullet Mould is a reliable and impressive piece of equipment for anyone looking to produce top-quality bullets.

🔗Premium Stainless Steel 9mm Tracer Moon Clips, 5-Round Capacity


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I recently got my hands on a pack of Ruger Full Moon Clips for my SP101 9mm revolver, and I must say, I'm quite impressed with them! These stainless steel moon clips make the loading and unloading of tracer rounds a breeze. Gone are the days of having to fish through your pocket for a moon clip tool. These clips securely grip the rounds and make the whole process smoother than anything I've tried before.
One downside is that the clips come in a three-pack, but considering the quality and convenience they offer, it's a small price to pay. The moon clips have a thickness of. 032 inches and are made right here in the USA, which adds a nice touch of pride knowing they're locally manufactured. I'm confident that these moon clips will be a reliable complement to my Revolver and have already recommended them to my fellow gun enthusiasts.
Another great feature worth mentioning is the design of the moon clips themselves. They're optimized to ensure positive ejection, allowing for consistent and effortless extraction of the spent shells. You can really feel the difference when using these clips compared to the standard ones that came with my revolver.
Overall, I'm quite happy with my purchase of these Ruger Full Moon Clips. They're easy to use, function as expected, and hold up to the high standards I'm used to when it comes to Ruger products. While I might've preferred a more cost-effective option, I can't deny the value these clips bring to my shooting experience. I highly recommend them to anyone looking to improve their loading and unloading process for their SP101 9mm revolver, as they're an absolute game-changer.

🔗9mm Pastel Assortment Rhinestones for Versatile Craft Projects


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The Crafts Outlet's 1000-Piece Round Rhinestones, available in a pastel assortment, have been a staple in my daily life as a craft enthusiast. With their size being 9mm, they can easily adorn a variety of projects to add a unique, shimmery touch. Their mirror-backed, flat design made them a delight to use on various items, from baby keepsakes to school bags.
The rhinestones are perfect for embellishing scrapbook memory pages, bringing life to a simple item and making it stand out from the rest. The multitude of colors available make it effortless to coordinate with any project theme. They even add a festive sparkle to seasonal crafts, making them perfect for special occasions like holidays and parties.
Application is also a breeze, thanks to the easy-to-follow instructions and a variety of adhesive options to choose from. The rhinestones are versatile and suitable for various surfaces, making them suitable for everyone, regardless of skill level. And the size chart ensures that you always have the right fit for your project with a simple measurement.
Overall, I found these rhinestones a delightful addition to my crafting experience. They add a touch of elegance and sparkle to everything I create, making them a must-have in my crafting space.

🔗Beadtin Camo Mix Matte 6mm x 9mm Pony Beads (500pcs) for Safe, Durable Craft Projects


https://preview.redd.it/seutf9nybsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=06451453ccc7a96ece4a8dc28663d31bba213f14
I recently stumbled upon these Beadtin Camouflage Mix Matte Tracer Rounds and figured it was time to put them to the test. The unique camouflage matte finish is a standout feature in these beads. When I first saw the size of the pony beads, I was excited to see how they would look in different jewelry projects. Despite their small size, these beads provide excellent durability, thanks to their non-toxic polystyrene plastic material.
One downside I encountered was the number of pony beads I received. I had expected a bit more for the price, but after weighing the pros and cons, I decided that the quality and versatility of these beads outweighed the quantity. Overall, I was quite satisfied with the variety of colors and the craftsmanship of these pony beads. These versatile Tracer Rounds are now a go-to for my jewelry-making and crafting projects. Highly recommended for all crafters out there!

🔗High-Quality 9mm Aluminum Tube for Scratch Builds and Modeling


https://preview.redd.it/2tyct6yybsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=36e55d0aac247716f2f2ae23d9b5c2f78a9eb595
The K&S 9811 is a sturdy and versatile aluminum tube, standing out as an essential tool for scratch builders and modelers. Its 9mm diameter and. 75mm thickness make it great for crafting intricate designs and architectural applications without the need for bending or cutting.
However, it's worth mentioning that this heavy-walled tube might be slightly harder to work with compared to thinner aluminum tubes. Overall, the K&S 9811 is a reliable and user-friendly product, perfect for those looking to add a personal touch to their projects or machine shop experience.

🔗Czech Plastic Beads: 1,000-Piece Light Turquoise Collection


https://preview.redd.it/hpk2r4czbsxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c596b32d3ccabd368779477faaf58a607b853246
I must say, my experience with the John Bead 9mm Opaque Plastic Pony Beads was quite memorable. The moment I got them, I knew they were going to be a fun addition to my creative projects. These beads, reminiscent of pony beads, come in various colors, making it a joy to explore different options and create unique patterns.
The beads themselves are made of high-quality Czech plastic, ensuring durability and longevity in all sorts of projects. One of the standout features is their 9mm size, which allows for a perfect pass-through of thread. It can be used with various materials, from leather and wax cord to pipe cleaners and yarn. This opens up so many possible applications, from children's crafts and boho fringe to stylish hair braids and jewelry making.
That being said, the beads marketed as glass-like, but in reality are plastic. It is worth considering the marketing claims when making a purchase. This little oversight, however, doesn't detract much from the overall value and endless possibilities these beads offer for a colorful and inventive experience.

Buyer's Guide


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None

FAQ


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What are 9mm Tracer Rounds?

9mm Tracer Rounds are specialized ammunition designed for firearms. They provide a visual aid for the shooter, allowing them to better track the bullet's trajectory, especially in low light conditions or when aiming at moving targets.

What sets 9mm Tracer Rounds apart from Regular 9mm Rounds?


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The main difference between 9mm Tracer Rounds and Regular 9mm Rounds is the inclusion of a visible, brightly burning pyrotechnic composition in the bullet tip. This enables the shooter to see the bullet's path in the air, which is not possible with regular rounds.

Are 9mm Tracer Rounds more expensive than Regular 9mm Rounds?

Yes, 9mm Tracer Rounds tend to be more expensive than regular 9mm rounds. This is due to the additional materials and manufacturing costs involved in producing them.

https://preview.redd.it/hbqul2t0csxc1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f4d46b9809c74f0e83dc55d79196ef4c396fde1f

What is the effective range of 9mm Tracer Rounds?

The effective range of 9mm Tracer Rounds is typically between 50 to 150 yards. The bullets' flight path can be seen more clearly for longer distances, but accuracy may start to decline at extended ranges due to factors such as wind and bullet drop.

What precautions should be taken while handling 9mm Tracer Rounds?

Handling 9mm Tracer Rounds should be done with the same care as handling any other ammunition. A safe and responsible approach, including proper storage, should be followed to prevent accidental discharges. These rounds can produce a bright flash of light and generate heat, so caution should be exercised when handling them.

Are 9mm Tracer Rounds legal to use in all states and countries?

The legality of 9mm Tracer Rounds varies depending on the jurisdiction. Some states and countries may have restrictions or outright bans on their use. It is essential to check local laws and regulations before purchasing or using 9mm Tracer Rounds.
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submitted by Stage-Piercing727 to u/Stage-Piercing727 [link] [comments]


2024.04.30 04:01 Aggravating-Pear4222 V.4 of Ch.1 Unnamed Manuscript [Fantasy, 1500 words]

Type of feedback desired: Are you interested in the story? The protagonist? Generally, is the hook good enough?
Get in, get out. Simple enough, right? Even so, I wouldn’t have volunteered with so many unknowns but XXX [another character's name] said that’s partly why I was the best suited for this expedition, a justification which provided little comfort. At least I had already succeeded in the first half. We had prepared and checked each other’s notes on whatever manuscripts we’d collected over the past decade. Despite what we’d learned of this place, I knew I wasn’t and couldn’t ever fully prepare for actually being here. But all knowledge comes at a risk. All lessons came at cost. Common sayings amongst those that studied magic and all too habitually used to justify reckless behavior. But I trusted my group. I trusted my friends.
Alone now, the scent of sulfur and smoke lingered on my clothes as I looked up and saw the trees. Their massive trunks surrounded me as they stretched into the night sky like smooth, marble-white pillars. Their foliage seamlessly blended with the stars which shed a pervasive blue glow throughout the forest. Underneath, sparse vegetation grew dark, waxy leaves that reflected the light. Still, below them was the occasional dark moss that grew on the flat, dry ground. My hand reached out to feel the root of a nearby tree and received a cold sensation in return as though it were worn stone. I pulled my hand away, but the chill remained, and I wondered whether the giants surrounding me were anything like the trees back home. I expected to sense the weight of past eons here but, instead, this place seemingly existed beyond the grasp of time entirely. As though anything could happen, and nothing would change. This place watches and forgets.
I refocused and reached into my bag for my water satchel and drank deeply, relieving my mouth from the dry, still air. I couldn’t decide whether the forest was tranquil or holding its breath and a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of my mind. A small glass vial was taken from my pocket within which a clear liquid effortlessly caught and danced with the ambient light. Uncorking it, I tipped it over, ensuring only a single drop fell towards the ground. Before landing, it slowed, curved, and accelerated away from me to my right. A sigh of relief escaped me, thankful it had worked. Trusting the droplet would lead me to my objective, I ran after it.
Far ahead of me, the droplet tired and fell to the ground. After reaching its resting place, I’d pour another, eyeing its slowing descent and acceleration ahead of me. As this ritual was repeated my boots hitting the hard, dusty ground was the only detectable sound, seemingly made louder as it echoed of the bodies of the pale giants surrounding me.
As I ran on, I absorbed more of my surroundings. Small rocks and pebbles covered the ground which was absent of any signs of life. In fact, this place was absent of any water or even rocks larger than the tip of my finger. Although, looking to the sides, I could see clusters of dense undergrowth. Some of which stretched hundreds of meters while others were about the size of a cart. A mundane observation in any other forest.
Another drop descended and accelerated along the ground when, suddenly, it fell. Only, downwards onto the ground. I paused, then slowly walked up to where it’d landed, a nearly perfect sphere resting in front of one of the patches of thick undergrowth. This was unexpected. While my curiosity was piqued, I didn’t want to deal with even seemingly inconsequential unknowns. I’d much rather get this over with. The vegetation only came up to my chest, and so I could see the other end was only about 50 meters ahead of me. The patch stretched farther to the sides than it did ahead of me. Go around or cut across.
Of the few things known about this place, leaving the route was advised against. Keeping my weight on my back foot, I cautiously stepped forward onto the mossy carpet traveling deeper into the thicket. As I pushed forward the vegetation resisted my efforts then, before snapping, abruptly relaxed and gave way to my efforts. Finding it easier to move forward, I continued through. “Thank you.” I said quietly, surprising even myself. Though, I supposed it never hurts to be too courteous. Looking down the dark vegetation made it appear as though I were stepping into the same star-lit sky above. Behind me, the path I’d made slowly disappeared as the branches returned to their original position like I’d never been there. I looked forward and-
*crunch*.
The bone-chilling sound shattered the silence of the forest followed by a deep click in the distance. I froze. My heart quickened. What had I stepped on? What was that sound? Was it an echo or was it just in my head? A hundred questions entered my mind as the vegetation closed in around me, surrounding me in blackness. The convenience of their allowing me deeper into the center now seemed to be the opening of a trap which now closed in around me as I stood frozen in place. The branches surrounded me and paused. I stood still for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a minute, a funny phrase in this timeless place. ‘Would I die to a bush?’ The thought lingered, ominous and absurd.
The air had shifted, and I knew I had to keep moving. Slowly, I lift my foot and warily place it down to the side. Feeling the even ground again, I pushed forwards. The branches had seemingly forgotten my being there and once again needed convincing to let me pass. Clear of the thicket, a quiet sigh of relief escaped my chest and unsure of exactly how much danger I was in.
To check my course, I uncorked the vial once again when my eyes focused on something else. What seemed to be an object covered in moss and nearly as tall as I was, resembling a round stone table on its side with a single thin protrusion extending upward. Despite the nagging urgency, I approached and gently removed the moss. The surface beneath revealed a pale-white surface with distinct ridges radiating outward from a central point. A vertebrae. The moss was placed back onto the huge bone. I didn’t want to think about that right now. I needed to hurry and so increased my pace. I returned to the rhythm of chasing the droplets until a distant hum filled the air which only grew louder as I continued.
Smiling triumphantly, I caught my breath and watched as the droplets travel towards the base of a single, undistinguished tree, then dance upwards along its body, glowing bright yellow as they ascended before disappearing in a bright flash.
“Almost there. Here goes nothing.”
I place a foot onto the side of the tree. Then the other. Feeling my weight shift, I stood horizontal to the ground. Laughing, I look ‘up’ back towards the way from which I came and freeze. That’s when I see it. A hulking figure with a wolf-like frame was crouched and motionless. It was midstep as it stared at me with wide forward-facing eyes that were all too intelligent. The long hair on its head was a tangled, yet braided mess from which a crown of antlers protruded. Slowly, it raises its body.
CLICK.
It produced a sound like a boulder cracking that reverberated into my bones, breaking the humming of the tree under my feet.
CLICK-CLICK.
It shifted. And lunged, kicking up dust and tearing the ground as it ran. It’s hair waved wildly as it clawed the ground while the clicking grew into a frenzied irregular rhythm that drowned the hum of the tree. No more time for curiosity. I turned and sprinted up the tree hoping to get high enough to be out of its reach. I nearly slip as I look down at the base of the tree. Dread filled me as I saw the thing had immediately closed in on the base of the tree. It was far too agile for its size. It leapt and grabbed onto either side of the giant tree and heaved itself upwards, swiftly scaling the tree.
Panic seized me and I grabbed the vial. quickly drinking the rest of the liquid, feeling it burn my throat as I continued my mad ascent. My body begins to lift, my vision brightens, and the world begins to turn white when a searing pain arcs across my back as claws rip into my flesh. Then I’m falling and feel a cool wind on my face. I open my eyes to see the familiar sunlight and green fields surrounding a lake towards which I’m rapidly falling.
submitted by Aggravating-Pear4222 to fantasywriters [link] [comments]


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