Melting gold ring down

Bullish on Copper Since 2013

2013.06.16 21:14 sun_dagger Bullish on Copper Since 2013

'/copperhoarders' is a pro-copper subreddit for all who decide to stack copper, in any form (bronze coinage, bars, wire rolls, sheeting) as a hedge against inflation, or for anyone wishing to learn more about the amazing red metal. Relevant copper news and stack pictures are always welcome.
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2012.08.18 06:20 frosty Go On (TV Show)

Go On is an American comedy-drama/sitcom series starring Matthew Perry as Ryan King, a sportscaster trying to move on from the loss of his wife.
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2019.02.26 17:48 Casio-F91W F91Ws_on_NATOs

This is a subreddit dedicated to Casio F91Ws specifically on NATOs.
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2024.06.02 11:05 xXxsmitten_kittenxXx Good Morning Handsome.

đŸšâ™„ïžđŸ»
This post, oh boy... oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, strap in babes, I'm about to tell you from start to finish the effects of my sensitive ears picking up the first crunch of gravel from under those tires in the driveway. Like an over exuberant child I spring to my feet. Every damn time. It's like an absolute frenzy of lightning bugs lifting off the dewey green grasses at dusk. Thousands. Millions of glimmers carrying sensations that I hadn't for the life of me expected to ever appear on my skin again, spurring me into action, the tingle of love, the need to be with my soulmate. Those feelings exploding into our night sky with glittering gold sparks of excitement and eagerness; the small girl inside wanting to jump into your arms with every childlike feeling of joy and happiness that she's been denied for decades. The woman in me tries to remained poised and calm and respectfully allowing you to at least get into the doorway, it she also shivers with anticipation. My brain short circuits the moment I gaze into those captivating eyes, my breath hitching and my teeth nipping my bottom lip in a poor attempt to control my feels, all the feels, they stampede down my spine and thunder through my chest, those darn jurassic butterflies in my belly, amplified when you give that smile/smirk that I am totally woo'd by. Not even your touch or kisses yet and I'm already a bundle of nerves and desire for you. It's not just your physical prowess, my love, my partner, my first mate, my valentine. You have the most brilliant soul that I've ever seen, it shines so brightly that I feel I am bathed in pure radiant light and love by simply being in your presence. A blessing that I will hopefully be allowed to cherish, honour, love, care for and respect for the rest of my days if you'll let me? Even though we both have darkness within, the wicked results of our past, it is that light and spiritual power that forces the darkness to fade to mear shadows; and as in tune as you are, I wish you could see the blinding and dazzling aura of the man you yourself strive to be. Such splendor. It's true that women tend to see potential, but you, my growling bear, welp, potential might be worshipping the ground you stand upon. It is so strange to not only feel but truely believe that there is saving grace and silver linings for the fallen. You prove that every day. You, who finds new and glorious ways to let your profound and miraculous light into the world. I melt at your embrace, your affections, your scent. Gods, your natural scent! It's like being called home. It's like being safe and secure. It's like loneliness can no longer exists in those moments. It's like every chip and shred of drama and stress fade away deep within the darkness that is banished when we are together. It has no power in the presence of your true devine self, not in mine. It's in those moments that I feel like I am finally home.
You give me more than just all the feels, I'll have you know. You saved my life from the darkness that was taking over me, my soul and my spirit, and then you gave meaning and purpose for me to... Hmm... How did you say it that time? "Get my sh*t together." I want to, I have made it my goal, and I repeat, you didn't kick me while I was down by owning your feels, allowing that tinge of anger; I appreciated that you didn't try to hide your passion in that moment. Too many times have I questioned my worth because of people's choice to hold back the storm. I can't stand wishy-washy, my one only. I'm a hard headed, stubborn, a bit of a mule when I dig my heels in... But... I will rise to my highest vibration because I can't NOT meet you on those majestic frequencies that I sense when you smile that sheepish boyhood grin. You deserve someone who is working towards healing and growth, peace and serenity. You deserve the best version I can be, someone who will not only make you proud, but who you are proud to call "yours". Your gorgeous, inside and out, my incredibly sexy teddy bear, and I hope that I can rise up to be who you need me to be, I want to. I want to exceed expectations and blast through my self imposed limitations. I want to do this with every fiber of my being, and I promise you I will do that. For us. I hope to find my own inner light along the way and be able to shine brightly like the north star, guiding us to where our hearts can rejoice and sing their angelic tune, together in bliss and harmony. There's so much I want to experience with you, so many moments and times to make sweet memories that ensure crowfeet and other happy wrinkles as we age, proof of lives well lived, and thoroughly enriched with laughter and happiness and joy. The gods blessed me with the most amazing gift, weaving fate and destiny for both of us to meet by pure chance. That gift is and will always be you. <333
Now let's blow this popsicle stand, this is our journey and I want to explore every opportunity with you. I love you 🧾. Unsent, yet I have faith you'll find this.
submitted by xXxsmitten_kittenxXx to UnsentLettersRaw [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 10:29 Sad_Ass_Dev No Valyrian Steel in Essos? [Spoilers MAIN]

Is there any explanation why Dany doesn't have any Valyrian steel weapons or armor? She has conquered 2 major cities and sacked 1 ancient and storied city based around military industry. one would think she would happen across something, a dagger, a brooch, a diadem. nope.
The only Valyrian Steel I think we've seen in Essos so far is a goddamn Arakh from a Dothraki Sellsword which makes no sense at all, if Valyrian steel is so coveted that Tywin Lannister could not convince a single lord in Westeros to sell it to him for a mountain of gold, what right does a lowly sellsword have owning a Giant heavy Arakh which could probably be melted down and made into two-three regular swords, he would be killed immediately by some trade monger and could wind up in slavers bay, where Dany is.
I really hope Vaes Dothrak has some looted Valyrian steel for Dany to give to her captains and Queens guard in the next book.
Imagine a Dothrak whip with Valyrian steel at its end, or a Valyrian steel Crown with origins in one of the great Family's of Valyria for Dany to wear. so much potential not explored so far.
Sorry for ranting but I just feel strongly that George neglected the Valyrian steel world building in this region.
submitted by Sad_Ass_Dev to asoiaf [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 09:49 SnooGoats943 Tips for working with/soldering gold fill

Hi, I’ve got a good hang of working with silver and I mainly make sea glass rings and pendants. I’ve been asked for gold pieces by customers several times now and I want to start with gold fill before trying solid gold - I know most of my customers would not pay the price of a solid gold ring.
Here’s what I plan to use: -9k solid gold bezel -gold fill back plate -gold fill ring band -with 9k yellow gold solder
Will this work? And do you have tips for soldering this? I usually work with Technoflux flux solution (I’m in the UK) - should I use a different flux here?
Also - what do I do with scraps? For my silver scraps, I keep them, melt them down and use them for granulation decor and earring studs. I imagine I won’t be able to do the same with gold fill scraps. Any way I can recycle it and not have it go to waste?
Thanks so much in advance.
submitted by SnooGoats943 to jewelrymaking [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 08:13 KiaraKawaii Guide: How to play FIRST STRIKE Nami

TLDR enclosed for each section directly under their respective subheading in bolded font

FORENOTE

TLDR (for this section):
Before I get into the specific build, I first need to explain how and why this whole setup works. First Strike is mostly taken as a gold-accelerating rune vs matchups that u outrange, ensuring that u get the "first strike" onto enemies consistently. With the changes to First Strike giving more base gold on the initial hit and less gold on subsequent hits compared to before, it pairs really well with a lot of enchanters' poke patterns. Usually, we have one poke spell and not much followup. The current First Strike matches this poke pattern perfectly (think Nami W, Sona E, Seraphine passive-empowered autos etc), allowing us to get an extra 15g per proc on top of our support item gold
I'm able to come out of lane with 300-400 gold fairly consistently. Pair this with free boots or Cash Back, and u can essentially double this amount of gold. Since enchanters tend to be quite item-reliant, having this extra gold generation allows us to reach our item spikes a lot faster, further increasing the snowball potential
Do keep in mind that we can still go Aery vs most matchups, it's just that some matchups First Strike is very abuseable. When unsure, default to Aery!
CREDENTIALS (skip to guide below if uninterested in this section):
I know that some people really care about credentials, so I am leaving this here. Feel free to skip this section and jump straight into the content if it does not concern u
I am a Master tier enchanter main with over 2.8mil points on Nami. I am by no means a perfect player, I still make mistakes and have plenty of areas to improve on
So, please note that the following information serves as a recommendation and general guideline. It was compiled based off of my own personal experience. Said information is not concrete, nor is it a law that you must follow. You are entitled to your own preferences, playstyles, and opinions, which may differ from mine. My only intent here is to share information that some players may find helpful
With the introductions out of the way, we can now move onto the guide:

1. CONTENTS

Having originally posted this on NamiMains, I have come forth with a rune page that has been rising in popularity on enchanters: First Strike. Not only is this applicable on Nami, but on a lot of other enchanters who have decent range
The following guide has been split into these sections:
Due to the length and detail of this guide, I can understand if some players don't wish to read everything. In which case, I have included TLDRs in this post. For ease of access, here is the formatting guideline for the TLDRs of this post:
The following guide has been split into sections for easier navigation, if u are in a hurry for a specific section, scroll down to find the specific subheading that u need. Each explanation is also lengthy, but if u want a brief TLDR of each section, it will be enclosed for each section directly under their respective subheading in bolded font

2. So how/why does it work?

TLDR (for this section):
On Nami specifically, we have an additional way to proc First Strike, since Nami E on allies actually procs First Strike! The best part of this interaction is that ur ally can be hit by enemies with ur E buff, but bc it wasn't you being hit directly, u will still retain the First Strike bonuses if ur ally hits enemies back with ur E buff despite being hit first! A common issue raised with this point is "what if my ADC is bad and doesn't use my E buff?" Don't worry, I got u covered too! So, whenever u empower an auto or ability that is still travelling middair towards the enemy, if u E urself or ur ally during said auto/ability, the slow and bonus dmg from E will still apply on impact. So, if u notice that ur ADC has cast an auto or ability onto the enemy, try to E them while this auto/ability is still travelling towards the enemy. Not only will this maximise E duration, give enemies minimal time to react to the slow and extra dmg, but it will also ensure that u proc First Strike due to E buff, as well as Manaflow Band and other item effects
This also works on ur own autos and abilities, and chaining abilities tgt like this will also help to cancel Nami's lengthy spell animation for more efficient trade patterns, hence better First Strike usage. Since W is our most consistent poke ability, we ideally want to start with this ability when trying to proc First Strike. This differs slightly from the regular Aery setup where we want to auto -> E ourself while our auto is still middair travelling towards enemy -> W enemy -> bubble/ult or let the bounceback heal retaliate enemy dmg. Instead, we want to W -> E ourselves while W is still middair travelling towards the enemy -> auto -> disengage with bounceback heal or bubble/ult

2.1. Example Video

Example video of utilising First Strike trade pattern
Note how I waited for my Kai'sa to commit W onto Zeri before pressing E on her. This will ensure that E is not wasted, and gets us our First Strike bonuses. The max-range W bounce off my ADC as followup dmg onto Zeri also gave some gold from First Strike (unfortunately the replay did not show the gold count from First Strike)

2.2. Jack of All Trades

Supports are actually able to utilise the new Jack of All Trades rune surprisingly well. Our support item alone already covers 3 of the 10 stats required. Here are the list of stats that we will generally be able to obtain on supports:
In order to get these stats, we will need our support item which gives HP, health regen, and mana regen. Most items will cover the haste component. Boots for the movespeed stat. Ardent will give us the %movespeed as well as heal/shield power. But if we don't need Ardent, then we can split this into any other heal/shield power item + Shurelya's. Armor + magic resist can be optained from Locket or Wardstone. Alternatively, if we don't need armor + magic resist, we can instead trade these stats for magic pen + mana instead (will also explain this in further detail below)
As you can see, the items required for Jack are situational items. It is important to identify during champ select if said items, particularly Ardent/Shurelya's + Locket/Wardstone, will be built for this game. Altho, these items will be applicable in most situations anyway
If u don't need these items for that particular game, or if u don't feel like u'll be able to reach all these stats for whatever reason, then Cosmic Insight is always a great staple. Lower summ cds for lower Flash and Heal cds, notoriously long-cd spells, as well as item haste. Item haste works on non-active item cds such as Dream MakeCelestial/Solstice/Zaz'Zak's cds, Mandate mark cds, as well as lowering trinket cd etc.

3. ITEMS

TLDR (for this section):
Alright, now that all the theory work is out of the way, we can finally move onto the specific build (what everyone is here for). There are two main builds to go about this. Each individual dot point reperesents one individual item slot:

3.1. Defensive Build

This build is run in situations where u need the defensive stats from Locket or Wardstone vs harder comps or matchups, with Locket being particularly good vs AoE and/or burst dmg. This build will also cover all the stats from Jack of All Trades (see list from previous section)
Ardent is the most efficient item for Jack due to it providing mana regen, heal/shield power, and %movespeed, all in one item. This will free up an extra item slot where we can buy a situational item, like antiheal, or if it's not needed then Dark Seal into Mejai's is always a great alternative for cheap AP (Nami has good AP ratios), or any other alternative item that u may need
However, it may not always be an Ardent game. In situations where it isn't an Ardent game (non-autoattack-reliant comps), u will need to split the %movespeed and heal/shield power stats into 2 separate items. Typically, Shurelya's + any other Forbidden Idol item will cover this. You can also go for any other item that gives %movespeed, but I find Shurelya's the most consistent. The main downside is ofc, the build being quite rigid if u go for this option (no room for antiheal or other situational items)
Also smth handy to note regarding Helia, the dmg portion of Helia does indeed proc First Strike!

3.2. AP Build

This is a more AP-focused build in situations where u don't need to be so defensive. We omitted the armor and magic resist from Locket/Wardstone for mana (Archangel's) and magic pen (Sorc Shoes). Nami E on allies uses her own magic pen, hence Sorc Shoes here

4. RUNES

TLDR:
The more specifics to optimise ur runes to their respective builds:

4.1. Runes for Defensive Build

Omitted free boots for Cash Back. Since this is for the defensive build, we will need to rush Lucidity boots vs hard matchups. Not only are Lucidity boots a cheaper option so it gives a faster spike in movespeed vs skillshot-heavy lanes, the lower Flash cd will be good vs engage lanes. Jack vs Cosmic has been explained in previous sections
Manaflow + Transcendence is default. For in-depth explanation:
Manaflow is essential for defensive build. Only go Absolute Focus in situations where enemies lack poke, allowing u to maintain the HP threshold for the AP. Transcendence is a good default, when unsure u can always default to this due to Nami's long cds. Pair both these with double adaptive minor shards option. Celerity if u need the movespeed vs heavy-skillshot comps (pair this with the 2% movespeed minor shard option)
I personally don't recommend Scorch with the First Strike setup due to the scaling nature of this build. However, Scorch is typically good with early-game ADCs or matchups where u have early pressure. Scorch also barely adds any bonuses to First Strike, especially as the game progresses. Avoid Scorch if enemies have sustain, as they can easily outheal or outshield that bit of Scorch dmg. When unsure, or in any other situation, go Gathering Storm

4.2. Runes for AP Build

Due to the more expensive nature and higher scaling potential of this build, go free boots so that u can focus on rushing items. Since we go Archangel's with this build, we won't need Manaflow. For maximum scaling, I recommend Absolute Focus + Gathering Storm (also the greediest option). Otherwise, Transcendence as explained prior

5. Core Mechanics of Nami W

TLDR (for this section):
Smth absolutely crucial to these First Strike builds, as well as any other AP Nami builds, is understanding her W bounce mechanic. I often get asked why AP Nami, so I will just include this section here as well. For the fellow fishies who already about this, please feel free to skip this section
The reason why AP Nami is a thing is bc of the way her W scaling works to begin with. We unironically heal more with AP builds than enchanter builds. Allow me to explain:
Patch 14.6: 'The damage and healing value is modified by -15% (+7.5% per 100AP) each bounce.'
Patch 14.7: 'The damage and healing value is modified by -10% (+10% per 100AP) each bounce.'
Before I explain how to get crazy heal/dmg numbers on Nami's W bounces, I first need to explain her unique scaling on W. Unlike most other enchanters who benefit from heal/shield power, Nami's W has a unique scaling where subsequent bounces become weaker pre-100AP, and become stronger post-100AP. This threshold was at 200AP before the most recent changes on her, so they buffed it significantly by lowering the threshold down to only requiring 100AP instead of 200, making AP builds even more potent now in terms of healing and dmg. As such, Nami benefits more from stacking AP than heal/shield power
To give some perspective, previously if I had 200AP my W bounces would be equally as strong as each subsequent bounce. However, with these changes, with 200AP our W is now amped by 10%, and will continue amping by 10% for every 100AP. Getting 400AP on AP Nami builds is very doable with the right setup, buffing our subsequent bounces by 30% per bounce. This means our second bounce will be 30% stronger than the first, and our third bounce will be 60% stronger than the first bounce, which does not need further explaining as to why this is absolutely obnoxious when it comes to dmg and healing values
These changes also mean that a lot of Nami players will need to learn to prioritise their bounces according to what they need. Before, some enchanter builds struggled to reach the 200AP threshold, so we could just autopilot the first bounce without giving it much thought. Now, bounce prioritisation will actually become a prominent part of her kit
To explain how to alternate W effectively with an example, if my primary target (the one I want to dmg/heal the most) is A and my secondary target (less priority target) is B, then I will alternate my W bounces as follows:
And ofc, if u have Mandate then make sure to use E before W to ensure ur W bounces do even more dmg and proc Mandate c:

5.1. Did You Know?

If you hover over Nami's W, you may notice multiple rings. The outer ring indicates Nami's W range when self-cast, meaning that the ability has a slightly longer range when you cast it on yourself bouncing towards an enemy (25 more range) rather than casting it on an ally to bounce or straight onto an enemy. So if u ever need to W urself first, or need just a bit of extra range, make sure to utilise this. To execute this most effectively, I recommend using alt+W for self-cast

6. Final Words

I really hope this helps out some fellow supports. This build can be a bit difficult to grasp at first, and will take some time to learn and get used to. But always rmb that when unsure u can always go back to Aery as it will always remain the most consistent option overall
I'm also aware that First Strike is being nerfed next patch from 15g -> 10g. Personally, I think it could still be situationally good. Also, I apologise for any typos that may have been made, as the post was quite lengthy and was done on phone (so I may have missed some typos while proofreading) 😭😭
This is also my first time making a post to this this degree of length and detail, so if there are any formatting errors or discomforts, please feel free to leave feedback below for me to improve on! For those who stayed til the end, I genuinely want to thank u and appreciate ur time and support đŸ„șđŸ©·đŸ©·
Disclaimer: In order to avoid unnecessary conflicts and misunderstandings, please note that the above information serves as a recommendation and general guideline intended to explain the phenomena. It is based off of my own personal experience, as well as research of other players. Thus, said information is by no means perfect, nor is it a law that you must follow. You are entitled to your own preferences, playstyles, and opinions, which may differ from mine Âź
submitted by KiaraKawaii to supportlol [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 07:35 KiaraKawaii Guide: How to play FIRST STRIKE Nami

Hello fellow fishies! KiaraKawaii here to share with u a new build that has been rising in popularity:
TLDR enclosed for each section directly under their respective subheading in bolded font

FORENOTE

TLDR (for this section):
Before I get into the specific build, I first need to explain how and why this whole setup works. First Strike is mostly taken as a gold-accelerating rune vs matchups that u outrange, ensuring that u get the "first strike" onto enemies consistently. With the changes to First Strike giving more base gold on the initial hit and less gold on subsequent hits compared to before, it pairs really well with a lot of enchanters' poke patterns. Usually, we have one poke spell and not much followup. The current First Strike matches this poke pattern perfectly (think Nami W, Sona E, Seraphine passive-empowered autos etc), allowing us to get an extra 15g per proc on top of our support item gold
I'm able to come out of lane with 300-400 gold fairly consistently. Pair this with free boots or Cash Back, and u can essentially double this amount of gold. Since enchanters tend to be quite item-reliant, having this extra gold generation allows us to reach our item spikes a lot faster, further increasing the snowball potential
Do keep in mind that we can still go Aery vs most matchups, it's just that some matchups First Strike is very abuseable. When unsure, default to Aery! With the introductions out of the way, we can now move onto the guide:

1. CONTENTS

The following guide has been split into these sections:
As per request of a fellow fishie, I have come forth with a rune page that has been rising in popularity on enchanters: First Strike. Not only is this applicable on Nami, but on a lot of other enchanters who have decent range
Due to the length and detail of this guide, I can understand if some fishies don't wish to read everything. In which case, I have included TLDRs in this post. For ease of access, here is the formatting guideline for the TLDRs of this post:
The following guide has been split into sections for easier navigation, if u are in a hurry for a specific section, scroll down to find the specific subheading that u need. Each explanation is also lengthy, but if u want a brief TLDR of each section, it will be enclosed for each section directly under their respective subheading in bolded font

2. So how/why does it work?

TLDR (for this section):
On Nami specifically, we have an additional way to proc First Strike, since Nami E on allies actually procs First Strike! The best part of this interaction is that ur ally can be hit by enemies with ur E buff, but bc it wasn't you being hit directly, u will still retain the First Strike bonuses if ur ally hits enemies back with ur E buff despite being hit first! A common issue raised with this point is "what if my ADC is bad and doesn't use my E buff?" Don't worry, I got u covered too! So, whenever u empower an auto or ability that is still travelling middair towards the enemy, if u E urself or ur ally during said auto/ability, the slow and bonus dmg from E will still apply on impact. So, if u notice that ur ADC has cast an auto or ability onto the enemy, try to E them while this auto/ability is still travelling towards the enemy. Not only will this maximise E duration, give enemies minimal time to react to the slow and extra dmg, but it will also ensure that u proc First Strike due to E buff, as well as Manaflow Band and other item effects
This also works on ur own autos and abilities, and chaining abilities tgt like this will also help to cancel Nami's lengthy spell animation for more efficient trade patterns, hence better First Strike usage. Since W is our most consistent poke ability, we ideally want to start with this ability when trying to proc First Strike. This differs slightly from the regular Aery setup where we want to auto -> E ourself while our auto is still middair travelling towards enemy -> W enemy -> bubble/ult or let the bounceback heal retaliate enemy dmg. Instead, we want to W -> E ourselves while W is still middair travelling towards the enemy -> auto -> disengage with bounceback heal or bubble/ult

2.1. Example Video

Example video of utilising First Strike trade pattern
Note how I waited for my Kai'sa to commit W onto Zeri before pressing E on her. This will ensure that E is not wasted, and gets us our First Strike bonuses. The max-range W bounce off my ADC as followup dmg onto Zeri also gave some gold from First Strike (unfortunately the replay did not show the gold count from First Strike)

2.2. Jack of All Trades

Supports are actually able to utilise the new Jack of All Trades rune surprisingly well. Our support item alone already covers 3 of the 10 stats required. Here are the list of stats that we will generally be able to obtain on supports:
In order to get these stats, we will need our support item which gives HP, health regen, and mana regen. Most items will cover the haste component. Boots for the movespeed stat. Ardent will give us the %movespeed as well as heal/shield power. But if we don't need Ardent, then we can split this into any other heal/shield power item + Shurelya's. Armor + magic resist can be optained from Locket or Wardstone. Alternatively, if we don't need armor + magic resist, we can instead trade these stats for magic pen + mana instead (will also explain this in further detail below)
As you can see, the items required for Jack are situational items. It is important to identify during champ select if said items, particularly Ardent/Shurelya's + Locket/Wardstone, will be built for this game. Altho, these items will be applicable in most situations anyway
If u don't need these items for that particular game, or if u don't feel like u'll be able to reach all these stats for whatever reason, then Cosmic Insight is always a great staple. Lower summ cds for lower Flash and Heal cds, notoriously long-cd spells, as well as item haste. Item haste works on non-active item cds such as Dream MakeCelestial/Solstice/Zaz'Zak's cds, Mandate mark cds, as well as lowering trinket cd etc.

3. ITEMS

TLDR (for this section):
Alright, now that all the theory work is out of the way, we can finally move onto the specific build (what everyone is here for). There are two main builds to go about this. Each individual dot point reperesents one individual item slot:

3.1. Defensive Build

This build is run in situations where u need the defensive stats from Locket or Wardstone vs harder comps or matchups, with Locket being particularly good vs AoE and/or burst dmg. This build will also cover all the stats from Jack of All Trades (see list from previous section)
Ardent is the most efficient item for Jack due to it providing mana regen, heal/shield power, and %movespeed, all in one item. This will free up an extra item slot where we can buy a situational item, like antiheal, or if it's not needed then Dark Seal into Mejai's is always a great alternative for cheap AP (Nami has good AP ratios), or any other alternative item that u may need
However, it may not always be an Ardent game. In situations where it isn't an Ardent game (non-autoattack-reliant comps), u will need to split the %movespeed and heal/shield power stats into 2 separate items. Typically, Shurelya's + any other Forbidden Idol item will cover this. You can also go for any other item that gives %movespeed, but I find Shurelya's the most consistent. The main downside is ofc, the build being quite rigid if u go for this option (no room for antiheal or other situational items)
Also smth handy to note regarding Helia, the dmg portion of Helia does indeed proc First Strike!

3.2. AP Build

This is a more AP-focused build in situations where u don't need to be so defensive. We omitted the armor and magic resist from Locket/Wardstone for mana (Archangel's) and magic pen (Sorc Shoes). Nami E on allies uses her own magic pen, hence Sorc Shoes here

4. RUNES

TLDR:
The more specifics to optimise ur runes to their respective builds:

4.1. Runes for Defensive Build

Omitted free boots for Cash Back. Since this is for the defensive build, we will need to rush Lucidity boots vs hard matchups. Not only are Lucidity boots a cheaper option so it gives a faster spike in movespeed vs skillshot-heavy lanes, the lower Flash cd will be good vs engage lanes. Jack vs Cosmic has been explained in previous sections
Manaflow + Transcendence is default. For in-depth explanation:
Manaflow is essential for defensive build. Only go Absolute Focus in situations where enemies lack poke, allowing u to maintain the HP threshold for the AP. Transcendence is a good default, when unsure u can always default to this due to Nami's long cds. Pair both these with double adaptive minor shards option. Celerity if u need the movespeed vs heavy-skillshot comps (pair this with the 2% movespeed minor shard option)
I personally don't recommend Scorch with the First Strike setup due to the scaling nature of this build. However, Scorch is typically good with early-game ADCs or matchups where u have early pressure. Scorch also barely adds any bonuses to First Strike, especially as the game progresses. Avoid Scorch if enemies have sustain, as they can easily outheal or outshield that bit of Scorch dmg. When unsure, or in any other situation, go Gathering Storm

4.2. Runes for AP Build

Due to the more expensive nature and higher scaling potential of this build, go free boots so that u can focus on rushing items. Since we go Archangel's with this build, we won't need Manaflow. For maximum scaling, I recommend Absolute Focus + Gathering Storm (also the greediest option). Otherwise, Transcendence as explained prior

5. Core Mechanics of Nami W

TLDR (for this section):
Smth absolutely crucial to these First Strike builds, as well as any other AP Nami builds, is understanding her W bounce mechanic. I often get asked why AP Nami, and it would be natural for some fishies to come forth and ask about this too, so I will just include this section here as well. For the fellow fishies who already about this, please feel free to skip this section
The reason why AP Nami is a thing is bc of the way her W scaling works to begin with. We unironically heal more with AP builds than enchanter builds. Allow me to explain:
Patch 14.6: 'The damage and healing value is modified by -15% (+7.5% per 100AP) each bounce.'
Patch 14.7: 'The damage and healing value is modified by -10% (+10% per 100AP) each bounce.'
Before I explain how to get crazy heal/dmg numbers on Nami's W bounces, I first need to explain her unique scaling on W. Unlike most other enchanters who benefit from heal/shield power, Nami's W has a unique scaling where subsequent bounces become weaker pre-100AP, and become stronger post-100AP. This threshold was at 200AP before the most recent changes on her, so they buffed it significantly by lowering the threshold down to only requiring 100AP instead of 200, making AP builds even more potent now in terms of healing and dmg. As such, Nami benefits more from stacking AP than heal/shield power
To give some perspective, previously if I had 200AP my W bounces would be equally as strong as each subsequent bounce. However, with these changes, with 200AP our W is now amped by 10%, and will continue amping by 10% for every 100AP. Getting 400AP on AP Nami builds is very doable with the right setup, buffing our subsequent bounces by 30% per bounce. This means our second bounce will be 30% stronger than the first, and our third bounce will be 60% stronger than the first bounce, which does not need further explaining as to why this is absolutely obnoxious when it comes to dmg and healing values
These changes also mean that a lot of Nami players will need to learn to prioritise their bounces according to what they need. Before, some enchanter builds struggled to reach the 200AP threshold, so we could just autopilot the first bounce without giving it much thought. Now, bounce prioritisation will actually become a prominent part of her kit
To explain how to alternate W effectively with an example, if my primary target (the one I want to dmg/heal the most) is A and my secondary target (less priority target) is B, then I will alternate my W bounces as follows:
And ofc, if u have Mandate then make sure to use E before W to ensure ur W bounces do even more dmg and proc Mandate c:

5.1. Did You Know?

If you hover over Nami's W, you may notice multiple rings. The outer ring indicates Nami's W range when self-cast, meaning that the ability has a slightly longer range when you cast it on yourself bouncing towards an enemy (25 more range) rather than casting it on an ally to bounce or straight onto an enemy. So if u ever need to W urself first, or need just a bit of extra range, make sure to utilise this. To execute this most effectively, I recommend using alt+W for self-cast

6. Final Words

Phew! That was probably one of my lengthiest explanations made into a single post to date! I really hope this helps out some fellow fishies. This build can be a bit difficult to grasp at first, and will take some time to learn and get used to. But always rmb that when unsure u can always go back to Aery as it will always remain the most consistent option overall
I'm also aware that First Strike is being nerfed next patch from 15g -> 10g. Personally, I think it could still be situationally good. Also, I apologise for any typos that may have been made, as the post was quite lengthy and was done on phone (so I may have missed some typos while proofreading) 😭😭
This is also my first time making a post to this this degree of length and detail, so if there are any formatting errors or discomforts, please feel free to leave feedback below for me to improve on! For all the fishies that stayed til the end, I genuinely want to thank u and appreciate time and support đŸ„șđŸ©·đŸ©·
Hope this explains everything!
Disclaimer: In order to avoid unnecessary conflicts and misunderstandings, please note that the above information serves as a recommendation and general guideline intended to explain the phenomena. It is based off of my own personal experience, as well as research of other players. Thus, said information is by no means perfect, nor is it a law that you must follow. You are entitled to your own preferences, playstyles, and opinions, which may differ from mine Âź
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2024.06.02 06:51 chocolatecauldrons Part II: The Anthology - An Analysis of Each Track

Thank you guys for all your nice comments on my previous post! Here's my followup post walking through the anthology - I apologize for the delay, but I wanted to sit with this half of the album a bit longer. This analysis will be slightly different: first I’ll go through themes present throughout the anthology, and then walk through each song individually, since it’s not as consecutive of a story as the first album. As with my first analysis, I tend to also stay away from literal details as proof that a song is about a certain subject or muse – to me, it’s easier to understand the album when you think first about what the song’s overarching meaning is, rather than getting caught up in literal details (and I think Taylor often throws these in as red herrings). Moreover, it’s important to note that it’s likely that the literal detail she’s thrown in is one that only she and the muse will understand (i.e. her referencing a lilac skirt in imgonnagetyouback is unlikely to be one we’ve ever seen her wearing in public, so it’s useless to paternity test based on that detail!).
Firstly, the word anthology means a collection of assorted literary works. As a result, I think there are more themes scattered through this album, and it’s meant to be a little harder to parse than the first one. I think this album is what TTPD would have been before it crystallized into a tighter theme – similar to the 3 AM tracks for Midnights, the majority of which were written prior to the standard edition’s tracks.
There are a few themes throughout this album. From a romantic context, to me, this album is primarily about Joe. I’ll walk through why I believe that, but this album feels less muddled to me in terms of its muses, and I think that is in part due to the fact that her self-described mania from the standard edition is not a theme on the anthology. This work also covers her own relationship to celebrity and fame, and how that affects her romantic relationships and her personal life in general. And finally, I think the final theme throughout this collection is the idea of childhood, of formative experiences, and how our author goes about processing events that happen to her.
The Black Dog
What happens when you intimately know someone, when you share every aspect of your life with someone, and then it's over? Six weeks after their breakup, she’s barely holding it together (“I move through the world with the heartbroken”). She even tried to rebound her pain away (“I took the miracle move on drug, the effects were temporary”), and wasn’t able to succeed. Meanwhile, she sees him go to a bar, and she has the sudden realization that he may be able to do what she failed to do – he might be able to move on, with someone new. Reckoning with that realization is horrifying. If he is able to pull it off, what does that mean about the love they shared? When he had told her for years that he was who he was for her, and her alone?
You said I needed a bravĐ” man
Then proceeded to play him
Until I believed it too
And it kills me
How could they go from being so intimate that they shower together, that she’s aware of his every move, to being so distant from each other that she wonders if making her fall in love with him was a hazing? And the cruelest part of it is – she doesn’t want either one of them to be able to move on, and give validity to the fact that they weren’t right for each other, even though she knows they have to. Moreover, she’s already *tried* to move on at this point, and failed – she tried to manufacture a counterfeit version of their intimacy, but what if he’s able to perfectly replicate it? And to really drive in the knife, what if it’s with someone younger than her?
And you jump up, but she's too young to know this song
That was intertwined in the magic fabric of our dreaming
Given that a theme throughout the first album was her feeling like she’d given him so much of her youth, so much of her childbearing years, with nothing to show for it, what does it feel like to know that he can essentially reset time, by being with a younger woman, but she’ll never be able to get that time back?
imgonnagetyouback
We know that her and Joe took a break or two while they were together (see: Hits Different, The Great War, in addition to PR articles). To me, this song is about when you do take that break from your partner, and you’re trying to make a point to them that they’re not going to find anyone better than you (I can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean) – the two of you are too intimately intertwined to find a suitable replacement. You know what to wear, what to say, what to do to bring them back to you:
I, I hear thĐ” whispers in your eyes
I'll make you wanna think twice
You'll find that you were never not mine
This song also has a lot of similarities to So Long, London, which is why I attribute it to Joe. To me, it provides a deeper story to some of the lines she touches on in So Long, London:
I didn't opt in to be your odd man out
I founded the club she's heard great things about
And to some of the lines in Hits Different:
I washed my hands of us at the club
You made a mess of me
I pictured you with other girls in love
Then threw up on the street
//
Bet I could still melt your world
Argumentative, antithetical dream girl
imgonnagetyouback is a story of one-upmanship – of trying to out-jealous your partner, of proving to them that nobody knows them better than you do. And maybe this time when they’re both playing this game, it works:
Push the reset button, we're becomin' something new
Say you got somebody, I'll say I got someone too
Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you
//
We broke all the pieces, but still wanna play the game (Oh)
Told my friends I hate you, but I love you just the same
Pick your poison, babe, I'm poison either way
The spacing to me is a deliberate red herring (the 1975 very famously made a song called fallingforyou), and a way to illustrate that the subject of the song wants space from her – but she’s not going to give it to him. This is another theme that calls back to Joe – in So Long, London, she describes him as constantly pulling away (Pulled him in tighter each time he was driftin' away). Matty didn’t pull away – he was all in for two weeks, until he chose to ghost her, and leave abruptly. There was no slow death, no push and pull to her relationship with Matty – it was a meteoric rise and fall.
The Albatross
This song feels like a sister song to “peace” – she describes what it’s like to love her. It’s a little more twisted, however, as she describes her love for her partner as both a danger, and a rescue from the danger she’s imposing on him by being involved with him:
Wise men once said
"Wild winds are death to the candle"
A rose by any other name is a scandal
Cautions issued, he stood
Shooting the messengers
They tried to warn him about her
She’s described herself as wind and liquor in her relationship with Joe previously, in Mastermind:
I'm the wind in our free-flowing sails
And the liquor in our cocktails
She has empathy for the narrator, but disdain for herself. There’s also acceptance though: she knows that she tried to prevent it, and tried to warn him about the danger she posed. In the end though, he chose this life with her, and he chose the danger – there’s only so much she can protect him from.
The devil that you know
Looks now more like an angel
I'm the life you chose
And all this terrible danger
Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus
This song feels like another sister song to The Black Dog – how does she cope with the idea that her long-time partner might move on? How does she cope with the fact that if she chooses to leave, she also chooses the future in which they both move on? A future in which they don’t know each other? It also touches on her wondering if she should move on with Matty, and how feasible it would be to know someone else instead of her partner:
If you want to tear my world apart
Just say you've always wondered
This song, more than anything else, illustrates that moving on with Matty was nothing but a way to move past Joe – what she really wants, more than anything, is a response greater than indifference from Joe:
As the decade would play us for fools
And you saw my bones out with somebody new
Who seemed like he would've bullied you in school
And you just watched it happen
There’s also the realization that Joe may never love who she is now – who she was at the beginning of their relationship will always be who he prefers:
If you want to break my cold, cold heart
Just say, 'I loved you the way that you were'
She’s trying desperately to find some way to make up for the fact that she had to leave Joe, that there was nothing she could do to stay – she tried changing everything about herself, but still, the need to leave him eventually caught up with her:
I changed into goddesses, villains and fools
Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules
All to outrun my desertion of you
And you just watched it
And she wonders whether despite his indifference, and the distance between them, she should still stay:
Could it be enough to just float in your orbit
Can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses
Cooler in theory but not if you force it
To be, it just didn't happen
But now, they are merely ghosts of who they once were – it’s not possible to force the relationship anymore.
How Did It End?
When a long-term relationship ends, you can point to the factors that led to its demise: a difference of opinions on money, on marriage, on children, and so forth. It is easy to determine the “what” and the “why” of an ending. But what is harder to diagnose is how you both became the versions of yourselves that weren’t on the same page, that were unable to discuss these topics, that couldn’t move past these dilemmas. That is much, much harder to pinpoint, and this is the question Taylor asks in this song. She knows what killed them:
We hereby conduct this post-mortem
He was a hot house flower to my outdoorsman
//
We were blind to unforeseen circumstances
We learn the right steps to different dances (ohh)
And fell victim to interlopers' glances
Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?
But what she still doesn't know is how it happened – how did it end? She also finds the empathy from the media and from the public to be false and selfish – they only want to know what happened to feverishly spread the news like wildfire.
Come one, come all
It's happenin' again
The empathetic hunger descends
We'll tell no one
Except all of our friends
We must know
How did it end?
//
Soon they'll go home to their husbands
Smug 'cause they know they can trust him
Then feverishly calling their cousins (ohh)
//
Say it once again with feeling
What the feeding frenzy wants more than anything is gossip, and they don’t care that she is utterly lost – lost as to why this happened, and lost physically and mentally:
Guess who we ran into at the shops?
Walking in circles like she was lost
How does she give an answer to quell the empathetic hunger, when she herself doesn’t understand exactly how it happened?
So High School
In an album that touches so much on feeling like she’s running out of time to have the future that she wants, and running out of youth to give the various men who come into her life, it is interesting and heartwarming that the song about Travis on the anthology is one that describes being with him as regaining her youth:
The brink of a wrinkle in time
Bittersweet sixteen suddenly
Moreover, another detail to note in this song is the difference in how she describes alcohol and drugs – in nearly every other song on TTPD, alcohol is a vice she uses in her moments of despair, and drugs are what her previous partners turn to in their moments of strife (she also describes the influence of drugs on her partners as something she detests – “sinking in stoned oblivion” and “you needed me but you needed drugs more”). With Travis, she’s not imbibing in any substances – instead, his thoughts and jokes are enough for her:
I'll drink what you think, and I'm high
From smoking your jokes all damn night
Travis is giving her back her youth, making sober promises, and the impression that we get is that they’re building this dreamlike reality together – it’s wholesome, all-American, and high-school-inspired, yet still grounded in something tangible, unlike the promise of fate and destiny, which powered her relationship with Joe and her entanglement with Matty.
I Hate It Here
More than anything, I think this song illustrates how Taylor sometimes uses escapism and maladaptive daydreaming to ignore the reality of the situation she’s dealing with. She recognizes that it’s not possible to stay where she is, locked inside this prison of stagnation and boredom:
If comfort is a construct
I don't believe in good luck
Now that I know what's what
She recognizes that this isn’t what she used to be, and that she never intended to choose this life of secrecy, perhaps alluding to all those years she spent “locked inside her house”:
You see I was a debutante in another life but
Now I seem to be scared to go outside
She describes herself as finding hope in the places her mind creates (seemingly alluding to her creation of characters and places for folklore and evermore):
I hate it here so I will go to
secret gardens in my mind
People need a key to get to
The only one is mine
I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child
And her escapism into her past, and imaginings of what could have been:
I hate it here so I will go to
Lunar valleys in my mind
When they found a better planet
Only the gentle survived
I dreamed about it in the dark
The night I felt like I might die
All throughout the song, there’s recognition that she doesn’t want to be here – she doesn’t want to feel as if the only place she can be free is in these imaginary worlds she creates. But there’s also concession – is she perhaps only destined for an eternal consolation prize? For loneliness? For imagined romanticism? For the fantasy of how she imagined her life and her love to be?
I'm lonely but I'm good
I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine
I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and I'll get lost on
purpose
This place made me feel worthless
Lucid dreams like electricity, the current flies through me,
and in my fantasies I rise above it
And way up there, I actually love it
​​thanK you aIMee
This song, along with a few others in the latter half of the anthology, discusses the loss of innocence she felt in key moments of her life. This one quite obviously alludes to Kim Kardashian, and their infamous feud. I will make a separate post on this, but I think people describing this song as petty may not remember the depth of the hate aimed at Taylor in 2016. Kim and Kanye organized a revenge porn music video for Famous, and held a museum exhibit so that people could take pictures with the naked dolls. The night the snapchat videos were released, every Kardashian family member descended upon social media to gleefully celebrate the #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty. The amount of hate Taylor got was so unprecedented that Instagram actually built their comment filtration system because of this incident. It really was that bad.
And every baby step Taylor took (for example, even just posting that she had a good 2017 was met with immediate media backlash) was quite literally mocked across the internet. People thought the reputation era was cringey, that she was over, and that she deserved everyone’s ire because she was “proven” to be a liar. She describes this in the song:
Each time that Aimee stomped across my grave
And then she wrote headlines in the local paper
Laughing at each baby step I'd take
And it was always the same searing pain
But the whole time, despite the pain and blood, she was dreaming of the day that she would heal, and dreaming of the day that she would climb her way back to to the mountaintop:
And our town, it looks so small from way up here
//
So I pushed each boulder up that hill
Your words were still just ringing in my head, ringing in my head
What still irks her though, is that this bully who created this entire hate train and organized her downfall will pretend as if it never happened – she will undoubtedly reframe things to make our subject seem overdramatic, petty, and unable to move past the incidents of years ago. Taylor, however, has always been clear about one thing: sometimes, no amount of time can heal you from something that deeply traumatized you.
I Look in People’s Windows
This song to me feels like a sister song to The Black Dog, but a few months after the official end of a relationship. A sub theme that runs through Taylor’s songs about the Joe breakup is the loss of being understood – when you are no longer with a long-term partner, how do you cope with the fact that you move the world knowing everything about this person, but at the same time, not knowing them anymore? Would you peek into their windows just to get a glimpse of what their life looks like now? As anyone who has gone through a breakup knows, the hardest part is often not being privy to the mundane details of that person’s world – their dinner parties, their wine, their friends, and so on.
I look in people's windows
Transfixed by rose golden glows
They have their friends over to drink nice wine
I look in people's windows
In case you're at their table
What if your eyes looked up and met mine
One more time
The Prophecy
The prophecy is devastating. More so than any other song Taylor has ever written, it is full of desperation and longing. All she asks for is to be known, to be understood – to not be perceived as an idea of a woman, or a starlet with no humanity:
Please
I've been on my knees
Change the prophecy
Don't want money
Just someone who wants my company
Let it once be me
Who do I have to speak to
About if they can redo
The prophecy?
It’s striking especially considering how much she laments that leaving Joe means she’s giving up being known – it’s also striking given the fact that in the epilogue poem, she states that neither Joe or Matty ever truly knew her:
He never even scratched the surface
of me.
None of them did.
What she desires beyond fame, beyond notoriety, beyond money, is to be loved and to be known. The song also alludes to her being in therapy, and to finding some sort of consolation that she will find someone to share her life with:
I'm so afraid I sealed my fate
No sign of soulmates
I'm just a paperweight
In shades of greige
Spending my last coin so someone will tell me
It'll be ok
Cassandra
This track is a sister song to ​​thanK you aIMee, and continues exploring the theme of fraught public womanhood we see in Clara Bow and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me. In this song, Taylor discusses how the validation of women is never publicized in the way that the crucifixion of them is:
When the first stone's thrown, there's screaming
In the streets, there's a raging riot
When it's "Burn the bitch, " they're shrieking
When the truth comes out, it's quiet
Moreover, when women speak up about an issue, they’re often viewed as overdramatic, and unserious. Cassandra, in Greek mythology, was cursed by Apollo to always predict the future accurately, but never be believed. We see this happen every day to women in politics, in the media, and in pop culture:
So, they killed Cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst
And tried to tell the town
So, they set my life in flames, I regret to say
Do you believe me now?
And for Taylor, it’s reminiscent of all the times she’s been the first to speak out about something in the industry – for example, against Scooter Braun and his well-established pattern of bullying, or of the exploitation of artists on streaming services – but never been supported broadly by her peers. They believe her later, but at that point, very few people give her the credit for speaking up in the first place. It’s reminiscent of the Kimye scandal. When the news broke originally, the hatred she received was widespread. But when she was acquitted by the long-form video that leaked, it didn’t receive anywhere near the level of coverage that the original scandal received.
Peter
Peter is another song that touches on both the male muses for this album, and in turn, on the promises various men have given her over her life (we’ll circle back to this in The Manuscript!). It also touches on the theme of waiting that’s seen throughout this album, especially on her songs about Joe – how much time is enough time to give?
Both Matty and Joe were 25 when they met her, and it’s abundantly clear that both men made promises to her: promises of marriage, of children, and of a future. But how long can she wait for these promises to be fulfilled? To Joe, she gives six years of her life and youth, and to Matty, she gives him a chance to prove that he was reformed from the time she knew him last: both men eventually fail. Neither man is ready to give up their childish whims, and she has no choice but to lose hope that either of them ever will.
And you said you'd come and get me but you were 25
And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired
Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life
Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried
To hold onto the days when you were mine
But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light
Another thing to note is the interesting double meaning of the song title. To peter also means to diminish gradually – much like her faith in both men’s promises.
The Bolter
A lot of the songs Taylor has written about Joe in this album deal with the question of “when is the right time to leave?” When you know that things are stagnant, and you know that you’ve given everything you have to a relationship, you know that you have to leave – but it’s easy to convince yourself if you have a history of “leaving before you get left” that you should ride out this wave, and that this pain might just be temporary.
The Bolter, to me, reflects on Taylor’s history – it seems like she prided herself on being able to see the warning signs, and being able to get out in time.
She's been many places with
Men of many faces
First, they're off to the races
And she's laughing drawin' aces
But, none of it is changin'
That the chariot is waitin'
Hearts are hers for the breakin'
There's an escape in escaping
It’s relevant to TTPD, because likely, she saw not bolting as a sign of growth and maturity. You know that you’ve grown as a person when you don’t abandon ship at the first sign of trouble, but what if there are so many signs of trouble that the truly mature thing to do would be to leave?
Robin
Robin leads into this theme of childhood and innocence that we see further in The Manuscript. The track name is also the name of Aaron Dessner’s child. She ponders how beautiful and sweet it is that we work so hard to protect childhood naivete:
Strings tied to levers,
slowed down clocks tethered,
all this showmanship
To keep it, for you,
In sweetness
And there’s an element of wistfulness to it – don’t we sometimes wish that we could also be protected from the worst the world has to offer?
You have no room in your dreams for regrets
You have no idea
The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean
You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline
But now we'll curtail your curiosity
The Manuscript
This song is perhaps the most climactic song on the album. It covers her romantic history up until that point, and starts at the moment she feels everything went awry – and it predates Joe and Matty. Instead, it calls back to the first time she experienced a proper heartbreak, and the first time she lost her childlike innocence in the world – her relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal (a time she described as her transition from childhood to womanhood). She describes how they compared licenses, and how he told her that if they had sex, and it was as good as the conversation was, then they would get married, and have a family. He was the first man to make her these promises:
He said that if the sex was half as good as the conversation was
Soon they'd be pushin' strollers
But soon it was over
He tells her that it’s ok that they have an age gap, because she’s so advanced for her age:
She thought about how he said since she was so wise beyond her years
Everything had been above board
She wasn't sure
While dating him, she desperately wants to be older, and starts emulating his behavior:
In the age of him, she wished she was thirty
And made coffee every morning in a French press
And when it’s over, she regresses, and turns back into a child – unable to sleep alone without the comfort of her mother, and unable to eat anything substantial besides the sugary cereal of her youth:
Afterwards she only ate kids' cereal
And couldn't sleep unless it was in her mother's bed
She forces herself to date boys her own age, to not rely on the maturity of an older man to guide her through adulthood, but she can’t help but feel disappointed in their youth:
Then she dated boys who were her own age
With dart boards on the backs of their doors
Finally, as she creates the All Too Well short film, she recognizes the damage he did to her, and how the consequences of that affair have shaped her life since:
And the years passed
Like scenes of a show
The Professor said to write what you know
Lookin' backwards
Might be the only way to move forward
Then the actors
Were hitting their marks
And the slow dance
Was alight with the sparks
And the tears fell
In synchronicity with the score
And at last
She knew what the agony had been for
Everything calls back to this first man, and these original promises – everything she’s been chasing since is reminiscent of this first scar. And just like how releasing All Too Well transformed and healed her, she hopes that by releasing this additional manuscript into the world, it will heal her again. As she describes in the epilogue poem, she is entering all her thoughts, emotions, and pain into evidence – she now asks the audience to process it with her, and thus conclude this process of healing.
The only thing that's left is the manuscript
One last souvenir from my trip to your shores
Now and then I reread the manuscript
But the story isn't mine anymore
If you read all of this - thank you! I enjoyed writing it, and I'm excited to discuss with you all in the replies :)
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2024.06.02 05:13 Equal-Temporary-1326 Who was Mr. Cruel? A prolific Australian serial home invader, child rapist, child kidnapper, child murderer, and likely serial rapist overall as well. Today, his memory continues to haunt his victims and Melbourne, Australia.

Mr. Cruel is the moniker for an unidentified Australian serial child rapist who terrorized Melbourne, Australia during the late 1980s and early 1990s. Here are the key details about this disturbing case:
Despite extensive investigations, Mr. Cruel has never been identified, and his crimes remain unsolved cold cases. The police describe him as highly intelligent, methodical, and elusive. In April 2016, the reward for information leading to his arrest and conviction was increased to A$1,000,0001. The case continues to haunt both law enforcement and the public.
Case 41: Mr Cruel - Casefile: True Crime Podcast (casefilepodcast.com)
Was Mr. Cruel active before 1987? There has been speculation among the Voctria police about if Mr. Cruel was already active as a serial rapist before the Lowr Plenty attack.
Here's list on 10 home invasion rapes pre-Lower Plenty that are thought to have been the early work of Mr. Cruel by Victoria police:
What is known about Mr. Cruel?
  1. Mr. Cruel had forensic knowledge
Mr. Cruel went to great lengths to avoid leaving behind any forensic evidence that detectives could use to catch him. It has therefore been suggested that perhaps he had some level of forensic knowledge.
It is believed the perpetrator had access to a property which was located under one of the two main flight paths into Tullamarine Airport.
Mr. Cruel videotaped his victims:
Mr. Cruel listened to radio
Mr. Cruel’s lifestyle gave him freedom of movement at certain times
Mr. Cruel’s language
Mr. Cruel almost certainly had prior criminal or tactical experience
Mr. Cruel possessed a gun
Mr. Cruel’s physical appearance
Mr. Cruel stole several distinctive items from victims including:
Mr. Cruel’s car
During the Dec 1988 and July 1990 abductions of Sharon Wills and Nicola Lynas, Mr. Cruel transported his victims in a car:
Familiarity with certain areas in Eastern and Northern suburbs
Mr. Cruel left his victims in secluded locations, that he must have been familiar with. It is likely that he had previously lived, worked, or visited these locations at some point.

FBI Profile of Mr Cruel

On 24 April 1991, the FBI provided the following profile of Mr Cruel to Victoria police based on their ‘research and investigative experience in similar cases’:
The FBI profile was criticised by forensic psychologist Ian Joblin and other local experts as simplistic and potentially off target at the time of its public release in April 1992.
Credit: Who is Mr Cruel? – Website dedicated to unmasking Melbourne child predator Mr Cruel
What are the others attacks thought to have been committed by Mr. Cruel?
1.) The abduction and sexual assault of a 14 year old girl in Hampton in February 1985.
2.) The sexual assault of a 30 year old woman in her Warrandyte home on 4 December 1985.
3.) The sexual assault of a 30 or 35 year old woman in her Donvale home on 6 December 1985.
4.) The sexual assault of a woman in Greensborough in March 1987.
5.) The sexual assault of woman in Greensborough in August 1987
6.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Hawthorn between 1985-1987.
7.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Brighton between 1985-1987.
8.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Caulfield between 1985-1987 (unknown if this is the crime referenced in this newspaper article in which a woman was abducted from her Caulfield home on 16 February 1986 and driven to Chelsea Heights).
9.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Dingley between 1985-1987.
10.) The sexual assault of an unknown victim in Dingley between 1985-1987.
Mr. Cruel documentary: Mr. Cruel: The Mystery Murderer Of Melbourne - YouTube
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2024.06.02 05:02 Octagonenotforgotten Octagone [1372] First chapter Mystery Thriller

Hi! I am new to writing, so any feedback is needed please!
Scarlett is still full of excitement after her sleepover with her best friend. “Have you ever sung karaoke?” she asks her sister, who has just picked her up to walk her home. Jolene, engrossed in her phone, doesn't even hear the question. “No,” she replies bluntly. “Well, you should. It's amazing!” Scarlett beams. “You know, I always thought I should be famous, but now I know it.”
Jolene can't help but scoff at this notion. “Yeah? What makes you so special?”
“Uh,” Scarlett scrunches her brow in confusion. “Everything...”
Jolene rolls her eyes and continues typing vigorously on her Blackberry. Scarlett sighs, knowing she can't compete with her sister's phone. I'm just going to wait until we’re home, Scarlett thinks, moving her little legs faster to keep up with Jolene’s pace. Mom will want to hear why I should be famous. I’ll probably have an agent by next week, then BOOM, I’m the next international pop star. Scarlett begins to strut down the street with her hands on her hips, periodically waving and blowing kisses to the imaginary photographers that line the street.
“Stop being a weirdo; Mom is expecting us back in 20 minutes.” Jolene always has a way of taking the fun out of, well, everything. Scarlett sticks her tongue out at her sister, adding a fart noise to punctuate her annoyance. Jolene’s phone buzzes once again, gaining her full attention. The girls continue their walk when Scarlett spots “Scoops,” her favorite ice cream shop.
“You know, Jo, we’re not that far away,” Scarlett stops abruptly, making her sister stop in her tracks. “I know for a fact we can get home in 10 minutes from this ice cream shop!” Scarlett casually points to the store next to her, just like she planned. Jolene rolls her eyes and glares at her sister. “You would know that.”
“I just so happen to have a five in my pocket; we have twenty minutes to get home
 AND it’s only going to take ten minutes to get home, so
.”
“We have ten minutes to get ice cream,” the girls say in unison. Scarlett with excitement, Jolene with disdain. Jolene lets out a big sigh, rolling her eyes. “Fine, I have a phone call I need to make anyway. But I swear to God, Scar, if we are late, you are taking the blame.” She continues to type on her phone as she takes a seat at one of the tables.
“Deal!” Scarlett smiles as she reaches for the handle of the door to the ice cream shop. “Do you want anything?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Scarlett makes her way into the shop, smiling at Sam, her favorite ice cream scooper. Sam is always kind and cheerful, and her scoops are noticeably bigger than Dave's. “Hi Scar!” Sam says with a giggle. “What can I get my best customer today? The usual?”
“Yes, please, and you know what,” she says, raising an eyebrow and flashing her $5 bill, “make it a double scoop!”
“Woah, big spender today. Where did you get that kind of money?” Sam’s eyes widen as she grabs a cone off of a tall stack.
“It was my birthday last week!” Scarlett excitedly bounces on her toes, remembering the celebration. “We had a party with all of my friends, and I got so many presents. I almost didn’t have time to open all of them. And then we had a bounce house. And then we had a dance party, and everyone chanted my name because I should be famous. And then I blew out the candles and made a wish. And then Danny threw up because he had too much cake. And then Mom decided that’s enough fun for the day.”
“Wow! That sounds like a great birthday,” Sam says, generously filling her scoop with mint chocolate chip and placing it on the cone. “How old are you now?”
“Eight,” Scarlett beams, mouth watering as she focuses her attention on the overflowing cone.
Sam nods. “Ah, makes sense. Only big kids get to walk to the ice cream shop by themselves.”
Scarlett furrows her brow in confusion. “No, I don’t. Jolene is just...” Scarlett points out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop. She can see the tables and chairs on the sidewalk, she can see a car pass by on the road. She can even see a couple walking on the other side of the street, but she can’t see Jolene. “Uh, my sister was just outside
”
A sinking feeling starts to take over Scarlett’s stomach, her mind racing with the possibilities. Did she go home without me? I’ve only been in here a few minutes
 and Mom would be mad she left me. Maybe she is hiding so she can scare me? Wouldn’t be the first time
 maybe she saw one of her friends and they

“Are you ok?” Sam’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. She turns back to Sam, seeing the reflection of her worry in Sam’s face.
“Um
 I don’t know,” Scarlett says cautiously, unsure of what to do.
Sam takes a deep breath and sets the cone down, making her way to the front of the store to look out the door. Scarlett follows closely behind, using Sam as her shield. They both scan the area looking for any signs of Jolene. Sam takes a few steps onto the sidewalk, accidentally kicking a small object. “What’s this?” Sam asks as she bends over to pick it up. Scarlett's stomach turns to knots as she looks at the Blackberry in Sam’s hand. Jolene got that phone for her last birthday, and Scarlett hasn’t seen her without it since. She knows there is no way Jolene would have left without it, at least, not willingly. Scarlett's eyes welled up with tears at the thought.
Sam recognizes her fear and kneels down to be face to face with Scarlett. “Is this her phone?” Sam asks nervously. Scarlett warily nods as the tears begin to stream down her face. Sam’s face falls, understanding what Scarlett is thinking. She gently puts her hand on Scarlett's arm. “Let’s call your mom, ok?,” she says as she leads Scarlett back inside. Sam fiddles with Jolene’s phone, finding the contact “mom”, and lifts the phone up to her ear. As the phone rings Sam can see the fear in Scarlett’s eyes, fear that not even ice cream can fix. “Everything is going to be ok!” Sam says, not knowing how wrong she is. “Hello? Um, is this Scarlett’s mom?”
Sam’s conversation falls into the background as Scarlett holds back tears. She stares out the window where Jolene once stood hoping she will magically return. Maybe if I close my eyes. She squeezes her eyes closed making the built up tears overflow. Please, please, please. She opens her eyes to see the barren sidewalk, slumping back into the chair letting her fear set in and her tears pour out.
Sam hangs up the phone and turns to Scarlett. “Your mom is on her way, and she is calling the police now.” she kneels down to the overwhelmed little girl, having no clue how to make anything better. “Did you still want that ice cream?” Sam asks as she goes to retrieve the melting cone. With no answer she tips the ice cream into a bowl, grabs a spoon, and rushes it back to Scarlett. “On the house” Sam insists pushing it toward Scarlett, feeling helpless and fearing the little girl's smile would never return. With tears running down her face, Scarlett takes a big spoonful of the ice cream, and lifts it up just to plop it back down, slumping into her chair. Trying anything to help, Sam has a new idea. “Why don’t we distract ourselves until she gets here?” Sam asks, receiving a nod. “How about we count the cars going by. I bet she will be here by the time 15 cars go by, oh look, there’s one”
“Two” Scarlett whispers as a silver car goes by. “Three” Sam says, taking a seat on the floor next to the occupied chair.
Four
Five
Six
Seven
“Eight” Scarlett screams recognizing the car that had driven her all around town. “Mom!”
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2024.06.02 04:58 SunstriderAlar Helena II & Tywin Lannister I - Red

Helena II - Red pt 1

25 AC, moon 11, mid-morning, clear
Helena sat at the small dark wood desk that she had been gifted by the House of Lannister. Her chambers were coast facing, and she had a partial view of the port and then sweeping northwards towards the Rock which she could see in the distance. They were objectively nice chambers, probably nicer than some of the minor lords’ about the Westerlands, and even of the more significant lords of poorer kingdoms. She had a four poster bed in a separate room, and her own toilet which she didn’t have to share. Her solar as most lords would have called it was open air, and had the balcony from which she could enjoy her view. The Lion’s Hearth was not the tallest nor most formidable keep, but it was practical, and it was grand. From her desk she looked up and admired the tapestry that hung on the long wall, a hunt outside the walls of Lannisport a dozen knights chasing a doe. She figured it was a metaphor of sorts and then turned her head back to her work.
With a final flick of her quill she finished the sentence she had been focused on, her sign off and sponsorship of an impressive upcoming apprentice. She looked up once again and took a moment to breath, gently placing the feather back into the ink as a knock came at her door.
The male voice from the otherside thick with a Westerman accent.
“Lord Gerold Lannister for the Lady Helena.”
She did not waste a moment.
“I am dressed, the Lord may enter as he pleases.”
The door creaked as it opened, thick oaken wood almost warping the cast iron hinges. Helena rose to her feet and smoothed over her navy dress lined with golden filigree; a gift from Desmera. She courtsied.
“Lord Gerold.”
He was dressed in satin, accents of castle steel down his centre for buttons, and on his shoulders as false pauldrons.
“Helena, so formal, come now. We have become friends in these years.”
“Yes, but your guardsmen will still rumour me to death if they think I am fleecing you.”
“Right you are, and so too are they.”
“Agreed. If they do not tattle on me, they may not tattle on anyone, best keep them tattling all the same.”
Gerold laughed, and Helena liked that her quickness kept him entertained.
“How can I be of service?”
Gerold gestured to the balcony and together the pair walked to look over the view. Out in the harbour ships were coming and going, small trading vessels with even a pair of larger Sunset Sea whalers. Amongst them all though was three great carracks, their sails crimson, with golden lions roaring triumphantly.
“The guilds are pressing me for an answer.”
“I am informed of such, Triston has been relentless, and the Clothier’s Guild is making motions for a formalised hall.”
“Yes, quite so quite so, there is also the matter of the rest stops for your bards throughout the city.”
She nodded, there was much required of their time, and not enough investment possible to achieve it all.
“We’ll also need to commence building of the secondary marketplace which was promised.”
Gerold rubbed his temples, there was a lot of coin meant to flow out from his coffers.
“And incomes Helena?”
“Well we have ships we aren’t using
”
Gerold snorted and looked at her then over at the bay.
“Ah yes, Lancel will love that, selling our ships off to some highest bidder.”
Helena breathed a sigh and tried again.
“You could open Lannisport to a banking guild, the Pearl, or the Seven?”
Gerold furrowed his brow, it had been on his mind for some time that it might be necessary.
“We’ll think about it. For now, send out the word, get the clothier guild its hall and I want to see the new marketplace up and running before the moon turns. Clear out the old silver square for it, nobody has used that in years at least since Aegon’s Conquest - we used it for mustering once now
well.”
He cleared his throat.
“I’m glad we talked business, now shall we talk about the hunt and the feast? I think we should discuss what we saw.”
Helena nodded, returned inside and poured a glass of lemon water for them both.

Tywin Lannister II - Red pt 2

Tywin Lannister had returned from King’s Landing in less than full spirits. His performance in the tourney had been less than spectacular and his efforts to find a suitable wife were none the further to fruition. Instead all he had managed to do was convince a couple lords to come on the expedition West. He had wanted so very much more. Today, as the sun reached mid-morning and the gulls cried shrilly overhead, he was yet again on steward duty. The shipyards of Lannisport had been opened once more thanks to the provision of Ironwood from the Bank of the Pearl and three carracks had been hauled into them for upgrades.
The shipyard of Lannisport was rivalrous to the most major ports in Westeros, with Oldtown, and the Arbor foremost amongst her competitors. None in the West could rival, and the Reynes’ shipyard was still smaller by a full industrial setting. The port itself was divided into a crescent merchant harbour followed by an inner shipyard for naval use. This inner shipyard was a ring with a central lighthouse surrounded by an outer ring of shipyard slipways divided into a series of docking bays. Above the raised docking bays were the training yards, warehouses, and assorted living quarters for naval crew quarters which Lannisport revered as close as knights. Tywin had never been a naval man, but his best friends in life had, some had served in the legion with him.
As he stood at the head of the shipyard and surveyed the three massive carracks that were being upgraded he could not help but admire them. Three friends they had been out on the water not days ago, now as they had their new ironwood fittings placed, they became more like sisters.
Ocean Roar was the largest of the three. She was the flagship for the expedition, a three masted behemoth, with enough hold space for nearly three moons at sea by herself and a crew of nearly fifty. If the captain wanted he could have overfilled her to near seventy-five. Had she been a war galley she would have easily held some three hundred oars. She composed square-rigging on the foremast and mainmast and lateen-rigging on the mizzenmast. She had a lofted high rounded stern with aftcastle, forecastle and bowsprit at the prow. Her figurehead was a lion’s head and mane trailing down into the water all in cast bronze and plated in gold.
Lionsheart was the second largest, but she was already ironplated and once had fought several naval battles against the Ironborn. Another three masted carrack, her hold space had been reduced to include a sailing gallery for training at swordplay. Presently the gallery had been cut open and mounted crossbows were being placed inside her. Where once she had hunted ironborn on the open water, now she was preparing to hunt whales. Her figurehead was a black wooden woman, her hand outstretched holding a black iron heart. Tywin had a special place in his favourites for this ship.
Finally, and most new to the sea was the untested Windshear. Slightly smaller than her companions the ship had three masts still but less bulk, she was the fastest of the trio or at least was meant to be. She could be crewed in a pinch by as few as three trained men, or at full capacity as many as forty. Her sails had been stained red and gold, the crispness of them audible even as the wind caught them in the slipway. Her figurehead was a series of rolling waves. Tywin prayed she would hold up on the open ocean.
Gerold Lannister knew his ships after years of listening to dockmasters and shipyard wardens. That was why the trade cog Castle Rock had been sent with a contingent of fifty men in each of her five escorts. None of them were as well trained as the crew going West, but Tywin had taken much the same measure here. Already he had sent about finding naval men who had already done at least two ventures to the open water against the ironborn. Greenhands would be limited for this voyage.
As he inspected the shipyards and each of the three ships one at a time, he made notes and gave instructions. He took advice from the foremen and gave insights where he could from his time aboard Ibben whalers, and Essosi galleys. By the time the sun was setting on the yards, the ironwood was being used in three core areas. Enhanced structural reinforcements for the three masts on each to stop them cracking in Sunset Sea storms; barding around the prow of each ship to allow them to ram if necessary, and extra hatching to the sides and underside in case they struck a reef or whale. No amount of additional protection would make any of them unsinkable but they would be the most terrifying ships on the open ocean if they encountered something unfriendly such as a giant squid.
When he was finished, as sweat had beaded down his brow from all the walking, and his jerkin was stained from helping with the upgrades himself, Tywin made his way back to the Lion’s hearth to write letters. What interest they had found was not enough and there were ravens still needed. Most importantly was to his old friends the Iron Legion. With a tired sigh he pulled off his shirt and sat at his desk, his scars free for any to see though he wasn’t expecting any visitors. He plucked his quill and ermine ink and got his tired hands to yet more, but different, work.
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2024.06.02 04:54 lakija Secret Dragon - Chapter 2: Ignite

Secret Dragon - Chapter 2: Ignite
I opened the book and skimmed through a few chapters, happy to finally see some true information, with substance. Although I had many books of my own, I had never brought any of them to class; I had no intention of being asked about them or pressing the issue.
By virtue of my existence, it and I would be scrutinized. I had neither the patience nor the desire for another microscope to be placed above me.
But Sasha had no such reservations even after I told him about the curriculum, although he relented and said he would figure out a way around that nonsense. It seemed as if he was determined to go against the grain.
We spoke deeply, about different subjects, our project, and his books. The more he talked the more at ease he became. I unknowingly got closer and closer to him as the time passed. I had to literally pull myself back a few times. I wondered if he noticed. It was confusing how I kept leaning into the heat coming off his breath.
We were both startled at the sound of chairs scraping. We looked around as our peers gathered their things.
“It seems that for the first time this class is actually worth my time. Usually I am the first to leave,” Sasha said, surprised.
“I know,” I revealed.
“Hmmm,” he vocalized deeply. I had no idea if it was “oh really” or “interesting” or any other answer. It was just a deep throat vibration. I just knew he would do that a lot. I could feel it.
As I was packing my things, I realized I was a little feverish. I put a hand to my cheek. Was it hot? Or was it that he was speaking heat in my direction? I couldn’t tell. I never ran hot.
He watched me touching my face and chuckled to himself, putting away his books. I really wanted to be annoyed—at anyone else I would have been—but his lighthearted laughter surprised me; so joyous after so many weeks of being a specter in the classroom.
I looked him in his eyes, though, and shook my head challengingly at him, as if to say “what?” That only made him laugh out loud. It was both quiet and bassy all at the same time. The kind of laugh that was bottomless, scratchy. The kind of laugh you could tell would boom and shake you if given the space.
I never thought I’d hear that coming from him, let alone directed at me. I refrained from expressing an iota of emotion beyond a small smile. I had to stay cool.
Pam walked over to our table swiftly, no doubt looking to be rid of Jonah. She smiled at Sasha, grinned really.
“So. We finally meet! Pam Swiftwater,” she chirped. Her hand shot out as fast as she walked. Sasha halted his movement. He extended his hand more slowly, gently, engulfing her delicate hands in his large ones.
“Of course. I am Sasha Emberscale,” Sasha said, pulling his hand back to pat his chest.
Pam gave me a knowing glance of drama. “Oh I know who you are,” she said.
“Likewise; you are in my open physical hour,” he reminded her. “You are on the track team.”
“That’s right! It’s nice to finally, officially, meet you.”
Sasha raised his brow at her. “My friend has spoken of you,” he said offhand.
“What friend?” Pam asked, taken aback.
“Seth Fairbreeze, dragon of the wind.”
“Oh?” Pam said, her interest piqued. I didn’t know whether she knew who that was. But it intrigued both of us nonetheless.
“I will introduce you, of course, now that we are properly acquainted.”
“I can’t wait.” I knew she couldn’t.
Pam glanced back at her table and groaned. “Let’s get out of here. If I have to talk to Jonah any longer, I swear Imma strangle him.”
Sasha laughed heartily. “Very well. Let us depart this place to avoid attempted murder,” he joked.
“Why don’t you stick with us? We’re in the same course after this,” I suggested, gathering my items. I didn’t even hesitate asking him that. I’d done enough hesitating.
Sasha’s laugh tapered off into a quiet chuckle. “Of course. I would desire nothing more.”
I couldn’t hide my elation this time. Pam snickered at me. Thankfully he didn’t notice. I assumed.
Sasha draped his jacket across his arm, opting not to put it back on. Admittedly I enjoyed the view. He gestured for us to exit the class before him.
Every once in a while he would look down at me as we walked through the halls. I noticed his eyes following me.
I would sneak a glance at him when he wasn’t looking. It was apparent just how large he was now that I was walking right next to him. He was one of the only people in school taller than me. His shoulders were broad, arms thick. I know I was staring at the way they flexed as he moved. Couldn’t help but to.
Everything in me wanted to take that arm of his for my own. The thought of it being mine just felt so natural. I had to check myself a few times walking beside him.
It would be mine in time. That I promised myself.
—
We entered our Dragontongue class where I took a seat on his right at a table. Pam sat at mine.
Class with Sasha was much more interesting than ever before. He spoke freely and pleasantly, a stark contrast to the silent dragon he had been before I sat at his table in Dragonology. It was like something that had weighed on him had vanished.
I wasn’t unaware that he was happier since we had talked. I was pleased that it was me that had pulled him out of whatever darkness was holding him.
Again a pang of irritation ran through me. Why had I not introduced myself before? Just hearing the depth of his voice and the eloquence of his speech had me feeling some type of way. I could have been hearing that in my ears for weeks, those words of his carried on desert sands.
As class droned on, I saw that Sasha was appraising the professor with a raised brow as if too polite to allow complete disdain across his face.
He began to tell us about different Dragontongue dialects quietly, I suppose to keep himself occupied or distracted. I had to lean all the way in to hear his voice. It reverberated in my ears.
“If you were to say that word in the southern regions of Lyfax, it would mean to place bricks or stones atop each other as if building something. If you said that in the northeastern region, it means much the same, but doubles as a slang word meaning to fu— I am sorry, to have relations with someone.”
Pam squealed and covered her mouth. I covered mine too. I had wanted to hear the word ‘fuck’ come out of his polite mouth.
“Are you serious?” I asked instead.
“Yes, I am,” he said, brow raised. “Take care in who you say it to and in what context.”
Sasha tapped another paragraph “This term here. If you were to say it in the Northernmost tip of the country, it is basically calling someone a piece of filth in the wrong context, while just a few regions down it simply means to clean something without any further colloquial use. Their origins most likely started off with the same meaning and deviated as the people left and settled elsewhere. Knowing different dialects of Dragontongue in Lyfax is important. Linguistics interests me, as you can probably surmise.”
“Do you speak a lot of languages?” Pam asked.
“I occasionally travel for my work and interact with different dignitaries. I must know many languages and dialects at least at a rudimentary level.”
“Oh wow
” I said, truly impressed. Now that I had listened to his voice, I couldn’t place his accent. Unless deep was one. It wasn’t as if I was familiar with Lyfaxians’ manner of speech or various accents anyway. “What do you speak?” I asked
“Hmmmm. Common Lyfaxian. Common Lizardtongue. Dragontongue, of course; several dialects: fire, moon and wind. Many people know these. Shelltongue. Salamandra
one other.”
“Goodness,” I said in awe. I stashed away that “one other.” I’d ask about it later. I couldn’t imagine why it would be a secret. Hypocritically.
“My speech is not perfect in Shelltongue or Salamandra yet. But I can hold a conversation. I would enjoy learning and speaking your dialect of Dragontongue, as you mentioned earlier,” he remarked to me. Of course, Pam regarded me in shock. She gave me a chiding look, rightfully so.
Sasha didn’t miss her reaction. “If it is trouble, do not worry about it,” he said, frowning.
“No, It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I don’t mind.”
He was still uncertain, looking at Pam’s concerned face. “If I am to converse with a new group of dragons, I would prefer to know their dialect,” he whispered. “But not if it is cause for alarm. For some reason.”
Pam sighed in relief upon hearing him refer to me as a dragon. “Oh okay.”
“It’s fine. Complicated. I’ll tell you later,” I said, waving it all away. Sasha nodded.
“So did you all decide on a topic for your assignment?” Pam asked.
“Of course. We spoke much of it. I look forward to working with Leila.” Sasha said. I liked the way he said my name, the way he swung the vowels upward to where they needed to go. As it should be. “It will be interesting,” he said.
Pam glanced over to me. “How so?”
I looked amused, I’m sure. “Let’s say our Dragonology topic is about to be spicy,” I hinted.
“Sasha you’re a horrible influence already,” she accused, raising her brows at him.
“Of course,” he confirmed, chuckling deeply. “One needs a little corruption in the right direction, every once in a while.”
“Corruption? Oh really?” I said, regarding him in what I intended to be mock surprise. But I was genuinely shocked that he said it. He hadn’t corrupted me yet. He could try, but only when I was through with him.
Sasha chuckled silently. Just a trembling of the shoulders. A soft billow of scalding heat wafting across my face. Mmm, maybe sooner then.
Pam’s eyes widened, but she was beyond amused. If she could manifest a snack to observe our rapidly forming dynamic, she would have in a heartbeat.
She sat back, twirling her pencil. I knew she was about to start something. The twitch in the corner of her mouth was working. She was about to instigate her heart out. I groaned quietly.
“You know, Leila speaks all the same languages you do. She’s fluent in Shelltongue even; one of her best friends is Turtlefolk. She works at a place where a lot of people from different places come through. She took it upon herself to learn their languages.”
I groaned more.
“Is that so?” Sasha inquired, angling his body toward me. He sounded impressed.
I just rubbed my brows. I did not advertise my language skills. He looked at me with interest. “That is admirable. Why do you not wish to speak of it?” he asked.
“I don’t like puffing myself up. Drawing attention. Not that you are doing that,” I clarified.
Sasha smiled. “I know what you meant,” he said, speaking Shelltongue. I grinned. “I have been somewhat successful at not drawing attention—past my appearance at least—for a few weeks now.”
“Except your grades of course,” I pointed out in Shelltongue as well. “Literally perfect grades except two, and that’s only because of inaccuracies.”
Sasha raised his brow. “Ah, right, you have been keeping tabs on my marks. Very well; I have been under the radar except for my marks.”
“See? Y’all can speak tongues to each other in every flavor,” Pam said casually.
My mouth dropped. To say my eyes widened would be an understand. I shielded the side of my face.
Sasha choked and laughed quietly, holding his chest.
Never had she been that brazen. And she had said some crazy ass things for as long as I’d know her.
She looked so proud of herself.
“Pam, you are trying to start something, are you not?” Sasha guessed—back in Lizardtongue—looking away in laughter.
“Of course not. I don’t know what you mean,” she said, smirking.
I rubbed my face. “What were we even talking about?”
Sasha spoke as quietly as he could. “Different languages. Dialects. Things of that nature. Tongues, apparently,” he said, leaning toward me.
Really Sasha? I thought. He was something else.
He leaned back again and looked ahead, his smile dimming. “Also, things your professor apparently will not teach,” he said, the scales of his brows beginning to furrow.
“Yeah. It’s frustrating,” I agreed, uncovering my face.
“This class is testing my endurance. To hear my language butchered and be told that the proper way is incorrect is vexing.”
Pam stared at the professor, then at Sasha. “I’m sorry. This class is far beneath how you—and we—speak.”Pam and the rest of the Swiftwater Clan spoke to my family in the True way, the way of Sun Dragons.
Sasha leaned back. “And yet I have no choice but to be here,” he remarked. “And, apparently, neither do you both.”
It was a painful requirement, but a mandatory one. I nodded.
Pam turned back to the front of class. “You must be bored here at this university,” she said.
Sasha rubbed his chin. “Hmmmm,” he rumbled deeply. The vibration of that inquisitive hum made my shoulders tingle. I had to close my eyes and put a hand to my chest to halt my heart’s pounding.
“I was, yes,” he said slowly, “but yesterday was my last day of boredom. Today, the season has changed.” He glanced at me as he said it.
My mouth twitched into a smile. I found his choice of words particularly appealing. Pam looked curiously at him, but said nothing.
Sasha angled his body back toward me. I don’t know if I imagined it, but it felt like his whole existence was radiating heat now. It sent rush through my body.
“Let us return to our ‘lesson’ and pretend to care,” he suggested.
“Sasha,” I laughed, nudging his arm. It was hot to the touch. I was not imagining it.
“What?” he said innocently.
I shook my head at him, incredulous. I had no idea he was so funny. Who would have thought that sullen dragon was full of humor. He relented.
“I will behave myself,” he lied through his fanged teeth, patting his chest.
“Doubtful,” I returned, amused. It was easy to talk to him. Like we were old friends. Sasha was right: Pam had started something.
—
Sasha continued pointing out more language dialect rules and vocabulary from Lyfax. Things we couldn’t have learned on our own.
There were so many regions to learn about. I listened intently as he described them, and asked questions about everything. It was as if he was taking me on a mental tour of those far away places

Before that day we hadn’t said a word to each other. Hadn’t shaken hands or anything. Whenever we had met eyes, we would quickly look away. I didn’t understand why we had done that. Now here we were hunched over a text book with our heads damn near touching. The heat of his breath warmed my face. It was hotter than earlier that day. Much hotter. No one was close enough to be bothered by it but Pam, and she did not seem to react to it.
And still I kept on gravitating closer. Because of how he had angled his body toward me, my left arm eventually pressed against his right.
My breathing stuttered, being in such close proximity to him. And I knew he felt it. He had to have felt it. Because I felt him tremble.
And there it was again! That strange rumble emanating from him, from his throat, I could now tell. Now that I was touching him, it was amplified, coursing through me. I tried to pinpoint its essence. It was very much like a growl, the crackling of a fire. And a hum; it reminded me of the way he responded to things without words. Hmmm.
All of it together was a magnetic song. I couldn’t help but listen. Let it lull me into a dream.
I wandered from the lesson for a moment to imagine what it would be like to just feel all of it pressed up against my chest. To embrace him and the heat he radiated.
I wanted to feel his fire whipping around me, not just the heat off him. To embrace a cascade of his flames. washing over me, engulfing me fully.
What would kissing Sasha be like? By the Goddess, the thought of drinking his fire until the persistent ice inside me melted was too tantalizing. If only I could just taste his breath inside my mouth
 I wanted to look into his throat where I knew a flickering flame lie in wait. To explore it. Mmm.
It was like some deep ancestral memory was awakening. My breathing grew heavier. I swear to the goddess I heard his breath do the same. Except his breathing was punctuated by the rumbling crackle right under it. I knew he was in the same place I was.
I had to close my eyes and turn my head away from the heat coming off the words from his mouth. Because if I didn’t I would do something about it in that classroom—
“Leila?”
I emerged from my other world, his voice having shaken me from my daydream. I looked back to him.
“Class is over,” he rumbled into my ear quietly, the hotness washing over my neck and face. I rubbed those intense thoughts from my brows but they lingered everywhere else. I inhaled deeply and set about gathering my stuff. My hands shook.
Something hot brushed down my arm as he got up to gather his things. I looked down to see his claw drifting away from it. I thought it was an accident until he glanced at me. He smiled faintly though his brows were intense.
“Let us go,” he said gently, nodding toward the door.
“Okay,” I said, my eyebrow raising in interest. I slipped my bag over my shoulder. When he turned toward the door, I touched the trail of burning scales where he’d run his finger. When I say I could not breathe
 I covered my mouth, then just rubbed my face with both hands. I didn’t know what to do. Mercy.
Looking around, my peers were also preparing to leave, so I composed myself the best I could and followed Sasha through the doorway.
—-
Dragontongue had been our last class of the day—”wow, you want that Dragontongue real bad huh?”Pam said— and it was time for us to part ways.
She chatted with Sasha, and I examined him while he was distracted.
I followed his gestures and mannerisms, wondering how he could weave such a spell over me that day. My behavior and my carefully curated facade were usually well under my control, perfected to give nothing away but pleasantness. But this dragon

What I thought had been a perfect program was utterly interrupted. And the funny thing was, I wasn’t even mad at it. It was a break from the rigidity and monotony of my endless time at school. A break from my own reluctance to invite unknowns to myself, even those I desired. Like him.
For the first time in my life I thought ‘this is what the Sun must feel like to everyone else.’
From the moment I knew myself, my body had been cold. It was a point of contention between me, my parents and my Clan, all the Sun Clans. My mother was literally the leader of the Sun Dragons. And we, Sunscales, were Prime. Named directly after the Goddess.
People thought I was sickly. Anemic they called me. Even worse, some thought I was cursed. Most thought I wasn’t fit to be a leader in the future.
I did not let it stop me. I aimed for absolute perfection to stave off any doubt. Even at the expense of my own happiness sometimes.
My cold scales did not bother me. Although, at times, I wondered if I would be that way forever.
But now, I had felt Sasha’s warmth. This dragon had actually apologized in our first class for giving me the heat I never felt outside of putting my whole hand in a woodfire. It lingered in my scales as if they had drank it. They had awakened from a cold slumber.
I couldn’t go back.
I touched my arm that had been pressed against his, where his claw had grazed. Still hot to the touch. In fact everywhere he had breathed on, been near or looked at blazed. He had touched other things, shook hands with peers, finally, spoken to Pam, and none reacted as if he was exuding endless fire. Just me. Just for me.
“It has been a good day. You two have been so welcoming,” he said graciously. I was broken from my musings, realizing he was leaving. “I hope we continue to be friends during my time here.”
“For sure,” I said without hesitation, a little breathlessly. I didn’t want him to leave. He smiled warmly at me, almost in relief.
Pam smiled too. “Same,” she said. She began to rummage in her bag.
“It was nice to finally meet you,” he said softly to me. He put his hand out. I took it in mine. It was even hotter than before, unless I imagined it. I again put my other hand on top of his as if taking the warmth from it, to hold till later.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I let my thumb slide over the scales on the back of his hand. I didn’t even realize at first. But then I looked up and noticed Sasha was staring at me with his brow raised.
Gods, I could have died right there. Melted right into the floor and fallen into the void.
I almost pulled my hand in embarrassment, but he did not seem startled or upset. Instead Sasha placed his other hand atop mine. His face became intense for a moment, then softened. It seemed that neither of us wanted to let go. We did, though. The moment was brief, but it held much.
Pam, who had glanced up at us, had a barely concealed grin spreading over her face. She broke the spell that had drifted over us.
“Thank you for teaching us all that extra stuff about different dialects. I especially like that ridiculous word with the bricks,” she said, breaking the tense air.
Sasha shook his head as if clearing it. “Of course. I thought you might find that one amusing,” he said. He glanced at his phone, which had vibrated.
“You can lay your bricks on me anytime,” I mumbled to myself, still feeling the heaviness of that moment in my chest. I couldn’t help myself, saying that. I knew good and well it was provocative. I knew he might hear me. My mouth simply didn’t care. It was going to get me in trouble, I just knew it. I stared at my hand in wonder. It felt like fire had spread over it. What was he doing to me? Did he even realize that he was doing something? It didn’t seem like it.
In that same vein, Sasha didn’t say anything; he hadn’t been paying attention, I thought. Probably for the best. But then I heard him say something under his breath.
“Wow,” he whispered, silently laughing. I looked up at him. He covered his eyes, his shoulders shaking.
“Oh shit,” I said, covering my eyes as well.
Pam looked up. “What?” she asked, startled.
Sasha tried his best to keep a straight face, but it was impossible. He just laughed aloud then, a laugh that shook me to the core.
“Shut up,” I said, also laughing. I shielded my face in my hand as if I could hide from the embarrassment.
“I have said nothing,” he pointed out, his hands up.
“Please, please, let’s pretend I didn’t just say that shit,” I pleaded with him.
Pam’s eyes widened. “Oh my gods, what?”
“I will not say, Pam, yet I will never forget it,” Sasha said, smiling widely.
“What?” I replied, shocked.
“I will never forget it,” he repeated.
“By the Goddess Sasha. Are you serious?”
Sasha rubbed his eyes, still chuckling occasionally. “I am. Would you, if you were in my position?”
“Oh my gods,” I said weakly, still covering the side of my face.
Sasha patted his hand on his chest. “Gods, truly I needed today, desperately. It is no trouble to me, that you have said this. Certainly not. Unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend to, but we will discuss this permanent memory later, Leila Sunscale,” he said.
“Yeah, I bet,” I groaned, my voice shakey. I covered my face more. I was out of my mind, surely.
I heard Sasha begin to walk away, but his footsteps slowed. He hesitated, I guessed.
“Leila, do you have plans today?" he asked.
I looked up. He was looking at me expectantly. I couldn’t even say anything. I was still reeling from my ridiculous blunder. Now he wanted to see me! “What? I
 umm—“
“No she doesn’t have plans,” Pam spoke up. Bless her.
Sasha smiled. “Perhaps we can speak of our project. I will find you later this evening as long as you are outside. I apologize for my abrupt departure but I must go.”
“Okay, cool,” I said. I rubbed my forehead.
He walked to the exit and looked back at me. “Perhaps we can build something later; I am not a bad mason, Leila Sunscale,” he said, chin raised. My mouth dropped. This dragon

He let out a deep laugh and left. I watched him disappear through the doors of the hall, then followed him out. I saw a flash of red turn a corner into another building, vanishing from my sight.
"No he didn’t," I said in disbelief. "Did you hear what he just said?" I asked incredulously, gesturing toward his exit.
“What the hells did you say Leila?”
“I may have said a little something about bricks under my breath but his ass heard me. My gods.”
“Are you serious? Girrrrl," Pam said, shaking her head. “The gall on you.”
"Why did I say that? I must be crazy." I placed my hand over my forehead. Hot.
"I mean, he liked it," Pam said. "He thought it was funny. See, no harm done. If anything it sounds like Sasha has some business with you Leila," she teased.
I rubbed my face. I couldn't believe that I had run my mouth like that. In the other hand, I was pleased to have been so reckless. It had led me down this path. My scales prickled despite my embarrassment. Why should I feel bad now? He took my accidental flirtations as an invitation. And wasn’t that what I wanted?
Pam’s demeanor softened.
“Hey, for weeks you’ve been talking about how attracted you are to him. He turned out to be super nice, and he has a sense of humor, too. I like him. Fate is smiling on you again.”
"You sound like my mother," I noted.
“That's 'cause she's always right, isn’t she?" Pam pointed out, brow raised.
“Fine
 She is,” I conceded. She would have said those words. In truth I had heard her say them many times.
Resigned to my fate, I stepped into the quad with Pan. I walked into a shaft of sunlight and sat on the bench it spilled onto, the Sun’s rays warming me. I closed my eyes against them, basking.
“I may as well go study while I wait for him. I can’t believe this is happening,” I remarked.
“Well believe it. Your bricklayer is seeing you today,” Pam teased.
“Pam, for real?” I remarked, opening my eyes.
“What? Come on. We can both go study.” Pam hugged me. She looked puzzled though.
“Leila. You feel hot. You never run hot. You’re not having a stroke are you?” she asked, alarmed.
“No. That’s just because he sat next to me the whole day,” I revealed. And breathed on me, leaned on me
 I shut my eyes, wishing I had lied.
Pam nodded, not noticing my apprehension. “Oh okay. That makes sense. We did just get out of class. I didn’t know fire dragons were like that just idly,” she mused. “Let’s get on out of here.”
I wanted to tell her what I really felt. But I was sure it would sound crazy. Maybe I would after I met him and spoke to him. Privately.

We walked together through the courtyard. I glanced through the windows of various buildings looking for red scales moving in the halls. I saw nothing, of course.
We ended up going to the library. The room was large and made of ironwood. Small nooks with tables were tucked away amongst large shelves full of tomes.
We chose a table with a window next to it.
I studied as attentively as I could, trying to occupy my mind. But I could not stop seeing Sasha in my vision. Pam gave up trying to get me to engage in conversations with her. Instead I studied for the assignment in Dragonology on my laptop, and daydreamed.
—
“It’s getting late. You don’t know when Sasha will be looking for you.” Pam said, shaking me from my focus.
The light from the windows had waned somewhat, giving way to the Sun readying for slumber.
“Oh, right. I was deep into this essay here. I wish I had borrowed his books and saved my eyes,” I said, rubbing them.
Pam yawned as we packed our things, hefting her bag up. “I’m going to head home. Tell me how everything goes. Tell me if y’all build a house!”
“Pam!” I gasped. “Oh my gods.”
“Love you! Bye!” Pam called, rushing off.
—
I strolled around the grounds reading a book, looking up at the Sun every once in a while. But I didn’t spot Sasha anywhere. I hoped that I had not missed him. I had studied a bit longer than I intended.
Eventually I sat on a bench to wait. I would wait until dusk settled. And if he didn’t show I would see him the following day. It was not as if we had exchanged our numbers.
I pulled out my notebook full of writings, poetry, doodles. It was just one volume from a collection of filled books over the duration of my life, where I pressed flowers of my heart through its pages.
Before I could put pen to paper, I paused.
I put away my old faithful journal and pulled out a new one in deep red. It was not a coincidence by any stretch. I had stared at it on the shelves of an art store until I gave in and bought it.
I hadn’t written one thing in it since. After all, I hadn’t known him, and didn’t want to write only about his appearance. I wanted to know what he was made of. Now, having met Sasha, the red book was begging for ink.
So I let myself fall into a rhythm. So many elements of Sasha had revealed themselves to me that day: this dragon’s voice, his heat, his mannerisms. The words he said, the way he said them, his sense of humor hidden under all that seriousness.
I searched my brain and gathered up all my own words, sifted through them. I wrote a few things here and there, but nothing like what I wanted.
I looked up toward the Sun for some bit of inspiration, and my breath caught. A red form flew in front of it, wings beating. Seeing Sasha framed in that circle of fire was more than I could have hoped for. I stared up at him flying until he stopped, scanning for something.
The moment of inspiration I had been searching for was right there. I spoke aloud what I had and wrote it as swiftly as my claws could move:
“A dragon in a Circle. An Inferno wrapped in the Sun A scarlet vision framed in fire A cloud of embers in the Goddess’s hands She Holds all of him out toward me The gift of a flame within a flame “
I dropped my pen and covered my mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my gods what am I writing?” I asked myself. I stared at the words.
I turned my head to read them as if a new perspective would make them less mortifying.
“Hmm,” I muttered. “Needs some work but
’A flame within a flame.’ That’s some good shit.”
I looked back up. Sasha’s gaze swept over me then away. I waved my arm up at him, bangles jangling, hoping he saw me so he wouldn’t be looking all around all day.
When Sasha looked back in my direction he stopped where he was. He descended slowly until he locked eyes with me. My heart pounded again. It was driving me up the wall, the anxiety. Or rather anticipation. I pressed my hand to my chest watching him grow closer. His wings were huge, blocking out the Sun.
I had been staring at Sasha from a distance since he had arrived, his very first day. He was imposing, the way he had entered my classes, but exceptionally polite. I had been silently competing with him since laying eyes on his grades.
Now the distance was finally closed after my nervousness had kept me away. I folded my notebook shut and stood as Sasha landed with a woosh of air.
I looked upon him not as a mysterious figure in the back of class but as a new friend. More. I couldn’t help but smile when he straightened his already straight clothes as he moved toward me.
He smiled right back at me, chin raised.
“Leila,” he said.
“Sasha. Hey,” I replied.
“So,” he said, “you spoke of bricks earlier,” he teased.
My mouth dropped again. This dragon

“You aren’t letting that go are you?” I asked.
“Never. Even if nothing ever came of it, I would never forget.”
“By the gods,” I muttered.
“I am not complaining,” he clarified.
My eyes widened. Then it occurred to me that he had insinuated something would come of it. Goddess, I felt my own fire sweep across my cheeks. I was so flustered I covered my mouth with the heel of my palm letting my claws settle over my cheek. I couldn’t stop the motion fast enough.
Sasha laughed good naturedly. Sweetly, even. “I will stop teasing. For now,” he said.
“For now?” I repeated past my palm.
“For now.”
I lowered my hand. “You are a trip, do you know that?” I said, raising my eyebrow. Even though I had been nervous, actually talking to him made me feel like meeting all his words head on.
He gestured for me to walk beside him without answering. I did. I almost took his arm again, so I clutched my notebook to my chest to keep my hands in check. We didn’t say much as we walked along the quad together.
Some students were staring at us as we walked. I suppose we made quite the pair together.
“It appears we are a bit of a spectacle,” he muttered to himself curiously, agreeing with my thoughts.
I couldn’t help stealing glances at him every once in a while.
His posture was impecable. He held his left hand behind his back. The other lingered in front of his chest as if ready for something. I didn’t know how else to describe it. It was interesting, that pose; deliberate. I saw that he had rings on his fingers as well. I had not noticed them before. They were red like his scales, rough hewn. The overall pose made him seem so stately.
I couldn’t quite describe his expression. It was both intense and peaceful all at once.
He caught me staring one time, though. He was looking right at me when I peeked. I turned away and put a hand to my face. I hoisted up my bag.
“Here,” he said.
I turned back. “Here what?” I asked.
He put his hand out to me, gesturing toward my bag. I stopped walking.
“Oh. Okay. Such a gentleman,” I said, a smile playing on my face, impressed. He chuckled to himself, accepting my compliment.
I slipped my bag from my shoulder, and he took it to hold on his elbow. We started walking again. I didn’t care after that; I looked at him openly, a little bit enamored.
‘Ok Mr. Sasha Emberscale. I see you,’ I thought.
PART 2
submitted by lakija to lakija [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 04:47 Octagonenotforgotten First Chapter Critique Book- Octagone

Hi!! I am new to writing, and I've got a great idea for a mystery/thriller. This is one of the first drafts of the first chapter, and I would love any feedback or critiques you have! I'm just looking to improve.
Scarlett is still full of excitement after her sleepover with her best friend. “Have you ever sung karaoke?” she asks her sister, who has just picked her up to walk her home. Jolene, engrossed in her phone, doesn't even hear the question. “No,” she replies bluntly. “Well, you should. It's amazing!” Scarlett beams. “You know, I always thought I should be famous, but now I know it.”
Jolene can't help but scoff at this notion. “Yeah? What makes you so special?”
“Uh,” Scarlett scrunches her brow in confusion. “Everything...”
Jolene rolls her eyes and continues typing vigorously on her Blackberry. Scarlett sighs, knowing she can't compete with her sister's phone. I'm just going to wait until we’re home, Scarlett thinks, moving her little legs faster to keep up with Jolene’s pace. Mom will want to hear why I should be famous. I’ll probably have an agent by next week, then BOOM, I’m the next international pop star. Scarlett begins to strut down the street with her hands on her hips, periodically waving and blowing kisses to the imaginary photographers that line the street.
“Stop being a weirdo; Mom is expecting us back in 20 minutes.” Jolene always has a way of taking the fun out of, well, everything. Scarlett sticks her tongue out at her sister, adding a fart noise to punctuate her annoyance. Jolene’s phone buzzes once again, gaining her full attention. The girls continue their walk when Scarlett spots “Scoops,” her favorite ice cream shop.
“You know, Jo, we’re not that far away,” Scarlett stops abruptly, making her sister stop in her tracks. “I know for a fact we can get home in 10 minutes from this ice cream shop!” Scarlett casually points to the store next to her, just like she planned. Jolene rolls her eyes and glares at her sister. “You would know that.”
“I just so happen to have a five in my pocket; we have twenty minutes to get home
 AND it’s only going to take ten minutes to get home, so
.”
“We have ten minutes to get ice cream,” the girls say in unison. Scarlett with excitement, Jolene with disdain. Jolene lets out a big sigh, rolling her eyes. “Fine, I have a phone call I need to make anyway. But I swear to God, Scar, if we are late, you are taking the blame.” She continues to type on her phone as she takes a seat at one of the tables.
“Deal!” Scarlett smiles as she reaches for the handle of the door to the ice cream shop. “Do you want anything?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Scarlett makes her way into the shop, smiling at Sam, her favorite ice cream scooper. Sam is always kind and cheerful, and her scoops are noticeably bigger than Dave's. “Hi Scar!” Sam says with a giggle. “What can I get my best customer today? The usual?”
“Yes, please, and you know what,” she says, raising an eyebrow and flashing her $5 bill, “make it a double scoop!”
“Woah, big spender today. Where did you get that kind of money?” Sam’s eyes widen as she grabs a cone off of a tall stack.
“It was my birthday last week!” Scarlett excitedly bounces on her toes, remembering the celebration. “We had a party with all of my friends, and I got so many presents. I almost didn’t have time to open all of them. And then we had a bounce house. And then we had a dance party, and everyone chanted my name because I should be famous. And then I blew out the candles and made a wish. And then Danny threw up because he had too much cake. And then Mom decided that’s enough fun for the day.”
“Wow! That sounds like a great birthday,” Sam says, generously filling her scoop with mint chocolate chip and placing it on the cone. “How old are you now?”
“Eight,” Scarlett beams, mouth watering as she focuses her attention on the overflowing cone.
Sam nods. “Ah, makes sense. Only big kids get to walk to the ice cream shop by themselves.”
Scarlett furrows her brow in confusion. “No, I don’t. Jolene is just...” Scarlett points out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop. She can see the tables and chairs on the sidewalk, she can see a car pass by on the road. She can even see a couple walking on the other side of the street, but she can’t see Jolene. “Uh, my sister was just outside
”
A sinking feeling starts to take over Scarlett’s stomach, her mind racing with the possibilities. Did she go home without me? I’ve only been in here a few minutes
 and Mom would be mad she left me. Maybe she is hiding so she can scare me? Wouldn’t be the first time
 maybe she saw one of her friends and they

“Are you ok?” Sam’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. She turns back to Sam, seeing the reflection of her worry in Sam’s face.
“Um
 I don’t know,” Scarlett says cautiously, unsure of what to do.
Sam takes a deep breath and sets the cone down, making her way to the front of the store to look out the door. Scarlett follows closely behind, using Sam as her shield. They both scan the area looking for any signs of Jolene. Sam takes a few steps onto the sidewalk, accidentally kicking a small object. “What’s this?” Sam asks as she bends over to pick it up. Scarlett's stomach turns to knots as she looks at the Blackberry in Sam’s hand. Jolene got that phone for her last birthday, and Scarlett hasn’t seen her without it since. She knows there is no way Jolene would have left without it, at least, not willingly. Scarlett's eyes welled up with tears at the thought.
Sam recognizes her fear and kneels down to be face to face with Scarlett. “Is this her phone?” Sam asks nervously. Scarlett warily nods as the tears begin to stream down her face. Sam’s face falls, understanding what Scarlett is thinking. She gently puts her hand on Scarlett's arm. “Let’s call your mom, ok?,” she says as she leads Scarlett back inside. Sam fiddles with Jolene’s phone, finding the contact “mom”, and lifts the phone up to her ear. As the phone rings Sam can see the fear in Scarlett’s eyes, fear that not even ice cream can fix. “Everything is going to be ok!” Sam says, not knowing how wrong she is. “Hello? Um, is this Scarlett’s mom?”
Sam’s conversation falls into the background as Scarlett holds back tears. She stares out the window where Jolene once stood hoping she will magically return. Maybe if I close my eyes. She squeezes her eyes closed making the built up tears overflow. Please, please, please. She opens her eyes to see the barren sidewalk, slumping back into the chair letting her fear set in and her tears pour out.
Sam hangs up the phone and turns to Scarlett. “Your mom is on her way, and she is calling the police now.” she kneels down to the overwhelmed little girl, having no clue how to make anything better. “Did you still want that ice cream?” Sam asks as she goes to retrieve the melting cone. With no answer she tips the ice cream into a bowl, grabs a spoon, and rushes it back to Scarlett. “On the house” Sam insists pushing it toward Scarlett, feeling helpless and fearing the little girl's smile would never return. With tears running down her face, Scarlett takes a big spoonful of the ice cream, and lifts it up just to plop it back down, slumping into her chair. Trying anything to help, Sam has a new idea. “Why don’t we distract ourselves until she gets here?” Sam asks, receiving a nod. “How about we count the cars going by. I bet she will be here by the time 15 cars go by, oh look, there’s one”
“Two” Scarlett whispers as a silver car goes by. “Three” Sam says, taking a seat on the floor next to the occupied chair.
Four
Five
Six
Seven
“Eight” Scarlett screams recognizing the car that had driven her all around town. “Mom!”
submitted by Octagonenotforgotten to writers [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 04:43 Logicschapin DIY Tantalum ring

DIY Tantalum ring
Hello everyone, I want to make my own wedding band from tantalum. I bought a blank tantalum ring that is 8mm wide, but I want to reduce it to 6mm because I prefer a narrower band. My plan is to chamfer the edges and incorporate a stripe of white gold. here is an image for reference
https://preview.redd.it/14dx86gmn24d1.jpg?width=510&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4ea1e2536b6ce8922f5d5dcc235aca67bdfc0b81
I have never made jewelry before, I think creating my own ring would be a unique and pretty cool. I have a Dremel tool and a torch at my disposal. My idea is to use the Dremel to cut the ring, grind the edges, and add a groove. I want the ring to have a curved profile rather than a flat one.
I also plan to use the torch to melt the gold into the groove and possibly embed a black diamond. is this a good approach?
submitted by Logicschapin to jewelers [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 03:12 skmm2 First time in a jewelry store, is this a normal engagement ring shopping experience?

Hi all!
This will be long. I appreciate anyone that sticks with it.
My partner and I (both F) are shopping for engagement rings. Today we went into a local jeweler. I've never bought jewelry so can someone tell me how this interaction reads?
Questions bolded below. Thank you
  1. We walked in and he pulled out every ring it seemed like lol. We chose 5-8 each of our favorites...then slowly narrowed it down to one.
  2. He asked us about our budget and we said $6,000 each for the ring and band. He said okay that should be more than enough. (I had set rings on their website beforehand and knew we'd be hitting pretty close to that). We went through the types of metals. She wants 14k gold, I want platinum. We tried on ring sizers.
  3. He then asked us about the diamond we're looking for: natural/lab grown and size. He let us try on these prop diamonds to get a size. We landed on about 1 carat. We went through the color and clarity we're looking for.
  4. He showed us some bands. (Is this normal? I wasn't planning on getting the band with the engagement ring...but it's possible he thought this because our bduget included both pieces). We each selected one that went well with our rings.
  5. He showed us my partner's ring cost added up. He looked up the ring designer and found out it's going for $500 more on his website. He comments how we're getting a good deal because they haven't updated the price. There was $1750 left for the diamond. (I knew that'd be tight from searching diamonds on their website). He said that's a bit tough but he'd work on getting a 1 carat at that price. Her ring was a bit simpler to figure out. He basically made us feel confident hers would come out to $6,000.
  6. I'm looking for a solitare with a hidden halo but the one in stock has a pave. I just wanted a regular band. He said $6,000 might be tight with mine. He'll have to check if he can do it without the pave. If not, another option is getting a regular band and setting a hidden halo head on top. He's going to try, but not sure if it can stay within budget. He'll keep me notified.
  7. He asks us to come back to check out the diamonds. They'll be here Wednesday (4 days from now). We say we can't because of construction and then a wedding...so we can come in the following week. He says if he can get it by Tuesday, can we come in then? We set up a time. (In hindsight, I'm not sure if this is him rushing us? Is that a red flag)
We'll go back on Tuesday to look at the diamonds. I suspect he'll ask if we want to put money down to secure the rings. (Do you usually pay for the whole thing, or just a deposit?). My big hesitation is that I can't see the ring the way it'll be, but I realize this might be a part of 'custom' jewelry? (Or am I incorrect in thinking this?)
I didn't get any bad, icky feelings from the guy - but I realize he's a salesman may be trying to push up the timeline a little. We're spending 12k on this so I want to make sure this interaction seems legitimate and we're not missing anything. My partner feels pretty good about it all, but I tend to be more cautious lol.
Thank you. I appreciate any thoughts and comments!
submitted by skmm2 to EngagementRings [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 03:11 lakija Secret Dragon - Chapter 9: Knowing

Chapter 9: Knowing
—
Suggested Listening:
Nicholas Brittel Agape
Required Listening ⭐ Kwabs Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
⭐ Raye Vela Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
—
“Is your heart doing okay?” I asked.
“Yes. It is fine. I am tired, but alright.”
“Good,” I said. “I was wondering. Can you tell me another poem? And then we can go to sleep.”
Sasha looked at me. “About what?” he said, smoke drifting into my face.
“I don’t know. Tell me one about someone you love.”
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Let’s see.”
He pondered this, then an expression I can only describe as conflicted crept across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“There are few I love so dearly as this person.”
My eyes widened. “Who is it?”
Sasha’s brow furrowed. Then he frowned. At first a little, then deeply.
“What?” I asked gently.
Sasha shook his head. I saw pain now in his expression.
“You don’t have to,” I said, my own brow furrowing. “Please don’t. I can pick something else. Or, actually, we can just go to sleep right now.”
Sasha closed his eyes. Then nodded as if he had come to a decision.
“I will do this. This person I love more than my own self. I would die for him. However, it will not be pretty, this poem.”
I frowned too. “Okay,” I whispered.
“ Sharp Like the tip of a blade Blunt Like the pommel of the same sword Me Like the face of his face Him Like the reflection of my visage Swift Like the bird of prey’s flight Ruthless Like the killing of its hunt Dark Like the night without the moon Troubled Like the Dead River of the Void Alive Like his heart’s beating rhythm Dying Like the joy of his soul “
“Who is that about?” I asked, concerned. “You, ‘the face of his face.’ Your twin?”
“Yes. He is not well,” Sasha said.
“Why? What happened?”
Sasha turned away from me, shaking his head. “It is too heavy to speak of just now. In the future we will.”
“Okay, I get you,” I reassured him.
“Thank you. I worry about him everyday. I call him just as much. I would give my life for him. I owe it to him,” Sasha said fiercely. “He gave his and much more. Because of his strength we survived an ordeal too terrible to speak of.”
I thought back to when he said he felt as if he were dying. I hadn’t known he meant it literally. Then the words he had latched on to: mangled and twisted. A picture was forming. A bad one.
“Thank you for creating this poem. You didn’t have to put yourself through that pain for me,” I said guiltily. Sasha shook his head at me.
“It is okay. Perhaps it was good to express his personality in poetry. It hurts to be away from him in this place. He-“ Sasha stopped. He rubbed his mouth. “I hope he is well enough to come eventually.”
I wondered what he’d been about to say. But I did not press the issue.
“Me too. I’m so sorry you all are dealing with that kind of pain. For what it’s worth, I think the poem you made about him is beautiful. Your brother sounds like a strong Wingscale that’s really going through it right now. I hope whatever joy has been stolen from him—from his soul—renews from the ashes. Or maybe some new joy will settle there, burning brightly.”
“Like a Phoenix,” he smiled. “I will tell him what you said. You two would get along, I think.”
“I can’t wait to meet him then,” I said. I wondered what sort of person he was. Moreover, I found it incredibly interesting that Sasha had a twin considering I did as well. I would tell him that news sometime when he was not already overwhelmed.
“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had all kinds of heart attacks and poetry and seen fire wings and what have you,” I suggested.
Sasha chuckled. “Perhaps. I must escape from this. I do not think I have made so many beautiful words manifest as poetry as I have tonight. If I do not sleep I will continue.”
“Okay, right? I usually spend some serious time writing these things. But tonight it’s like my mouth is possessed by my own self.”
“What an apt way to describe it. I feel the same. I acknowledge that my manner of speech is skilled, but tonight it holds a level of eloquence that I did not know I possessed.”
I thought back to his oration, the first thing he recited of our lyrical night. I shivered. “Sasha, you can ‘Speak to me’ anytime. This soul is listening. Eloquence indeed.”
“I promise I will speak to you more oration. You are the only person I know who would enjoy such serious strings of words for your own enjoyment.”
“I have a taste for dignity,” I replied.
Sasha paused. “What more do you need of eloquence when your mouth creates it from nowhere?”
“You have the flavor I want.”
Sasha stared at me incredulously and shook his head. “I am done with you again. You talk me into a trap at every turn.”
I cackled at him. “Alright, alright. It’s time for you go to sleep.”
“Very well,” he said, laughing gently.
I held him closer, although it was impossible. His wing came down over me like a shroud of protection. We held on to each other in silence, not needing anything to fill the space. I just breathed him. Smoke. Fire. Silence. Warmth. Breath. Growl. They spoke enough.
After a while of just laying there in peacefulness, he fell asleep. I could feel the regular inhalations and exhalations marked by the shudder of his chest. And he was a heavy sleeper. Or he was exhausted. Both probably. His flames were still wild even in slumber. Small flickers and tendrils of fire peeked every so often from his mouth. A deep growl emanated from his chest and throat at every exhalation. I stroked Sasha’s face as he slept, the heat of his fire on my hand, and he didn’t move an inch.
I watched him for a while until it occurred to me to write out all the words we had recited to each other. I turned over and reached past his wing to grab my phone from the nightstand. The glow from my screen was strange, it’s blueness cutting through the smoky red in my vision. I sat back and typed every amazing thing we had said.
Those collections of words we had stitched together from nothing just floored me. I had never made poetry like what I did that night. Such passion and beauty.
I looked at Sasha again, thinking about the words that had entranced me from his mouth.
‘Speak to me.’
‘Speak to me.’
The phrase kept ringing out in my chest. He was right. It was a rare thing to find someone who would hang on to your every word with the utmost attention. With actual interest, engagement. I wanted to speak to him forever, about anything. And he would listen. I would listen to him.
I closed my eyes and shook my head at such strong thoughts about a stranger. I thought of all the ‘normal’ people I had dated in the past. The relationships had all gone ‘normally’: date, texting, talking into the night, more dates, sex, dates. Accusations, breakups, crying. Getting over it. Normal stuff.
This was not normal, not in the slightest. Never in all my life had I behaved the way I did under that tree. I was still wondering who that was. Who was the Leila that kissed that way, that straddled dragons in broad daylight? That made love without a first date at all and then swore a stranger to an oath of binding, a whole relationship? That spoke poetry at him from her breath like it was my own fire?
Apparently I was her. It frightened me, the speed with which she and I had moved in one evening. And yet it all felt perfectly normal, inevitable.
Of course I had known when Sasha arrived there was something special about him, no matter how I tried to pretend everything was normal. why was I pretending?
That very first day, when I saw him walk into my morning class, I wasn’t paying attention when he said who he was. I had looked up and locked eyes with him. We held each others gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Every damn class that day, and the following, I missed him announce his name. It was like a comedy sketch. The writing class we shared was the only one I was paying close attention to, and the professor had written his name on the board of course. It was infuriating.
I watched him like a hawk after he arrived that week. In all that time he didn’t speak around me. And I never spoke to him. Why hadn’t I? What had stopped me?
Just like he said, we just kept Circling each other, but never allowed ourselves to meet at the center of our orbit. He felt the same way. He had said he wanted to speak with me as well but for some reason he didn’t.
It was like a force was beckoning us to each other. To finally meet at the center of a Circle.
This day had been the first time I heard his voice at all. If I had heard it earlier, I would have been completely undone. I would not have let him walk away from me so many times.
I stared at his sleeping form, and a thought came to me again. He avoided speaking around me on purpose. Talking to me. He had known that getting close to me might start something, but had he know it would be his voice that caused such a domino effect? Then again, he knew far more than I did about Callings. Frequencies.
I balked at that word. It was so clumsy, so empty to how it felt. We shared vibes. My soul vibrated on the same wavelength as his body. Our mouths breathed the same breath. Our hearts beat the same.
Sameness. Oneness. Vibes.
He knew something would happen to his body if he let us get too close to each other. I was what he thought I was, and he had failed to prevent that change in us. But he didn’t know anything of how these changes would manifest.
It had happened so fast that he was alarmed to see me standing there in class. As soon as I greeted him, the very second he said ‘hi,’ that curious sound beneath his voice started. The thought that he was so helpless at that moment saddened me the same way it did him when he revealed the permanence of Calling. He never stood a chance. I kissed my hand and continued to stroke his face with that kiss.
And then the wings. The dreams and visions. Those two otherworldly beings
 What were we? Were we gods or something? Were we reincarnated versions of them? Possessed? Were they using us? What did any of this mean? I did not know.
I tried to be more upset about this breech on our lives that sent us careening down a path we didn’t ask for. But looking at that red dragon, how could I? Our first contact was so lovely. The way we had spoken to each other in class was sweet. Neither of us could keep a smile off our faces. Laughing and carrying on, a perfect match of good humor.
I stared at him trying to conjure up feelings of grief, apprehension, fear, irritation or anything negative at all, and I came up with nothing.
I sighed. I could tell that in that other life, in that place of lakes of fire and expanses of the cosmos, that we were really something special. Something strong. Something beautiful. I was not alarmed at our sudden connection, the strength of it, the passion of it.
But if we broke apart from one another in the future—everything in me said no—that alarmed me. The coldness. The despair. The threat of death at an incomplete attunement. At a great falling away into a chasm. It was horrifying that Sasha could literally die from us being separated. It was unfair.
I would never let that happen. How horrible a thought. Not after this Calling had fallen upon him and surprises kept rearing their heads.
I was done writing our poems and, subsequently, my musings. I put my phone back where it belonged. My head was still swirling with all those thoughts, but I shut my eyes and tried to shut down my mind.
I held Sasha again. Even in his sleep he put his arms back around me. It made me smile to be enveloped in his warmth.
Eventually I drifted off to sleep as well.

I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I felt Sasha’s heartbeat pick up enough to wake me. It was the time where night lingers in the earliest of hours. Nothing but the soft murmur of calling insects and wind outside.
I groaned and looked up into Sasha’s face, but he was still sleeping.
“What is it?” I asked, groggy.
“Please,” he slurred.
“Please what?” I whispered, more alert.
He mumbled something more in his sleep. “Make it stop,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded. “
the shore...”
I put my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what he could be dreaming about. It occurred to me that all that talk of pain and wounds might have stemmed from ptsd or something like that. He was in the military after all.
I let him be just in case that’s what it was. I did not want to add additional stress or confusion to a ptsd dream.
Eventually Sasha stirred of his own accord. He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. I waited until he seemed to be all there with me.
“Hey, you alright?” I didn’t mention his sleep talking.
He didn’t say a word for a moment, just rubbed his eyebrows. Then he patted my back. I let go of him so he could sit up.
He removed his wing from around me, groaning.
“What is it?” I inquired.
Sasha rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at me. “I heard your Calling
” he whispered tiredly in wonder, so low I almost didn’t hear him. “It was soft and quiet, almost imperceptible. But I heard it, still, in my sleep
”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding as well. I sat up. “Really?” I whispered back. “What is it like?”
He moved his head to the side, still listening. “Soft waves. A wind chime. A whisper of song. I have heard it before. That is why I awoke,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. My Calling sounded peaceful like being at the beach. Of course, my favorite place. Interesting. I sleepily folded my arms under my head.
“It is very faint.” Sasha closed his eyes. “I know when I heard it.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“You are sleepy still. We can speak of it later.”
I waved him off. “We are awake now. I have no doubt when we say we’ll sleep again it will be no trouble. I fell to sleep easily and so did you.”
Sasha chuckled to himself. “Very well, Leila.” He leaned his back, head against the headboard. His eyes stayed closed.
“I was sitting with my brother, Pasha, upon a stone wall at the beach. It was the evening before I came to this place. I was unsure if I had made the right decision to go with my father. To leave Pasha behind. I had wanted to throw myself into my work to forget the ordeal we had both gone through. But Pasha told me I needed something new, and that whatever it was lie across the ocean waiting for me. Something fulfilling. He said that, surely, wallowing in guilt, in anger and sadness, would not help me heal my wounds although he was dealing with wounds of his own.”
I wondered what wounds he meant. I had seen the scars on his wings. More pain. More scars. Mangled and twisted. He had died and would do so again. Moreover, he had muttered something about the shore. And here it appeared in his story. What had happened to him?
As if sensing my questions, he inhaled deeply.
“I will tell you of the things that transpired eventually. It was
 horrible. It is still too raw for me. I apologize for these strange disjointed hints of pain, of suffering.”
“No, no. It’s okay. We will discuss it all later,” I said appreciatively. “Go on.”
“Hmm. Even after Pasha’s encouragement, I still felt apprehension about traveling to this land. All at once, I heard a woman singing on the beach, yet I saw no one.
I heard the sound of wildly swaying wind chimes, of rain, of whipping winds, but there were nothing anywhere to make such sounds.
My brother thought I was crazy. But that voice stirred my spirit as I stared out at that dark water. It was mournful, like a siren in a tempest whose heart had been broken to pieces.
At one point, she whispered a barely discernible plea: ‘Someone, just please help me.’ ‘I can’t do this.’”
I gasped in alarm, my heart hammering away so hard I thought I would have a heart attack. I knew at once the woman was me. It was me who had been pleading in turmoil, with those precise words, wanting someone to swoop down and save me. By the Goddess

Sasha continued his tale, perhaps not noticing my change in demeanor. “I didn’t know where she was, or what it was she did not want to do, but I told my brother to give me a moment.
I stood and walked along the shore, looking for someone in need, for anything strange. I never found any such woman. I spoke a word of peace to her, whoever she was, wherever she was.”
At the same time, we both said:“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be.”
Sasha stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at me in awe. “You heard those words?”
I nodded, heart still pounding. Which of us was having these heart troubles? Him or me?
Sasha shook his head, rubbing his face. “Madness. But truly amazing nonetheless,” he said quietly.
“Yeah
” I responded. I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was you,” he said, not asked.
“I suppose so
”
Sasha continued.
“I returned to my brother to conclude our talk. I told him I wanted to stay a while, and he stayed with me. The song turned into something sweeter after a time. I went looking yet again but never found you. Of course I could not. You were nowhere near me.
Eventually we left. Pasha and I parted ways, and I returned to my home.
No matter what I did, I could not shake your voice from my mind that evening. It sent shivers down my spine. So I returned to the beach. There was nothing else for it; I would have remained awake all night agonizing over my travels the next day anyway. Why not do so surrounded by such mystical music?
I went to a quiet place, book and blanket in hand. The water was complete still, yet the sound of waves was everywhere. Intangible, lapping against the shore.”
I recalled when I had mentioned sitting at the beach watching waves lapping on the shore. He had paused then, as we stood in his living room, thinking of something. I now knew he had recalled this event and wondered at the similarities.
“The sunset was vibrant, strangely so. It was stunning, like a painting. No one else seemed to find the sight of note but me.
You were singing, but again in sorrow. I stayed out there, reading a book and meditating, until others went away from the beach. Until only I remained. Your faint song, the softest whispers of singing, became sweet again. So much singing, you did. By the gods so much singing. It was like a quiet concert.”
I covered my face. “I’m glad you caught them,” I said, laughing.
“There was only one song I caught well enough to hear the words. You sang it over and over. I did not sleep until you uttered nothing more, your voice fading away. I felt empty at the silence, but content in that, perhaps, my presence had calmed this siren, that perhaps her broken heart had somewhat mended. Unfortunately for me; the absence of your songs caused a melancholy to settle in my spirit. A longing. I came here looking for your voice. I questioned your love of voices because it shocked me, the similarities we continue to share.”
“Hmmm,” I vocalized, not unlike he so often did.
Sasha regarded me, shaking his head in wonder. “Repeating that event back, it is obvious that this woman was you. At the time, back when it happened, I regarded it as a very strange occurrence or perhaps my descent into madness,” he said.
“You most certainly are not mad,” I said.
“Indeed. I know very well at this point that your experience across the ocean happened at that time. You knew my words.”
“I remember them well. Just like a lot of things so far, we have these experiences, the aspects of ourselves that are too similar to be a coincidence. We are like mirrors.”
“Only one of us is larger.”
“Sasha!” I exclaimed.
He laughed at me, hugging me. Then he lay down onto the bed again.
“Speak to me of that same evening,” he said.
I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow, looking into his eyes.
“I was at the beach too. Certainly the same night, the same week you appeared at school. I have this one particular spot on the beach where no one goes but me. I would make myself a wood fire and look at the smoke swirl into tendrils, embers scattering to the wind. I would sit there to watch storms roll in the distance, writing poetry or doing homework or what have you.”
Sasha nodded, acknowledging the picture I painted was the same as his Call. I nudged him, making him smile.
“But that day? I was having an awful time. Every year I dreaded the same thing, but I always escaped. This time, there was no more running. I was cornered, trapped. And the choice was before me. I stared across the ocean and cried. I said it as you heard. ‘I can’t do this. Please help me.’ I just wanted someone to get me out of that situation, but I wasn’t willing to ask for it again. I was so tired of disappointment.
So I’m sitting there in front of these hypnotic flames singing to myself, trying to shake off those bad spirits. Couldn’t even write a poem about my own despair.”
“Impossible. I refuse to believe such nonsense,” he said, chuckling.
“Shocking, I know,” I agreed, smiling. “That’s when I heard a thunderstorm on the horizon. At least there was that, I thought. My greatest comfort to cheer me.
I’m listening to that distant storm, but there were no clouds, no darkness, no strike of lightning. It puzzled me.
But the sky. Oh Sasha, that was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. The same wonderful night sky you saw. It was brighter than normal, like fire and roses and gold melding with the sea. I have never seen a more beautiful place for the Goddess to drift into slumber.
I stood up and looked around. Further down the beach people were still going into the water, chatting, lazing about, like nothing was happening. Like this gorgeous sky and this distant storm did not exist.
Then I heard this voice. It was faint. Super faint. But so deep—“ I patted his chest, now knowing it was him. “Your voice; you said those words to me such that my soul was contented.”
“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be,” he repeated quietly. “I live by these words. I acknowledge the feelings and emotions, the pain and joy, that exist in me, that often loom before me. The negative ones will not simply vanish because I ignore them. Sometimes it is easy to face them. And sometimes it is so, so hard, Leila. So hard it feels impossible. But I try, still.”
“And your way of facing your emotions is the truth. I did as you suggested that night; the intense sorrow I felt was for a reason, for many reasons. And I just let all that sorrow unfold so I could face it. Your words were like a warm hug in the midst of my despair. Thank you.”
“You are always welcome,” he said, stroking my face. “Go on.”
“After that, I stayed out there all night. The storm never showed itself, but only grew louder. It’s like it rolled only for me. And it did, didn’t it?
I slept out there under the stars that night. Didn’t care about school. Didn’t care about anyone or anything. Your voice of peace washed away all my worries. So after that I just sang as the thunder peeled, and I did so all evening and into the night. I started singing to you specifically after that. Joyously. I broke out my best numbers,” I said. I covered my face, cracking up.
He laughed quietly. “Indeed; as I said, what I could discern was beautiful.”
I uncovered my face and smiled. “Thank you,” I said. I sighed, reaching my tale’s conclusion. “The next day I felt like I had come out of a deep meditation. Like the sorrow of yesterday did not exist. I had hoped to the Sun that your voice was the Answer to what troubled me. Then your voice stopped for a time. Until today.”
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2024.06.02 03:11 Top-Chicken1543 I (20F) have two boyfriends and they don’t know about each other. What do I do?

all names used are fakeI (20f) have been dating Nick (25m) for nearly a year and a half now. Our relationship had an interesting start after our first night meeting having been in a threesome with him and another girl. We ended up getting close however I was hesitant to date at first and kept the relationship casual for a few months before officially dating because of this we didn’t make any big announcement and not many people know we are together. We have very similar personalities and find that I can be myself around him. A few months into dating I moved into his house with 3 other housemates who have become my closest friends. Nick is a good boyfriend but isn’t very romantic- he’s the type that gives off tough guy energy but is actually a marshmallow on the inside. In the past few months I’ve felt like a lack of effort from him in the way of making dates, asking to do things ect. Even at the start he didn’t do much of this but it was something.
Now I will back track a little to talk about Blake (20m). I met Blake in December of 2022. He was a new employee at the company I work for(office style work) however we worked in a different offices - same small city. We didn’t have our first real conversation until February of 23 at a work event where we completely clicked. He gives off big golden retriever energy. I have majority male friends and it was nice to have another friend I could talk to. At this point it was purely just friends but I did find him somewhat attractive and found myself to starting emotional attach. We would hang out every now and then and would help pick me up when I was stressed or down but it never went past friendship, that is until 3 weeks ago.
3 weeks ago we had a social work event which involved day drinking which we know never goes well. Im not a big drinker so I was fine most of the day just enjoying being social and everyone being dressed up nicely. Blake over the past 6 months had started going to gym and lost a bit of weight so seeing him in a nice suit really caught my attention. Throughout the day it was a running joke that Blake liked a girl at the event (not within our work group) and was using a code name for her but was nervous to be rejected. I spent a good amount of the day with him walking around trying to find this other girl and egging him on to talk to her. He said he wanted me to come because I would make her jealous. I told him straight up that doesn’t work on girls and she is just going to get upset. He kinda shrugged it off and we went back to talking about something else. Later in the afternoon we got back on topic of the girl. Now I won’t lie, I knew what I was doing when I asked these questions. I asked why did you think I’d make her jealous and he turned to me and said I mean look at you anyone would be lucky to have you. At that point I didn’t really know what to say and sort of played it off and went back to the group.
His words kept ringing in my ears and once I had gotten home I messaged asking what everything was about and he completely opened up and told me he’s liked me since February but didn’t want to say anything because of work and the girl at the event was actually me. I told him that I felt the same and he asked if he could take me on a date. The next day we went to lunch. I kid you not this man came to my house to pick me up, opened all of my doors, paid for lunch(even tho I offered to spilt it), took me to the beach and told me everything about the way he feels about me and how he wants to get this right. My heart was half melting on the floor and half burning from guilt. We agreed to keep things private for the time being and discussed the people we may tell (two of my close work friends and one of his). When we told them they said they all saw it coming and were happy for us but just to be careful. I have never dated a colleague before so I made sure to check our contracts and there is nothing to say we can’t be together.
Now this is where I am stuck. In the three weeks leading up to today Blake and I were spending lot of time together - going to lunch’s, gym, movie nights at his place ect but I want to make it clear that nothing sexual has happened between the two of us just kissing. Yesterday Blake took me to the beach and he told me he didn’t care what other people think and that I am his dream girl and he’s not going to let work get in the way and let me be the one that got away. I have never had someone that is so open and honest about the way he feels, on top of princess treatment. I have always felt like more of a sexual object to men and that is how my previous partners appreciated me. I asked him how am I your dream girl and he explained that I was kind and considerate and made him feel like he could be himself and admired my determination (I am new to my work industry and have been pushing really hard to prove my worth which has definitely paid off). I explained that it threw me off a little as most guys comment on my looks first. He said it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate those things as well but it’s about you as a person. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. He asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes. I was filled with a mix of emotions. Excitement, disappointment, fear. We joked about how we would tell our boss when it feel like the right time and he took me home.
Now I lie in bed next to Nick not knowing what to do. I care so much about Nick and he does look after me but I don’t feel like a partner to him. I know it’s not always greener on the other side but I have never had someone like Blake and the way he treats me. Maybe my standards are low idk but I can’t keep doing this to both of them. If I leave Nick I would need to find a home and potentially loose my friends but I don’t know if Blake is worth giving all of that up for.
Does anyone have any suggestions on what I should do and how to go about it? I know I got myself into this mess and I have no one else to blame but I just don’t know what to do.
submitted by Top-Chicken1543 to Advice [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 02:56 lakija Secret Dragon - Chapter 9: Knowing

Chapter 9: Knowing
—
Suggested Listening:
Nicholas Brittel Agape
Required Listening ⭐ Kwabs Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
⭐ Raye Vela Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
—
“Is your heart doing okay?” I asked.
“Yes. It is fine. I am tired, but alright.”
“Good,” I said. “I was wondering. Can you tell me another poem? And then we can go to sleep.”
Sasha looked at me. “About what?” he said, smoke drifting into my face.
“I don’t know. Tell me one about someone you love.”
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Let’s see.”
He pondered this, then an expression I can only describe as conflicted crept across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“There are few I love so dearly as this person.”
My eyes widened. “Who is it?”
Sasha’s brow furrowed. Then he frowned. At first a little, then deeply.
“What?” I asked gently.
Sasha shook his head. I saw pain now in his expression.
“You don’t have to,” I said, my own brow furrowing. “Please don’t. I can pick something else. Or, actually, we can just go to sleep right now.”
Sasha closed his eyes. Then nodded as if he had come to a decision.
“I will do this. This person I love more than my own self. I would die for him. However, it will not be pretty, this poem.”
I frowned too. “Okay,” I whispered.
“ Sharp Like the tip of a blade Blunt Like the pommel of the same sword Me Like the face of his face Him Like the reflection of my visage Swift Like the bird of prey’s flight Ruthless Like the killing of its hunt Dark Like the night without the moon Troubled Like the Dead River of the Void Alive Like his heart’s beating rhythm Dying Like the joy of his soul “
“Who is that about?” I asked, concerned. “You, ‘the face of his face.’ Your twin?”
“Yes. He is not well,” Sasha said.
“Why? What happened?”
Sasha turned away from me, shaking his head. “It is too heavy to speak of just now. In the future we will.”
“Okay, I get you,” I reassured him.
“Thank you. I worry about him everyday. I call him just as much. I would give my life for him. I owe it to him,” Sasha said fiercely. “He gave his and much more. Because of his strength we survived an ordeal too terrible to speak of.”
I thought back to when he said he felt as if he were dying. I hadn’t known he meant it literally. Then the words he had latched on to: mangled and twisted. A picture was forming. A bad one.
“Thank you for creating this poem. You didn’t have to put yourself through that pain for me,” I said guiltily. Sasha shook his head at me.
“It is okay. Perhaps it was good to express his personality in poetry. It hurts to be away from him in this place. He-“ Sasha stopped. He rubbed his mouth. “I hope he is well enough to come eventually.”
I wondered what he’d been about to say. But I did not press the issue.
“Me too. I’m so sorry you all are dealing with that kind of pain. For what it’s worth, I think the poem you made about him is beautiful. Your brother sounds like a strong Wingscale that’s really going through it right now. I hope whatever joy has been stolen from him—from his soul—renews from the ashes. Or maybe some new joy will settle there, burning brightly.”
“Like a Phoenix,” he smiled. “I will tell him what you said. You two would get along, I think.”
“I can’t wait to meet him then,” I said. I wondered what sort of person he was. Moreover, I found it incredibly interesting that Sasha had a twin considering I did as well. I would tell him that news sometime when he was not already overwhelmed.
“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had all kinds of heart attacks and poetry and seen fire wings and what have you,” I suggested.
Sasha chuckled. “Perhaps. I must escape from this. I do not think I have made so many beautiful words manifest as poetry as I have tonight. If I do not sleep I will continue.”
“Okay, right? I usually spend some serious time writing these things. But tonight it’s like my mouth is possessed by my own self.”
“What an apt way to describe it. I feel the same. I acknowledge that my manner of speech is skilled, but tonight it holds a level of eloquence that I did not know I possessed.”
I thought back to his oration, the first thing he recited of our lyrical night. I shivered. “Sasha, you can ‘Speak to me’ anytime. This soul is listening. Eloquence indeed.”
“I promise I will speak to you more oration. You are the only person I know who would enjoy such serious strings of words for your own enjoyment.”
“I have a taste for dignity,” I replied.
Sasha paused. “What more do you need of eloquence when your mouth creates it from nowhere?”
“You have the flavor I want.”
Sasha stared at me incredulously and shook his head. “I am done with you again. You talk me into a trap at every turn.”
I cackled at him. “Alright, alright. It’s time for you go to sleep.”
“Very well,” he said, laughing gently.
I held him closer, although it was impossible. His wing came down over me like a shroud of protection. We held on to each other in silence, not needing anything to fill the space. I just breathed him. Smoke. Fire. Silence. Warmth. Breath. Growl. They spoke enough.
After a while of just laying there in peacefulness, he fell asleep. I could feel the regular inhalations and exhalations marked by the shudder of his chest. And he was a heavy sleeper. Or he was exhausted. Both probably. His flames were still wild even in slumber. Small flickers and tendrils of fire peeked every so often from his mouth. A deep growl emanated from his chest and throat at every exhalation. I stroked Sasha’s face as he slept, the heat of his fire on my hand, and he didn’t move an inch.
I watched him for a while until it occurred to me to write out all the words we had recited to each other. I turned over and reached past his wing to grab my phone from the nightstand. The glow from my screen was strange, it’s blueness cutting through the smoky red in my vision. I sat back and typed every amazing thing we had said.
Those collections of words we had stitched together from nothing just floored me. I had never made poetry like what I did that night. Such passion and beauty.
I looked at Sasha again, thinking about the words that had entranced me from his mouth.
‘Speak to me.’
‘Speak to me.’
The phrase kept ringing out in my chest. He was right. It was a rare thing to find someone who would hang on to your every word with the utmost attention. With actual interest, engagement. I wanted to speak to him forever, about anything. And he would listen. I would listen to him.
I closed my eyes and shook my head at such strong thoughts about a stranger. I thought of all the ‘normal’ people I had dated in the past. The relationships had all gone ‘normally’: date, texting, talking into the night, more dates, sex, dates. Accusations, breakups, crying. Getting over it. Normal stuff.
This was not normal, not in the slightest. Never in all my life had I behaved the way I did under that tree. I was still wondering who that was. Who was the Leila that kissed that way, that straddled dragons in broad daylight? That made love without a first date at all and then swore a stranger to an oath of binding, a whole relationship? That spoke poetry at him from her breath like it was my own fire?
Apparently I was her. It frightened me, the speed with which she and I had moved in one evening. And yet it all felt perfectly normal, inevitable.
Of course I had known when Sasha arrived there was something special about him, no matter how I tried to pretend everything was normal. why was I pretending?
That very first day, when I saw him walk into my morning class, I wasn’t paying attention when he said who he was. I had looked up and locked eyes with him. We held each others gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Every damn class that day, and the following, I missed him announce his name. It was like a comedy sketch. The writing class we shared was the only one I was paying close attention to, and the professor had written his name on the board of course. It was infuriating.
I watched him like a hawk after he arrived that week. In all that time he didn’t speak around me. And I never spoke to him. Why hadn’t I? What had stopped me?
Just like he said, we just kept Circling each other, but never allowed ourselves to meet at the center of our orbit. He felt the same way. He had said he wanted to speak with me as well but for some reason he didn’t.
It was like a force was beckoning us to each other. To finally meet at the center of a Circle.
This day had been the first time I heard his voice at all. If I had heard it earlier, I would have been completely undone. I would not have let him walk away from me so many times.
I stared at his sleeping form, and a thought came to me again. He avoided speaking around me on purpose. Talking to me. He had known that getting close to me might start something, but had he know it would be his voice that caused such a domino effect? Then again, he knew far more than I did about Callings. Frequencies.
I balked at that word. It was so clumsy, so empty to how it felt. We shared vibes. My soul vibrated on the same wavelength as his body. Our mouths breathed the same breath. Our hearts beat the same.
Sameness. Oneness. Vibes.
He knew something would happen to his body if he let us get too close to each other. I was what he thought I was, and he had failed to prevent that change in us. But he didn’t know anything of how these changes would manifest.
It had happened so fast that he was alarmed to see me standing there in class. As soon as I greeted him, the very second he said ‘hi,’ that curious sound beneath his voice started. The thought that he was so helpless at that moment saddened me the same way it did him when he revealed the permanence of Calling. He never stood a chance. I kissed my hand and continued to stroke his face with that kiss.
And then the wings. The dreams and visions. Those two otherworldly beings
 What were we? Were we gods or something? Were we reincarnated versions of them? Possessed? Were they using us? What did any of this mean? I did not know.
I tried to be more upset about this breech on our lives that sent us careening down a path we didn’t ask for. But looking at that red dragon, how could I? Our first contact was so lovely. The way we had spoken to each other in class was sweet. Neither of us could keep a smile off our faces. Laughing and carrying on, a perfect match of good humor.
I stared at him trying to conjure up feelings of grief, apprehension, fear, irritation or anything negative at all, and I came up with nothing.
I sighed. I could tell that in that other life, in that place of lakes of fire and expanses of the cosmos, that we were really something special. Something strong. Something beautiful. I was not alarmed at our sudden connection, the strength of it, the passion of it.
But if we broke apart from one another in the future—everything in me said no—that alarmed me. The coldness. The despair. The threat of death at an incomplete attunement. At a great falling away into a chasm. It was horrifying that Sasha could literally die from us being separated. It was unfair.
I would never let that happen. How horrible a thought. Not after this Calling had fallen upon him and surprises kept rearing their heads.
I was done writing our poems and, subsequently, my musings. I put my phone back where it belonged. My head was still swirling with all those thoughts, but I shut my eyes and tried to shut down my mind.
I held Sasha again. Even in his sleep he put his arms back around me. It made me smile to be enveloped in his warmth.
Eventually I drifted off to sleep as well.

I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I felt Sasha’s heartbeat pick up enough to wake me. It was the time where night lingers in the earliest of hours. Nothing but the soft murmur of calling insects and wind outside.
I groaned and looked up into Sasha’s face, but he was still sleeping.
“What is it?” I asked, groggy.
“Please,” he slurred.
“Please what?” I whispered, more alert.
He mumbled something more in his sleep. “Make it stop,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded. “
the shore...”
I put my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what he could be dreaming about. It occurred to me that all that talk of pain and wounds might have stemmed from ptsd or something like that. He was in the military after all.
I let him be just in case that’s what it was. I did not want to add additional stress or confusion to a ptsd dream.
Eventually Sasha stirred of his own accord. He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. I waited until he seemed to be all there with me.
“Hey, you alright?” I didn’t mention his sleep talking.
He didn’t say a word for a moment, just rubbed his eyebrows. Then he patted my back. I let go of him so he could sit up.
He removed his wing from around me, groaning.
“What is it?” I inquired.
Sasha rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at me. “I heard your Calling
” he whispered tiredly in wonder, so low I almost didn’t hear him. “It was soft and quiet, almost imperceptible. But I heard it, still, in my sleep
”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding as well. I sat up. “Really?” I whispered back. “What is it like?”
He moved his head to the side, still listening. “Soft waves. A wind chime. A whisper of song. I have heard it before. That is why I awoke,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. My Calling sounded peaceful like being at the beach. Of course, my favorite place. Interesting. I sleepily folded my arms under my head.
“It is very faint.” Sasha closed his eyes. “I know when I heard it.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“You are sleepy still. We can speak of it later.”
I waved him off. “We are awake now. I have no doubt when we say we’ll sleep again it will be no trouble. I fell to sleep easily and so did you.”
Sasha chuckled to himself. “Very well, Leila.” He leaned his back, head against the headboard. His eyes stayed closed.
“I was sitting with my brother, Pasha, upon a stone wall at the beach. It was the evening before I came to this place. I was unsure if I had made the right decision to go with my father. To leave Pasha behind. I had wanted to throw myself into my work to forget the ordeal we had both gone through. But Pasha told me I needed something new, and that whatever it was lie across the ocean waiting for me. Something fulfilling. He said that, surely, wallowing in guilt, in anger and sadness, would not help me heal my wounds although he was dealing with wounds of his own.”
I wondered what wounds he meant. I had seen the scars on his wings. More pain. More scars. Mangled and twisted. He had died and would do so again. Moreover, he had muttered something about the shore. And here it appeared in his story. What had happened to him?
As if sensing my questions, he inhaled deeply.
“I will tell you of the things that transpired eventually. It was
 horrible. It is still too raw for me. I apologize for these strange disjointed hints of pain, of suffering.”
“No, no. It’s okay. We will discuss it all later,” I said appreciatively. “Go on.”
“Hmm. Even after Pasha’s encouragement, I still felt apprehension about traveling to this land. All at once, I heard a woman singing on the beach, yet I saw no one.
I heard the sound of wildly swaying wind chimes, of rain, of whipping winds, but there were nothing anywhere to make such sounds.
My brother thought I was crazy. But that voice stirred my spirit as I stared out at that dark water. It was mournful, like a siren in a tempest whose heart had been broken to pieces.
At one point, she whispered a barely discernible plea: ‘Someone, just please help me.’ ‘I can’t do this.’”
I gasped in alarm, my heart hammering away so hard I thought I would have a heart attack. I knew at once the woman was me. It was me who had been pleading in turmoil, with those precise words, wanting someone to swoop down and save me. By the Goddess

Sasha continued his tale, perhaps not noticing my change in demeanor. “I didn’t know where she was, or what it was she did not want to do, but I told my brother to give me a moment.
I stood and walked along the shore, looking for someone in need, for anything strange. I never found any such woman. I spoke a word of peace to her, whoever she was, wherever she was.”
At the same time, we both said:“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be.”
Sasha stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at me in awe. “You heard those words?”
I nodded, heart still pounding. Which of us was having these heart troubles? Him or me?
Sasha shook his head, rubbing his face. “Madness. But truly amazing nonetheless,” he said quietly.
“Yeah
” I responded. I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was you,” he said, not asked.
“I suppose so
”
Sasha continued.
“I returned to my brother to conclude our talk. I told him I wanted to stay a while, and he stayed with me. The song turned into something sweeter after a time. I went looking yet again but never found you. Of course I could not. You were nowhere near me.
Eventually we left. Pasha and I parted ways, and I returned to my home.
No matter what I did, I could not shake your voice from my mind that evening. It sent shivers down my spine. So I returned to the beach. There was nothing else for it; I would have remained awake all night agonizing over my travels the next day anyway. Why not do so surrounded by such mystical music?
I went to a quiet place, book and blanket in hand. The water was complete still, yet the sound of waves was everywhere. Intangible, lapping against the shore.”
I recalled when I had mentioned sitting at the beach watching waves lapping on the shore. He had paused then, as we stood in his living room, thinking of something. I now knew he had recalled this event and wondered at the similarities.
“The sunset was vibrant, strangely so. It was stunning, like a painting. No one else seemed to find the sight of note but me.
You were singing, but again in sorrow. I stayed out there, reading a book and meditating, until others went away from the beach. Until only I remained. Your faint song, the softest whispers of singing, became sweet again. So much singing, you did. By the gods so much singing. It was like a quiet concert.”
I covered my face. “I’m glad you caught them,” I said, laughing.
“There was only one song I caught well enough to hear the words. You sang it over and over. I did not sleep until you uttered nothing more, your voice fading away. I felt empty at the silence, but content in that, perhaps, my presence had calmed this siren, that perhaps her broken heart had somewhat mended. Unfortunately for me; the absence of your songs caused a melancholy to settle in my spirit. A longing. I came here looking for your voice. I questioned your love of voices because it shocked me, the similarities we continue to share.”
“Hmmm,” I vocalized, not unlike he so often did.
Sasha regarded me, shaking his head in wonder. “Repeating that event back, it is obvious that this woman was you. At the time, back when it happened, I regarded it as a very strange occurrence or perhaps my descent into madness,” he said.
“You most certainly are not mad,” I said.
“Indeed. I know very well at this point that your experience across the ocean happened at that time. You knew my words.”
“I remember them well. Just like a lot of things so far, we have these experiences, the aspects of ourselves that are too similar to be a coincidence. We are like mirrors.”
“Only one of us is larger.”
“Sasha!” I exclaimed.
He laughed at me, hugging me. Then he lay down onto the bed again.
“Speak to me of that same evening,” he said.
I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow, looking into his eyes.
“I was at the beach too. Certainly the same night, the same week you appeared at school. I have this one particular spot on the beach where no one goes but me. I would make myself a wood fire and look at the smoke swirl into tendrils, embers scattering to the wind. I would sit there to watch storms roll in the distance, writing poetry or doing homework or what have you.”
Sasha nodded, acknowledging the picture I painted was the same as his Call. I nudged him, making him smile.
“But that day? I was having an awful time. Every year I dreaded the same thing, but I always escaped. This time, there was no more running. I was cornered, trapped. And the choice was before me. I stared across the ocean and cried. I said it as you heard. ‘I can’t do this. Please help me.’ I just wanted someone to get me out of that situation, but I wasn’t willing to ask for it again. I was so tired of disappointment.
So I’m sitting there in front of these hypnotic flames singing to myself, trying to shake off those bad spirits. Couldn’t even write a poem about my own despair.”
“Impossible. I refuse to believe such nonsense,” he said, chuckling.
“Shocking, I know,” I agreed, smiling. “That’s when I heard a thunderstorm on the horizon. At least there was that, I thought. My greatest comfort to cheer me.
I’m listening to that distant storm, but there were no clouds, no darkness, no strike of lightning. It puzzled me.
But the sky. Oh Sasha, that was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. The same wonderful night sky you saw. It was brighter than normal, like fire and roses and gold melding with the sea. I have never seen a more beautiful place for the Goddess to drift into slumber.
I stood up and looked around. Further down the beach people were still going into the water, chatting, lazing about, like nothing was happening. Like this gorgeous sky and this distant storm did not exist.
Then I heard this voice. It was faint. Super faint. But so deep—“ I patted his chest, now knowing it was him. “Your voice; you said those words to me such that my soul was contented.”
“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be,” he repeated quietly. “I live by these words. I acknowledge the feelings and emotions, the pain and joy, that exist in me, that often loom before me. The negative ones will not simply vanish because I ignore them. Sometimes it is easy to face them. And sometimes it is so, so hard, Leila. So hard it feels impossible. But I try, still.”
“And your way of facing your emotions is the truth. I did as you suggested that night; the intense sorrow I felt was for a reason, for many reasons. And I just let all that sorrow unfold so I could face it. Your words were like a warm hug in the midst of my despair. Thank you.”
“You are always welcome,” he said, stroking my face. “Go on.”
“After that, I stayed out there all night. The storm never showed itself, but only grew louder. It’s like it rolled only for me. And it did, didn’t it?
I slept out there under the stars that night. Didn’t care about school. Didn’t care about anyone or anything. Your voice of peace washed away all my worries. So after that I just sang as the thunder peeled, and I did so all evening and into the night. I started singing to you specifically after that. Joyously. I broke out my best numbers,” I said. I covered my face, cracking up.
He laughed quietly. “Indeed; as I said, what I could discern was beautiful.”
I uncovered my face and smiled. “Thank you,” I said. I sighed, reaching my tale’s conclusion. “The next day I felt like I had come out of a deep meditation. Like the sorrow of yesterday did not exist. I had hoped to the Sun that your voice was the Answer to what troubled me. Then your voice stopped for a time. Until today.”
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2024.06.02 02:31 Athrek Guide to the Most Powerful Starting Build With Glitches

Hello everyone! This guide is going to be about how to have the most powerful starting build possible while using glitches. What I mean by this is a build that you can collect the pieces for right from the beginning of the game without needing to kill anything difficult while using the various glitches the game has. The idea is a build that will, as effortlessly as possible, get you through the early and mid-game where you will then be able to use whatever end game build you like since you'll have access to a lot more options but I will provide an upgraded End-Game version of the build as well.
I am posting 2 separate builds as the most powerful(this one) requires glitches while the other does not. Use this link if you want to check out the Guide to the Most Powerful Starting Build Without Glitches
I highly recommend using the Guide to the Most Overpowered Start as it will give you more resources to work with, exponentially increase your overall power and get you to most of the locations mentioned in this guide. I'll start with what makes up the build and then I'll explain how it works and how to get everything from there.
I hope everyone enjoys the guide and please let me know if you have any suggestions, fixes or feedback!

Young Vyke

If you know how to get and play the above builds from the start of the game, then you're good to go. However for those unfamiliar I'll explain below.

Why and How to Use the Build

For Stats:
For Equipment:
Playstyle:

Locations

Warrior Jar Shard
Radagon's Soreseal
Prosthesis-Wearer Heirloom
Knight's Armor Set
Bolt of Gransax - Glitch Required

End Game

It is absolutely possible to keep using this build into the end game. To do that you'll want:
I hope everyone enjoyed the guide and I hope you'll check out my other Guides.
submitted by Athrek to eldenringdiscussion [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 02:19 Athrek Guide to the Most Powerful Starting Build With Glitches

Hello everyone! This guide is going to be about how to have the most powerful starting build possible while using glitches. What I mean by this is a build that you can collect the pieces for right from the beginning of the game without needing to kill anything difficult while using the various glitches the game has. The idea is a build that will, as effortlessly as possible, get you through the early and mid-game where you will then be able to use whatever end game build you like since you'll have access to a lot more options but I will provide an upgraded End-Game version of the build as well.
I am posting 2 separate builds as the most powerful(this one) requires glitches while the other does not. Use this link if you want to check out the Guide to the Most Powerful Starting Build Without Glitches
I highly recommend using the Guide to the Most Overpowered Start as it will give you more resources to work with, exponentially increase your overall power and get you to most of the locations mentioned in this guide. I'll start with what makes up the build and then I'll explain how it works and how to get everything from there.
I hope everyone enjoys the guide and please let me know if you have any suggestions, fixes or feedback!

Young Vyke

If you know how to get and play the above builds from the start of the game, then you're good to go. However for those unfamiliar I'll explain below.

Why and How to Use the Build

For Stats:
For Equipment:
Playstyle:

Locations

Warrior Jar Shard
Radagon's Soreseal
Prosthesis-Wearer Heirloom
Knight's Armor Set
Bolt of Gransax - Glitch Required

End Game

It is absolutely possible to keep using this build into the end game. To do that you'll want:
I hope everyone enjoyed the guide and I hope you'll check out my other Guides. We also have a Website, Youtube and Discord so be sure to check them out!
submitted by Athrek to Roundtable_Guides [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 01:45 SubstantialNight5745 27/NA/EST Looking for friends

Hello all, I'm looking for people to play with and hopefully develop some long lasting friendship(s) that persist beyond just gaming!
In terms of game genres, I play / am willing to play a wide variety of games. I've listed some of these games below:
Besides those, I have about 1000 games on steam and various others on the switch so it's more than likely we'll have at least a few things in common. I also like playing rhythm games such as muse dash / osu as well as single player games so there is a lot of room for things to talk about! I don't mind also watching people stream stuff while I do things on the side and vice versa.
In terms of availability, I'm usually available from 6-10 PM EST on weekdays and starting earlier on weekends. In terms of what I'm looking for, I would hope to find people that are somewhat available around those times (doesn't have to be every day) and who is also down to chat sporadically throughout the day (if possible)!
If any of this sounds appealing and you want to see if we vibe, feel free to shoot me a DM or message and I'll try my best to respond in a timely manner.
Thanks!
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2024.06.02 01:28 Pyschopomp1022 [PC][2010] Elite Dangerous type game

Platform: Maybe PC?
Genre: First person space sim. Think the Elite series of games, however I don't think it was multiplayer and I'm pretty sure it was more developer created than randomly generated like elite.
Date: I would like to say 2010 as my best guess. The game had ok graphics from what I remember, but games always looked better at the time back then I guess. The game most certainly wasn't released past 2015.
Graphics: The game looked pretty ok, sort of like the original Mass Effect in terms of style and fidelity. Realistic, very tech oriented with the art style.
Details / Gameplay mechanics: The game started with a woman who was speaking over a radio in your ear as you start up an abandoned ship, she says something along the lines of 'Wow, I've not seen one of these ... for ages, old tech but very reliable'. As far as I know the game centres around you having this 'rare, old but gold' ship. When I try to picture it, I think of a crow with its wings splayed either side of it and its wing feathers extending down. I'm pretty certain the name of this ship is the name of the game or has something to do with it.
The main way of travelling long distance between areas is what I would call a 'space highway', basically a long series of rings that are connected to form a blue energy looking tube that ships inside of travel very fast along. Inside the tubes it is basically like a normal highway but in 3D space, the player just merges in at any point along the tube and then when inside and travelling, they can bob and weave between the loads of other ships that are also cruising along the highway to overtake etc.
I remember it being rather open world, which appealed to me at the time hugely, you could get out your ship and walk around the stations to interact with the various npc's and hire people that were hanging around, trade and accept missions, I cannot remember if there was any story/narrative.
Please let me know if I has missed anything or you need more information.
submitted by Pyschopomp1022 to tipofmyjoystick [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 01:25 Tacticool-weeb4 ambush (part2) finally

Good news was joe and Kasumi where really fast and had great cardio.
Bad news is over a hill came voices and shouting. There was a whole other company sized element out of sight and coming for that ass.
They were rolling down hill and trying to find a good place to break contact.
Joe almost tripped but grabbed a hanging branch. Feet coming out form under him.
He looks up and see’s some of the Bundeswehr hope over a low rock buried into the dirt. High up and lay an MG42 over a tree. Their boss shouting “ LOS! LOS! LOS!” as the men spread out and moved downhill to find good shooting spots.
“cover!” he shouted. Kasumi didn’t even need to look. She slid down some leaves and under a rock cropping. Rounds from the riflemen bouncing around her. Joe jumped behind a brush pile of thick trees and earth.
The old buzzsaw ripped rounds, raking across their cover. Cutting tree branches and shaking leaves.
One guy went wide and ended up on a similar level as Kasumi. She turned and shot him from behind cover.
Joe waited for the MG to change positions.
‘Holy shit
 THAT’S! what the boys in Europe were dealing with? Fuck me that’s frightening.’
He’d been shot by the MG42 before. But could never get over how shitty it felt”
He peaked around a standing tree, flipped his carbine to full auto and raked across that position. Normally he wouldn’t do this but just once he figured he could somewhat suppress and use his rifle like an MG. if only he had a big quad mag
.. wait? He did. In his coat!... that he wasn’t wearing
 fuck.
Kasumi returned fire with a burst of her own.
Joe rolled back and went to reload. Tossing his empty mag out. But his barrel happened to be a bit high. So a stray round from the Germans ripped through the air and struck his suppressor. Almost lurching the gun from his hand. Only being saved by his sling.
His eyes went wide.
‘This fucking sucks!’ he inspected his gun. Sure enough, suppressor was done for. Thank goodness he still had his gloves. It took him a moment but he decoupled and pulled the piping hot piece of metal off and tossed it. A full mag on full auto alone was enough to make the thing too hot to touch.
But he was back in the fight. “moving!” Kasumi shouted as she peeled back to more cover.
“set!”
Before he could move, he saw the MG gunner raise his head to get a look at them. Big mistake.
Back to semi auto. Placing the chevron of his sight high on the chest the recon man squeezed a round of grazing the top of the man’s armor. spalling off the mans plate and sending chunks of body armor and lead fragments into his throat. He fell back into the leaves. Clutched at his throat while his assistant gunner went to render aid.
They might get the gun back up but it gave the Allans enough time to get out of there.
“Moving!” he shouted and went to run. Choosing a path with the most amount of tree cover and even a low dry creek runoff that probably is where rain from the top of the mountain flows down.
Funny, these mountains kinda reminded him of west Virginia where he lived back in the 30s.
they slipped down and bounded from one piece of cover to another. Dropping a few Germans here and there, looking for a way out of the holler and even the playing field. Or break contact and hide for a bit.
But they where definitely out numbered. But just the two of them but their convoy as a whole.
They didn’t know what the hell was going on. But most likely someone figured out gold would be here and was looking for a payday for him and
 maybe 60 of his friends?
The Allans got lower and lower. Funneling close together. They had tried to stay apart so one grenade or burst from the machine guns wouldn’t kill or wound both of them.
But they came to a unfortunate discovery.
They where in a bowl. No way out into a different Haller. They would need to climb a near open slope while being fired on from an opposite ridge.
Joes boots sunk into the mud and leaves as he twisted from looking at the slope and looking for a way to get him and his wife out of there to turning back at the hostiles and laying hate. But he was about half his ammo down. And Kasumi was about the same. She had her type 89 laid up on a rock and shooting from an in placed position.
He looked up and saw they had picked the MG from the dead gunner and was running down the hill, leaning against a tree. When a large bullet slammed into the mans chest and broke through the place carrier.
A bit away some men had massed and got caught up in an explosion.
They looked up and saw David mounting his 60 on a height position and raked the other side with 45-70
 the costume-built machine gun barked loud and frightening. Tore chunks out of men’s shoulders, legs. Chests. Anything those bullets hit got turned into mush.
One mans armor stopped the round but it broke his ribs and ruptured his lungs from the trauma.
Their backup had arrived.
The gallowglass used a tried-and-true tactic of fighting hard and fast and making themselves seem bigger then they actually where. They needed to scare the krauts and push them back to rescue their scouts.
Dante had his .275 Rigby rifle and was taking aimed shots. Anyone who looked important. People with grenade launchers. Scoped. Even an officer looking gentleman.
Anderson sent a round of 45-70 from his lever-action through a retreating german. His green malted flektarn jacket stained red with his blood. Which in the chaos of it all gave joe an important piece of info
 these were humans. Not some monster in disguise.
They started to fall back and the Allans ducked into some dense brush and slipped up the hill to make it to their unit.
Everyone was hitting them with what they had as hard as they could.
“we got them!” dante shouted as both killer huffed and slid to his feet. even with all their cardio they had be in vehicles for the last few days and mountains where no joke.
Everyone started to peal back. They still had about half a mile they needed to flee with.
And they really didn’t want to take the direct route and lead these bastards back to the trucks. Except for joe, who had an idea.
“they left the ambush. We need to go now! Their on foot, if we can rally up we can push through”
Dante was technically team leading this little mission but the whole wolfpack had a very non-liner command structure. For those of you who don’t speak bullshit that means if you have an idea, say it. If everyone agrees your not loosing your mind they listen.
‘team lead’ just means you fill out forms, talk to local political figures and deal with higher up when you screw up
 higher up these days being dantes little sister so he got comedically shoved into that billet.
“whats your plan?” he shouted as he ran. His hunting boots trotting along side the recon marine and huffing with a fresher brisk pace. Freaking young’ns.
“lin! I need your grenade launcher on the front truck! We hit those claymores from far enough away and break the trees up. smashing them. We drive right through!”
The hong kong cop nodded.
“this shit is why we had mark-19s on our lead trucks in the corps”
David had been the last guy up. dumping the last of his can of ammo and turning and sprinting. He’d reload later. Slinging his MG and pulling his sig. he was deceptively quick. The big eskimo could run like a bear.
“are we bringing back the grenade launcher vs minigun debate?”
The Irishman shook his head. Anyone wanna explain to him why he thought it would be a good idea to befriend the SEAL?
In breaking contact they didn’t make a B line, but dog legged in a more Z pattern. Finaly getting back to the trucks everyone sprinted and shouted for people to get into place. The friendly germans looked shocked and panicked to do what the mercs where yelling. They thought something big was coming. Several people dove into open doors and went to the far side of the truck to make room for whoever was coming in after them.
The MRAP didn’t have a mounted gun. Much to their chagrin now. They went on the mission with the vehicles they had, not the ones they wanted. And the reason this one was lead was because if they hit an IED they wanted this to tank it.
Joe unslung his M4 “dave!” he shouted. The big guy nodded and they tossed their weapons to each other mid run. Dave also tossed a belt of about 100 rounds. Getting a running start joe leapt. Kicked off the tire and ended up on the hood of the armored vehicle. Turning back he reached a hand out. Lin was shorter but just as athletic. Bounding up she took his hand and he pulled her up.
“ok. Gonna fill me in?”
“get a grenade ready. We hit the barricade and keep driving” he hit the window alerting the driver. “get a move on!”
Kasumi took joes place in the chase vehicle. Dave had reached in the back and pulled out a 240 bravo. Not even able to hook it in the turret mount he just was gonna have to shoulder this.
It would be a miracle if no one got hurt.
They steamed full ahead. Joe placed himself to lins right. Towards where the hill was. Which was where the krauts would be coming from. A round struck the passenger side window of the MRAP making the occupant jump in their seat. Joe turned and gave a short burst as he saw maybe a dozen fighter. Followed by dave and anyone else. Some people staged automatic sub guns or PDWs by their seats and just turned in a fairly American style drive by.
They rounded a corner and found themselves on a straight away.
“barricade!” lins voice was barely hurt over the wiz of the germans 5.56.
She blooped her destructive egg about 80 yards from the kill zone.
Joe pulled the leash from his riggers belt. made so you wouldn’t fall out of helicopters. Buckling it to a D-ring on the hood. Holding lin close because she didn’t have one on. The chinses woman growned but held on because she knew this was about to get bumpy.
The skilled driver floored it after the demo went off. Sending dirt and sticks high in the air and weakening the trees. Smashing into it they turned back to see the shock and confusion of men not in their fighting positions.
The convoy chugged past.
Some even saw in the middle of all these trucks a minotaur and Anderson giving them the middle finger. Before raising their guns and shooting again.
The radio call came to slow down fire. And a few moments later to cease.
Lins head was in joes chest as she felt it rise large and fall as he let out a breath.
Both mercs looked at each other.
“damn fine shot” he held up a fist.
He pumped it.
“I want to get off mister hounds wild wide now! Never did like theme parks!”
He nodded. No joke. They ended up slowing a moment to crawl through the window.
The occupants handed them water bottles. Both now realizing how thirsty they where.
2 days later they found themselves at a castle.
“now this is what im talking about!” Anderson jumped with joy. Taking pictures with his phone.
One of the germans called it eltz castle. Apparently in one reality its been held by the same family sense like the 1100s. they where their to pick up more gold before turning around and heading for Venice. Last minute pick up.
“ok
 I was wrong. I thought castles like this wouldn’t still be around” joe wondered dumbly. He has been known to be wrong every once and awhile.
“here. Anderson. Lemme get some pictures for you
 say ‘treasure hunt’
The detective gave a thumbs up. his cowboy hat and lever action striking a pose.
The Polaroid came out and joe handed both to him. He then walked around and got more reference photos.
Kasumi walked over. “when did we get like that?” she wondered.
Joe and his wife had a 
.different kind of marriage. More to tax dodge and share rent then anything
 but about 20 years in they found they really did love each other
 that was a few hundred years ago now.
“later then we should have” he mumbled and tossed a arm over her shoulder.
“best job I ever had” she quipped.
“best life I coulda asked for”
submitted by Tacticool-weeb4 to AnyAndAllWriting [link] [comments]

2024.06.02 01:07 TheMoxFulder Dark Match [4 .3k] Wrestling Themed Horror Short

Cannibal had made up his mind a few moves ago: If this kid doesn't swing this chair, doesn't absolutely fuckin' nail me, then he's getting taxed, and big time.
The kid's name is Rob Small, and he's supposedly some hot-shot rookie fresh out of the local school. But Cannibal doesn't get it. Everything about the kid bugs him, right down to the name. The sport lost something when people stopped calling themselves ridiculous things, like 'The Big' this, or 'Ultimate' that.
And besides, it's a dirty trick. It's too easy, just like everything the new kids are doing. It's almost too real. And the audience doesn't want real. They only think they do. Cannibal knows this better than just about anyone.
Cannibal feels that he's been carrying them both since the bell. Again, it's this new, soft shit. Flipping, and posing, and nobody wants a single scratch on their pretty mugs. The word fake doesn't exist in this business, but as Rob winds up for another one of his little tricks, all flare, no impact, you can kind of see where people get that idea.
Cannibal takes a knee, then another, but wide, because that's how you take a real hit. Rob pulls the chair back.
"Don't fuck this up," Cannibal says.
The blade of the chair just grazes Cannibal's eyebrow, opening two inches of scar tissue, and perforation.
This is good. Unintentional, but good.
The crowd isn't theirs yet, but the stream of blood pulls a few people forward and gets them almost leaning into the next row down.
The blood is good, no doubt about it. But the sound of skull on steel would've lit them on fire, and that's just science.
Rob moves to the ropes, taking a squeaky-clean moment to acknowledge the crowd. He waves his arms around like he's leading a marching band or something, and it "earns" him a small pop of recognition.
Here's the problem- there's no story here. No tale of the tape. Just some rookie nobody cares about, and an aging prick that people care even less about. This is when every move is supposed to count. Not just every move, but every transition, every facial expression too. The kid's athletic, sure. But so is everybody. He doesn't have the rhythm yet, and his nose is too straight. And Cannibal is tired of carrying this match.
Cannibal starts back on his feet, quickly, counter-intuitively, like a jump scare. The kid's finally connecting with the crowd now, lifting the chair like some intramural trophy. But it's too little, too late, and Cannibal sees his opportunity.
First Cannibal snatches the chair, up, and behind Rob, then steadies his giant, calloused fingers with a well-timed exhale. He whirls Rob around, ready or not, and drives the lip of the chair into the liver side of his waist, which folds him directly in two. The crowd chatters a bit, but he isn't finished.
Cannibal throws the chair less than a foot away, then sets up the move that's going to win the crowd.
He didn't invent the move, not even close. It's not even particularly uncommon. But he made his name off this move. Here's some wisdom from the old school: There are precious few people who make money from this business by looking good. And if you can't look good, you need to look vicious.
Cannibal hooks his arms under Rob's armpits, then wrenches both arms so violently that the triceps almost touch. Operating on pure panic, and instinct, Rob's legs unwind, independently searching for a better position, but never finding it.
"Hey, easy up there," Rob says from somewhere near Cannibal's midsection, but he may as well be speaking to the mat now.
Cannibal wrenches Rob's arms again, but this time the triceps touch for one moment of searing pain. He does this half for show, and half as a warning to keep quiet during his finisher. He looks out at the crowd, and their features form for the first time since he entered the arena. Before then, they were nothing, just a wallpaper pattern of merch, and facial hair. There's a difference between the individual faces in the first row, and the voice that fills the venue, and guides your match.
A single fan can be wrong, but a crowd never is.
But Cannibal takes some of that power back now, and he's staring at the crowd, the entity, right in the face, starting with the first row.
The first few faces that he locks eyes with are rabid, their eyes wild with anticipation. They're gesticulating wildly, like they can't believe, or can't wait for what's coming next. The next face is a little boy who shies away and looks at his dad for help. He scans about a seating section and a half, screaming spittle-seasoned insults along the way.
Mid-taunt, before anybody can count it off, Cannibal hits his finisher, The Flesh Eater.
Cannibal pushes off the toes of his boots, about a foot into the air, bringing Rob's craned arms with him. That's why you really need to wrench. With Rob feeling real pain at each arm's socket, he has no choice but to sell. At the height of his jump, Cannibal shoots his legs straight out in a wide V, unclenching his ass for a nice, cushioned landing.
Rob's face hits the chair a microsecond before Cannibal's legs, and underside absorb the remainder of the blow. It's enough to make the aluminum ring out into the high warehouse ceiling and put a pretty little face-sized dent in the seat.
The crowd reacts with screams, with horror, with finally, some fucking emotion.
Cannibal climbs to his feet, while the lights flick on-and-off, on-and-off in Rob's eyes. Rob props himself on his palms, and knees, finding the floor he wasn't even looking for.
But he loses it again with a big, booted punt to the ribs. The crowd boos now from every direction.
This is good. It means that right now, they hate Cannibal. It means that when they go home, they'll remember how much they hated him. It means that he did his job.
Cannibal takes a victory lap around the ring while Rob writhes in presumably authentic agony. Cannibal leans over the top rope, pointing at the front row again, dissolving the boundary between them. He's screaming at a fan. He may even be screaming at one hundred fans when he notices a face that shouldn't be in attendance.
Was it section B? He looks over but can't find the face anymore.
He darts his eyes wildly, unfocusing them so that the crowd transforms into nothing but eyebrows, and merch, approval, and disgust.
He glances back toward Section B, right around where he thinks he saw the face, right as Rob crawls from behind, hooks his leg, and rolls him into a three count.
Both men roll onto their backs; Rob, because the pain from his neck, down to his waist puts him there. Cannibal, because he's defeated and confused.
Had he really seen that face? He knows he hadn't. One, because that would make no sense. And two, because, and he only saw it for a second, but the face was significantly younger than it should have been. About 20 years younger. Which would put it right around a time that he doesn't think, or speak about. Cannibal decides that he didn't see the face after all. He doesn't believe in ghosts. Especially not ghosts that haven't even died.
***
Cannibal collects his pay, and the doc plugs up his gash, in that order. He's got a show in a bigger market tomorrow, so the butterfly stitches just need to hold until then.
He unlaces his boots in the parking lot, then trades them for some once-white Adidas from the back seat of his gray Toyota Camry. Then he thinks about the ghost again. The one that he didn't see, the one that isn't even dead as far as he knows.
He stands still in his untied sneakers and thumbs a few reps through his social pages. If he had died, the news would have picked it up by now. An old friend would have even messaged,
"Here if you need to talk." Or, "It's not your fault"
Something like that, anyway. But Cannibal doesn't see anything, no messages, neither of their names gracing, or disgracing any headlines. And besides, that doesn't exactly solve the issue at hand. Maybe the kids are right, he thinks. I've officially taken too many blows to the skull.
For twenty years, Cannibal has always driven to the next city, or the next stop on the road, the night prior. Tonight, he checks into the nearest hotel/rest stop that connects to the main road. It's only about a four-hour drive, three if he can avoid traffic, and the need to piss. He doesn't even need to check into the venue until 5 pm. That's ample time, he decides for the first time in his career.
"I just need a bed and a shower", Cannibal tells the night clerk, a pimply boy who has deepened his voice since the exchange intensified.
He's the only employee, except for a few maids pushing yellow baskets around the parking lot, and a few unofficially affiliated girls prowling around from the local skin bar.
The boy wants to avoid a hassle. He knows that the nearest signs of life are the old warehouse a few exits down, and the sheriff's office even further.
"I'm sorry sir," he begins, and he's really using diaphragm now, speaking to the back of the house, "But all's we got left tonight is the honeymoon suite."
"So it's $30 extra for a dirty mirror on the ceiling, and a vase full of plastic fuckin' roses?"
The clerk winces at the swear, then gleams over Cannibal's right shoulder into the mostly empty parking lot. Cannibal gives the kid his best mean mug, the same one that he'd shoot toward a new opponent or a crowd that hates his guts. The quiet moment lingers, and then, wouldn't you guess it, just like that, thirty dollars gets shaved off the tab.
Cannibal tosses his duffel onto the frilly red sheets, then rolls off his sneakers as his reflections oblige in both the ceiling and wall-length mirrors. He sits on the bed, then wiggles his toes a bit generating a sound like gravel crunching in a driveway. He wants to get up and shower off some of the dried blood that's clotted his hair to his face, but the world rocks, and spins, and he lays down and falls asleep without even killing the bedside lamp.
He can't remember the ramp, the fans, or the bell. He can't remember the promos, or what angle he's supposed to be taking. But judging from the dark cherry splatted canvas, and the ringing in ears, it's been a fuckin' barn-burner so far. He looks directly ahead, at the high, pipe-laden ceiling, and realizes he's on his back. A boot lands next to his head, then another. Maybe it's the high-intensity discharge lights that are stinging his eyes, maybe he's still rattled from whatever move put him on his ass, but as his opponent steps over him, he can't seem at all to make out their face.
Whoever his opponent is, he begins to pick him up by the hair, and that's when Cannibal notices that the abstract art on the mat has mostly come from the back of his head. Drops of blood race down his opponents wrists, and pool near his elbows. Cannibal is bent over looking down at the mat, at his opponent's standard-issue black boots, and at the fresh coat of bright red, which will soon dry darker.
His opponent cranks his arms clumsily but with intensity. He can feel his blood greasing his opponent's grip, not allowing for any real traction. Then his opponent's knees square up, then bend, and Cannibal realizes. "Hey, that's my fucking move!" he says, or tries to say, but his opponent's airborne, and then so is he.
Usually, there's a nice thud when you hit the mat, but not this time. This time it sounds more like a series of wet pops, like cracking your knuckles underwater. Cannibal tries to roll over and assess the situation. Then he tries to roll over again.
Oh. Shit.
He's face down on the mat, and he intuits, rather than feels his opponent hurry off him, and in that same foggy way, he can feel the crowd. The beast with one thousand eyes is silent, but it isn't bored. It's murmuring, but with a sort of upward inflection, like it's asking him a question can't answer. Now a referee rolls him over. Cannibal awakens in a panic and tries to jump out of bed, away from the red sheets, but his body is uncooperative. His head lolls at an unnatural angle toward the mirrored wall. He can move his eyes, but nothing else.
He wants to scream for the pimply-faced boy or one of the night girls, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He can see his reflection, the collapsed muscles in his face, and the pool of spit that's collected on the pillow by his ear. The parts of the bed directly under him appear a darker red than the rest of the sheets. His eyes roll wildly and take in different parts of the same wall that he's frozen on. He can barely feel his breathing, but he knows that it's sporadic and shallow. He keeps rolling his eyes, searching for a modicum of control over his own body. And that's when he sees him again.
The ceiling mirror casts its reflection into its wall counterpart, and with the furthest strain of his eyeball muscles, Cannibal can just barely recognize him. He's a little older than he looked in the crowd earlier, but it's unmistakable this time. Fucking ghosts. Ghosts who aren't even dead yet. From somewhere behind his eyes Cannibal feels the onset of rage.
His eyes blink involuntarily, and a well of tears are pushed, and guided down into the spit-soaked pillow. He imagines himself rocking forward and tries to send this signal to a part of his body that doesn't exist. He imagines it again. He tries to kick a leg, throw an elbow, he'll settle for anything. He sends that signal in random intervals like he's trying to surprise his own faculties. He "throws" another elbow.
Except this time his arm releases from his side and soars out in front of him. His body follows, and he feels a vile concoction of fear, and relief as he falls off the bed, with arms and legs too weak to break his fall. He narrowly avoids contact with the corner of the nightstand and lands with a thud on the carpeted floor. He wiggles his toes, and the sound of tires on gravel rings out into nothing. ***
After regaining some strength, Cannibal uses his recently renewed limb strength to tear through every creak, and crack of the hotel room. He finds nobody in the room, nobody in the mirrors, just himself and his aching fucking cranium. Exhausted, but no longer tired, Cannibal grabs his duffel and checks out of the hotel room by tossing his key in the general direction of the unsuspecting clerk. He tears his car door open, then drives off with only half a plan in mind.
The morning sun breaks as Cannibal pulls up to a red light, and re-reads his early morning text to the promoter, 'Can't make it tonight. I'll make it up to you somehow.'
He's never backed out of a show before, and he knows that he'll have to confront that fact soon, but right now, it doesn't seem to matter. He needs to see him. He cobbles his route out of headlines and news stories that he manages to search up between red lights and stop signs.
Where are they now? 6 Wrestlers Whose Careers Ended In Tragedy The Real Story of Ernie "The Eagle" Samson Former World Champion Contender in Hospice After 20-Year Battle
Cannibals mind races as single sentences fire out at him like shrapnel. He scrolls past his own names, both gimmick and government a few times over. He feels the rage, and tears form behind his eyes again.
You weren't the only one that lost your legacy that day, you prick.
After twenty years he knows these roads well. Well enough to cruise over to the hospice unassisted by a map, or GPS. He acknowledges his thoughts as his motions become routine.
Ernie Samson was poised to be the next big thing back before all the wrestling territories got swallowed up by the Big Guy in the corporate machine. He was a handsome bastard, and a city man with the strength of a farm boy. He could talk fear into the crowd without raising his voice, and he pulled women who didn't know and didn't care what he did for a nightly living. Cannibal hated him, but in a brotherly way that was steeped in admiration. Even in those times, Cannibal was more brutish and uglier than everyone in the locker room. It was a stroke of momentary genius when some otherwise dipshit promoter first suggested that they pair up. Some sort of beauty and brawn type gimmick. The monster and his mouthpiece.
And you know what? It worked. People ate that shit right up. Cannibal chewed through his opponents with ferocity, while Ernie dazzled the crowd with his mixture of strong style, flips, and tricks. They melted the imaginary territory perimeters and became shooting stars in every market they played. Men paid off their tabs at the bar, and Ernie was gracious enough to send some trim Cannibal's way every now and again. It was a nice system, comfortable even.
Then that dipshit promoter had another bright idea. The team was ready to break up.
The way he described it, they'd take all that heat they had amassed together, and cover double the ground. This storyline was a natural, mostly because it was real. What the promoter was saying, in his dickhead way, was that Cannibal had served his purpose. He'd put the real star in place for his meteoric rise. Cannibal looked at where his career was, and how far it had come, and he agreed. They'd go out in one final bloodbath of a match, and defeat their current rivals, The Maniacs. Then Cannibal would attack Ernie, severing their ties, and launching their individual careers. Cut, dry.
Right up until the end, that match stands in Cannibal's memory as his finest work. If he'd been vicious before, he was rabid in this match. The hits were real, the emotions were high, and the crowd invested in every last pectoral twitch. After nearly half an hour of slogging and bruising, Cannibal hit his finisher and covered his opponent to the tune of twenty-something-thousand screaming fans. As the three-count fell, the crowd hit a decibel that he'd never heard before. They were screaming so loud, that it almost dampened in volume, and became a whisper in his ears.
The Maniacs had done their jobs well, bloodying and bruising Cannibal and Ernie for a gruesome glamor shot that would make the following day's paper. That image, of Ernie raising Cannibal's arm before the inevitable turn, would haunt almost every article written about either of them from that day forward.
Soaked in the moment, and each other's blood, Ernie hoisted Cannibal's arm, and they spun the ring, facing every single fan in attendance. Normally you'd wait for a break in the volume before the next big moment, but this crowd had no intention of quieting down. They faced each other, and Ernie mouthed the words.
"You ready?"
To this day Cannibal doesn't exactly know what went wrong. First, he felt sadness. Then he felt anger. He realized that the cheers wouldn't end for Ernie, but there was a very real possibility that this was his own last big pop. He went ahead as planned. First with an absolutely brutal kick to the midsection, which softened Ernie's abs into dough. Ernie let out a real, dry cough as the crowd's cheers morphed into shock and confusion. Then he cranked his arms, clumsily, but with intensity. Ernie's arms were slick with blood, and Cannibal couldn't sink in his hooks correctly. His legs shot out gracelessly, and rather than hearing the cushioned thud of his own ass, all he heard was a sick, wet pop.
Cannibal notes that he is about one exit from the hospice, and shakes his head vigorously as if to erase his thoughts. The exit approaches, and he cuts in deftly. He is immediately greeted by a green, bustling town, in a decent Midwestern neighborhood.
He cruises toward the hospice, passing a few young couples, and their church-clothed children. Bells chime nearby, and a dog emits a medium-sized bark from a nearby public park.
Cannibal glances in his rear-view as he changes lanes. Ernie is seated behind the middle console, smirking, but with no joy in his eyes. Cannibal tries to scream, but can't.
With the wheel slightly angled for his turn, Cannibal cruises subtly across lanes, onto the sidewalk, then into the park.
The first few couples dive out of the way with synchronized, but inharmonious shrieks. A young man pushes his wife and child to the ground, and the driver's side front wheel crunches, and shatters his ankle. The next few people aren't so lucky.
A group of friends sprawled across a picnic blanket snap around toward the source of the commotion just in time to greet the Toyota Camry's fender. Cannibal's eyes dart between his windshield and the rearview where Ernie sits smirking. He sees a young woman snatched from his sight line and hears a gunshot of a pop as the back of her skull smacks against some concrete. Tears roll down Cannibal's face as he wills his arms, legs, or fucking anything to move. The litter of bodies test the car's shocks, as the wheels find their way over strange terrains of bone and flesh. Then, a street lamp.
Cannibal's forehead smacks against his wheel a millisecond before the airbags deploy. He flinches, and his arms twitch as the bag chafes his nose and brow. He has regained control of his movement, if only slightly. He kicks open the door but does not face the trail of mayhem that succumbed to his vehicle. Instead, he realizes that he is just one block away from the hospice. With the remaining screams a comfortable distance behind him, he half runs, half stumbles to the reception desk.
People react to Cannibal's arrival with appropriate confusion and terror. The butterfly stitches have ceased to hold, and a rigid pattern of blood trails him as he staggers across the linoleum tile.
"Sir, do you need help?"
"Samson. I need Ernie fucking Samson."
He peers over the desk and sees a directory of sorts, like a cheat sheet of hospice patients, and their assigned rooms. He leaks blood from his brow over the counter, and onto the sheet, and the seated receptionist recoils with disgust as he snatches and reads it.
Ernie Samson 211
Cannibal marches now on sturdy feet to the nearest stairwell. A small security guard attempts to stand in his way, but Cannibal dwarfs his face with his gigantic palm, and smashes it into the drywall behind him, eliciting a collective gasp from the lobby waiting room. He kicks open the stairwell door and drags himself up the single flight of stairs onto the landing. Then he kicks open the second door.
Nurses gasp and take a step back as he emerges from the stairwell, ferocity emblazoned across his face and written in his scar tissue. He observes the direction in which the numbered rooms flow and stomps toward Room 211.
Half a dozen people are stood outside the room, with hospital staff accounting for only two of them.
"Bradley?" an older woman asks, as Cannibal tears past her, and into the room.
Inside the room is a white sheet spread over a series of lumps on a lightly inclined bed. A young man is seated near the side of the bed where the railing has been temporarily removed. His eyes are bloodshot, and his cheeks are damp.
"Brad, what the fuck is-" he begins to say.
Cannibal lifts his leg and boots the man right off the green cushioned chair. Then he turns to the white lumps and tears the blanket off.
Ernie's face appears as it did in his back seat but without the rigid smirk. The muscles in his face are weak and sag as if they'd collapsed several years before his death. His dull eyes are still open, still staring at Cannibal.
"Ernie, you fucking prick," Cannibal starts, "You fucking prick, you get back here right now! You gonna fuck with me? You gonna fuck with me, Ernie? I fucking made you Ernie! We both fucking died that day!"
A small militia of security guards pour into the room, and it takes every last one of them to restrain Cannibal. He fights, and squirms as the fattest guard sits on the wide of his back, and pulls his arms. Cannibal thrashes and screams like an animal as he is restrained. He bashes his face into the tiled floor, leaving increasingly large spots of blood at the sight of impact. The fat guard applies some pressure to his hold, as small, wet pop emits from Cannibal's back.
There's no story here. No tale of the tape. Just a has-been wrestler in tomorrow's headlines, and a family mourning a loss that begun two decades prior. The crowd of mourners gasp and scream as all the fight leaves Cannibal's body at once. Then a woman breaks into sobs. She used to know Bradley Hughes. The real Cannibal. But nobody wants real.
They only think they do.
submitted by TheMoxFulder to WritersGroup [link] [comments]

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