I buying a new monitor and I'm debating between the 27GR93U and the 27GP95R. They're both 27" 4k IPS, but the GP is a "Nano IPS". As far as I can tell the only difference between the 27GP95R and the 27GR93U is that the the GP has a better response time at 60hz (less motion blur), better local dimming when using HDR and is about $110 more expensive. I can currently get the GR for $430 and the GP for $540. I only plan on using SDR and will be using this monitor more for work than gaming so the second point doesn't matter to me. That said I keep reading that that GP model is superior so I'm trying to figure out exactly why. Any reasons why I should choose one over the other?
Btw, if I get the GR I'll be buying from Best Buy along with their Plus membership so I have a 60 day return window in case anything goes wrong in the first two months.
Many thanks for any insights y'all can give me before I pull the trigger.

Firstly Jar Jar is able to speak normally. At Padme's place in the start of the movie:

JAR JAR: Obi! Obi! Obi! Mesa soo smilen to see’en yousa. Wahooooo! Oops! Weresa mesa manners? Excuse me, Master Obi-Wan. I completely forgot myself for a moment there. I have had to learn Diplodialect… speak it like a native now. Don’t really see the point, actually, but members of the Senate seem to prefer it…

This will become important...
Secondly, Jar Jar is taking initiative in being the one to propose that Palpatine should get emergency powers. At Palpatine's office:

ENATOR ASK AAK: But we must prepare for the worst. I’m going to propose a motion granting emergency powers to the Chancellor at the next session. We must not wait!
PALPATINE: Out of the question, Senator! You and I are too closely aligned. The issue will become partisan and debates will begin. The proposal must come from a neutral source.
MAS AMEDDA: If only Senator Amidala were here.
JAR JAR steps forward from the back of the group.
JAR JAR: Supreme Chancellor… my august colleagues, I would be proud to propose the motion in question. This is a grave situation, and I’m sure Senator Amidala, and the Queen of Naboo, would agree.

And finally, Jar Jar's speech in the senate:

Amid the conflicting storm of CHEERS AND BOOS, JAR JAR, with TWO GUNGAN AIDES, floats on his pod to the middle of the vast space. He looks at PALPATINE nervously. PALPATINE nods. JAR JAR clears his throat.
JAR JAR: Senators, dellow felagates…
Laughter. Jeers. JAR JAR blushes.
MAS AMEDDA: Order! The Senate will accord the Representative the courtesy of a hearing!
Comparative quiet. JAR JAR grips the edge of the podium.
JAR JAR: In response to the direct threat to the Republic from the Confederacy of Independent Systems, I propose that the Senate gives immediate emergency powers to the Supreme Chancellor.
Uproar. JAR JAR looks a little sheepish.
JAR JAR: (continuing) Who can deny these are exceptional times? Exceptional times demand exceptional measures! Exceptional measures demand exceptional men!
ORN FREE TAA: We won’t support a dictator.
SHOUTS of agreement.
JAR JAR: That is the sentiment every one of us agrees with! And when the shadow of war has dispersed and the bright day of liberty has dawned once again, the power we now give to the Supreme Chancellor will be gladly, and swiftly returned. Our ancient liberties will be restored to us, burnished even more brightly than before!
Brief silence, then a rolling wave of APPLAUSE. JAR JAR beams and bows.

Jar Jar starts off being viewed as a joke, but then he kills it with the speech, being responsible for turning the Senate from being against the idea to being in favor of it, and he was the one who nominated himself to do it! In this version Jar Jar is an essential part of Palpatine getting where he wants.
So as shown, in the earlier scrip Jar Jar had a more active role than what he did in the movie. this makes it seem likely that jar jar was in fact originally working with Palpatine, but it was written out because of the backlash ep1 got. possible that even earlier drafts had more and these are just leftovers, or that it was saved for ep3.
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For context: I finished my undergraduate degree in 2023 and am currently debating whether or not I should get a paralegal certificate, a masters degree, or go to law school. My first job post-graduation was as a demand writer at a large PI firm for a little over half a year before switching over to my current position (the one in question) My pay at my current position is $21.25/hr.
I applied for a job on Indeed that was listed as a “Law Clerk/Paralegal” position and my official title ended up being a Legal Assistant. In my area (Southern California), a lot of job positions are labeled this way or as “legal assistant/paralegal”. Do firms do this to try and attract candidates who wouldn’t have applied without the word paralegal in the title as a buzz word, but in reality it is a legal assistant position? Or do firms do this to intentionally pay candidates less than they would a certified paralegal, but the job entails paralegal responsibilities?
Would it be disingenuous to put my position as paralegal on my resume? My everyday job duties include but not limited to: answering the phone, conducting intake calls, filling up WC applications, drafting WC letters, drafting/filing motions and documents for both WC + civil employment cases, calendaring, and scanning mail daily.

Logan the bounty hunter was in a really bad mood.
It all started when the coffee machine stopped working. This wasn’t a rare occurrence; in fact, it was the third time this cycle, but this time his go-to solution (taking out and reinserting the star powder battery) didn’t fix it, and he was all out of ideas.
It’s not that the caffeine even did anything for him. The nanomachines in his system filtered out many sorts of potentially addictive or harmful substances, and for some reason this included caffeine, which is a fact he only realized after the seven-cycle refund period had passed.
Still, it was an old habit and an act of comfort that he sorely felt the absence of.
That was the first thing. The second thing was that his tracker had stopped working. In fact, his entire connection to the galactic wide web (gww) had gone down. Without the tracker, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of his current bounty—a low-class deathworlder wanted for kidnapping and trafficking—which kind of made his whole bounty hunting business difficult to do.
Oh, and his ship had crashed.
Damn thing was overdue for maintenance, and the autopilot had started malfunctioning while flying over a small dusty-brown planet. It had taken some careful manual maneuvering and some buffeting about in the planet’s whirlwind atmosphere, but eventually he had managed the miracle of walking away from a smoking and unsalvageable wreckage with only minor cuts and bruises.
Here he was now, trudging through the sandy windswept dunes of a planet that hadn’t even showed up on the map. Armed with little more than a spacesuit, a blaster, and an undying will. And wishing he’d had that cup of coffee (and wasn’t immune to caffeine).
Logan raised a hand to his eyes, peering through the thick glass of his visor. There was so much dust and sand swirling around that it made it quite hard to see where he was going, not that there were any landmarks in sight anyway. It looked scorching hot outside, though his spacesuit registered a cool 286 Kelvin for some reason. Likely another malfunction, one that he’d rather not put to the test.
On a planet like this, he supposed, everyone (if anyone was even here) probably lived under the surface where it was probably cooler and probably free from sandstorms. All he had to do was find the entrance to their underground tunnels among all this shifting sand.
The chance of that happening was, unfortunately, not very high. Still, Logan wasn’t panicking yet; he’d been through worse, he thought. He’d been through jungles teeming with 8-foot beetles. Survived massive hiveminds circling to entrap him, faced slippery slimes that reformed their bodies to resemble those he held dearest. Horrible learning experiences, those.
That being said, sometimes it’s the mundane problems that pose the greatest threats of all. Starvation, aching thirst, and a dwindling oxygen supply while wandering a barren desert. It wouldn’t be a glamorous way to go out, and Logan was wracking his brain for ideas.
Now would’ve been a good time to use his rescue beacon, if he had one. This would be his, what, 127th bounty? And until now, he’d never had to use a beacon. Stopped carrying one a dozen bounties ago. Maybe it was just luck, but things had always gone pretty smoothly, and maybe he’d gotten a little overconfident.
Logan knelt down and grasped at the ground, watching the little grains of sand sift through his gloved fingers. Those little specks seemed to shimmer and flicker, like a low quality hologram call. Otherwise, though, they seemed normal; surprisingly similar to the sand he remembered from Earth. It made sense that some things remained the same throughout the universe; it’s not like every planet could re-invent the periodic table, after all. Even aliens had to remain grounded in reality, however loosely.
He looked down. According to his suit’s display, he had a few hours of oxygen left. He’d been walking for a while now with nothing but the sands to show for it. He also had to pee. It was really going quite terribly.
“It looks like you’re doing quite terribly,” a voice said, velvety and welcoming. Logan jerked his head up, blinking rapidly in surprise.
Standing before him, with crossed arms and a smoldering look, was a lithe, dusky-furred humanoid. They—or she, judging by the feminine face—was wearing a long, thin shawl translucent enough to reveal a pair of twitching, swiveling ears and a questioningly arced tail, swaying in the wind.
The feline features were unmistakable. It was, by all accounts, a catgirl.
Mentally, Logan pumped his arm and jumped for joy. Just wait until the guys back at Earth heard about this! Many a novice pilot first set out for the stars with dreams of catgirls and other alien babes in mind, but thus far, most alien species had been decidedly strange and eerily-shaped, though this didn’t stop everyone from pursuing them. Outwardly, though, he nodded, and rasped, “I could use some help. Do you know about this thing called ‘oxygen’?”
The catgirl frowned. “Great way to say hi to a girl. But yes, you aren’t the first traveler to crash-land on Shaw Prime. Follow me.”
“Oh, great,” Logan said. How convenient. “Where to?”
“My people live underground, hidden from the elements within a complex system of—”
“Tunnels? I knew it.”
The catgirl turned around and whipped her tail against Logan’s leg. It kind of stung for a moment. “I don’t know what culture you come from, traveler, but in mine, it’s rude to interrupt someone while they’re speaking. Especially if they’re the host and you, the guest.”
Logan rubbed the back of his head (or tried to, but the spacesuit got in the way). “Sorry. Just got excited. Interrupting someone speaking is actually considered rude in my culture, too.”
“So you should’ve known better.” The catgirl harrumphed and started marching forward, waving her tail to signal him to follow. He shrugged and started trudging along behind her.
“So where am I, exactly? ‘Shoe Prime’ you said earlier, I think?”
“Shaw Prime,” she corrected. “A small sand planet on the outermost reaches of the nearest solar system. Quite uninhabitable for most, and all our visitors arrive unwillingly.”
“I see. It certainly feels inhospitable. And,” Logan said, jumping in place a couple times, “you’ve got decently strong gravity, though less than where I come from. You know, this feels like at least a minor deathworld to me.”
“The term ‘deathworld’ is new to me, but it does seem fitting enough.”
“Right. I’m guessing the Galactic Federation hasn’t gotten around to marking your planet yet. Actually, your planet didn’t even show up on my map; people might not even know that civilization exists here. Huh.” It would be the first time for Logan to discover a new species. He could report this back home, and hopefully get handsomely rewarded for it.
“The ‘Galactic Federation’? I haven’t heard that term before. What does it mean?”
“That’s the big alliance formed by all the space-faring species of the known universe. They’re basically responsible for everything, including first official contact with new species like yours.” Logan paused a moment. “Wait, you said I’m not the first traveler to land here, right? How have you not heard of the Galactic Federation before?”
The catgirl’s ears twitched, but she didn’t look back. “They must have neglected to mention it.”
“Weird. Surely someone must’ve mentioned it. The Federation’s got these rules for first contact, see, and—”
“We’re almost there.” The catgirl interrupted, glancing back at him with those smoky eyes. “The hidden entrance to the tunnels lies just ahead.”
Logan peered through his visor. Ahead of his guide’s slim figure, he saw nothing but more of the same brown hues. A sudden uneasiness prickled his skin. “Where? I don’t see anything.”
“If you could see it, it wouldn’t be very hidden, would it? Come on.”
She beckoned him forward, and a few paces later, stopped entirely. She crouched down and scrabbled at the sand a few times, revealing a circular wooden hatch buried under a thin layer of sand. It didn’t look that heavy, but she grunted and strained to lift it up with her paws, revealing a dark cavern down inside.
“In you go,” she said, pointing her tail at the hole.
Something about this didn’t sit right with Logan. Maybe it was the way her fur stood warily on end, the way her ears shivered every so often. Maybe it was the fact that his guide didn’t know about the Galactic Federation, yet seemed familiar enough with travelers to communicate with ease. Sure his universal translator helped, but that was only supposed to work with discovered species, not ones that had yet to be contacted and researched. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t like jumping into suspiciously dark holes in the ground.
There was also the fact that the temperature gauge in his suit was now measuring a chilly 270 Kelvin. A far cry from the heat suggested by the sun-baked sands he saw.
He had a guess where this was going, and he didn’t like it, not one bit.
“Say,” he said, conversationally. “I noticed your hologram flickering earlier. Think you need some maintenance.”
“What?” The catgirl said, raising a dusky eyebrow. “I don’t know what that is. Won’t you go inside?”
“I’m just saying. It’s a convincing show and all, promise, but once you’ve been in the biz long enough, you start noticing small details like flickering sand and mismatched temps.”
“Look at you. All the heat must’ve gone to your head.” She said, sidling up to him. There was a sudden yet subtle shift in her demeanor, so quick that he almost didn’t notice. Her eyes lowered, her tongue darted out to lick her nose, and she placed one foot in front of the other gracefully, retracing her own steps perfectly. She approached him, casually curling her tail around his leg, sending tingles up his spine.
“Poor, weary traveler. It must’ve been tough, sailing through space all on your own. Won’t you come inside and rest a while?” She purred, tugging him gently towards the open hatch. “Quickly, before the sand covers it again.”
He inched a hand towards the blaster hanging at his side, unmoved by the obvious act. “Does the word ‘gelatinous’ mean anything to you?”
Her eyes locked onto his hand, her tail going stiff behind her. “Not as such, no. Why don’t we discuss this inside? After you, of course.”
“Of course. I’ll be on my way, then.”
Logan said, shoving her away, leaping back, and unholstering his blaster, all in one practiced motion. She landed softly on all fours, hissed, then sprang at him, fast as lightning. He raised an arm to block, pulling up his blaster and aiming it at her center mass. At the same time, she skidded to an abrupt halt before him, half-crouching as one hand darted past his arm without a sound.
They both froze. Logan’s blaster trained on her torso, her claws nearly piercing his neck. It seemed they were at a deadlock.
Wait, Logan thought to himself. I have a spacesuit.
His fingers itched on the trigger, but in that same instant, he heard a small tearing sound as a single claw slipped through several layers of synthetic polymers, Kevlar, and silica fiber to rest itself pointedly against the actual skin of his neck. A small hissing sound indicated the oxygen leaking from the new hole in his suit.
“That’’s a sharp knife you’ve got.” He said, feeling his mouth drying up.
“It’s not a knife,” she said smugly, though her raised fur betrayed her wariness.
“Enough of these illusions, okay? I’ve seen through ‘em. We’re not in a desert, and you’re not a catgirl. I’ve met your kind before—shape-shifting, amorphous slimes, always taking the form of something I love. Usually it’s my late wife or a dear friend, but pretending to be a catgirl is taking it too far.” He sniffed.
She hmphed, and said, “You’re only half-right, outworlder.” She let out a trilling sound, and a moment later, the world flickered out of existence.
With the veil lifted, Logan could see the world for what it really was. Gone were the tan-brown desert and the shifting sands. In their place was a world of ash. White and grey specks drifted through a sunless sky, cold and desolate. Looking down, he saw that his feet were buried ankle-deep in the stuff. So the feeling of sand had been real, sort of. He wondered what it was made of.
Dreading what he would see, he raised his eyes once more, only to see the same catgirl shivering in her shawl before him.
“This is what I actually look like,” she said, pricking her claw against his neck. “Now how about dropping that gun and sticking your hands in the air?”
“So catgirls are real.” Logan wondered aloud, feeling hope swelling in his chest.
“I… guess?” She seemed uneasy about the way he looked at her. “So about that gun—"
“What is this place?” He asked, prodding his blaster against her stomach. “I’m pretty sure it looked like a desert world from outside. Don’t tell me you have some, some kind of planet-wide hologram going on. That would be… I don’t know, prohibitively expensive, and very concerning.”
“Yes,” she said, straight-faced. “The hologram covers the whole solar system, in fact. We are at the center of a powerful criminal empire spanning the galaxy. The white ash is made from cremating the corpses of all who have dared to oppose us, and soon you will join their ranks.”
“Woah, really?” Logan said, raising an eyebrow. They must deal in trafficking, then.
“No, I lied. Although, usually that gets a bigger reaction out of outworlders. Now come on, you can surrender now or wait until my backup gets here, and then it’ll get messy. You choose.”
“I think I’ll wait for more catgirls to show up, thanks.”
She hissed. “It’s your lucky day. Here they are now, actually.”
From behind mountains of ash, they plodded forwards. All varieties of colors, from dusky to snow-white to calico, but all sporting the same unmistakable ears and tails. Logan’s heart beat with excitement, until he noticed the strange metal tubes being pointed at him from all angles.
“Ah, am I correct in assuming that those are your planet’s version of blasters?”
The catgirl retracted her claw from his neck and nodded in confirmation. “They’ll blast a big hole right through you.” She stretched her arms and yawned wide, letting herself relax now that her reinforcements were here.
Logan dropped the blaster to his side. “Well, shit.” Surrounded by armed enemies on all sides, he had no choice but to obey.
It was then that he had a really stupid idea. One that would probably get him killed, but which would be really funny if it worked.
His blaster had a laser scope that shined a visible red dot on his target when toggled on. An attached laser pointer, in other words. If these catgirls were anything like the felines he knew on Earth…
Hell, it was worth a shot.
[To be continued? Or maybe not. I didn’t know how to end this, and I felt pretty silly writing it :c]

Anyone else just tired of trying and just want to give up? Existence and life is so tiresome, I find I'm constantly not good enough for the world or even for myself. I am constantly dissatisfied with everything around me that most days I am just sleeping and doing nothing else. I have little to no success in my life and feel like I am the target of contempt or disapproval in the eyes of many people I meet in life. I've been called many things, lazy, stupid, ugly, dumb, and I'm just really tired of it. I'm pretty much behind a lot of my peers and family members in performance in every aspect, so basically, I fall short in everything, even in the things I enjoy, and I find my efforts are fruitless. Always.
Some say my pessimism and negativity is too much, that at the end of the day I need hope, discipline and faith in myself.
I have absolutely no idea where these people expect me to pull this from, because I have very few successes or positive experience to pull that from.
I feel very trapped in my ways and very trapped in a spiral of negativity and self hate, to the point it arises further contempt and frustration from other people that hear these thoughts from me.
You can call these excuses, self pity, or wrong, but I've never seen any valid reasoning as to why this is false, it seems very much true when I pay attention to the kinds of people that fail and those kinds of people that succeed(failure and success just referring to the ability to achieve one's goals).
I really hate being alive, because existence is such a stressful thing. You're born eventually knowing you will die one day, that there's something that you will not be able to do anything about that can occur at any time. Apparently, this is supposed to be a motivator to live, but I find it just decrease my quality of life overall with the added stress that I am wasting time or wasting my life.
"I wish I'd never been born" is a sentiment I have a lot of the time, because then I wouldn't have these desires I can't fulfill, these anxieties I can't do anything about, and the utter helplessness I feel at this time. I feel like a machine who is set to act a certain way, do a certain thing all because of a coin toss, a chain of events, that I had no control or say over, and that I am deserving of less or others of more because their outcome was more/less favorable. Most of life really just seems like it's to cope with this fact, kind of just ignoring it.
It's like a really bad Rollercoaster ride you're strapped into, you don't like it and you're afraid of Rollercoaster. You have no say in where it stops... you can maybe change your attitude towards being on the Rollercoaster, but some people just naturally will always have a fear of Rollercoaster, or will always have motion sickness, or will always hate heights, etc.
Pointing this out arises some contempt in some people, that you are lazy, self pitying, and refuse to take responsibility of your life. Except I'm not seeing where the responsibility comes in, just my own expected response to my current circumstances based upon previous data and the components I've been made up of. How is it that those who are supposedly 'lazy' like me are still more accomplished than I am academically, financially, and in experience? Curious.
Whenever these kinds of posts get a lot of upvotes, I find it disheartening because of how many people may feel similarly. It is an unfortunate likelihood that a sizable amount of us may never find satisfaction in our lives.

I decided to put together all economic indicators and plan to analyze them on a weekly basis. Does anyone in this group analyze data or just view what others just simply post to guide the market. Sources I am considering on using: St. Louis fed bank housing inventory state by state (Cause every market is different example Massachusetts vs Texas
Listed below are indicators that can signal a incoming recession:
Gross Domestic Product (GDP) Contraction: A consistent decline in GDP over two consecutive quarters is a traditional indicator of a recession.
Rising Unemployment Rates: An increase in unemployment rates suggests that businesses are laying off workers, which is often a response to declining demand.
Decline in Consumer Spending: Reduced consumer spending can indicate that households are saving more and spending less due to economic uncertainty.
Decreased Industrial Production: A fall in industrial production signals that businesses are cutting back on manufacturing due to lower demand.
Inverted Yield Curve: When short-term interest rates are higher than long-term rates, it often predicts a recession. This inversion reflects investors' expectations of declining economic growth.
Falling Stock Market: A significant decline in stock market indices can indicate investor pessimism about the economic outlook.
Reduced Business Investment: A drop in business investments suggests that companies are expecting lower future profits.
Decline in Retail Sales: Lower retail sales figures can be an early sign of reduced consumer confidence and spending.
Decrease in Housing Market Activity: A decline in housing starts, home sales, and construction activity can indicate economic slowdown as the housing market is sensitive to interest rates and consumer confidence.
Increase in Corporate Bankruptcies: A rise in corporate bankruptcies can indicate that companies are struggling to maintain profitability in a slowing economy.
Consumer Confidence Index: A significant drop in consumer confidence can signal that households are worried about their financial situation and the overall economy.
Manufacturing and Services PMIs (Purchasing Managers' Index): A PMI below 50 indicates contraction in the manufacturing or services sector, signaling economic slowdown.

I'm just sitting here in a surreal disassociated state. I can't believe I fucking blew the deadline to submit my application. It's my fault, I thought the final PA deadline was 5/31 when it was actually 5/30. I had everything ready to go but I wanted to wait til payday to process the stupidly expensive application (late fees killed me).
The worst part about this is that I work in fucking litigation. Deadlines are so crucial and I have a thousand reminders and ticklers about when responses/motions are due. Somehow my brain just stopped working for the most important exam of my life, which I won't be able to take until Feb. 2025 now.
What do I tell my friends and family? At this point, I'm just looking for better excuses so I can save some face. Does anyone have any good stories of someone getting involuntarily withdrawn from sitting for the bar exam? Can you think of any better excuses? I know I could tell them the truth but honestly, I feel like such a fucking moron I want to wrap it in a lie to make myself feel better. Or maybe not. Who knows.
Anyways, thanks for listening to me vent. Back to staring blankly at the wall.

FAIR WARNING THIS WILL BE A WALL OF TEXT
Intro: In a series of reviews that will begin (or return) here; we are going to try and take a critical look at the Chuck series, especially the unfolding of the story as scene through the teleplay. In this case we are assuming multiple things about a potential watcher:

• The watcher is new to the series and does not know about future episodes, but there is an expectation any previous episodes have been watched.
• I will try not to point information out that becomes important for later episodes, though there may be times it's important because of how episodes are filmed and how episodes string together, I will however try and hide these behind a spoiler tag. I say this as a person who has watched Chuck dozens of times, so if I inadvertently spoiler, sorry.
• I will do my best to point out interesting references that are hidden within the Chuck universe, but not at the expense of extended expositions unless in-depth analysis is necessary as it relates to the scene.

What is this all for: This started as a project to improve my critical reviewing skills for a hobby of movie script writing and analysis. Chuck happens to have published 3 original scripts and all the text of every episode has been published to a searchable database. This affords an opportunity to break from my movie writing woes and infinite revisions to just have fun enjoying Chuck and trying to deepen my understanding of the intersection of script writing with filmography and visual editing. Having said this, it should be known I have no affiliation to the show, no additional insider knowledge, and I do not write scripts for a living. So, consequently, feel free to ignore everything I say :). I do hope, however, we can go on this journey together and appreciate the excellence that is a love story called Chuck.
So, don't freak out, and lets get started.
​
Chuck 01x04 (Chuck vs the Wookiee): TEASER - We open with the gang playing "Know Ya!", which isn't actually a real board game, but based on the game Paddles. It's amazing that Morgan can't stand Ellie/Awesome being in love/winning, but marches triumphantly whenever he gets a question correct. I also like we see, in frame, Chuck watching Sarah pick off olives; he's beginning to notice things just like a real spy. The deep sadness and yet storied confliction on Chuck's face when he discovers Peaches 1 and Peaches 2 was great.
For those who don't know about dogs:

• A cocker spaniel is typically smaller; by ~5inches and up to 30lbs lighter than a springer spaniel.
• Springer spaniels also have shorter fur across their bodies, with feathered hair under their chests and legs.
• Only a cocker spaniel will be solid colored
• Springer spaniels have longer muzzles, while cockers have fluffier ears.

I find it very interesting how Sarah has "spidey sense" about potentially being watched. At no point previously did either Sarah nor Casey display this trait and I'm not totally sure how an open window was enough to do this; I wonder if Sarah's comfort being around Chuck's family is causing her to develop a "feeling of being watched" as she is comfortable with the Bartowski's? For those who missed it, Sarah talks about having a sister I think at the time this was just a throw-away line to protect her cover, but in season 5 Sarah does actually have a little sister if you count the little girl she rescues One last thing about Sarah here, when Bryce is being discussed, I really like how it was played where she acts quiet and shocked, but not saying anything. The facial expressions of Yvonne here are really special and you can tell Sarah lives a life of secrets. This is carried outside when Chuck asks Sarah about her relationship with Bryce. She is totally looking down and to the right, a classic indication of an emotional response searching for rationalization (ie. she is clearly lying)
As they end the game and exit to the courtyard, there teleplay of Chuck does something I've been wanting to see forever; they switch perspective to keep both characters in camera and follow them around from a 3rd perspective. We know this is supposed to indicate they are being watched, but I really enjoy getting to see them together reacting and talking instead of the constant close-ups and cuts. Normally Chuck will be shot with something between a medium close up (MCU) and Medium Shot (MS) to emphasize their characters and highlight their faces and expressions. This works really well because Chuck's cameras are typically either shoulder level or hip level based on the operators moving through their space. In many more modern TV shows, the technology of boom cranes and gyroscopic gimbals allows for content to be show from ground level to overhead giving directors the opportunity to tell their story through a variety of shifting profiles. If Chuck were shot today, we would see everything from full body shots all the way to extreme closeups without the need for continual jump-cuts and re-shoots because the technology is there. At least for this episode, it's nice to see the director explore more hip/knee level motion and more cowboy framed shots when having a distant observer perspective. https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/types-of-camera-shots-sizes-in-film/ does a fantastic breakdown of all the different shot type and camera perspectives for you want to read more!
As we transition into Sarah's hotel room, did anyone pick up on how NICE this is? She has double sinks, a king bed, a sitting mirror, free standing tub, and a great view. I doubt any agency in the "real world" would ever spring for something like this for multiple years for one of their agents, it's fancy! Enter Carina, tell me, who saw Sarah fight with a soap sock and think of iCarly and the famous "butter sock". Also during this fight, why is Sarah wearing a golden bikini? I know she is about to get into the shower, but what plausible reason is there for her to a) wear a bikini at all and b) it to be a bright golden yellow?? If you slow this fight scene way down, you will notice Yvonne's strikes actually come close to hitting Mimi as she has had a lot of training, whereas Mimi's strikes are miles from Yvonne and she just over-acts their impact. The most noticeable is the kick into her table, Sarah goes flying back, but we can tell from the angle, Carina missed her by a good 2 ft. This was just some sloppy editing and not getting the camera into position. I give it a pass because you have probably 3 camera operators wearing stabilized camera rigs trying to rotate around a room with 2 girls fighting and they just missed the angle by like 2 feet. I did really like at the end of the fight Carina had the option to go for the gun but instead went for the fish. If you didn't know they were not enemies before, this should have been a big clue! Carina calls Sarah's life in LA boring #1
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ACT I
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Carina aka: Maria Elena Argalberdi was born Jun 16, 1978 in Alberdi Argentina with a Buenos Aires passport. Maria Elena is actually the name of a famous song in Mexico and eventually had a movie. This Chuck learns on Flash #1 and is the precursor to meeting the general for the first time. I know I've mentioned this before, but to reiterate; the pictures in Casey's apartment are all wrong; he has photos of Chuck and Morgan that don't happen until season 5 (lost footage) he has a map of Echo Park and Malibu already on display, and he has tactical information for each member of the Buy More (which he has no reason for at this time). It is interesting they talk about an opium cartel in Afghanistan as Afghanistan is known for it's huge poppy fields for heroin drug money.
The NADAN-I-NOOR diamond:

• The Nadan-I-Noor diamond has never been known to be bought or sold and ha only changed owners as a result of theft, conquest, or endowment
• It's listed as having 57 facets + 16 facets on girdle = 73. A facet is comparable with the brilliance of a diamond and is really the flat surfaces of a gemstone arranged in a geometrical pattern. In this case it helps characterize the refraction of light through the diamond interior. The girdle i the outer edge of a diamond surface, having 16 faces is quite large, as the girdle is the largest section of a gem, but also the thinnest when viewed from the side. In this case, having 73 facets puts the Nadan-I-Noor in either the Princess-Cut Diamond or Radiant Cut Diamond category, which are also the most expensive as they have the most possible facets.
• having 4-fold, mirror-image symmetry refers to how the light reflects internally to the diamond and indicates there are no impurities within the crystalline structure.
• interestingly a purity rating is not given, i would expect something like a F or IF (flawless/internally flawless) for a diamond described like this, but one isn't provided.
• the angles of incidence just describe the best way for light to enterefract from the diamond, these numbers are fake, but the metric is real
• there is a lot of sanscript written around the diamond markings, I can't figure out what if anything it means it looks like repeated nonsense
• could be a nod to the Koh-i-noor or "mountain of light" diamond, although this one in Persian is the "fool of light".

We open back to see Carina and Sarah looking at classified files within the restaurant. THIS IS AGAINST THE LAW, you do not look at classified files out in the open and especially not where there are clearly other customers around. Venturing into the BuyMore, there is a monster truck rally on the TV's showing grave digger and reaper, two famous trucks from this time period. Morgan wants to spread his wings and be the fourth wheel to the perpetual 3 wheel party and Sarah, ever the schemer, literally glows when she thinks of the plan to have Carina go on a date with Morgan. I THINK this was just to help maintain their cover, but also maybe Sarah is just needling Carina? If you look in the back of the store when Chuck is talking to Sarah and Carina, there is a really cool Nerd Herd poster that says "Bringing peace to your computer emergency". "if a yawn could yawn" is Carina calling Sarah's job boring #2. One thing I really like with the double data is the way the camera jumps between the couples: boy/girl, boy/boy, girl/girl. I think they way they try and keep private conversations via screen time is a really nice, typical, teleplay trick that really works well here. In a "real" environment, everyone could hear everything, but by splitting the camera focus or playing with perspective, the viewer clearly knows "this is a conversation between girls the boys don't hear it". We see Chuck noticing Sarah picking off olives #2 while they watch a movie about penguins: who mate for life, present their love in the form of rocks, and are pack animals. In Chuck's bedroom as he talks to Morgan, Chuck has a box of King Edward Invincible underneath bongos; for those who don't know this is a famous box for mild tobacco cigars. So I wonder what Chuck is up to in his free time :P.
On the Nerd Herd call with Carina, she opens a bottle of wine with a butter knife. This is actually a pretty famous thing that is done all over the world with everything from a key to a saber. In fact they make a specially type of knife with an extra wide blade for this it Italy. I do want to ask the question; is Carina dressed in red lingerie (Chuck's favorite color she stole from Sarah) really necessary for this scene? I know that Carina is all about improvising and she often uses her sexuality to progress her cause (Casey), but I think we could have gotten away with just the top. I can certainly see the rationalization for going this far, but I think as an artistic choice it wasn't necessary. What IS necessary however is to talk about how Chuck's world implodes when Carina tells him about Sarah and Bryce. Also the perfect act transition ending right at Chuck's jaw dropping and the work boyfriend!
​
ACT II
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I'll say it again, the back an forth with Chuck and Sarah should have been a medium close up, shoulder level straight on shot instead of the constant cuts. Seeing their reaction in real time would have been easier and it would have allowed the Weinerlicious to be maybe 15 ft smaller to not need so many cameramen rotating. "Unless talking to your boyfriend is a matter of national security, the ketchup bottles won't refill themselves". Why yes it IS a mater of national security for Sarah to talk to Chuck... also if any one of us stood up to our boss like Sarah did, I'm pretty sure we'd be fired on the spot!
Malibu is ~2hours for Echo Park with standard LA traffic. Seriously, how do girls in high heels walk down stairs; we see Carina and Sarah walking sideways so there is enough space on each step to fit their shoes. Girls, how do you do that and not fall especially with narrow staircases and 3-6inch heels! Inside the room with the stone there is a bust of Cesare, archenemies, da vinci, and biblical David. There is also some famous paintings the best of which is Vemieer's "young girl with a pearl earring" which is rather appropriate considering it's meaning. There is also a Van Gogh of man in a wheat field and a Monet in one shot too. If ANY of these paintings were real instead of reproductions, they would be worth millions, in fact the young girl with a pearl is estimated at 40million, which is 1.5x the sell value of the Nadan-I-Noor! If we take a look at the engineering drawing of Flash #2 on the pedestal, we would see this design creates a closed circuit around the tongs the diamond rests on; which might explain it's red hue. If a person were to touch the diamond, it would close the circuit on their body allowing the 4000volts to travel through their heart. A person can die with ~20volts, though it's usually more like 50 in most occurrences. 4000volts is enough to kill a herd of elephants and completely overkill for a person. Also the amount of power that would take is more than the city of Malibu... this is to say the trap is real, the numbers are complete nonsense; thinking lightning! Nice shot by Sarah with the plate (there are some great bloopers on this too where she misses badly)! A remote controlled jet ski... i'm not even going to calculate the nonsense for this; it's just total nonsense. Almost as much nonsense as Casey using his phone to track Carina's call. That would take minutes, even with today's technology to back trace like that and way more power than just pushing a button on a razer flip-phone from the 90's!
back at the house, Chuck i playing halo with the legendary skulls as his weapon; this is nice because in the BuyMore at the end of the episode there are dudes dressed as master chief! I really like the changing perspective here with Chuck and Morgan. Chuck's reactions remain in focus while Morgan tells a story behind him, then it switches as Chuck starts to move around until bringing both into focus for the final line "we still have each other and that's really sad". The side cut to Sarah picking locks to the hotel door is classic early 2000's TV and i'm all for it, even if it is super cheezy. BTW as someone who used to lock pick in college, that's .... not how that works, but good try. We get our Flash #3 on the diamond in Morgan's back nuclear explosions. I wonder if the refractive capability of a diamond this pure is enough to focus laser to induce fission or if the value of selling the diamond is enough to buy nuclear material on the black market? Either way, we end the act with... the man with the golden gun!
​
ACT III
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Chuck uses Sarah's plate move against Carina, nice inter-episode call back; he's clearly watching/learning, but his aim is terrible. This was actually clever as Sarah has perfect aim for she is a professional, while Chuck is still definitely a civilian and has no aptitude for fighting. I really like both these types of simple call backs but also how seemingly throw-away lines/actions help tell the broad story of the show. Chuck talking to Carina also shows Chuck has this weird, innate aptitude to get people to re-evaluate themselves and grow internally. You can watch Carina "grow in real-time. When we get to the hotel and Carina opens her trunk first there are a few glocks, a couple rugers, and a 1911; then she switches to blades and we see some folders, some strait blades, an illegal gravity blade (still illegal today), and a kbar... nice selection! Carina, always the flirt, gives Chuck some very insightful works about the nature of being a spy, but also maybe some way to get through to Sarah.
Inside the hotel we see Carina and Sarah speaking; Carina is speaking Swedish, while Sarah replies in Polish. "Om jag slänger nycklarna till dig, kommer du tappa dem då?" which is Swedish for "If I throw you the keys, will you drop them?" Sarah answered in Polish: "Tylko jak rzucisz jak twoja mamusia", which means "Only if you throw it like your mommy". This is just great!
I want to talk about how fast Chuck managed to find an address for DC, print a label, open a box, put the label on, and get the diamond there all before the door gets broken. Somehow on screen time this is like 10seconds, but in real life this would have to be like 3minutes minimum? Either that door is remarkably strong or... TV magic??
​
ACT IV
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Even with all the flirting, as we say goodbye to Carina >! for now !< she is still joking with Casey and every the professional. I like how they show when it's "game time" it's all about the job, but spys can be people too! Carina still calls Sarah's life boring #3 (the common trifecta of episode repeats).
Sarah's face when Chuck brings the pizza with no olives is the reason I think Yvonne makes the perfect Sarah. She exudes the hidden beauty needed and has the acting to so such emotion for Chuck being sweet. The whole scene with Chuck and Sarah asking questions, then Chuck backing off, then Sarah acting stoic like she WANTS to open up but doesn't know if she can really trust Chuck, is ready to move on from Bryce, and should for the nature of her job. This was probably the most well acted 20seconds of the entire episode. Finally, we hear Sarah's middle name is Lisa. Now we never officially know if Chuck hears this or not both due to camera focus and distance, it's never officially confirmed in the entire show. When the intersect is updated in season 4 we see Sarah's picture and it lists Lisa as a middle name, so we assume it's official, but it's never confirmed at any point. Finally, I really like how they end the episode with Sarah closing her eyes as the fade to black.
​
Few notes: There are 5 official songs in this episode:

• "Yea Yeah" by Matt and Kim - when the gang is playing board games during group date night. This song is about not worrying about the things you cannot change. Little things that build up and bum you out that you need to just let go.
• "Wild Girl" Matt Pond PA - Chuck and Morgan discussing their relationship problems. This song is about overcoming past struggles and finding hope in the present and future. Describing a sense of resilience and optimism
• "weird science" by does it offend you - Chuck and Carina talk at Peyman' Malibu Compound. This is a remind to break free and embrace individuality and live on your own terms. Be unapologetically ourselves.
• Shy by Mathew Dear - the double date
• "Fall into place" the apartment - the team say's goodby to Carina. Deals with growing up, taking (or not taking) chances. finding oneself in the unpredictability of life. I have to say, we don't actually hear the lyrics to any of these songs during the episode just the melody, but I don't really appreciate the music choices here. I feel like there were better options at key points, so that's a miss from me.
  
• On the DVD for Season One the word Wookiee is spelled incorrectly, leaving off the last E.
  
• "It used to be titled "Chuck Versus the Speedo" because the main bad guy in this show is this dude who wears a Speedo all the time. Then when the casting guy realized he had a good amount -- and by good, I mean healthy, a healthy amount of body hair -- they thought, why not call it "Chuck vs. the Wookiee". So it's this guy who's got this diamond, and we're trying to heist the diamond and all hell breaks loose." ―Zachary Levi quoted by Access Hollywood discussing this episode's title
  

​
I think this was a great episode and really showcased what they can do when additional cast members join the team and when they are not afraid to play with perspective. Mimi as Carina is a great addition to the ensemble and I wish we saw her more, but every time she drops in, it's always a wild episode and it's fantastic. Watching Chuck learn about Sarah and seeing Sarah start to open up is a good way forward and heck Casey had some of the best humor in the episode. Overall, it was fast paced, had some nice character development, as funny in the best way, and moved the main theme along, 8/10.

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From the beginning...
Cast

Part 2, Chapter 10

The next morning dawns cold and clear. It is plain that autumn is upon the land, and with the Great Glacier just leagues to the north, winter will come soon. The party goes about their morning business, eating (everyone), checking the state of the beard and deciding whether or not to shave it off (Arthur, generally, but also Atticus as Novos doesn’t grow a beard and Zander doesn’t shave his), climbing into armor (pretty much everyone except Dillium, Felicity, and Pocky), feeding and loading horses and asses (pretty much everyone, but particularly Zander, Arthur, Atticus, and Pocky), and finally packing up the pavillionsol (Dillium). Ready for the day’s journey, the group mounts up. On cue, the guide appears, apparently having prepared well ahead. If he’s irritated that the party slept all the way until dawn, he has the good grace to keep that to himself.
Felicity speaks up. “We’ve changed our minds, actually. I don’t think there’s any particular benefit in going to Dragon’s Perch—”
“I agree.”
“—so we’re going to go to Samek instead.”
“Samek? Hmmm. Do they know you are coming? If they don’t, it will take them a while.”
“No, they don’t know we’re coming, that I am aware of.”
The guide nods once and sets out. Much of the day is uneventful, and it does warm up to a comfortable level. By late afternoon, those with tender backsides are wondering when the ride will conclude when the guide raises his hand in a universal gesture of ‘stop and shut up a minute.’ The party still hasn’t learned that gesture, but fortunately there are no giants about [1]. “We’re here,” is all he says.
“Where?” “I don’t see anything.” “What are we supposed to see?” Like tourists on vacation, they peer around in all directions. They can’t see the entrance for the hill. Or rather, the entrance to the gnomish town of Samek is so well hidden in the side of the hill that for a while, only Dillium can see the faint outline of the round doorway. One by one, Flea, Arthur, and Zander finally pick it out. Novos is absolutely certain they are playing a prank on him. Arthur is first. Knocking on the hill seems odd, but practically before he gets a third knock, a small hole opens up around waist height. Two beady little eyes peer out (at Arthur’s belt).
“What!?”
“We are here—”
“So I see.” The window closes.
Zander walks up and knocks. The same window opens, and the same beady little eyes peer out.
“What!?”
“Do you know who I am?” Zander asks.
The beady little eyes look him up and down. “No,” and the window closes.
Dillium tries next. Knock, window, eyes. “Good day. We are here to see—”
“So see.” Window shuts.
Novos walks up. “I know how to do this.” Knock, window, eyes, increasingly aggravated tone. “Let us in.”
“No.”
Felicity has had enough of this. Walking up to the door, she stands for a moment gathering her thoughts. Knock, window, eyes, aggravated tone. “Good day. I’m here on behalf of the Duke of Soravia to see the wise men of your town, or those in charge.”
“Which ones?”
“What?”
“Which ones, the wise men, or those that are in charge?”
“How about if we start with the ones in charge, and perhaps they will decide to allow us to speak with the wise ones.”
The beady little eyes peer out, look around at the party, and appear to give that some thought. “Wait here.” The window closes.
Minutes pass. Tens of minutes pass. Novos gets bored and walks up to the door. He barely gets a third knock in before the window opens. A different set of beady little eyes peers out, and a different aggravated voice says, “What do you want now?”
“We’ve been waiting for a while, and—”
“—And you’ll continue to wait!.” The window slams shut unnecessarily roughly.
“Why you—” Rough arms grab Novos from behind and pull him away before he can do something regretful.
“We’ll wait, as they’ve asked,” Felicity says. She looks around to ask the guide how long they can expect to wait, but he’s disappeared.
The evening passes. As the cold sets in, Atticus and Pocky gather enough light branches for a fire. There’s no benches or logs to sit on, so they squat or sit on the ground. Arthur has taken to pulling off portions of his armor and working on polishing and repairing the scorch marks from the lava snakes [2]. Atticus and Mar debate the relative benefits of following the letter of the law versus being merciful, though in the end, both of them seem to be arguing the same things in violent agreement. Pocky falls asleep against Modred’s side as Beaker plays with a bone left over from… Wait, where did he get that bone anyway?
Finally, the reality that the night is upon them sets in. A proper camp is set, and watches begin. Zander takes the first watch, but sees nothing of interest. He does hear the chirping of grasshoppers, the droning of the cicadas, and the baying of the hounds. Suddenly, the hounds stop. Unnerved, Zander wakes Arthur, who has the next watch. Arthur, Atticus, and Zander take a turn around the camp, but cannot see nor hear anything that sounds like dogs. Arthur agrees to start his watch a few minutes early and Zander takes Pocky inside the pavillionsol to sleep. Arthur’s, and then Dillium’s watches pass uneventfully. Novos, as normal, takes the last watch. As usual, he is so wrapped up with his puzzle box that he notices absolutely nothing.
The cold morning brings breakfast, bickering, and an irritated Novos marching up to the door to bang on it. “We’ve been here all night,” he informs the guard.
“Yes. Yes you have.” The window closes.
Knock. Window. Eyes. “When will we see—”
“When it is time.” The window closes.
Before he can knock again, Dillium grabs his wrist, pushing him back, she squares herself to the door. “When it is time, please inform us.” She says to the closed window.
The window opens and two beady little eyes peer out. A slightly irritated voice replies, “What else would we do?” The window closes.
Several hours pass as the valley warms up. Arthur, Pocky, Atticus, and Mar all work on armor, doing the necessary daily ritual of dusting, oiling, checking rivets to make sure they are still tight and sound. Polish is applied, worked into the metal, and removed. Bickering, some good natured and others not, flows. At midmorning, the guide turns up suddenly, and squats down near the fire. Minutes later, the window opens and familiar eyes peer out. Felicity quickly crosses over to the door.
“Is the council ready for us?” She asks.
“Council? You wanted to speak with those who lead.”
“Yes. I assume that would be your leadership council.” Felicity replies.
“So it is. So it is. There certainly are a lot of you. You can’t all come.” The window closes.
Felicity thinks quickly and makes a motion to Dillium. Knocking gently, she waits for the window to open. “How many of us may come?” She asks sweetly.
“Uhm… “ The window closes. A minute later it re-opens. “Three.” The gnome says.
“Fine. I agree.”
“You agree? I mean, Yes, of course you agree. Come, come!” Suddenly in a hurry, the gnome opens the door, which slides open silently.
As Felicity and Dillium take a step toward the door, the guide steps up behind them. “Where are you going?” Flea asks imperiously.
“The little ones know me.”
“Which ones?”
The guide thinks. “Mayhaps all of them?” With a slight shrug, Felicity accepts that, and they all pass into a dark room, barely tall enough to stand up in.
Dillium is the tallest of the small group, and she has to stoop over to get through the passageway. The guide bends his head down a bit, but Felicity strides forward as if she owns the place, the top of her hair only occasionally brushing the ceiling of the passage. There are guards in dark metal armor in front and behind, but the guard who let them in the door is wearing a much more colorful shirt. As their eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, they note that there are luminescent lichens on the walls, providing a dim light that casts no shadows and fails to illuminate the armored gnomes.
The corridor stretches on for ages. There are branching tunnels to either side, and once, down. Tiny faces can be seen in the dim light as word spreads of the Big’uns. Dillium’s back is screaming by the time they finally reach a room and stop. A door on one side of the room is guarded by two more of the dark-skinned, dark-armored gnomes and a small fire is burning in the middle of the room. The benches around the room are designed for shorter legs and smaller butts, so the guide simply squats down. Dillium sits and starts to work the kinks out of her back. The guards don’t speak, but every once in a while, a face peers in through the open doorway they came in. Some faces are much smaller than others, and a motherly hand frequently grabs the tot and hustles them along.
The trio waits.
***
Pocky and Zander practice sword work as Atticus watches and occasionally tosses out suggestions. Mar naps. Arthur works on removing scorch marks from his armor while Novos plays with his puzzle box and loafs. Something draws Arthur’s attention. As he looks up, he sees eyes staring at him intently peering out from a bush. Without breaking eye contact, he feels around until he grabs Novos’ head and points it at the bush. Novos stares, uncertain what he’s meant to be looking at. “Zander!” Arthur hisses. He points at the bush with too many eyes. Well, two is too many for a bush. Zander looks. He looks some more. Arthur looks away for a moment, and when he looks back, the eyes are gone. Everyone runs over and crowds around the bush. Novos sees what looks like prints—paw prints not unlike Modred’s pawprints, though Modred is being lazy over next to the pavillionsol. Novos looks around, but sees no other paw prints. The men walk around the bush looking for other tracks, but only manage to obscure everything.
***
An hour passes. The guide lounges as if he has nothing on his mind. Dillium meditates, while Felicity tries to work out what the team’s next move should be. Somewhat abruptly, a young gnome opens the door and comes through. “Ready are you?” The darkened room has only a few dim lights. An ancient gnome sits on a three-legged stool in the middle of the room, a small rod in his hand. Eight or nine other gnomes cluster around the small room, some sitting on tiny gnome-sized benches, others standing. Any whispering that might have been going on ceases when the Big’uns come into the chamber.
The eldest speaks. “Warren. Several turnings it has been since last among us you came. Tell. What is the state of the above-realm?”
“They grow bolder. I have seen them throughout the valley, and without fear. If you are to act, you might contemplate doing so soon.” The gnomes chatter amongst themselves in a foreign tongue. The elder lets it go for a few minutes, then he raps on the floor with his rod. Silence returns.
“As I have feared it is. Soon must we act. Well to see you it is. Not so long to visit should you wait.” Turning his attention to Felicity, he inquires, “Please to tell name and purpose for disturbing.”
Felicity tells who she is, and allows Dillium to introduce herself. Flea announces that war is soon to be upon the land. The Duke of Soravia needs friends and allies for the coming conflict, and wishes to include the gnomes. The gnomes chatter nervously, and some of the chatter sounds of anger or fear. Again, the elder waits several minutes and then raps his rod upon the ground.
“Aware of the duke we are, but no call to extend friendship hand we have heard. What does the duke wish of us?” The chatter now is less nervous and more fearful.
“The danger to us all is great, but the duke understands that each should contribute within their talents and means. I suggest that your greatest assistance may lie in logistics, and supply. Perhaps providing some of the greatly admired gnomish craftsmanship would help to raise funds. Any assistance that you willingly provide for the benefit of one and all is exactly enough.” The chatter and babble of the gnomes in the room sounds almost relieved, but still a touch fearful. The elder allows it to go on for several minutes before he raps on the floor once. Saying something in gnomish, he raises his hand. One by one, the gnomes lift their hands out parallel to the floor. It takes a moment or two, but finally all of them agree.
“Determine what we can contribute, we must. If any. As talk we must, a favor for us could you do.” He speaks a few words of gnomish before continuing.
***
“So what is inside that puzzle box you keep playing with?” Arthur asks. He seems more tired of the delay than curious, and is simply passing the time. Mar casts an irritated glance at Novos.
“Dunno. Perhaps a great treasure. Maybe all the misfortune in the world. Probably nothing. Dillium gave it to me months ago.” He continues manhandling it, pushing, prodding, tapping, and so on.
Zander comes over and plops down next to Novos. “Can I have a go?”
“Sure.” Novos hands the box over to Zander, who takes it gingerly in his large rough hands. After a minute or two of working with it to no avail, he hands it over to a beckoning Arthur who seems to have seen something the others missed. He didn’t. Atticus and Mar both have a go before Pocky takes a turn. In three deft moves, the box is opened, revealing an empty space in the middle, roughly large enough for three large silver coins stacked on top of each other. He shrugs as he hands it back to Novos.
With a sigh, Novos starts trying to close the box.
*** “Many generations ago, when but a babe my own great-grandsire’s great-grandsire was, did Callarduran Smoothands of a king tell us. When nigh was the time would he arise. Half of a golden crown he gave us, and a tomb of a great warrior king showed he us. When greatest was our need, take our half of the golden crown to the tomb we are to do, and with the other half reunite it. Drawing close the time is. Our enemies the tomb have discovered we fear. The other half of the crown have they stolen. Taken our birthright, they have. The other half of the crown return to us?” [3]
Dillium recognizes Callarduran Smoothands from a lecture that seemed to last forever, but probably was just before lunchtime. Callarduran is the god of the Svirfneblin, and is held in high regard—perhaps more so than the head of the gnomish pantheon, Garl Glittergold [4].
“Who are these enemies?” Felicity asks.
“Evil ones they are. From us they rob. Our people they kill. Monsters they are.”
An older gnome arrives from the darkness. He is wearing dark armor, and carrying a soft bag made of what appears to be moss. The eldest reaches into the bag and withdraws an arc of gold. It certainly appears to be what you’d expect half a tiara or head band to look like, but it is nearly entirely devoid of ornamentation or decoration. The full crown must be rather plain indeed. Dismissing the trio with a “Think on your words we will,” Felicity, Dillium, Warren (the guide), and Ser Reginald the gnome are escorted from the hall and out of Samek.
Ser Reginald greets them as friends, and chatters through much of the trek up to the surface. He says he is one of a very few remaining ‘royal escorts,’ first named soon after Callarduran Smoothands gave them their half of the crown. They have, over many many many many many many generations (he was unable to count them all), been responsible for guarding the crown and preparing for the arrival of the king. He’s fought the evil ones, and admitted to hunting and killing them in their beds, but would not give a physical description of them. He also admitted that he knew precisely where the tomb was, but had never been inside, “as the time was not yet to hand.”
Finally, they reach the doorway to the outside. With a warning to shield their eyes lest they be struck blind by the sun, Ser Reginald leads the group out to find the rest of the party scrambling to their feet. To the consternation of Ser Reginald, they take the time to break camp, saddle their beasts, and mount up. Ser Reginald wants nothing to do with the horses, so the party creeps along at gnomish walking pace. It is quite possibly the slowest escort quest ever.
Several hours later, the group approaches yet another clearing when they everyone hear a loud rumbling WHOMP! Everyone recognizes it as the sound of rocks falling inside a cave or building. Ahead, a cloud of dust pours out of a cut stone entrance into a hill. “We need to get a move on. The evil ones are already inside!” cries Ser Reginald.
Leaving the horses and asses outside, the party enters the main hall. Arthur asks Atticus to remain with Pocky and the animals, but Mar accompanies the group inside. The moderately sized room has two doorways, though both appear to have been blocked by the recent rock movement. A few minutes of contemplation leads Arthur to believe that one side would take considerable effort to unblock, while the other could be done rather quickly. As he gets to work, the others take in their surroundings. Just inside the door is a carving in an archaic form of common that says “Allies Over Enemies”. Zander notes that there is some indication that there is a test, and one of the mostly broken archways has the word ‘Wit’ carved above it. Felicity notes that according to the archaic writing, there are two tests inside. Dillium is drawn to the faded frescos, though they tend to depict war and destruction.
Soon enough Arthur has the passageway cleared well enough, and the party groups up to go into a large room. The door slides shut smoothly behind them, though there is a door on the far side. Arthur inspects it, “just in case” it is unlocked. It isn’t. The room is more or less devoid of decoration or ornamentation, but there are four columns, one each corner of the room. Novos looks at the column, but fails to note that each side has a letter on it. He does see that he can turn the column one quarter turn, so he does. Once it turns, it refuses to turn again. Members of the party spread out to try to understand the test. Someone notices that there is a small mark on the wall beside each column, but it takes everyone writing down the letters on each column before someone decides to make an effort to coordinate. Arthur suggests that since each column contains an “L”, they should turn the L’s toward the center. Novos points out that he can’t turn the column any further, but Zander turns another column easily. Mar turns another one. As Novos leans up against his column, it turns. The party realizes that the columns can be turned to spell words, and Mar identified the word that was spelled out when they entered. This gets the group going, and with some tactics employed, spell out a word that they hope will open the door. As the last column clicks into place, the door opens smoothly.
The doorway leads to a huge cavern with a five-foot wide natural stone bridge crossing what appears to be a deep, wide chasm. The cavern is pitch black, and while there might be some air movement, the ceiling is too far above and the floor of the chasm too far below to see. The party sets up a marching order with Arthur in the lead and Novos in the rear. Dillium Lights up her staff so that the humans can see and they set out. Ten or fifteen paces across, the party is surprised to come under attack by arrows and javelins. Everyone dodges out of the way of the poorly thrown darts, but one strikes home. No one can see where the javelins came from, or whether it is some sort of trap or if they were thrown. Unfortunately, no one notices that one of the party members has fallen off the stone bridge, either. At the other end of the bridge is a door that opens easily, and everyone makes it into a small foyer. Except for Felicity, who lies at the bottom of the chasm, nearly impaled by a stalagmite. [5] Novos disappears and makes his way to the bottom of the chasm where he finds Felicity and feeds her his last healing potion. Zander pulls out his Wonderous Figurine and activates it. A good-sized wyvern appears on the bridge. He tells it to go down into the chasm and bring back the human. He might have said ‘woman’ but the stone wyvern doesn’t know the difference anyway. It takes off and glides down into the chasm below, and when it finds a human, the wyvern grabs it with his sharp claws and brings it back up to Zander. Novos picks himself up, dusts himself off, and winces at the fresh puncture wounds. Zander, a little annoyed, tells the wyvern to go get the other one, and he does, fresh puncture wounds and all.
Meanwhile, Arthur, Dillium, Mar, and Ser Reginald continue on into a large room. The room is dominated by a huge stone in the middle, with some sort of gemstone embedded in. They also see a dog-like creature standing on the stone, with a piece of golden metal in one hand and a bow in the other. Ser Reginald shouts, “The evil one has the other half of the crown! Get it!” Arthur races forward and Smites the creature.
Mar snarls, “Gnolls. I should have known their stench. She manifests a Spiritual Weapon and attacks with it, then casts a Guiding Bolt. The gnoll, clearly outmatched, fires his bow (missing) and climbs down off the stone. By this time, Novos, Zander, and Felicity have come in (minus the wyvern). Novos speeds over to take a flanking position on the gnoll, but the recent puncture wounds from the wyvern still ache, and he misses entirely.
Around the same time, a larger group of gnolls, armored and armed with swords and axes, enter from the other side and take up positions. One of the larger ones raises his axe to cut down Novos, but one of the gnolls barks out something in a barking sort of bark. All of the gnolls stop and refrain from attacking. Except the one with the huge gash down his front from Arthur. He comes up with a sword and stabs at the air near Arthur. Dillium, likewise shouts for Arthur and Novos (and Mar) to stop.
“Who leads?” asks the female gnoll, as she wraps her shawl around her.
Zander raises his hand. “That would be me. I am the leader of Task Force Chimera.” He sheathes his sword and meets the female gnome in the middle of the room. “I am Zander Roaringhorn, from Cormyr. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
“Raa’ka. Ssand’r. Sand’r.” Her mouth doesn’t quite make all the sounds as she tries to get his name right. She tells Zander that they are here to fulfil a prophecy that tells of an Alpha Gnoll that will arise in their hour of need. Unfortunately, the crown is… not what they expected. Arthur climbs up on the stone and agrees that the gemstone in the middle seems to connect two pieces of a crown—there’s three pieces total, rather than the two that both the gnolls and gnomes thought.
“Give me the crown!” Ser Reginald cries. Mar snarls.
“I will not. Perhaps we should put the crown together, and then figure out what to do. It is obvious neither of us have the whole tale.” Ser Reginald, thoughtful, agrees.
“You put your piece in first, then.” He says.
“No you put yours in.” Raa’ka replies.
Arthur says, “How about you put them in together. At the same time,” clarifies when the gnolls seem unsure. He jumps down from the stone and gives Ser Reginald a boost up. Raa’ka needs no help.
Gently placing the two pieces of the crown in small cutouts in the stone that appear to be made exactly for their pieces. Ser Reginald and Raa’ka watch for a moment. “Now what?” The crown welds itself together before their eyes. The gem in the center pulses, then shines brightly. Then the whole crown sinks down into the stone. “NO!”
The room rumbles and shakes. The giant stone is cracked into pieces as Raa’ka and Ser Reginald leap to safety. As the dust swirls around and the rumbling fades away, all hear a booming voice.
“AT LAST I AM FREE!”

End of part 10.


[1] Unlike last chapter.
[2] in Chapter 8
[3] Modified slightly from Race for the Crown, Adventures of the Potbellied Kobold, by Jeff Stevens Games.
[4] The Gnomish Pantheon
[5] Remember, stalagmite “might” reach the ceiling, and stalactites hang on tite to the ceiling. Or, you can do the boring National Parks Service way of remembering.

Our neighbor doesn't even have their dog on a leash. Our yard is fenced in, but their dog will come on to our property and fence fight with my dog. The neighbors say sorry then don't even put their dog on a leash or inside so they just fight again..
Very frustrating that no one now a days is responsible or smart enough to control their dog or use a leash and my dogs aren't even safe from them in our fenced in yard! People are so lazy and stupid!
We don't want to call the cops and make it obvious that it was us and take the chance they would retaliate. Was looking for pepper spray Motion sensor sprinklers, barbed wire type ideas but I don't thing that's legal.
Anyone have any better ideas?

We live in a world where the internet is another living culture and it's currently in the 70's ugh.
Everyone keeps their doors unlocked, invites strangers, loves peace and social harmony, but there's killers and pedos everywheeere.
The pedos will gaslight you with the same familiar tactics--rush to the telegram app, reddit, and other means to make money off the images you post on tiktok of your niece or kids.
Beware any "😭😭😭"
https://imgur.com/a/BNw0sbH
They happen to subreddits
https://imgur.com/a/TvHD4Ks
They are potentially subtley exposing themselves in broad daylight on tiktok trends.
People--STOP pressuring others SO significantly about Gaza and Rafah when the home inside you, our country, AND THE VEHICLE TO SPREAD INFORMATION ABOUT THESE HURT PEOPLE IS BROKEN.
Flooded with garbage. Virtue signaling, "like for jesus" tactics, beware propaganda meant to usher you into group think and isolation from the people around you. Beware the people from our country and other countries who recognize that inciting growth, movement, outrage, and more doesn't lie in television anymore.
Here we see a migration from the bought news anchor archetypes who play a character, to the characters themselves popping up on your FYP. Be very careful and fact check. Be safe and Mindful.
Work hard to keep you online anonymity safe and healthy and other people's anonymity safe and healthy too. These dangerous persona's have become a piece of life and internet culture and so they need healing too.
We need to re-educate the people en masse on how to be safe on the internet.
Ask the rich, ask the celebrities--they have enough money, transportation, and housing to save all these people and give them the refuge the people need.
They can do something good with all the pollution they add with their private jets then.
Stop spreading noise on tiktok and send it to them instead--tell them that students and citizens should be worrying about the future which the rich already have laid in the stones of Hollywood walk of fame.
Our world is hurting and we all have to bear responsibility. The students must learn, the citizens must work and pray and innovate, the rich need to stop making more money and instead make more change. Their eternity can be the change they make and not the ghost art, business, and music they leave behind.
People do not control who is rich and especially who is famous
Celebrities are often tools and faces for what others want
Think of the actors/actresses that had to do the impossible to escape scientology, cults, media, being on display 24/7,
The want to be famous is often a curse as no one will tell you what you are getting into
I kind of relate in a way
And if you wonder "why do they come back?"
The easy answer is it's like returning to an abuser
...The grass is greener and maybe I miss my ex...I don't want to be forgotten...
And they know that just because they are here now doesn't mean they will ever be remembered
They get scared as other celebrities start to pass away...they get scared of age and change and it means their things are too old, corrupt, or they realize that more and more is drowning their name away
They get scared that one day people will say "____ died? Who the hell is that?"
And once they're gone--people won't even say it anymore because there's no name to remember
Times and tech will change
I don't know many dead actors and actresses
And they already are almost fame dead--the world is trying hard to leave them behind
It started with YouTube--which wasn't much of a threat
Until millenials became cable cutters and encouraged their family to do the same--so companies began lumping TV into prices so you were forced NOT to drop TV
Vine came on and we had now three celebs
Content creators, viners, and traditional celebs
It was a new realization that YouTube could be topped
Insta wasn't much at the time--it was just picture FB--and more geared to photography not influencers (it began AS a photography app but students used it differently)
Vine died and went to YouTube--youtube didn't like Vine--celebs felt threatened and demeaned YouTube creators
It created a brief disconnect
But eventually celebs grabbed ahold again as new blood grew up (child stars--zendaya, chalamet, whatever)
And it may happen again--if you want to stop it--you cannot let more "flowers" grow
So child stars need to be set free--not plucked
Not ostracized or demonized--any under 20 shouldn't be held accountable
The second disconnect happened with covid
Our celebs in disasters are usually like bards--giving song and acts and art as support--generosity and vows to immortalize our lives and struggles
And we in turn hold them in our hearts too and give them stories to hear and remember their name, give them support
But when they no longer have that connection they lose their use and purpose
They become vile--an evil bard steals your story, your song, your money, your time, your life
With covid there was so much politically--everyone was exhausted
There was a bit of a rallying cry from them to keep our spirits up
But when they became adverts and politically involved it seemed it dropped--covid was almost like wearing a band on you in our country
"mask" and "maskless" became "liberal" and "conservative"
Everyone fell prey to it and I remember how shocking it was morally to our systems
Because it WAS important--people were going to die--but also such an outward display of politics really hit morale
Like nazi Germany
And it happened to celebrities
Soon no one cared about movie theaters
We realized how little it mattered to see movies there
And money makers were maaad
They tried making some poor celebrities tell us that we were "heroes" for paying over 20 to get motion sickness and a headache in a theater
A house divided against itself cannot stand but in light of these issues
Sometimes it takes an attack on individualism to fortify us better
We already have lived through our etiquette eras many times
Regardless of what comes out of this silly little idea of "turning points" the world will always surprise you
The second you define it something new comes to life--in an ever growing universe how can you expect anything less than to be constantly proven wrong?
Or to have every pattern broken
We are still so primitive
Celebrities are wasting so much and have forgotten their own identities
They need to reconnect with the populace or risk being left behind
But
The other day I made it to kohl's and other places
I looked around and realized--there is so much GARBAGE and WASTE in our own stores and backyards and streets
It needs weeding
A whole store full of junk--useless bags and purses and clothing
And SO much of it
It serves barely any purpose and it barely even lasts
And takes up so much space and energy
Marie Kondo that shit
Looking at it is exhausting and creates choice fatigue it's visually garbage too and affects the mind
We ALL need to reconnect with our homes, ourselves, our cultures, and our emerging cultures.
Climate change, feminism, internet safety, celebrated individuals, the objects we wear and innovate, the waste we produce, the morality and ethics we need.
Do what you can--don't belittle other people for what they cannot provide, not everyone has the mental energy for every topic and injustice.
But it feels like theirs a gap in the people that are sharing the load, and those who have "escaped" only to fall under a new set of burdens.
There has to be a way to reconnect again?

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 247: Subjective Mercy
Dawn was a novelty to Renise.
Not because she was a late riser. On the contrary, she readily woke up before even the alley cats of Reitzlake. And they were nothing if not prompt in securing their territory.
It’s just that any dawn was hard to admire while she was crawling beneath the streets.
That’s not to say she didn’t get to see anything just as glamorous, though. In the sewers beneath the cracked cobblestone of Pennyvale Road and Sipton Corner, she often saw enough stolen gold tucked away to form a sight brighter than any morning.
And once, she even found a die with 20 sides. She thought that was very interesting.
Thus, even as the sun peeked across the horizon, Renise barely paid any attention. Especially as doing so would remind her of exactly how many hours it’d been since she last slept.
But she had no right to complain.
After all–
“Hoooph!”
The guards requisitioned to her service couldn’t.
Even now, their eyes were as wide as when she’d brought them here. And not all of it from shame that a large smuggling operation had taken place upon their doorstep.
They wiped sweat from their brows as they hauled the proceeds of crime from the depths of tunnels, the corners of barns and the hidden hatches found between them. All the while, Renise was there to assist, searching each nook and cranny to ensure that every mug rimmed with cobwebs and filled with pilfered gemstones was recovered.
The result was a sight grander than the pale light stretching across the horizon. A veritable mountain of recovered goods, stacked in semi-organised fashion in the centre of the farmstead.
No fields of wheat grew as of yet. But that didn’t mean there was no golden gleam.
The chests of crowns in Baroness Arisa’s chamber was the mainstay of the haul. A cursory examination placed the amount grand enough to purchase half a castle outright. But Renise knew it wasn’t a castle the baroness had wanted. It was a kingdom–and more.
That’s what the rest of the goods were for.
Sacks and crates unending. Enough grain and foodstuffs to last many winters and more. Had she wished to, the baroness could have sheltered in her hole and sat through whatever calamity she’d wished to trigger. Or she could have used it in lieu of gold when stomachs were empty and hearts were hard, to feed crowds of rioting commoners or the loyalty of wavering soldiers.
A scheme as audacious as it was unlikely. And thus very much devised by nobility.
Renise understood that well.
Just as she understood that nobility rarely allowed themselves to dream of an empire without guarantees in place. And she intended on querying what they were, and who had offered them.
Turning from the mound of gathered items, she made her way over to the girl huddling beside the steps of her stolen and dilapidated manor.
With her knees up, arms wrapped around them and face buried in said arms for good measure, Baroness Arisa Sandholt was less a noblewoman fallen at the final hurdle of a grand scheme and more a girl who had not been told ‘no’ enough times to understand the consequences of her actions.
And there would be many. More than her hands could hope to manage.
After all–
Renise had read Juliette’s judgement.
The former noblewoman approached the girl under guard. She nodded at the tired watchers. And when they left to join their colleagues in taxing their shoulders, she knelt down to look at the kingdom’s most recent shadow of Lady Lucina Tolent.
And what a poor one it was.
Still, Renise grimaced on the baroness’s behalf.
Despite recent events, she held little personal acrimony towards her. Neither smuggling nor treason were new concepts, after all. The scale was grander than what remained of the plots in the royal capital. But this simply meant more bureaucracy. Renise would live. And so would the baroness, should she not recklessly throw away what the princess’s mercy was willing to offer.
Mercy, of course, being subjective.
Still kneeling beside her, Renise attempted to peer past the buried face, almost akin to a teacher with a sulking child.
Then, she sighed.
“Baroness Arisa Sandholt. It is demeaning for you to remain like this. If nothing else, I invite you to sit upon the steps. There’s no need to dirty yourself upon the soil. Particularly as it’ll be some time before we’re finished here.”
Renise waited for an acknowledgement. Or more preferably a finger pointing out the hidden corners she’d doubtless missed.
She received nothing. And so she resigned herself to however many nights it’d require to fully empty out the tunnels.
This, also, was nothing new to her.
“... Uuuuh …”
All of a sudden, a weak, pitiable groan came from the baroness, still unseen behind her knees.
Renise wasn’t certain what to do other than hope for a follow-up. When it didn’t arrive, she instead brushed down her maid’s uniform of any dirt, before promptly undoing it by taking a seat beside the baroness, knees up and thoroughly uncomfortable.
“I notice the grounds are quite extensive,” she said lightly. “An impressive thing you’ve built, for one whose family lineage is pouring ales. May I ask how the career change to smuggling came about?”
No sound met her, other than the huffing of the beleaguered guards as they toiled like farmers beneath the sun.
Renise leaned in to pluck a leaf from the baroness’s hair.
She responded by slowly falling onto her side, still with her face buried around her legs. A perfect imitation of a shrivelled up caterpillar. Renise had a feeling the princess would have commented. She herself kindly chose not to.
For now.
“... Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh …”
Again, a weak groan of despair filled the crisp air alight with the early dawn.
Again, Renise wasn’t sure what the correct response was.
She’d known many members of the nobility to have fallen while clutching themselves in agony, most often after being rejected to a dance. And yet as emotionally damaging as those instances were, they paled in comparison to the distress of having her private gallery revealed to the same princess her portraits consisted of.
But it could have been worse.
She wasn’t sure how. But it could have been.
“Baroness Arisa,” said Renise, attempting to speak with a slightly more scolding tone. “This is far too belittling. Until you have been formally stripped of your title, you are still a member of this kingdom’s nobility–whether or not you wish it. You do yourself little favours by remaining as you are.”
At last, the baroness lifted her face away from her knees. She didn’t raise herself from the ground.
Puffy eyes unused to the unyielding dawn met her. And also cheeks still blotchy with humiliation. And then lips quivering with the strength required to form words.
“... My life is over,” she said, her voice strangled with grief.
“You do not know that, Baroness Arisa.”
The girl shook her head, golden hair flailing upon the dirt.
“My life is over,” she merely repeated, her eyes becoming distant and hollow. “The princess … she saw … all my portraits … it’s all over …”
Renise watched as what dignity remained slowly drained before her.
She decided to put a stop to it before she became a withered slug.
After all, the princess in question still had uses for her.
“Your life isn’t yours to judge,” she said, standing up before the baroness. “But it is the 3rd Princess’s. Would you care to know it?”
Renise unfurled a letter from the pockets only her uniform defied impracticality enough to possess.
The baroness uncurled herself slightly, the better to see the back of the letter. Even so, she made no effort to reach for it.
With a sigh, Renise looked over the neatly written edict and began to read.
To Baroness (Insert Name) Arisa Sandholt,
I would like to extend my gratitude for the paintings donated as badly needed furnishing for Soap Island and its inhabitants. This act of charity has not gone unnoticed.
In order to further develop your talents with a brush, I hereby command that you take up position as artist-in-residence upon Soap Island, where you shall have the freedom of its golden beaches, open air, and time enough to paint to your heart’s desire. As long as the paintings are of me.
Upon creation of a work I judge to be satisfactory, I shall deem your rehabilitation complete.
Please note this is an unpaid residency.
Princess Juliette Contzen.
Renise had filled in the bit with the missing name.
For a moment, she did nothing but wait for the baroness’s response. It was slow to come. But when it did, it was with both hands raised to her mouth, unable to hide the despair which came from it.
Indeed, it was a sentence which offered little hope of release.
The stipulation of release was both poetic and severe. For the only way the baroness could ever hope to create a sufficient painting was to first remove her pride and her malice. To be commanded to do what she previously did in twisted animosity would surely result in nothing but empty canvases from this moment on, such was the egoism of nobility.
But there was more to this than meets the eye.
Indeed … Renise had no doubt about the princess’s intentions.
The stipulation for a work to be judged as satisfactory was merely a ruse. The day the baroness realised the error of her ways and painted a single portrait, Renise had no doubt it would be accepted as proof of her atonement.
Such subtlety, doubtless woven from all her days at the royal court … Renise could only acknowledge it with envy–as could the baroness, who only now slowly sat up upon the dirt.
Except there was one problem.
“The princess … wishes for me to paint her?”
Her voice came out as barely a squeak, still covered by her hands, and yet those grey eyes were as wide as the very sun now cresting the horizon.
“She does, yes,” answered Renise, hearing the caution in her own voice.
A moment of silence passed between them.
The baroness reached up for the letter. Renise offered it, then waited as the girl’s eyes ran across the words, barely pausing at the scribbled amendment to her name at the top.
“The princess … she extends her gratitude for what I have painted.”
“So she does.”
“She wishes for them to be used as decoration.”
Renise slowly nodded.
In truth, she was still extremely unsure about the entire matter of what … Soap Island was. But the princess had been insistent that the existing paintings be sent there.
“That is correct … yes.”
Renise said nothing more.
Ordinarily, she would be wishing the girl a heartfelt plea to understand the mercy shown to her. And to hope that in time, she would come to understand the folly of her pride. Particularly as the baroness’s hands began to shake, crumpling the letter.
Ordinarily.
Because those hands were not shaking with clear resentment.
“This letter … is for me.”
Renise pursed her lips.
“Yes, it is.”
“I … I thought she would exile me … or merely forget again I existed the moment her back was turned.”
“Your crimes are not so little that she could allow you to be.”
“Indeed … she acknowledges me. My talents. She … She wishes for an even finer portrait.”
A moment later–
The baroness brought the letter close to her … and tightly held it against chest as her lips quivered into a zany smile. The puffiness upon her cheeks vanished, replaced only with a shine as radiant as the sun.
And then, her eyes grew hazy as she stared into the distance at the back of one who had long since left.
Yes.
The princess had made a grave error.
This baroness … would not hesitate to paint more of her.
She would not hesitate to paint until she’d created a portrait so fine that it could match the Plafond De Dix Mille Cygnes painted upon the vestibule of the Reitzlake Cathedral. Renise knew this with as much certainty in her heart as the effort it would take to forget this conversation ever occurred.
But she could not do so yet.
Not while she still had questions to ask. And none regarding the preoccupation with the princess.
The baroness had not acted alone. There were those who helped to pry open both her purse strings and her mind to this misadventure.
Renise expected few helpful answers.
The baroness may have dreamt of an empire. But she was a pawn upon a board where another was already lined to take her place. And those who played at intrigue and lived beyond a night were not known for idle gossip.
A trying task.
Although Rose House was named in opposition to the lotuses from the east, she knew full well that she possessed no thorn which could hope to prick the shadows so heavy that they stifled all who sought to grow against them.
Until now, that is.
Renise would not allow the princess’s charity to go to waste.
There was much she had to do before the two paramount smugglers of the kingdom could be offered a stay of execution. A conversation with the Crown Prince being one of them. But it would involve no pleading tears. Only words as cold as the iron her parents were currently shackled to.
But first things first.
She could not return while any tasks lay unfinished. That would be an indictment against all of them.
“Ahem … Baroness Arisa, I’ve matters of importance to discuss with you before you are sent to perform the princess’s wishes. And should you desire her added gratitude, you would do well to answer them.”
The baroness ceased hugging her letter. Broken from her temporary stupor, the smile slowly faded from her lips as she looked up.
And then continued to look up.
Because as the light cresting Renise’s shoulders became cold, and the joy of spring which played upon the ends of her hair faded and died, all which could be seen of the baroness was her faraway eyes as she stared tellingly at the dimming horizon.
In that moment, whatever questions Renise had were all shortly replaced by a single one.
“… Why is it suddenly so dark?”
She turned around.
And then she paled … as she witnessed the dawn being ushered from the sky.
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My mom recently came home from a work trip, that was about 2 days.
Prior to this, I had a lovely day with my dad. We went shopping, grabbed some food, and talked about life and my parents recent international anniversary trip.
I ran into my mom and dad last night and made the mistake of telling them about a mistake I made. I no called no showed at a job I was already leaving, and I was headed into to apologize to my boss.
The mood shift was insane. All bright eyed smiles and “hey how are you doing” to acting like I just committed a crime. “You need to go over there right now,” “What are you doing? (I was pouring water), leave the house right now,” and when I said “please stop yelling at me” I get responses like “this is my house,” “get out of here.” All of this after telling them about a personal mistake that I made, mind you that has no affect on their lives whatsoever. As I was pouring water I legit spilled everywhere because my hands were shaking.
This morning I had a long line cook shift. I come home exhausted and hungry. I shower right away then come upstairs to make my first meal of the day. I’m legit just quiet and going about the motions, grabbing the pot to boil water and make pasta, etc.
I just get berated with “What’s wrong?” “Are you okay?” while I’m just quiet and trying to make food. I can’t even use the kitchen for 1 min. without people berating me and also clogging up the area. I legit have to leave the room while my foods cooking. My parents also exchange glances with each other like I did something wrong when I just respond to my mom’s questions with, “yeah I’m good.” Not only this but my dad’s like, “what are you doing right now,” “you’re being mean,” just for looking a little down!
So I speed run through making my food just to go to the basement and eat. I use three fans because the walls are thin and it sounds like a bomb’s going off upstairs, due to vaccuming, the dogs barking, etc.
I come upstairs an hour later after taking a nap and make my next mistake. I go outside to talk with my parents and try to resolve what “happened” even though I did nothing wrong.
I say, “look mom I think we got off on the wrong foot since you came home.” Then I just get lectured about what I did with my job. Then, something else happens. My dad starts yelling at my about recycling the wrong things. Saying, “I just dug out of the recycling for an hour picking out things that weren’t supposed to be recycled,” and “You threw away stuff that was expensive!” (Literally 8+ year old hair products that nobody has ever used). He points out how expensive something is that he dug out. Then I say, “I’m sorry you had to do that. I thought the recycling thing was resolved because we talked about it three days ago.” Then I get yelled at for him fixing my mistake. All I say is that he didn’t tell me that this even happened. Then I’m told, “You should’ve known to fix it!” Then he storms off.
So I’m sitting on the porch in disbelief over what just happened. Then my mom comes out to join me after feeding the dogs to lecture me more.
So I go inside and my mom and I get into a shouting match. After she yelled at me again and said the famous words, “this is my house!” I raise my voice then my mom gives me a laundry list of all the things she does for me and how privileged I am. And to top it off, she says “what you did with your boss was insulting to me!” “You need to work!” I literally am working two jobs right now, one in sales and a restaurant job.
I’m fucking exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I don’t know where to go from here. I’m embarrassed because now my neighbors heard me yelling. I’m having my girlfriend over in a few days at our house but I’m already reconsidering it because I’m uncomfortable in my own house.
All of this, because I told my parents about something I did involving a part-time job I have!

Synopsis

“More Dark” is the horror genre (writers and its community) cracked open and laid bare. The story’s narrator heads into New York City to attend a reading by a reclusive, nihilistic writer named ‘L.’ The story is a brilliant satire until nothing is funny anymore and, as always, the faithful are eaten first as their reward.
Synopsis by Paul Tremblay

Characters

• The narrator
• John
• Michael C
• Tom L - or simply “L”
• The Cult of L - a well-dressed trio
• Mandibole - a puppet, ostensibly
• GVG

The story

The narrator - identified late in the story as “Mr. B,” a stand-in for the author - rides a train into the Big Apple with friend and fellow author John to attend a rare in-person reading by “Tom L” at the Kremlin bar. Drinking has already commenced and the narrator reflects on the sad state of his affairs: a pending divorce, which he is not taking well, looming deadlines, and his preoccupation with a newly purchased revolver back in his hotel room. John speaks of Tom L - referred to simply as “L” by his faithful - in almost reverential terms, and we learn the reclusive author is shrouded in mystery: his infrequent appearances at horror fiction conventions are the stuff of rumor and legend. We also learn that puppets feature prominently in L’s work. John has in tow two marionettes: a Poe and one called As You Know Bob, which he borrowed from his young daughter. For his part, the narrator has a “lukewarm” response to L’s writing, though he recognizes the man’s stylistic gifts.
In the city, they rendezvous with another close comrade, Michael C, and drop in at a dive bar for drinks, scuttlebutt from the horror publishing scene, and hushed talk of L. They discuss a rumor - promulgated by Nathan B’s blog post “Exploding the Myth of L” - that L doesn’t exist, that he’s an identity constructed by a small cabal of genre authors in the 1980s who’ve written under his name over the years. Michael insists Nathan’s write-up was tongue-in-cheek, and that his naming Mark S as one of the original instigators shows the absurdity of such a claim because Mark S’s own writing was, in the narrator’s words, “L lite.” And, anyway, Michael has met L and even went to his house once. (John smolders with envy.) Michael offers a puzzling forewarning: attendees to tonight’s event won’t see L’s face - he’ll be costumed - and he won’t speak. The narrator wonders how L will pull off a reading if he doesn’t speak, but Michael will only say that the reading will feature fresh material from L’s forthcoming collection of essays called The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All.
They make their way to the Kremlin bar, which is packed with local authors and some industry people, including Ellen D, who sends a round of drinks to the comrades’ table. Tom L is nowhere to be seen, but his table is occupied by an attractive trio - two women in “slinky” dress and a man in a turtleneck: the Cult of L. Word circulates that Turtleneck is mysterious occult collector and master puppet maker W Lindblad.
When Tom L finally enters, he’s concealed in a robe and executioner-style hood, not an inch of skin showing. He cuts an intimidating figure, at least six-foot-eight, and far larger than L’s one extant publicity photo would suggest. All Michael can say is “He’s changed over the years. It’s rather uncanny, I admit.” Ellen welcomes L to the podium, and his gargantuan figure stands before the crowd for a full minute of silence. Despite his inebriation, the narrator senses powerful unnatural forces at play between L and the crowd.
L raises a draped arm; from its folds emerges a toddler-sized puppet, eerie and grotesque in jester’s accouterments, who introduces itself as Mandibole. The puppet will recite a new work by his “benefactor, the incomparable L” and proceeds to describe a hellish tableau in which the heads of all in attendance hang from the Tree of Anti-Life, unable to speak because each mouth is crammed with bloody seeds, and there they will remain, to be picked at by ravenous blackbirds, in perpetuity… “until it becomes something worse. Something worse.”
The crowd is engrossed, including John and Michael. The narrator retreats to the bar for another drink - anything to distract him from the puppet’s grim recitation. One of the women from L’s table approaches the narrator seductively. He starts to introduce himself but she stops him: We know who you are, Mr. B. When he asks her name, she tells him it’s W Lindblad. The narrator glances over to L’s table to see Turtleneck gesticulating and pantomiming the woman’s motions, and behind him, Mandibole is controlling Turtleneck’s. The woman speaks of Jesus as a puppet; God the Gepetto to Christ’s Pinocchio. "He’s a real boy now," she tells the narrator. "He’s seen the beautiful thing that awaits us all. Waiting at the bottom of the hole beneath everything." She invites the narrator to speak with L after the reading, to allow L to eat his consciousness then head back to the hotel and the revolver waiting in his dresser. The alternative: eternal existence grafted to the Tree of Anti-Life. The narrator should consider himself fortune: most people are never offered the choice.
Suddenly, GVG, publisher of a flagship genre magazine, appears at the bar and brusquely shoos away the woman. GVG advises the narrator to trim back his beard and write more commercially viable fiction if he wants to attract ladies who are less vampiric. They listen a moment to Mandible’s soul-draining monologue, and before he exits, GVG gives the narrator a final admonition: “Dunno what that spooky chick told you, what you’ve got planned, but the only thing that changes when you check out is that nothing ever changes again. It’s no different on the other side. No different at all.”
Mandibole’s spell, as far as the narrator is concerned, is broken, and the puppet abruptly ceases his droning and withdraws into L’s sleeve. Attendees line up for autographs, including John with his two pilfered marionettes. The narrator stumbles out of the Kremlin and into a festive crowd outside a jazz club, his mind rattling with visions of dangling skulls and his plans to end it all.
John and the narrator part company with Michael, taking the outbound train. As You Know Bob is missing, and the Poe marionette is somehow warped out of recognition. But John seems different - a new man, mesmerically galvanized by his post-reading conversation with L. The narrator returns, alone, to his hotel room, haunted by images of his wife, of the woman from L’s coterie, of Mandibole, of his friends John and Michael. He picks up the revolver.
The story ends with a brief coda, presumably from the afterlife, in which the narrator concedes that his friends and his enemies were right: nothing’s different, noting changes. Last longer, though.

Interpretation

This was my first Laird Barron story, initially read in 2019 when Paul Tremblay included it in a list of Top 5 online horror stories. I had just started my foray into contemporary horror literature so I didn’t recognize the names and honestly didn’t realize it was satire. I just knew it was deeply unsettling. On subsequent readings, I’ve found “More Dark” audacious, hysterical, and still dark as hell.
Laird explains his approach to “More Dark” in our 2021 Chthonica interview.

It’s like a rite of passage. Every author at some point writes about his fellow authors. [Karl Edward] Wagner did one that I think was talking about his contemporaries…. It’s about vampirism. One of them becomes more successful, wastes away because essentially the audience is a vampire. Fame bleeds him dry. And I loved it because it worked. It didn’t matter that there was this meta-narrative…. You could be completely ignorant of that and just enjoy the story about how fame is a vampire. So I said when I write one of these it has to be - it’s a little more on-the-nose and in-your-face than his, because I decided to go overboard with it - but I want it to work as a horror story, also.

Among the real-life identities of characters referenced in “More Dark,” John Langan and Michael Cisco are easy to spot, as are Ellen Datlow, Nathan Ballingrud, Paul Tremblay, publisher Gordon Van Gelder, and, of course, Thomas Ligotti as L. (For a longer list of likely identities, see this post on LibraryThing.com.
This story has stirred controversy, particularly among Ligotti readers, and earned a special note of derision from Lovecraft scholar S. T. Joshi in his divisive review “Laird Barron: Decline and Fall.”

But the saddest story of the lot is “More Dark….” We are treated to a dismayingly nasty and mean-spirited caricature of Thomas Ligotti.... What possible reason Barron could have had for writing this story is beyond my understanding; it would probably prove entirely incomprehensible to those who don’t know the characters involved, and unseemly for those who do. I fervently hope Barron doesn’t write anything like this again.

So is “More Dark” a hit piece on Thomas Ligotti? No, not at all.
In his 2020 interview with Círculo Lovecraftiano & Horror (recently unearthed on Laird's Patreon), Laird states:

“More Dark” is a quasi-roman a clef. For the most part, my intentions were benign. The majority of authors who were fictionalized took it in the spirit it was offered. On the other hand, it was a deadly serious criticism of a couple of people who received it poorly. I’d be disappointed if they’d approved. No, I’ve never met Ligotti. I respect him as an artist.

The criticism noted here is leveled at the characters S Jones and especially Mark S. (Without naming Mark S, Laird explains the situation in our interview. And, again, this LibraryThing thread has guesses as to identities.)
But beyond these two individuals, Laird’s real criticism is for a subset of Ligotti readers who elevate mental illness as a kind of superpower. Again, from my interview:

I admire Thomas Ligotti… but I’m not a big fan of how a lot of people - and I don’t lay this on him, I’m not laying it on anyone specifically — but I’ve heard, Well his mental depression is like a superpower and I’m like, Fuck that. I have mental depression…. Let’s not go there. Let’s not valorize mental illness…. [Some] valorize mental illness, like, Well maybe that’s what’s so great about his writing. I’m like no, no, he’s a great writer because he’s a great writer.

It’s worth noting that Tom L isn't painted as a buffoon in this story. The narrator falls prey, temporarily, to the dread-inducing vision cast by L’s proxy Mandibole. (I did, too, when reading this story.) There are even hints that association with the fictitious L has led to the disappearance and presumed demise of the narrator’s friend Jack and L’s late wife. The figure cut by L is that of a powerful purveyor of dread, possibly dangerous, and possibly no longer human.
No doubt Laird had fun sending up his horror fiction peers - especially his real-life friends John Langan and Michael Cisco. But no character is satirized more than Laird himself. In the mold of some of his own hard boiled characters, Mr. B is a heavy drinker, deeply depressed, and contemplating his own end. Laird concedes, “Almost all of it is based on stuff that’s happened… I wrote that right after my divorce, I was not in a very good place.”
“More Dark” is not a hit piece but it is a powerful piece, fully satire and fully horror.

Fun facts

Manibole

• The puppet Mandibole appears in human form in X’s for Eyes, “The One We Tell Bad Children,” and “The Big Whimper,” and, along with the Mares of Thrace, is the antagonist of the third Isaiah Coleridge novel Worse Angels.
• Take human form with a grain of salt. A resident of the uncanny valley, Mandibole has been described by Laird as resembling both rubber-faced televangelist Kenneth Copeland and Eduard Khil, the Russian Trololo man. As Laird notes, “Mandibole possesses numerous aspects.” And in “The Big Whimper,” wardog Rex observes, “Tom’s voice is mellow and resonant. Elocution has ever been his superpower.”
• On pronunciation, Laird says, “Man-dee-bow-lay. Or, Man-dih-bow-lay. Thank John Langan. I was casting about for a name and he mused at length about Italian terms for jaw/mouth. I changed the pronunciation slightly because it's not Italian. It's not from anywhere around here.”

On the horrific image of the Tree of Anti-Life, Laird says, “The tree of hanging corpses in Excalibur was an inspiration. I visited it in Man with No Name as well.”
Exploding the Myth of L

I said, “Didn’t Nathan B post an exposé on his blog? Exploding the Myth of L?” Michael nodded. “As a joke, yes. A tongue-in-cheek deconstruction of the L mystique. Nathan thinks, or at least he likes to think, L doesn’t exist.”

I confirmed with Nathan Ballingrud that this blog post is a fabrication on Laird’s part, as well as the case of fluke infestation. He was happy to be included in the story and agrees his fictitious fate was still better than John Langan’s.
References

• The title “More Dark” may be a reference to James Blish’s 1970 tale “More Light.”
• Did you catch the Black Guide reference?

Discussion

1. Does the satire dull the horror in this tale for you?
2. What, exactly, is Mandibole? Got a theory?
3. Is W Lindblad based on a real person?
4. If you've read James Blish's "More Light," let us know if you think there's a connection to "More Dark."

I received an order from Glassbox tropicals about a week ago. When I opened the box I saw some webbing that looked a little unusual for actual spider but unsure. When I opened the two bundles (plants bundled in paper), one plant had a small amount of a web in the back of one leaf plus I saw something tiny run down the back of one leaf. It was too small for me to say what it was - big enough to see with naked eye but only because of the motion. Immediately placed the two bundles in their own humid quarantine containers (jar with plastic over the top for one set, Ziploc for the other).
It's been a week and I see no more webbing or bugs. How long would you recommend observing these before moving them to the terrarium? I don't want to battle spider mites in the terrarium! If it matters, it's a bulbo, a jewel, and a variegated vanilla orchid
I emailed the company early this week about the issue and have received no response which is really disappointing.
Thanks

"God has a special providence for fools, drunkards, and the United States of America".

Summit of the Gods

Kyrr’s perspective
Private Conference Room, One World Trade Center
Wispy smoke pungent from scents of fruits floated lazily over a dimly-lighted room, obscuring several suited figures with vape pens and drinks sitting across from one another. Those present represented the best and brightest of the remnants of American society; titans of industry that represented various companies that once dominated the North American continent. Representatives from JP Morgan, Boston Dynamics, IBN, and Pfizer were just a handful of the groups gathered.
These ghoulish plutocrats dominated the world during the American Era, they were now naught but petty oligarchs presiding over a defeated rump state. The dream of the Founding Fathers had been crushed under the boot of a foreign tyrant.
In an ironic twist, those responsible for its violent death had fled to its corpse for aid.
“-Was it not America that defeated Nazi Germany, our foolish predecessors,” Kyrr von Lohengrin presented a bright, enthusiastic smile, further amplified by a youthful visage as he spoke. His speech had so far charmed the executives. It was so easy to trick the average person, yet the American specimen was a different beast. They excelled at debate, rhetoric, and outright bullshitting. Kyrr concluded it to be the result of their culture and education system, though luckily for him, he was designed to astronomically excel in such things. Compared to the aging, rotting bags of talking flesh around him, his form was one of designed perfection. His words were honey and were backed by an alien, albeit all-encompassing intelligence.
“Was it not America that spent the Soviet Union into an early grave…? And was it not America who so thoroughly crushed the Empire of Japan? Yet, the American people are poor, battered, and defeated. Some of you might accuse Alfheimr, but there is another suspect. ” The last statement provoked hushed whispers around the room.
It wasn’t an easy task gathering the most influential people in the American business community in one spot, especially under the nose of the President. That he even had to appeal to a cabal of judeo-capitalist pig swine and halfbreeds was even more outrageous to him. Nevertheless, his previous encounter with Armstrong convinced Kyrr that something had to be done. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“It was no mistake that certain elements prioritized the destruction of the United States and accelerated the dissolution of its… diverse culture. Though not all of you harbor desires for vengeance and revival, I have something else that might interest you.”
Ingel Faedryk, seated next to Kyrr, nearly laughed.
“I would like to propose a motion that would benefit all parties here.” He grinned, analyzing the faintly desperate reactions of those in the room, “To you, I promise fame, fortune, and power beyond your wildest imaginations… I would even provide eternal youth to you and your families. All you would have to do in return is support me against that brutish oaf of a leader before he turns this nation into another Houston Republic. Do this, and I will make you Gods among men.”
Penthouse Roof, Alfr Consulate in New York
Ingel lazily raised a glass of chilled wine towards a Kyrr, quietly feigning a toast before sipping greedily at the red drink.
The Alfr viewed his companion with a conflicted mix of regret and genuine concern. The death of the Aesir weighed heavily on them all, albeit the pure Ljósálfar like were more susceptible to their emotions. Ingel, a favorite confidant and rumored lover of the Aesir, was especially hit hard.
The splintering of Alfheimr, something he helped build for decades, was a secondary concern to him. That the Aesir perished was the greatest tragedy in history. The man known to have a heart of ice became even more fanatical overnight. Depression eventually reared its ugly head, though It was dealt with through overwork and minor vices.
“Try to slow down, Ingel. Today is a special day.” Kyrr reached for the glass of wine.
Ingel resisted, bringing his drink away, but Kyrr was taller. “Fine, fine… I’ll slow-” Kyrr quickly drained the glass and set it down on a nearby table.
“You’re not even going to get drunk! Such a wonderful vintage is wasted..”
“You’ll have a chance to drink later tonight. We need to focus for now.”
Ingel sulked, “Fine, but you owe me..” He mused for a moment, “What were the results of the meeting?”
Kyrr smiled, “An unanimous approval. Those who hesitated have been considered for synthesizing.”
“Oh yeah? That Banshee is going to have a field day.”
“Calling our dear comrade a Banshee isn’t very kind. She’s the whole reason we were able to keep this meeting hushed up.”
“Whatever- does Armstrong suspect anything?”
“He probably does, but I’ll make that American mutt my bitch before he’s able to do anything. He’s out of his depth.”
Armstrong was a dangerous man, but he was only a man.
“He’ll get his wish though… burning everything to the ground, I mean.. This degenerate nation is to be cleansed and whipped into shape before the Aesir is brought back..”
Ingel’s eyes slowly widened, “Does that mean?”
“Yes, though I haven’t finished the final preparations yet. This nation must be purged and made clean for him.”
The death of the Aesir, Kyrr reasoned, had ultimately been the failure of the 05 Council. That they weren’t able to calculate the sequence of events that led to the current situation was a serious error on their part. And that most of them had all but renounced loyalty by falling in with the Habsburgs was a great treachery. It hinted at a deeper conspiracy within the state.
Ingel absorbed the meaning of his words, suddenly sounding like his old self. “Whatever happens, I’m going to make sure that mongoloid nip bitch will pay for what she has done to the Aesir’s legacy.”
“Everyone will pay, Ingy. Those Jap bastards for betraying him. The Bolshevik slavs and negroes for opposing him. Those inbred fucks in Vienna… everyone.”
Situation Room, White House
President Armstrong smoked a fat cuban cigar as he oversaw a military brief of recent developments in Europe. The cigar had long fallen out of favor, having been replaced by vape pens many decades ago. He considered himself old-fashioned in that regard.
“With the destruction of the Black Feet, our power projection capabilities-”
He ignored the briefing general, instead focusing on the map displaying North America.
The Republic of New Alfheimr.. He went over the name in his head. It didn’t sound too bad, but he was still nostalgic for the dream of America.
The bastard Aesir had let him do his own thing, allowing him to consolidate his power. He now had the biggest fuckoff army on the continent. The only issue was that he wasn’t sure who that army was loyal to.
Whatever the case, there were more people than there were Alfr. Neither side could tell the other to outright fuck off. He at least had the influence to boss them around.
Best thing those elven butt-munchers could do would be to die making America great again.
He would use them before they could use him.

Republic of New Álfheimr

DETAILS

Head of State: Steven Armstrong

Population: 143,863,000
Capital: Washington D.C
Government: Federal presidential republic (Hybrid regime)

Hey I've been using chat gpt for tips and tricks as google is awful, anyway I was wondering if any one has ever experienced anything like this. I repeat words and similar motions when having a panic attack I'm not sure if it's OCD as it only happens when I have an attack
GPT Response to "involuntary repetition of words during panic attack"
In the context of panic attacks or anxiety, "perseveration" refers to the repetitive, persistent, and involuntary fixation on thoughts, words, or behaviors. It's a common cognitive symptom experienced during heightened states of anxiety or panic. Perseveration can manifest in various ways, including repetitive thoughts, speech, actions, or even physical sensations.

Characteristics of Perseveration in Panic Attacks:

1. Repetitive Thoughts: Constantly thinking about the same worry, fear, or concern, even when it's irrational or unproductive.
2. Repetitive Speech: Continuously repeating words, phrases, or questions, often without awareness or control.
3. Repetitive Behaviors: Engaging in repetitive actions or rituals as a way to cope with anxiety or to try to gain a sense of control.
4. Physical Sensations: Fixating on physical sensations associated with anxiety, such as heart palpitations, shortness of breath, or dizziness, and becoming hyperaware of them.

How Perseveration Manifests in Panic Attacks:

• Word Repetition: Repeating the same word or phrase over and over, either internally or aloud.
• Thought Loops: Getting stuck in repetitive thought patterns that cycle endlessly without resolution.
• Behavioral Rituals: Performing repetitive behaviors, such as checking locks or washing hands, as a way to alleviate anxiety.
• Hyperfocus: Becoming intensely focused on a particular aspect of the panic attack, such as a specific bodily sensation or a perceived threat.

Causes of Perseveration in Panic Attacks:

• Cognitive Overload: The mind becomes overwhelmed with anxious thoughts and struggles to shift focus away from them.
• Hypervigilance: Heightened awareness of perceived threats or bodily sensations leads to persistent monitoring and fixation.
• Safety Behaviors: Engaging in repetitive behaviors as a way to cope with perceived danger or discomfort.
• Automatic Response: Perseveration can be an automatic response to stress, similar to other physical symptoms experienced during panic attacks.

Managing Perseveration in Panic Attacks:

1. Grounding Techniques: Engage your senses to bring your attention back to the present moment and distract from repetitive thoughts or behaviors.
2. Deep Breathing and Relaxation: Practice deep breathing exercises and relaxation techniques to calm the body and mind.
3. Cognitive Reframing: Challenge negative thoughts and beliefs that contribute to perseveration and replace them with more balanced perspectives.
4. Seeking Support: Reach out to a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional for support and guidance during panic attacks.
5. Medication: In some cases, medication prescribed by a healthcare professional may be helpful in managing severe or persistent symptoms of anxiety and panic attacks.

Self-Compassion:

Remember that perseveration is a common experience during panic attacks and does not define your worth or strength. Practice self-compassion and patience as you navigate through challenging moments, and seek professional help if needed to learn effective coping strategies.

I'm 19 and I've never been in a situation like this before. I met my ex Jack when I was 14 and once we graduated highschool us and my older sister moved in together. I trust both of them with my life and they were my only friends. My sister Lucy thought she was a lesbian and I never thought Jack would do this. I had no reason to not trust either of them. So when they became friends a few months into living together I was happy. It was nice having my two closest friends also be friends.
Jack and Lucy continued becoming closer throughout the next 2 years and me and Jack became more distant. It seems so obvious now but I've never been great at reading social cues as I have autism. A year ago Jack came up to me after Lucy had a hard day and asked if it was okay that he hugged her. He said that he didn't want to cross any boundaries and that he wouldn't if I wasn't alright it with. I said yes for many reasons. One, I'm not the jealous type. I trusted both of them with my life and two, as I said and she thought she was a lesbian. Plus I didn't feel like there was a problem with just hugging.
So they hugged each other occasionally which overtime became more frequently. I think because it was such a slow process i didnt notice them getting closer. Jack became more distant from me. Our scheduals were almost opposite of each other so I barely got to see him until evening and by that time he just wanted to game or watch TV. I focused on how little time we spent together and not how much time he spent with Lucy. I feel like a idiot now and I'm sure you guys will think I'm lying when I say that I didn't suspect anything going on. You would think that if anytime you saw your boyfriend he was with your sister on the same couch watching tv while they cuddled you'd notice. But I didnt. I was actually happy because in my mind we were all so good friends.
I did have many talks with Jack saying how neglected I felt and he asked me a lot if I was okay with him hugging and cuddling her. I did feel a little weird about it but I didn't trust my feelings. I made myself believe that I was only upset because I wasn't getting attention. I also felt like somehow I didn't have a right to dictate how Jack acted as he never did that to me.
My sister always took the brunt of our abuse growing up and never had anyone to support her so I also was happy that she had someone to talk to finally. I didn't want to take that away from her since I owed her so much.
I thought that as long as Jack actually started giving me more love that I wouldn't feel upset anymore. But despite the many conversations of me begging him to cuddle me and hug me nothing changed. I think eventually I gave up. About half a year ago I became a recluse in my room and barely saw anyone. I still loved Jack I just gave up the belief that I deserved to be showed affection. And in my mind giving love and loving was separate I guess.
At the same time my little sister (15), Brenna, who is still stuck in the same abusive situation I mentioned earlier became super depressed and developed anorexia. Between my own stress I also relapsed back into my own eating disorder I had in highschool. But seeing as I felt like Lucy and Jack were no longer options for me to turn to I had no one. This was a very lonely time for myself. I began to fail my classes and called off work a lot which isn't like me.
Things got worse when back in March Brenna had to go to the mental hospital for suicidal thoughts and self harm. She got diagnosed with Anorexia and Adhd. She also then confided in me and Lucy that our older brother was abusing her emotionally and kept on making comments about her body and it became obvious that she was horribly coedependant with him. This was more than a major red flag because he sexually abused me when I was between the ages of 7 and 9. So to learn that he was potentionally doing the same to her killed me inside. Brenna started living with us after that and she started to gain a sort of better relationship with food and was able to start healing a little bit now that she didn't live one room down from our brother.
This was a horribly stressful and triggering couple of months. Lucy started having a really hard time coping between that situation and her own Adderall addiction that I didn't know about. She began smoking and just generally having a hard time not relapsing with self harm as she struggled with that in the past. She wouldn't accept any help from me as I'm her little sister and didn't want to burden me. Jack began comforting her a lot and I was glad someone was able to help a little. He began kissing her on the forehead with my consent ad they became closer. I just wanted Lucy to he happy so I didn't want to take that away in such a hard time. If I knew they they loved eachother I would have does something different. But I thought they were close almost like brother and sister.
Brenna eventually needed more help than what we could offer. So my mom took her to a hotel and I went with them to support her. This was really hard because my mom is a narccisit that cause me a lot of pain as a kid.
During that week stay Jack texted me on the first day and told me that he was really sorry for not asking first but they had gotten high and slept in the same bed without shirts. I didn't know how to react and I couldn't process this at all. I felt very awkward and just said okay since I was very busy at the hotel dealing with various breakdowns.
I learned later that before I left for the hotel I told Lucy that she could use my bed since she had been sleeping on the couch. And that they took this to mean that I was okay with them both sleeping in my bed since me and Jack shared. I don't remember telling her that but it was a stressful situation so I must've forgot.
I didn't have time to focus on that issue so I decided to talk to them about it later. I didn't get the chance to since the next day he asked if it was okay if he sat with Lucy while she showered. A little context, Lucy has a horrible trigger for water related things and I often would sit with her. I was also a little taken aback but I felt like somehow I would be bad to deny her anything. So I said yes. I don't that I was complicit in all this but I truly didn't think they would hurt me like this. And I viewed it as the same thing as me helping her since Jack made it clear that he didn't think of her as anything other than a friend. And I trusted him.
The next day after that they both came up to the town I was staying in for Lucy's doctors appointment. Jack and I went on the first date we had in months and it was nice to get away from the hectic hotel situation I was in. That night though they texted me and asked me to come out to the truck to talk with them. That's when Jack told me that the night before he had been I bed with Lucy again, both just in their underwear, and was rubbing her back when he started to rub her ass. He said that she was shocked and left but they had talked and came to the conclusion that they cheated and that they both like each other.
I have a really hard time processing information so I was shocked mostly. I wasn't expecting this at all despite all the signs I ignored. I was desperately clinging onto the hope of working everything out. The wording he used made it seem like he liked her so after they cried a bunch I went back to the hotel room. I didn't have a break as my mom was yelling at Brenna and I had to calm them down. The next morning I talked to my therapist and finally cried myself. I was confused and hurt but also willing to try to work things out.
That day was Jack's birthday so we all went out to celebrate. Jack turned 21 and so Lucy and Jack went bar hopping. I knew I was uncomfortable with that but I didn't want to say something and ruin his birthday. I wasn't asked directly if I was okay with it which I know sounds stupid but I truly didn't know what words to say to express my feelings.
I felt very uncomfortable though so I went home that night with them when they were done. That night I was up in my room while Lucy and Jack were drunk downstairs and I just broke down. I felt horrible for thinking some of the things I did and I was mostly just so heartbroken. I had the worst thoughts of ending it all but was too worn out to do anything. I wanted so badly to go downstairs and get comforted but those were the very people who were causing my pain. These two were my only friends. I had no one else I could go to and I just felt so alone.
I was feeling better by the next day and was planning on having a sit down conversation once Jack got off work. I was able to talk to Lucy a little and was feeling hopeful. We all went out to eat and it was good. I hugged Jack for the first time since I left for the hotel and he cried. I thought we could actually work things out.
They went to the park since Jack wanted to talk to Lucy alone and I felt uncomfortable again but as I said I trust these people with my life. They came back home a couple hours later. We all sat in the living room and he said he wanted to break up. He said that he couldn't love me romantically and that he loved Lucy. He cried and I just kept thinking about how it was all over. I set a rule for myself when I was very young that people break up for a reason and that there's so good reason to go back to them. So I knew that it was all over. I cried so much that I threw up. I was angry and hurt.
That next week Lucy stayed over at Jack's hotel a lot. I was left alone at the house and I felt like a robot going through the motions. I barley ate and I slept most of the time. I was so lonely that when I saw my dad I didn't know how to interact with him. Lucy did not ever try to lessen the situation and only took responsibility. Despite that she still said that she plans to get with Jack in the future once I get over him. That if she doesn't she'll grow to resent me as she might not ever find someone else and that this is the first time she's been in love. I don't know what's worse to think about. The fact that she could do this to me when I know I could do it to her in a million years, or that she loves my ex so much she's willing to do this to me.
He was my first love too. I can understand why she loves him so much since i love him too. And I understand why he loves her so much. Lucy is an amazing person and all of the friends I've ever made have always liked her more, theyre never shy to say it. So this situation doesn't help the complex I had as a kid that everyone likes her more.
I have been doing surprisingly well. I haven't missed him all that much. Maybe that's because for the past few months I've barely seen him so there's not much of a difference but Lucy still hangs out with him. And that hurts. Everytime she goes out with her friends and i learn that jack was there i feel my heart break. Lucy says that Jack has been crying a lot when hes reminded of me and I don't know how to feel. If he doesn't actually love me why is he so sad? I have to trample down any hope that he does still love me. I know that even if he does I won't be able to take him back and it hurts.
I also can't help but think about how sick it is that hes going to kiss her and be intamit with her in the same ways he was with me. Were sisters and its sick to think about how shes going to do that with him knowing that I did too. I keep telling myself its none of my buisness but I still cant stop thinking about it.
I feel bad because I can't help but want them to not work out, or to hope for him to cheat on her too. but at the same time I want Lucy to be happy, no matter who its with. I also just can't see how their relationship will work out since it started in this way but that's none of my business either.
I just don't know what to do. I don't have any friends. And I just wish I could have been brokeN up and been done with it. I blocked him but hes still somehow in my life one way or another. How am I supposed to heal with all of this going on.
Sorry for the long post I just really needed to get this all off my chest and if anyone has any advice or any insights that would be great.
Edit: I wanted to add on that Lucy and Jack (the last time I saw him of course) have been taking responsibility and stuff. Lucy doesn't seem to be trying to make me forgive her or feel bad for her at all. She does make an effort to not excuse herself since our parents never took responsibility for anything. So she isn't trying to lie or anything but she is still going to make her own decisions. She's been taking up an attitude recently (not completely related to this situation) that she's been selfless her whole life and that she's going to be doing things for herself now. (It's true that she has been selfless and gave herself for everyone around her. As I said she shielded me a lot as a kid) She never said this I don't think in regards to dating Jack but I can't help but believe it's related.
Also! If you want a quick laugh since even my therapist thought this was funny. Right after Jack broke up with me I kind of let loose all the shit he did when we were together that I never told anyone about. One of these things was that he left scat stains in my bedding and told me that it wasn't from him and stuff. And you want to know what Lucy said to this? That it still doesn't detere her lol. My therapist said "really? 🤨 scat stains doesn't detere her??" Lol

When I first took this job, I never could have predicted what would happen. After all the years of training and the experiences that I have had throughout my life, I am pretty good at being prepared for the worst. But before I begin this story, a little bit about myself.
I was a bit of a troubled child some might say. I lost both my parents to a car accident when I was 2. After that, I bounced from foster home to foster home. I blame it on the system. Almost every foster home I was put in was terrible. The parents were only doing it for the money and barely took care of the foster children. And when Social Services came, you think they listened to the children? No. But, I took on a personality that did help throughout this time. I decided that I wouldn't take shit from anyone. When some of the foster homes' actual children tried to bully me or other foster kids, they very quickly learned not to after several broken bones. In addition, I took this attitude to the public schools. Bullies would pick on the weak, and they would suddenly have broken noses and fingers. But, since it was the public school the bullies were not punished. Only me. However when the bullies would see me or get close to their victims while I was around they would quickly go the other way. This went on for the entirety of my youth. I never had a plan for my life. All I knew was that I was unwanted anywhere, and had nowhere to go. But one day, I was passing by the living room, and I saw a commercial on the tv that changed my life's course. It was an ad to join the United States Marine Corps. After this, I found a new purpose for my life. Unfortunately I was 15 at the time. But I immediately started training myself physically and mentally for this new course. I studied at the public library since I wasn't allowed to use the foster home's computer. I started working out at the high school's gym after class. And finally at 18 I joined the Corps. The next 8 years were the best of my life. After boot camp, MCT (Marine Combat Training), and SOI (School of Infantry) I soon learned about the Raiders. Which is Marine Corps special forces. I immediately put in for it and got selected. I was able to go to several foreign countries and fight many battles. All of my fellow Marines were the greatest family I ever had. Once I was at the end of my second enlistment I decided it was time for me to enter the civilian world again. At that time, we had a bad mission and I lost my closest friends. So I did what anybody in this situation does. I found a reasonably inexpensive apartment and drank excessively for the next month. Once I felt that my liver had been well punished, I began searching for a job. Now, money was not an issue for me at this time. I had plenty in savings to last most people a couple of years. While I was in the military, I never really bought anything since I knew I would be traveling all over. I also still had money saved from the insurance when my parents passed all those years ago that I refused to spend. So I tried finding a job that I would fit into given my skill sets. After some time I found what I was looking for. It was a position within a security company that provides its services to companies in both the private sector as well as government facilities. I immediately applied and got accepted. For the next year after this, I was able to complete some training required for the job and bought my own house in Nevada. I worked as a fill in guard for multiple high ranking officials here and there within my state. But one day, I was given a position that would alter my perception of reality forever.
“John!” my boss bellowed as he entered the locker room. I had been getting my gear, body armor, and rifle ready to head to the meeting room. I look up and see this mountain of a man standing in the doorway with a large jolly smile on his face. “Got a job for you” he continued, waving a file in his hand. “What's the Job?” I asked while doing my best to give back a friendly grin. I've been told I’m not great at expressing my emotions. But I’ve been trying. “Well, good news. It's a government facility that needs a pair of guards.” My ears perked up as he said this. “Where at?” I asked with some excitement in my voice. “A warehouse in the desert just outside of the town where you live.” My shoulders drop a little with disappointment. “What sort of warehouse is it?” I ask. “It is a government funded science facility. Something about monitoring seismic activity in the area. During the evening, you and one other guard will be posted there to watch over the equipment.” I thought for a moment and I remembered the place he was talking about. About 5 miles from my home on the outskirts of town, there is a fenced off plot of land that has one large building out in the middle. I had always driven past it on the way to a rifle range and saw the no trespassing signs on the fence and didn't think much of it. “What's the uniform situation?” I ask. “Standard Polo, slacks, and duty belt.” “Body armor and weapons?” I asked, already feeling the boredom seeping in. “None required. You can wear soft armor if it makes you feel better. But there will be a locker with shotguns as a last resort. Aside from that, just your nightstick.” It is at this point I let out a disappointed sigh. After a long moment I look up and ask, “why did you pick me specifically for this position?” He looks at me with that unwavering smile and says, “well, nobody wanted to volunteer for it. So I decided to volun-tell the first person I saw this morning.” He leans over and gives me a strong pat on the back and walks out. I sigh again, take off my usual gear and just dress in the uniform he told me. I do grab my soft armor though. With my duty belt and the file in hand, I head to my SUV. Opening the file, there was the basic information about the warehouse and a padlock key labeled “Front gate”. I shake my head and begin my drive to this warehouse. Luckily, this place was in between home and our headquarters. So once I started this job, at least I wouldn't have to drive as much.
I pulled up to the gate and pulled out the key that was provided with the file. After entering and securing the gate, I look toward the building and see two vehicles parked out front. One large gray sedan and a red prius. Once I pulled up, a round looking man alongside a woman that was wearing our security uniform stepped out of the building and headed toward me. “Welcome!” the man said with a blinding smile. Man, these morning people really are something else. The woman approached me with an equally bright smile holding out her hand. “You must be my new partner. I'm Stacy. Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” I said, shaking her hand and trying to put on my friendliest smile. Stacy, on first impressions, has a very friendly personality. She had fairly light brown hair and emerald green eyes. She stood roughly a foot shorter than myself, and her physique is slender and well toned while still being curved in a very attractive way. What caught my attention was the fact that, despite her size and stature, she carried herself with a sense of confidence while not trying to be overly imposing. The man that was there I could only describe as plump. He was about 2 inches shorter than Stacy. He had a balding head with a very poor attempt at a comb over. “Well then, Mr. Miller.” He said. “Just John is fine.” I responded. “Alright John. You can call me Bill. Now that we are acquainted, let's begin the tour.” He turned around and headed to the main entrance. Upon entering, I quickly identified the four quadcons and large mobile research vehicle parked in the center. There were dirty tire tracks leading from the large double doors to the vehicle. “Here is the research equipment you will be guarding. Every evening, once the scientists put their equipment away, you will be responsible for verifying that all of the locks are secured. The keys will be given to you and placed in a lockbox that is kept in your office.” Glancing to the right, I saw what I assumed to be our office. It was a small shack built into the side of the main building. Beckoning us toward it, Bill said, “and over here is where you will likely be spending most of your time.” In the office, there was a long desk with large windows looking out to the interior of the warehouse. At the back there was a small restroom that was surprisingly clean. And, what I was looking for, at the back corner was a locked green weapons locker that housed two Mossberg 500 pump action shotguns. Next to that was a small table with walkie talkies on charging stations. Above the charging station were two flat screen TVs with the video feed of security cameras monitoring both the inside and outside of the building. On the desk was a land line telephone, coffee pot, and a microwave. Underneath was a minifridge and a locking filing cabinet. Bill motioned to the cabinet, “This is where the keys to the storage units and truck will be kept with at least one of you having the key to it nearby. All the amenities are available to use, the AC works, and the chairs are comfy.” He grinned proudly like a child that had just finished his chores. “And if you'll follow me,” he said exiting the office door. As we followed, he went around the office shack where a side by side ATV was parked. Attached to it was a spot light on the front and an extra fuel container in the back. “This will be your steed” Bill says with exaggerated grandeur. “You will be able to use this to go around the compound if needed. Just log your driving so we know when the fuel needs to be replenished. Now, over here,” turning on his heel, he walked toward the opposite end of the warehouse. In this direction was a door labeled Janitors closet. Opening it, there were shelves of cleaning supplies, a push broom, and a wheeled bucket with a mop in it. “You can use these if you need to. There are cleaners that take care of the whole building during the day.” Well, at least we won't be doubling as janitors. Bill clapped his hands together, “do you have any questions?” He began walking back toward the office. “Do you get much disturbance out here that requires guarding?” I asked. “Well, the equipment and research is funded by the government. So they want to be sure nothing gets taken. As far as the disturbances, there are the occasional teenagers that try to sneak onto the property at night to do whatever teens do these days.” “What sort of research is being done here?” Stacy asked. We got back to the office and Bill leaned on the wall sweating and out of breath. “I don't know all the details. But it has something to do with monitoring the seismic readings in order to predict earthquakes or something. But I'm sure they can explain it better.” He pulled out a white cloth and wiped his head. I guess he used all his energy for the introduction. At that moment, we heard the crunching of graven as more vehicles pulled up outside. “Speak of the devil” Bill put the cloth away and looked at his watch. Through the window of the office the clock on the wall read nine in the morning. “If you follow me, we can meet the researchers.” For the next several minutes, we were introduced to the lead researcher Mike and his four grad students. Once introductions were finished, they loaded up the large truck and headed out to the desert. “Allright,” Bill said again, clapping. “You will be on guard during the night. Be here at six this evening. for the start of your shift. At six in the morning we will have two other guards relieve you during the day.” He headed over to the red Prius. “If you have any other questions, my cell number is in your files. Good luck” He hopped in and drove off leaving the two of us standing in front of the building. “Well,” Stacy said after a moment of silence. “I look forward to working with you, and I guess I'll see you tonight.” I nodded at this. “See you then.” We both left the site for the day. It turned out that Stacy and I both lived in the same town not too far apart. At least the company chose guards that live close to the site to save on driving.
The next four weeks were fairly uneventful. On the first night, we were able to talk with the researchers. Their explanation was the same as Bill had said. They were monitoring the seismic reading to predict earthquakes. But when the lead researcher said that, I got the sense that there was more to it. After some interrogation tips that I got from a CIA member that was stationed in Syria with me, I began to get good at knowing when someone was lying or withholding information. But, I didn't press the issue. If this was something more serious, there would be alot more security than two guards at a time with minimal equipment. After some deliberation with Stacy, we came up with a routine for our shifts. Every hour, one of us would take a walk around the inside of the warehouse. And every four hours one of us would take the ATV and do a patrol around the perimeter of the fence. The whole drive takes about twenty minutes. As far as issues during this time, not much happened. Every once in a while a camera would go down and one of us would check on it. After either jiggling the cable or just resetting it, the feed would go back to normal. There was one night that we noticed some teens outside of the fence seemingly daring each other to climb over. After revving the ATV and hitting them with the spotlight, they decided to leave. But during our shifts I did get to learn more about Stacy. She is a near polar opposite to me. She is very cheerful and chatty. From what she told me, I learned that she was mostly raised by her grandfather who was a police officer for the majority of his life. She had great respect for him before his passing. She wanted to be just like him with his sense of justice and strength. However, she decided to become private security instead of a police officer. I did notice that she seemed to avoid the topic of her parents. From the different walks of life that I encountered within the military, I decided it was best not to press the topic. She also seemed to like the horror genre of stories and films. During our shifts we were allowed to bring things to pass the time. She would bring a wireless speaker and play music and something called creepypasta. I on the other hand would put in one ear bud with music and read a book when we were not chatting. During the first week, we did have to stand guard for the entire 7 days. But after that more guards were stationed at the warehouse for the weekend to give us time off. This did come with an issue. Stacy would ask to hang out during the weekend. She would want to go to the movie theater or get lunch somewhere. But when she asked, I would say that I had plans. Which isn't a lie, but it mostly consisted of meal prep, physical training, and going to a shooting range. The problem I had was this, I never had a girlfriend. While Stacy is both kind and beautiful, I have no idea how to proceed with this. I would only feel awkward. Despite this, she didn't seem to have any intention of giving up. She would still ask every Friday, and when I told her I was busy, she would say, “maybe next weekend then.”
It was Friday of the fifth week when it happened. Me and Stacy were five hours into our shift, and I had just gotten back from a patrol on the ATV. “See any of the Graboids that they are looking for?” Stacy asked, grinning. “I'm afraid not,” I said disappointedly. “Just the usual rodents and reptiles. Although maybe they turned to shriekers and left.” I grinned as well. After logging the patrol, I entered the office and picked up “The Art Of War” and continued reading where I left off. Stacy was listening to one of those creepypastas on her phone. It was about something called a Skinwalker hunting hikers in a national park. It seemed kind of interesting. Maybe I should start looking into these stories. “So,” Stacy said, pausing the video. “You wanna catch a movie this weekend?” Her emerald eyes glistened with anticipation. “Sorry. I have plans.” I responded. She sighed and slouched sadly. “Well. Maybe next weekend then.” I know if anyone saw me in this situation, they would be screaming at me. A beautiful woman is asking me if I want to spend time together outside of work. After this exchange we continued with our activities waiting for my alarm to go off signaling a patrol. It was at this moment when we felt a strong tremor beneath the warehouse. Feeling tremors wasnt that unusual for this area. Every once in a while we might feel a light one during our shifts. But this one was stronger than any other that we've felt. But before we could get under our desk expecting it to be an earthquake, it was already over. The whole thing had lasted less than a minute. We both sat back in our chairs and looked at each other with a sigh of relief. Soon our nerves were settled and we returned to our entertainment. Fifteen minutes later the alarm on my phone sounded. Stacy stood up stretching. “I'll take this one”, she said. I nodded in agreement and looked back at the camera feeds. The camera that overlooked the corner by the janitors closet was static. “Could you look at camera three when you walk by it?” I asked, pointing at the monitor. She nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Got it.” She grabbed a walkie off the charger and clipped it to her belt. Once she left the office, I returned to my book, occasionally glancing at the monitor. After a few minutes, I heard a click on my radio and then a door slam from the other side of the warehouse. I picked up the radio, “Stacy, you good?” I asked. From the way the office was positioned, the view of that closet is blocked by the truck and quadcons. I looked at the monitor and that camera was still out. “Stacy, you good?” I repeated. No answer. I grabbed my radio and a flashlight and headed out the office to check on her. My worry was that during that tremor, some of the cleaner spilled and she might have slipped on it hitting her head. I very quickly walked over to the closet. I didn't see Stacy anywhere, but her radio was on the floor by the door. I ran over and opened the door worried. But instead of seeing Stacy laying on the floor unconscious, there was a large hole on the concrete. I stood there for a moment trying to process what I was looking at. But remembering Stacy, I pulled out my flashlight carefully looking down the hole. Instead of going straight down, it went in at an angle almost like a tunnel. It was large enough for myself to crawl into if I needed to. “Stacy!” I yelled. “Are you down there?” No response. “Shit” I muttered to myself. I then got down and headed in.
The tunnel seemed to go down for at least twenty feet before leading into another much larger tunnel. Once there, I was surprisingly able to stand up with plenty of room. “I wonder if this is what those researchers were looking into.” I thought to myself. Looking left and right, this tunnel continued further than my flashlight could reach. “Stacy! Can you hear me?” I yelled. The only response I got was my own echo. Looking down, I tried to find any indication of the direction she might have gone. At first I didn't see anything. I did notice that there were drag marks in the dirt going left. No boot marks though. I made a mark in the dirt to indicate the tunnel back to the surface, and started down the left tunnel. For the next ten minutes, I was quickly walking my way through this dark tunnel, yelling Stacy's name all throughout. The tunnel kept going down and curving every now and then. But still no sign of Stacy. Eventually I came to a fork. It was here that the drag marks stopped. After calling Stacy's name a few more times, I knew I had to get to the surface and call for backup. As much as I hated the idea, I knew it was necessary. But right as I was about to turn and head back, I heard a scream. It was very faint, but it came from the right tunnel. Now that I had a direction, I decided to continue quicker than before. I traveled deeper and deeper into these unknown depths. It was at this point that I noticed a turn off up ahead going left. I knew that if there wasn't another sound at this intersection, that I would have to return. I got to the turn off and yelled for Stacy. After a few minutes I heard what sounded like footsteps coming toward me. “Stacy?” I yelled. I carefully walked forward. There was another sound. Heavy breathing. The tunnel turned right. As soon as I rounded the corner, I saw something straight out of a horror movie. It stood on all fours with short legs and long arms, head just about touching the ceiling at roughly eight feet in height. Its skin was an ashen gray color with small tufts of fur near the shoulders. The face and large ears reminded me of a bat. Its eyes were so white, they almost seemed to glow in the darkness. I got the sense that, while it couldn't see me, it knew I was there due to my yelling. As soon as I lock eyes with this creature, before I can do anything, it inhales and lets out an ear piercing shriek. I covered my ears, but it didn't do anything as my vision started to fade to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. On the ground beside them was Rodriguez being treated by the Corpsman. I looked back to Johnson, “Cover me! I'm moving up”, I yelled to him. He nodded, racking his rifle. “Moving!” I yelled as I sprinted to the next vic. A couple of bullets hit near my feet. As soon as I got to the rear, I yelled, “set!” Johnson started running while I kept him covered. Once we were both there, we checked on Rodriguez. The corpsman looked up at me, “we need a medevac now!” He yelled holding a wound near the neck. I nodded quickly and got up to Smith who was yelling on the radio. I knelt down, “what's the ETA on those birds?” I asked. He shook his head angrily. “They are at least five minutes out!” He said cursing as a bullet hit the top of the door next to him. “We won't last that long! Just get on the 240 and fire back now!” I yelled in his ear. “Aye Sergeant!” Smith climbs into the hummvee and mounts the turret with the 240 machine gun firing back. I looked back at Johnson, “we need to get to the lead vic and mount the Mark 19!” I yelled back. Johnson gave me a devilish grin, “aye sergeant!” He yelled back. The lead hummvee was two vehicles ahead. With the help of Williams’ suppressing fire, we got to the second vic. “Just one more” I thought to myself. Johnson got ready to move to the next hummvee. I nod at him and get set for suppressing fire. “Moving!” He selled. Right as he started running there was a snap and he hit the dirt as blood started pooling by his head. “Sniper!” I yelled back to the others. But as soon as I looked back to where Smiths’ 240 was roaring, the entire hummvee exploded as an RPG detonated below it. A large piece of what I assume was the door, hit me in the helmet and I was back on the ground. I looked up with blurred vision seeing an attack helicopter unloading its payload toward the enemy placements. But as I blinked, there was a large face staring at me from across the street. An inhuman face. Almost like a bat. I start to remember what this thing is, just as my vision fades to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. I looked back at Johnson. “Wait.” I thought to myself. “I-I was just here.” I watched as Johnson continued to make the same moves as he did in this memory. I stand up and look around as he runs to the next hummvee. I hear the corpsman yell about evac. Smith yelling about the ETA on the birds. “This,” I said to myself. “This was the last mission.” Then I remembered. A face. An inhuman face. I looked across the street where I saw it. I close my eyes and shake my head. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the darkness of a tunnel. The monster was now looming over me reaching out with its large clawed hand. I immediately jumped back out of its arms reach. The monster seemed surprised that its trance was broken. It began to inhale, readying another shriek. But before it could let out its scream, I drew the compact Sig pistol that I keep under my uniform and put two rounds between its eyes. Now when I asked the boss about having weapons, he said they weren't required. He didn't say I couldn't conceal one just in case. The creature slumped to the ground lifeless. Despite the ringing in my ears from the shot, I knew I had to continue forward to find Stacy. I looked down and was glad to see the footprints and drag marks were clear and continued forward. As I continued down the tunnels, the walls started to change. The texture went from the dirt and stone to a black and almost rubbery plastic. If I had to compare, it looked almost like the walls in that Aliens movie. That thought also unnerved me. Soon after noticing the changes, I started to hear a voice further down the tunnel. It was Stacy's voice. Faint, but there. I quickened my pace. The tunnel then seemed to open up into a large cavern. It was so large that my flashlight couldn't reach the opposite end. The walls had that same alien-like texture. I then noticed bulb-like growths attached to the walls. Walking to the nearest one I peered in. There was the remains of a human skeleton. From the looks of it, the bones were here for many years. The clothes, or what was left of them, looked similar to those I've seen in mining pictures from the 1800s. Moving forward, each bulb, or pod I guessed, had a similar sight. A human skeleton, no flesh remaining. They were all in a pose that suggested they all died screaming. At least, those that still had a jaw attached. After looking into the fifth one, I heard Stacy’s voice again from across the cavern. I immediately started walking in that direction. At that moment I looked up toward the ceiling and saw a nightmare. There were hundreds of those creatures attached and encased in similar pods. All seemingly asleep and ready to get out at a moment's notice. Off to the side, there were several of those bods that were empty. Immediately lowering my light, I hastened my pace as quietly as possible. At the end of the cavern, I saw the pale face of Stacy peeking out of what I now assumed were feeding pods. “No daddy, no.” She was muttering to herself quietly. “Don't hurt mommy.” I lifted her head up and her eyes were open but unfocused. “She must be in that trance” I thought to myself. Reaching to my belt, I pulled out a pocket knife and began cutting away at the pod. Luckily for me, whatever this was made of had not hardened yet. As soon as there was enough give, I pulled Stacy out and placed her on the ground. “Come on. Wake up Stacy.” I said quietly into her ear. After about a minute of speaking to her and giving a light sternum rub, her eyes finally came back into focus. “John?” She asked. I put my hand over her mouth and whispered into her ear, “Shh. We need to get out of here quietly.” I pointed the light up at the creature pods. Her eyes widened. Then she looked at me and nodded slowly. I removed my hand and helped her to her feet. She was a little wobbly. “Can you walk?” I asked. She nodded again and we began our track to the surface.
I took point and followed the tracks that led me here. Seeing me with my pistol aimed ahead Stacy asked, “are there more of them in the tunnels?” “Yeah.” I said gesturing up ahead at the carcass of the creature that I shot earlier. She nodded approvingly. She then pulled out her own Sig pistol from her waistband. I think I’m in love. We continued down the tunnels with haste. When we rounded one corner, another two more of the creatures were shuffling towards us. As soon as I saw them, I took a knee and put two rounds in the first one killing it. The second one climbed over the body and sped up taking a deep breath. But before I could fire at it, Stacy put three rounds into its head. I looked back at her and she was in a perfect shooter's stance the muzzle of her pistol still smoking. With our ears still ringing, I gave her a thumbs up and we continued. After some time, we finally reached the smaller tunnel leading up to the janitor's closet in the warehouse. We got out and looked around making sure that none of the creatures were waiting above. After clearing the building, we both sighed with relief. Stacy then started toward the office. “I'm going to call for backup,” she said. I shook my head. “No. We need to collapse that cavern before those things can get up here.” She looked at me with confusion. “And how do you expect us to do that? I doubt the researchers have explosives in their truck,” she said pointing at the vehicle. “Just follow me,” I said heading to the front door. Stacy hesitated and quickly followed. I immediately ran to my SUV and opened the rear. As soon as Stacy caught up, I opened the plastic cases and her eyes widened. “Take your pick,” I said gesturing toward the case full of guns and armor. After a moment, she grabbed a suppressed Honey Badger rifle, a glock 17, and a chest rig for spare magazines. I took my own Suppressed M4 rifle, glock 19, and my plate carrier. After we strapped on the gear, I handed her a pair of noise canceling headphones to help with the gunshots underground. “So, you usually carry this much gear?” Stacy asked, turning on the headphones. “Well,” I said. “You never know when you need it.” After putting on my own headphones, I pulled out a duffel bag from a much deeper compartment of the case. I set it on the ground and opened it. Stacy's eyes went even wider than before. “Is that?” she stammered. “Yep.” I said, looking down at the large bag full of plastic bricks marked as C4. “Where did you?” she started. “Let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy.” I responded, pulling out a detonator and making sure I had enough components. “Let's move.” I said, throwing the bag over my shoulder and loading my rifle. She nodded, loading her rifle.
Once we reentered the tunnel, the mics on the headphones were able to pick up the faint sounds of the creatures footsteps and distant shrieks. I looked back at Stacy, “ready.” I asked. “Let's go,” She responded. I placed a glow stick at the entrance and began the move forward. After only a few minutes of walking one of those creatures rounded a corner. As it did, it let out one of those ear piercing screams. But, fortunately for us, those headphones worked very well at canceling out the effect that it had. I grinned and promptly put two rounds between its eyes. After stepping over the body and rounded the corner, there were two more. “Shit,” I thought. “More of those pods must have opened.” Despite this revelation, we continued. Killing every creature along the way. Stacy did surprise me though. All of her moves were smooth and calculated. She clearly had more training than what the security company provided. Maybe I should ask her about it when we get out of here. She might make a good range buddy. It took twice as long to get to the cavern the second time. A couple of those creatures almost got the jump on us. They would wait around corners or try to attack from behind. I did get hit, but somehow it only damaged the armor plate. I did note that it went through the plate like butter. Definitely didn't want to get directly hit by that. Once we finally arrived at the cavern, there were more empty pods. And even more were starting to move. I dropped the duffel bag and gave Stacy some of the bricks and detonators. “You take that side and I'll take this one,” I told her. “Got it,” she said. I quickly showed her how to arm the device and we began planting. I put some of them in the empty food pods as well as sticking them to the wall. A couple of the pods burst open. I was quickly able to dispatch them. Once we finally finished planting the C4, we met back at the entrance of the cavern. I took out a timer and attached it to the wall. “We are going to have to run,” I said, punching in fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath and nodded. I nodded back and hit start. We bolted down the tunnels. The bodies of the creatures we killed on the way in, did slow us down. But I calculated that. A couple of them did try to ambush us, but we quickly put them down. Throughout this run, I was able to place a couple of the remaining C4 at key intersections in order to collapse the tunnels. We finally reached the last turn and saw the first glow stick up ahead. I glanced down at the timer on my watch. 5 minutes. “Perfect,” I thought, grinning to myself. I helped Stacy up the tunnel. “Keep going. I'll be right up.” I said. I knelt down and planted the last C4 charge at the base of the exit. I then began crawling up the tunnel. But just before my legs entered the hole, something grabbed my right foot and yanked me back down. It held me upside down and I was able to get a good look at my assailant. It was one of those creatures, but this one seemed bigger. There were scars all over its face and torso. “And you must be the leader,” I said. It snarled. My rifle was on my back so I couldn't grab it. It reared its other arm back and readied a slash. “I don't think so,” I said, drawing my pistol and dumping half the mag into its body. It let out one last scream dropping me and falling dead. I looked at my timer. 2 minutes. Shit. I dove into the tunnel and crawled up as fast as I could. When my head popped out, Stacy was there and she helped pull me out. I looked at her and quickly motioned to the door. “We need to haul ass!” I yelled. Without hesitation, she sprinted with me to the door. She passed me and slammed into the door opening it. I guess I'll need to work on my run time. As soon as I passed the threshold, I heard the beeping of my watch indicating the 5 second mark. We bolted toward the gate. Once we got there, the timer went off. There was a rumble underground as I knew the C4 had detonated. It was a moment later that the backside of the warehouse exploded, as the rest of it caved in. I noticed that a section of the desert seemed to sink slightly. That area was where the researchers seemed to spend the most time. I knew they were hiding something. I shook my head and looked back at our vehicles. Somehow, by some miracle, no debris had hit them. We glanced at each other and both let out a big sigh of relief. We began walking back to my SUV. “So,” I said. “What’s playing in the theater?” Stacy looked up at me, smiled and began laughing. I laughed too as she leaned on my shoulder. “Don't know. As long as it's not horror.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “I agree.”