Silent letters worksheets
Grassroots activism for attempting to effectively legalize suicide for adults.
2013.03.07 03:41 MichaelTen Grassroots activism for attempting to effectively legalize suicide for adults.
This is a place for like minded individuals to discuss grassroots activism for attempting to effectively legalize suicide for adults.
2020.01.08 17:54 Tsondru_Nordsin Terry Allen
A place to share appreciation and news about the beloved West Texas artist, songwriter, and performer, Terry Allen.
2015.04.18 16:46 FNAFanimations: Where Fun and Fantasy really come to life!
A place for animators with a love and passion for both FNaF and animating. We welcome a wide variety of animation styles, skills, and platforms -- SFM, 3-D animation, or cleverly hand drawn styles...you name it! We are dedicated to putting effort and quality into our work and invite everyone to join in our animated joy! So what are you waiting for? Come to us, and you'll know the joy of creative service!
2024.05.22 01:32 withMIBs "Flay Me To the Moon"
Google showed me the movie title when I searched "flay me." I think it is romantic enough to describe what I feel now and sometimes.
IDK if you know it, but that's how I feel when I encounter your letters or expressions. Silently and swiftly, you attack my left shoulder (always left) vertically with your claws like a bear. It's so shocking that I usually stop my breath, almost choked instantly. I look at the wound, then you. Your eyes are also on my exposed bloody muscles, soft tissues, and tendons for a while, waiting. Then you indifferently move away silently as if you attacked a wrong prey.
I don't feel pain when my skin is peeled in this vision. It feels like being in a vacuum. As you expect, I don't hate it. After you leave, the wound is gone and recovered as if nothing happened. Something did, though. Sooner or later you come back to do the same again and again.
It's interesting since you basically talk about yourself, not even trying to analyze me, when my flesh is flayed off my body. It's not an anatomy attempt.
It's different from the attack years ago when you screamed at me, pushing me into the corner. Maybe you just tried to make yourself understood or your anger heard, but I cried hard and trembled out of fear. We didn't get along, but I wasn't quite sure or tried to refuse what made you so mad.
I think (or hope?) you are the one that tells the truth to others by being yourself. Your thoughts and actions may look selfish and subjective. But no. Your selfish seeking will be universal. People will find themselves in your most inner self. I can't do that, but you can in a comfortable way. That's your gift and our difference.
Maybe that's why you don't want me to anatomize you. It will be just a pain with less gain. I need learn to put myself in it as well, if I want to try.
Recently the different you appear after the "attack." Either too cheerful or too depressed puts ointment to fade my scar. The former sings happy songs, the latter makes dark reflective speeches. I'm happy with your presence on the earth. But I also can't help wonder what will happen or I will see if you make another attack before the wound vanishes.
S.
submitted by withMIBs to u/withMIBs [link] [comments]
IDK if you know it, but that's how I feel when I encounter your letters or expressions. Silently and swiftly, you attack my left shoulder (always left) vertically with your claws like a bear. It's so shocking that I usually stop my breath, almost choked instantly. I look at the wound, then you. Your eyes are also on my exposed bloody muscles, soft tissues, and tendons for a while, waiting. Then you indifferently move away silently as if you attacked a wrong prey.
I don't feel pain when my skin is peeled in this vision. It feels like being in a vacuum. As you expect, I don't hate it. After you leave, the wound is gone and recovered as if nothing happened. Something did, though. Sooner or later you come back to do the same again and again.
It's interesting since you basically talk about yourself, not even trying to analyze me, when my flesh is flayed off my body. It's not an anatomy attempt.
It's different from the attack years ago when you screamed at me, pushing me into the corner. Maybe you just tried to make yourself understood or your anger heard, but I cried hard and trembled out of fear. We didn't get along, but I wasn't quite sure or tried to refuse what made you so mad.
I think (or hope?) you are the one that tells the truth to others by being yourself. Your thoughts and actions may look selfish and subjective. But no. Your selfish seeking will be universal. People will find themselves in your most inner self. I can't do that, but you can in a comfortable way. That's your gift and our difference.
Maybe that's why you don't want me to anatomize you. It will be just a pain with less gain. I need learn to put myself in it as well, if I want to try.
Recently the different you appear after the "attack." Either too cheerful or too depressed puts ointment to fade my scar. The former sings happy songs, the latter makes dark reflective speeches. I'm happy with your presence on the earth. But I also can't help wonder what will happen or I will see if you make another attack before the wound vanishes.
S.
2024.05.22 01:19 Isaku_c Help!! Is this person serious or are they lying?
 | I have just received this random email and wanted to know if I have been hacked and what to do, or if it is a fake scam to get me to pay money that I don't have. submitted by Isaku_c to hackers [link] [comments] |
2024.05.22 01:17 poppypess Vote Claremont, Emmys Edition
 | This is late, but my friend and I went to the for-your-consideration event for RWRB. It was a trip. submitted by poppypess to redwhiteandroyalblue [link] [comments] But it was a work function first. Members of the TV Academy—and their plus-ones, if they received one—gathered in a studio in the sweaty belly button of Hollywood. If you were a normal Angeleno like u/sixfivesteve (the friend), you sat in your car blasting the AC while the valet line bumped forward one car length at a time. If you were from a walking city, you pushed past the slow-moving tourists, hoped the flies circling a mysterious stench didn’t lay eggs on you, and checked in with an attendant who wore a concerning amount of black for someone whose job was to stand in direct sun. There was a (life-changing) screening of the movie, a panel, and a reception. There was also retail politics. Here’s what happened. Whoever put together the playlist knew what they were doingThe vibe before the screening was jolly. There was a whole bathroom conversation about 1) therapeutic cannabis, because you’ve gotta, and 2) people everyone has run into.Ushers handed out mini-servings of popcorn that felt stingy as hell but were probably just nutritionist-recommended serving sizes. Steve grabbed candy and water that came in slightly less environmentally disastrous packaging than the stuff you’d get from most grocery stores. Whoever put together the playlist had done their homework, by which I mean they’ve spent time on the non-broey part of the internet. This is where I tell you that the event featured strip club music, by which I mean they played “Pony” by Ginuwine. Before and after the screening. It was as if whoever set up the playlist knew that some attendees’ brains—and bits—might explode, reconstitute themselves, and implode again under stimulus (the movie), work event be damned. The screening was a case for seeing movies in theaters for the sound. Because…You could hear the beginning of the blow job.You could hear the beginning of the blow job. You could hear the beginning of the blow job. In the space of about a second, I went from living in a world in which that scene had a lil’ zipper sound to one where the zip was followed by a flat, wet drag. The sound had texture. It almost had temperature. Y’all, I am forever changed. Always see movies in the theater. Nolan, Tarantino, et al have talked about this. They’re right. Listen to this man before he teaches you a lesson. Something else I’d seen but never before heard while watching the movie in home setups: Bea says “no!” when Henry declines Alex’s call in the meeting with Philip, Tommy, and other palace staff. She doesn’t just mouth it. Her interjection interrupts Philip mid-sentence, who glares at her and says, “As I was saying…” It’s also just fun to hear the audience’s reactions. Some of the laugh lines:
Speaking of sexual, the crowd held its breath during the sex scenes. Emmy voters have watched plenty of sex scenes with their colleagues, but after the bravely-repressing-a-wobble acknowledgement of I owe you an explanation, after ~very bad things~ in Alex's room, after the phrase “make love”—which deserves to be not just roasted but incinerated—the Paris sex scene was…relief? Revel? Revelation? Look at me trying to talk around the effect the scene (may have) had on the room. People were off-gassing oxytocin. Estradiol. Testosterone. Since it was a work event, the weight and texture of the hush was what you’d get if everyone on a group camping trip was trying to discreetly watch porn. (To paraphrase the dad from Easy A, high-end porn—for governors and athletes, but porn nonetheless.) But I project. Uma Thurman did an Ariana Huffington laugh during the panelI laughed and laughed and laughed.What should I say about the panel? That everyone’s features were somehow both full and sharp enough to thin-slice the cured meat of your choice? That Taylor Zakhar-Perez made a small breeze every time he blinked? That Nicholas Galitzine was a diffident dumpling? That Uma Thurman was an intellect? That Rachel Hilson was lithe and and fresh-faced and ready for any cosmetics campaign you threw at her—which, incidentally, has always described Uma Thurman? That Matthew López was extremely cute? That Greg Berlanti was the dad/uncle some of your friends wanted as a mentor and others had wholesome crushes on? That Sarah Schechter was the friend’s cool older sister made good? That if you put the RWRB cast into an early Almodóvar movie, the result would be credible? Whatever I can say about the panel, you can get more straightforward coverage and footage of it elsewhere, including this subreddit. (Check out the post from the woman who got so horny from watching the movie that she started going after her husband nonstop.) I did a search on Tumblr for “RWRB FYC panel” for you. You’ll get Galitzine saying “the throes of love.” You’ll get TZP talking about matcha. You’ll get Casey McQuiston—that perfectly cast nonbinary creator-god of the RWRB universe—describing their brush with psychological collapse when TZP tried to have a conversation with them while in costume as Alex Claremont-Diaz. Enjoy. The campaign trail is paved with selfiesCampaigning for nominations—and eventually, awards—is not so different from running for public office. The panel ended and everyone was set loose on the panelists and the “immersive for-your-consideration experience.” (Sure.)Getting to the cater waiters to pinch mini-tacos, meh crabcakes, fish and chips with tartar sauce instead of vinegar (why?), and tiny cake cubes was like wading upstream. The crowd was moving in the opposite direction. Why? …oh. Galitzine was taking photos with people. Elsewhere in the immersive whositwhatsit, TZP was doing the same thing with a swarm of his own. https://preview.redd.it/rkp916mxzu1d1.jpg?width=1818&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e01a4cf99ae5163c766e8bc284f219526b450e3a https://preview.redd.it/hzco2eev4v1d1.png?width=750&format=png&auto=webp&s=922d4d097f214d4bb9a5747de05b76cfe579d23b I’d thought they were on display during the panel, but no. This was what they were there for. They were there to shake hands, talk shop briefly—with occasional promises to follow up later—and take selfies. The reward for all this would (theoretically) be nominations and votes. This was a campaign stop. On-theme for RWRB. Cue montage of Alex Claremont-Diaz making fundraising calls. Can you get a charley horse in your face? I bet the actors had them, but that’s campaign life. Forward Together and all that. Matthew López and the producers wandered the floor. At one point, I heard Casey McQuiston tell a small group about how they didn’t have any particular in with agents or publishers. It often is about flinging yourself out there, whatever you want to do. A vote for RWRB is a vote for softness (stop reading here to avoid egghead content)While we’re speaking in campaign terms, who and what is RWRB for? It’s for people who love love. It’s for people who love fun—who are fun, dammit. It’s for people with uomosexual tendencies (uomo = Italian for “man”). It’s for the occasional lucky straight guy. Most of all, it’s a refuge from straight-guy culture.Here’s what I mean. The two RWRB panels and the Roast of Tom Brady happened in the same week-long time frame. If you’re reading this, you’re almost definitely in the tank with RWRB. The Roast is straight-guy culture cranked up to eleventy billion by comparison. If we go by the Roast, straight-guy culture looks like big men the color of medium-rare steak yelling dick jokes from the dais—but using the less funny and more aggressive and self-regarding “cock” instead. It looks like Gronk pretending he can’t read and using Kim Kardashian’s genitalia to make a beef pun. It looks like Nikki Glaser, the token straight-woman comedian, being a good sport while the men in attendance called her ugly. Don’t get me wrong. I watched and laughed. A good dick joke takes skill, and some of them were damn good. I even thought Julian Edelman was hot for 20 minutes. But the tonal difference between the Roast and the RWRB event—to say nothing of RWRB itself—was jarring. Straight-guy masculine culture is so committed to not being soft. Don’t go soft is basically its motto. Meanwhile, RWRB is about—among other things—softness. Henry Car-Crash-of-Last-Names gives the object of his attraction the up-and-down, but in a way that’s more endearing than objectifying. He doesn’t do the hard stare. He’s all-in on Byron, Austen, Zadie Smith, and…Streisand. Unlike Gronk, Henry can read, and he reads with relish. So does Alex, of course. The American is sweet and proactive. When he develops feelings for a friend with (many) benefits, he’s matter-of-fact about it and doesn’t get defensive or evade his emotions. In other words, Alex and Henry’s masculinity is soft. Soft masculinity acknowledges the dimensions of a person beyond how well they can slam into other men (sporty or sexual) or women (sexual). For a lot of people, soft masculinity is a fantasy and a gift. It can be a gift to anyone. Look at Steve. He finds that version of masculinity intoxicating, even as someone who’s already a winner of the masculinity lottery, at least as defined by large parts of straight-guy culture. He’s white and tall and strong and has hoes (houses), not in every area code—sorry, rappers who talk about that kind of thing—but some good ones. He loves RWRB. Everything about it. (Lest you thirsty beasts start having big thoughts about him, he’s married.) Steve even inserted himself into the height contest/debate Galitzine and TZP sometimes have for lulz. He had a “you’re wearing lifts” conversation of his own. Not with TZP. With Galitzine, who joked about wearing lifts himself. It was still not enough to top Steve. (How funny would it be if this is when I reveal that Steve is Conan O’Brien? To be clear, he’s not. Besides, Conan O’Brien is sixfourconan.) — — — — The next night, while Steve and I were still catatonic from staying up until alarming hours, another panel took place in front of a crowd of people who didn’t need to consider anything about RWRB. They were already real-ass, excited fans who saw Alex and Henry—and for some of them, Galitzine and TZP—as secular saints of cheerful-romantic-triumphant horniness. Avatars of the kinds of guys you could have a crush on in middle- and high school without raising alarms (unless you were a boy being raised by homophobes, in which case I’m sorry). The audience on that second night got the news of a sequel from Matthew López, who spoke directly to them from the stage. They cheered and whooped and began their vigil for round two. Sí, se puede. |
2024.05.22 01:13 help1987 Sore throat for 14 months also had a allergic reaction 14 months ago.
I’m 37. 22st male statins. Basildon hospital. I was working out in a garage for 6 months boxing lost 4 stone from24. I went to the garage to hit the punch bag felt drained 2 o’clock in the morning felt like I was having a heart attack. So went to the hospital for them to say it’s not which is great news but gave me naproxen but I was already taking statins for high cholesterol. 2nd day of taking them I had a really bad reaction. Hives all over face swollen lips. Felt very strange for months afterwards very weak. Throat would go tight and swell after eaten foods and drinks. I thought I was allergic to these. So would get test always come negative then I asked for a full allergies test 10 months ago I’ve been waiting for ten months I had it booked for next month on the 3rd only for the clinic to cancel my appointment that I’ve been desperately waiting for. I’m gutted they have just randomly cancelled. this is Basildon, and honestly I felt like it was keeping me going. 14 months of hell the doctors have been pretty poor to me I never ever go to the doctors until 14 months ago. I’ve had the ambulance out on a number of occasions I’ve been up the hospital during the nights because I’ve woken up with tight throat. It’s not strep negative it’s not cobble stone negative the believe it could be allergies they also believe it to be silent reflux had taken medication lanzopro can’t spell very well either lol but was making me unwell, I get blurry vision and was asked to get my eyes tested my eyes haven’t changed and are ok. Burning throat white mucus. Probably unrelated but also started 14months ago right shoulder pain right back of neck pain. Because I’ve been going through this for a long time you can imagine mental stress off my throat closing up and not being able to breathe properly. I’ve taken Antihistamine every day for 14 months I feel like they don’t help. I have had test for pots copd and asthma was all under long Covid testing but the only thing they found was a restriction on my left lung but don’t know what it is. I got referred to respiratory clinic FINALY after 14 months of begging then I got a letter to say it will be October. I’m very depressed on how things are going I’m not getting the correct help the doctors I’ve had to change because the lady wasn’t helping me so I made a complaint and refused to see her and the see the head nurse if that’s a thing she wasn’t much better I said I need test to see what these lumps are it could be a tumour or cancer she laughed at me. I put the phone down check my nhs app online for her to write. patient thinks he has cancer and he would benefit from counselling therapy and now I’m doing therapy second session honestly hand on my heart these gps have really made me feel like I’m going insane at times. Can’t find nothing wrong with me but I’m really unwell with all this. Blury eyes sore tight throat flare up. Itchy skin sometimes swollen tongue itchy skin after shower, hard to swallow at times back of tongue lumps swell red spots on tongue keep having white film over tongue white mucus over throat fatigued every day. Wake up during the night with tingling arms and shoulders. Was out in the sun the other day few hours my hands burned but felt tingling for days. Very dry hands almost like I was having a reaction from the sun. Im not a praying man but I’ve done a lot of praying this year. Any help suggestions would great be appreciated. I’m at the end with it all.
submitted by help1987 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
2024.05.22 00:03 Stormcoming7 [M4F] Searching for a Dragon's Lair [Dragon Speaker] [Knight Listener] [Slow Burn, I Think] [Deception] [Protective] [Treasure] [Could Be Prequel, Could Be Standalone] [Far Too Long]
Intro: For your distinguished service to the crown, you’ve been assigned the difficult and dangerous job of slaying a dragon purported to have slaughtered a village on the outskirts of the kingdom. It’s a job you should be able to handle, and you’re not too scared… now, if only the whole thing felt less wrong…
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends her, and offers to guide her where she needs to go. They face a danger together, and she learns that he is not what he seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, he is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by himself.
Author’s Note: And also the flipped version, for the draconic gentlemen out there!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
F4M version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess she could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe she’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, she’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny her armor is. And it’s only her armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what she’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s she talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And he’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to her.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice sleazeball. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d she go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Typhon*.* Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} She’s smooth, isn’t she? I was expecting all armor, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a man’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that he didn’t harm any humans for decades. He-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing he’s a ‘he?’ I did see him once, flying overhead, though, and he looked like a boy dragon. Kind of stocky.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a beautiful knight. There’s no chance she could possibly beat me on her own, so she’s going to end up- wait, on her own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did she ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give her a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? SHE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that she has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to kill her” to “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… *{resolve}*Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage her, maybe I can even convince her I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would she have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting her off my trail, and maybe getting to know her in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Typhon! She’s literally trying to kill you. She is not a prospective mate, she isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} She is gorgeous, though, especially when the light catches her armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before he- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh her eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay her hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside her, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And she wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If she’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does she mean by that? And why does she have to be this lovely as she says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! She’s gonna get herself killed if I don’t help her- wait, what?
{taken aback} She’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s she looking back… Is she angry? What?
She’s yelling something… She wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- She thinks I’m in danger, and she’s trying to protect me! She wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help her here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like she has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on her, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for her later, and she can be happy that she kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with her, oh, looks like she’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of her as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, lady kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, lady knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground. {amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Lady knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
submitted by Stormcoming7 to talkingtalltales [link] [comments]
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends her, and offers to guide her where she needs to go. They face a danger together, and she learns that he is not what he seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, he is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by himself.
Author’s Note: And also the flipped version, for the draconic gentlemen out there!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
F4M version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess she could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe she’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, she’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny her armor is. And it’s only her armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what she’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s she talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And he’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to her.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice sleazeball. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d she go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Typhon*.* Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} She’s smooth, isn’t she? I was expecting all armor, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a man’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that he didn’t harm any humans for decades. He-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing he’s a ‘he?’ I did see him once, flying overhead, though, and he looked like a boy dragon. Kind of stocky.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a beautiful knight. There’s no chance she could possibly beat me on her own, so she’s going to end up- wait, on her own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did she ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give her a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? SHE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that she has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to kill her” to “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… *{resolve}*Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage her, maybe I can even convince her I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would she have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting her off my trail, and maybe getting to know her in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Typhon! She’s literally trying to kill you. She is not a prospective mate, she isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} She is gorgeous, though, especially when the light catches her armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before he- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh her eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay her hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside her, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And she wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If she’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does she mean by that? And why does she have to be this lovely as she says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! She’s gonna get herself killed if I don’t help her- wait, what?
{taken aback} She’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s she looking back… Is she angry? What?
She’s yelling something… She wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- She thinks I’m in danger, and she’s trying to protect me! She wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help her here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like she has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on her, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for her later, and she can be happy that she kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with her, oh, looks like she’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of her as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, lady kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, lady knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground. {amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Lady knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
2024.05.22 00:02 Stormcoming7 [F4M] Searching for a Dragon's Lair [Dragon Speaker] [Knight Listener] [Slow Burn, I Think] [Deception] [Protective] [Treasure] [Could Be Prequel, Could Be Standalone] [Far Too Long]
Intro: For your distinguished service to the crown, you’ve been assigned the difficult and dangerous job of slaying a dragon purported to have slaughtered a village on the outskirts of the kingdom. It’s a job you should be able to handle, and you’re not too scared… now, if only the whole thing felt less wrong…
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends him, and offers to guide him where he needs to go. They face a danger together, and he learns that she is not what she seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, she is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by herself.
Author’s Note: God, this took way too long to write. A couple months, if you count when I had the idea and when I wrote the first few sentences. Well, it’s here now, and I hope it’s not too disappointing. Prequel series go!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
M4F Version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess he could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe he’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, he’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny his armor is. And it’s only his armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what he’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s he talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And she’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to him.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice skank. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d he go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Tiamat*.* Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} He’s smooth, isn’t he? I was expecting all muscle, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a woman’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that she didn’t harm any humans for decades. She-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing she’s a ‘she?’ I did see her once, flying overhead, though, and she looked like a girl dragon. Kind of slender.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a handsome knight. There’s no chance he could possibly beat me on his own, so he’s going to end up- wait, on his own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did he ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give him a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? HE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that he has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to kill him” to “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… *{resolve}*Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage him, maybe I can even convince him I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would he have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting him off my trail, and maybe getting to know him in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Tiamat! He’s literally trying to kill you. He is not a prospective mate, he isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} He is handsome, though, especially when the light catches his armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before she- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh his eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay his hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside him, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And he wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If he’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does he mean by that? And why does he have to be this handsome as he says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! He’s gonna get himself killed if I don’t help him- wait, what?
{taken aback} He’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s he looking back… Is he angry? What?
He’s yelling something… He wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- He thinks I’m in danger, and he’s trying to protect me! He wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help him here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like he has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on him, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for him later, and he can be happy that he kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with him, oh, looks like he’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of him as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, sir kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, sir knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground.{amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Sir knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
submitted by Stormcoming7 to talkingtalltales [link] [comments]
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends him, and offers to guide him where he needs to go. They face a danger together, and he learns that she is not what she seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, she is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by herself.
Author’s Note: God, this took way too long to write. A couple months, if you count when I had the idea and when I wrote the first few sentences. Well, it’s here now, and I hope it’s not too disappointing. Prequel series go!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
M4F Version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess he could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe he’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, he’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny his armor is. And it’s only his armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what he’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s he talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And she’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to him.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice skank. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d he go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Tiamat*.* Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} He’s smooth, isn’t he? I was expecting all muscle, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a woman’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that she didn’t harm any humans for decades. She-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing she’s a ‘she?’ I did see her once, flying overhead, though, and she looked like a girl dragon. Kind of slender.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a handsome knight. There’s no chance he could possibly beat me on his own, so he’s going to end up- wait, on his own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did he ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give him a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? HE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that he has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to kill him” to “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… *{resolve}*Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage him, maybe I can even convince him I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would he have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting him off my trail, and maybe getting to know him in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Tiamat! He’s literally trying to kill you. He is not a prospective mate, he isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} He is handsome, though, especially when the light catches his armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before she- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh his eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay his hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside him, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And he wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If he’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does he mean by that? And why does he have to be this handsome as he says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! He’s gonna get himself killed if I don’t help him- wait, what?
{taken aback} He’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s he looking back… Is he angry? What?
He’s yelling something… He wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- He thinks I’m in danger, and he’s trying to protect me! He wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help him here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like he has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on him, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for him later, and he can be happy that he kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with him, oh, looks like he’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of him as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, sir kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, sir knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground.{amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Sir knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
2024.05.21 23:56 Stormcoming7 [M4F] Searching for a Dragon's Lair [Dragon Speaker] [Knight Listener] [Slow Burn, I Think] [Deception] [Protective] [Treasure] [Could Be Prequel, Could Be Standalone] [Far Too Long]
Intro: For your distinguished service to the crown, you’ve been assigned the difficult and dangerous job of slaying a dragon purported to have slaughtered a village on the outskirts of the kingdom. It’s a job you should be able to handle, and you’re not too scared… now, if only the whole thing felt less wrong…
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends her, and offers to guide her where she needs to go. They face a danger together, and she learns that he is not what he seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, he is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by himself.
Author’s Note: And also the flipped version, for the draconic gentlemen out there!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
F4M version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess she could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe she’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, she’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny her armor is. And it’s only her armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what she’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s she talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And he’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to her.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice sleazeball. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d she go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Typhon. Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} She’s smooth, isn’t she? I was expecting all armor, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a man’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that he didn’t harm any humans for decades. He-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing he’s a ‘he?’ I did see him once, flying overhead, though, and he looked like a boy dragon. Kind of stocky.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a beautiful knight. There’s no chance she could possibly beat me on her own, so she’s going to end up- wait, on her own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did she ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give her a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? SHE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that she has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to kill her” to “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… {resolve}Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage her, maybe I can even convince her I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would she have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting her off my trail, and maybe getting to know her in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Typhon! She’s literally trying to kill you. She is not a prospective mate, she isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} She is gorgeous, though, especially when the light catches her armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before he- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh her eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay her hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside her, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And she wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If she’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does she mean by that? And why does she have to be this lovely as she says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! She’s gonna get herself killed if I don’t help her- wait, what?
{taken aback} She’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s she looking back… Is she angry? What?
She’s yelling something… She wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- She thinks I’m in danger, and she’s trying to protect me! She wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help her here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like she has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on her, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for her later, and she can be happy that she kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with her, oh, looks like she’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of her as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, lady kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, lady knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground. {amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Lady knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
submitted by Stormcoming7 to ASMRScriptHaven [link] [comments]
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends her, and offers to guide her where she needs to go. They face a danger together, and she learns that he is not what he seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, he is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by himself.
Author’s Note: And also the flipped version, for the draconic gentlemen out there!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
F4M version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess she could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe she’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, she’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny her armor is. And it’s only her armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what she’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s she talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And he’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to her.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice sleazeball. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d she go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Typhon. Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} She’s smooth, isn’t she? I was expecting all armor, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a man’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that he didn’t harm any humans for decades. He-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing he’s a ‘he?’ I did see him once, flying overhead, though, and he looked like a boy dragon. Kind of stocky.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a beautiful knight. There’s no chance she could possibly beat me on her own, so she’s going to end up- wait, on her own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did she ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give her a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? SHE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that she has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to kill her” to “I don’t want to fight her, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… {resolve}Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage her, maybe I can even convince her I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would she have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting her off my trail, and maybe getting to know her in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Typhon! She’s literally trying to kill you. She is not a prospective mate, she isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} She is gorgeous, though, especially when the light catches her armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before he- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh her eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay her hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside her, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And she wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If she’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does she mean by that? And why does she have to be this lovely as she says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! She’s gonna get herself killed if I don’t help her- wait, what?
{taken aback} She’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s she looking back… Is she angry? What?
She’s yelling something… She wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- She thinks I’m in danger, and she’s trying to protect me! She wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help her here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like she has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on her, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for her later, and she can be happy that she kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with her, oh, looks like she’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of her as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, lady kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, lady knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground. {amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Lady knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
2024.05.21 23:52 Stormcoming7 [F4M] Searching for a Dragon's Lair [Dragon Speaker] [Knight Listener] [Slow Burn, I Think] [Deception] [Protective] [Treasure] [Could Be Prequel, Could Be Standalone] [Far Too Long]
Intro: For your distinguished service to the crown, you’ve been assigned the difficult and dangerous job of slaying a dragon purported to have slaughtered a village on the outskirts of the kingdom. It’s a job you should be able to handle, and you’re not too scared… now, if only the whole thing felt less wrong…
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends him, and offers to guide him where he needs to go. They face a danger together, and he learns that she is not what she seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, she is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by herself.
Author’s Note: God, this took way too long to write. A couple months, if you count when I had the idea and when I wrote the first few sentences. Well, it’s here now, and I hope it’s not too disappointing. Prequel series go!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
M4F Version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess he could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe he’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, he’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny his armor is. And it’s only his armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what he’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s he talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And she’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to him.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice skank. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d he go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Tiamat*.* Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} He’s smooth, isn’t he? I was expecting all muscle, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a woman’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that she didn’t harm any humans for decades. She-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing she’s a ‘she?’ I did see her once, flying overhead, though, and she looked like a girl dragon. Kind of slender.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a handsome knight. There’s no chance he could possibly beat me on his own, so he’s going to end up- wait, on his own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did he ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give him a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? HE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that he has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to kill him” to “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… *{resolve}*Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage him, maybe I can even convince him I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would he have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting him off my trail, and maybe getting to know him in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Tiamat! He’s literally trying to kill you. He is not a prospective mate, he isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} He is handsome, though, especially when the light catches his armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before she- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh his eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay his hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside him, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And he wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If he’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does he mean by that? And why does he have to be this handsome as he says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! He’s gonna get himself killed if I don’t help him- wait, what?
{taken aback} He’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s he looking back… Is he angry? What?
He’s yelling something… He wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- He thinks I’m in danger, and he’s trying to protect me! He wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help him here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like he has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on him, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for him later, and he can be happy that he kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with him, oh, looks like he’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of him as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, sir kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, sir knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground.{amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Sir knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
submitted by Stormcoming7 to ASMRScriptHaven [link] [comments]
Summary: Listener meets a new acquaintance who befriends him, and offers to guide him where he needs to go. They face a danger together, and he learns that she is not what she seems.
Go ahead and monetize, it's fine. Word count is about 3800.
If you fill this or plan to fill this, please notify me. Please don't make edits without asking first.
TWs: Running deception, combat, discussion of mass murder (dragon burning places to the ground), possessiveness, forced sleep
Line breaks represent the listener talking or space where no one talks and should be short pauses, words within {brackets} represent the speaker’s tone or sfx. At ellipses, the speaker trails off, and at dashes, she is either cut off abruptly by the listener or by herself.
Author’s Note: God, this took way too long to write. A couple months, if you count when I had the idea and when I wrote the first few sentences. Well, it’s here now, and I hope it’s not too disappointing. Prequel series go!
If you want to read this somewhere other than Reddit, it's also here.
M4F Version here.
{internal monologue} {disgusted} Ugh, those damn livestock merchants charge more every time. Gouging bastards, {rationalization} but I do need them to stay silent. If the town finds out how much food I have to purchase every month, it’ll only end badly. Besides, it’s not like even this much bribery makes a dent in my hoard. I should really just be glad I haven’t met any merchants with integrity, that wouldn’t end well. Good thing it’s a vanishingly rare trait these days… {annoyance} wait, no, that’s not a good thing, what am I saying? It’s sad… but it does make my life easier. Well, that’s a hell of a conundrum. {sigh} {bored} Not one I haven’t dealt with before, though. Have this conversation with myself every time. Oh, well. What matters is the food’ll be delivered soon, I don’t have to go into hibernation, and the merchants won’t talk. Anything else I wanted to do before heading home? Hmm… I think I wanted to stop at the spice merchant, see how much- {interest} HELlo. Who is that?
{curiosity} What would a knight be doing here? I mean, I suppose the goblin raids have been getting more brazen, but the town guards seem to have it handled, I haven’t even needed to get involved yet. I guess he could be here about that, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe he’s just passing through? Well, best way to find out is to go talk to-
{quiet} Oh, damn. That’s- oh, damn. Fuck, he’s hot. {forced calm} Okay, composure. You are an all-powerful dragon. You will not be thrown off your game by one mortal, no matter how shiny his armor is. And it’s only his armor you’ll be looking at, right? Right. Ignore that beautiful face, you just need to find out what he’s doing here, not-
{suspicious} Wait. Who’s he talking to? {upset} The spice merchant? And she’s BLUSHING? Uh-uh. No. Not gonna fly.
{out loud} {sickly sweet} Hiiiii, hello! It’s me again, I’m here to pick up some- Oh? Who’s this? A new friend?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a conversation. Please, continue. I can wait.
{cough}
Oh, no, don’t mind me, just looking at… cumin. My, this smells awfully strong.
So sorry to barge in again, uh, I would like to buy these.
Are you leaving? Well, it was lovely to meet you.
{internal monologue} Okay, let me just finish up here, and I can go talk to him.
{pleased} Hah! Look frustrated, spice skank. Serves you right. {confused} Wait, do I know your name? Have I ever asked your name? Eh, doesn’t matter right now, I don’t need to know everyone in the village. {disgust} Especially not someone who flirts with- {confusion} Wait, what am I doing? I don’t have any claim over some random knight, why am I acting like this?
{frustrated noise} Figure out internal dilemma later, find human now. Where’d he go?
Agh! Curse this mortal form’s short legs, I can’t see- wait! Shiny!
{out loud} Hey! Hey! Wait up!
{out of breath} Whew… Thought I was gonna… gonna lose you… for a minute.
Thanks. Only need… a few seconds…
{composed} Hi. I’m Tiamat*.* Sorry to chase after you like that, but I realized I didn’t catch your name?
Oh, that’s a lovely name. It suits you.
{pleased} Oh, flatterer. {internal monologue} He’s smooth, isn’t he? I was expecting all muscle, no brain. I understand why the spice merchant was blushing now, I guess. {out loud} I just wanted to ask you… uh, I wanted to ask you what you were doing at the spice merchant’s? Usually passers-through don’t stop there when they can get their salt cheaper elsewhere.
Oh, that’s interesting! I didn’t know you could find that here.
Oh, no, I don’t spend very much time there. I mostly go in, buy what I need for my next few weeks of meals, and leave. Other places to be. More important places.
{laugh} Well. You certainly know the way to a woman’s heart. {internal monologue} A knight with both manners and a sense of humor… who’d have thought?
{out loud} Wonderful. So, what brings you to Wylgrith? It’s not a large settlement by any means, and well out of the way of… everything, really. What reason would a mighty royal knight have for stopping by? Were you sent to handle the goblins that-
{stunned} …Say what now?
The dragon? You were sent to kill the DRAGON?
Can you… not?
{off-balance} I mean- uh- Well, I don’t see why you would, do I? After all, the dragon hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, right? And even before that she didn’t harm any humans for decades. She-
I- uhhh… I guess I’m guessing she’s a ‘she?’ I did see her once, flying overhead, though, and she looked like a girl dragon. Kind of slender.
I… suppose ‘it’ works as well, yeah. {quiet, sad} A little hurtful, though…
{back on track} Nothing, nothing. So, why are you killing the dragon, again? I don’t think… it… has even harmed a human in living memory.
{sputtering} What? No it didn’t!
I- I think I would know if it burned down a village. I mean, this place is still standing, right?
A different- Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t have done anything like-
{quickly} No, no, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met the thing, right? But it hasn’t burned down this village, so why would-
{tentative} Oh. They said that?
Right to the king?
Right in the middle of court, where everyone could hear it?
{sad} I guess that settles that, then. The dragon needs to die.
{internal monologue} Damn. What a waste of such a handsome knight. There’s no chance he could possibly beat me on his own, so he’s going to end up- wait, on his own?
{out loud} {confused} And the king sent you? Alone, I mean? No army, or squad of knights, or cadre of mages? Why would he do that?
{awed} Oh. Oh, that is a very magic sword.
Well, no, I haven’t. But- but you can just tell, can’t you? It’s glowing! And it’s covered in some kind of weird letters, those have to be magical, right?
{internal monologue} {hesitant} Okay. That’s somewhat worrying. Even with all the useless sigils and that pointless glow siphoning its energy, I can feel the power rippling off that thing. Where did he ever find- No, that doesn’t matter. Could it level the playing field? Give him a chance? Hard to tell, I think, my senses in this form aren’t as-
{out loud} I’m sorry, what? I was distracted. Uh- it’s a very pretty sword.
{taken aback} That’s- that’s a good name for it. Very dangerous-sounding.
{internal monologue}{stressed} ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FANGBANE? HE FOUND FANGBANE? HOW IN THE- {forced composure} no, I’m calm, I’m calm, it’s fine. It’s not worrying at all that he has the most dangerous dragon-slaying sword ever forged. Wow, this very quickly went from “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to kill him” to “I don’t want to fight him, I don’t want to die.” Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
{out loud} Wow, it’s done that much? I never would’ve guessed that, it looks much too fancy for that. So… you can actually kill the dragon?
{hesitant} You’re right, I suppose. If it burned a village, it does deserve that. Well… *{resolve}*Do you know how to find its lair?
No, it’s not. If it was, everyone would be constantly in there robbing the hoard, wouldn’t we? Everyone knows that the lair is somewhere on the mountain, but no one knows where.
{triumph} Yes. Except me. And I’ll guide you there.
{reasonable} We already agreed, right? If it burned down a village, killed that many people, it needs to be put down. I want to help with that, and besides, you need someone to take you there. You’ll never find it on your own, so you can’t be too choosy about who you bring, can you?
I like hiking, and the mountain isn’t dangerous if you’ve known what you were doing since you were a child. I found it once, but I ran immediately, because I didn’t want to risk angering the dragon. I think I can find it again, but it’ll be a long trip. Three days at minimum.
{internal monologue} {satisfied} Perfect. A few days wandering in the forest should discourage him, maybe I can even convince him I didn’t burn any village. {confused} Why would he have been told… {moving on} Doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting him off my trail, and maybe getting to know him in the meantime… {upset} No! Stop that! Bad Tiamat! He’s literally trying to kill you. He is not a prospective mate, he isn’t even another dragon!
{sigh} {wistful} He is handsome, though, especially when the light catches his armor like that… No! Stop!
{out loud} {serious} We should set out soon, then. Do you have enough provisions for the trip?
Good, good. No time to waste, come on.
You’re hunting a dragon. A dragon. Don’t you think it might be wise to move before she- it catches wind of your presence?
Let’s go, then.
{some indicator of a time skip}
{amused} What, don’t tell me you’re getting tired? We’ve only been hiking for a couple hours today, aren’t you supposed to be a big, strong knight?
You could take off the armor, if it’s that hot.
{concession} All right, your decision. And I suppose wearing the armor was helpful when the tangler tree tried to grab you. Fine, we’ll stop for a bit.
How much is left in your waterskin?
Good, good. Mine’s pretty full, I haven’t felt thirsty in a while.
No, we’re definitely going in the right direction. {grasping at straws} I recognize… uh, that rock! Yeah. See how it kinda looks like a bear, if you tilt your head?
Really? Well, I see it. Anyway, I remember seeing that before. We’re about a day’s walk away from the lair, I’m almost certain.
You know, you never asked why I decided to hike in a random direction for three days. {internal monologue} {pleased} I have such a good story for it, too. It’ll leave you crying, and then maybe I can-
{out loud} {taken aback} You do?
What? You’re a royal knight, one of the most honored positions in the land. Why would you feel the need to escape?
{internal monologue} What? What was that? There for a second and then gone, was that… a crack in the charming exterior?
{out loud} No, no, I understand the feeling. I just… didn’t expect it from this quarter. Is something wrong at court? Are you-
{inner monologue} {protective} Oh… Oh his eyes… So sad… What did they do to you, my knight?
{out loud} Please, anything you can-
{confused} What? What’s wrong?
No, I’m not going to shush, we’re talking, and-
{muffled} Mmph! MMMMPH!
{inner monologue} {angy} This presumptuous human dares lay his hand on ME? I don’t care what might be inside him, I’m going to make it outside- {considering} Wait. What’s that noise?
That doesn’t sound like- oh. Oh, those are goblins. And he wanted me to be quiet, and now they heard us, and- oops. Why did I not sense them coming? Goblins wouldn’t know stealth if it snuck up behind them and ripped their legs off, I should’ve heard them from miles away. This doesn’t make any sense… Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few more goblins to kill. If he’d just let go of me… wait, but I don’t want to reveal myself. That makes this much more difficult. Can I kill all these green idiots in my human form? {concerned} Oh, wow, that’s… a worrying amount. Where are they all coming from? All right, I think I can take- wait, what? Human? What are you doing?
{out loud} Why are you getting in front of me? That is far too many goblins for any human to handle, we need to run!
{internal monologue} {flustered} Wha? What does he mean by that? And why does he have to be this handsome as he says it? That’s unfair!
{out loud} No- you can’t-
{internal monologue} {upset} Oh, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificial idiot! He’s gonna get himself killed if I don’t help him- wait, what?
{taken aback} He’s- oh, wow, that’s quite impressive. That’s- wow. I’ve never seen a human fight like that.
{confused} Huh? Why’s he looking back… Is he angry? What?
He’s yelling something… He wants me to run? Wha- {realization} OHHHHH- He thinks I’m in danger, and he’s trying to protect me! He wants to- {touched} aw. That’s the sweetest thing… My heart- {serious} I need to keep this knight alive.
{realization} Oh! I have to pretend to be running, yes. I can’t help him here, much as I want to. Besides, it looks like he has it handled. Those goblins aren’t laying a claw on him, somehow. Guess it was a good decision to wear the armor.
{planning} I’ll come back for him later, and he can be happy that he kept me safe, and maybe I can use that to find out what’s wrong with him, oh, looks like he’s just about finished with those- {shock} wut.
What is that.
That’s a- that’s a freaking hellhound! What in the Low Realms is a hellhound doing here?
{protective} Okay, no, unacceptable. I am not risking my treasure- {concerned} the human. The human! Why did I just think of him as- never mind, time for that later.
{whoosh sfx}
{roar}
{desperate} Oh no, please don’t let me be too late…
{out loud} {furious} Stay away from my human!
{crunch sfx}
{triumph} Hah. That’ll teach you.
Did you get the last of the goblins, sir kni- {wary} What are you doing.
Put that sword down, please, I’m not your enemy.
Okay, no, no, calm down, there’s no need to get worked up.
This isn’t helping anything, can we just talk?
{upset} OW! All right, this has gone far enough
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{sigh} {fading out} What am I going to do with you?
{some indicator of a time skip}
{cordial} Good morning, sir knight. As promised, I brought you to my lair.
Oh, yes, you must be confused.
{whoosh sfx}
There, is that better?
{resigned} Yes. It was me the whole time.
No, it wasn’t. If it had been a game, you would be dead right now. Instead you’re alive, unharmed, even unrestrained, in the middle of my hoard.
Or didn’t you notice?
{amused} Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Being surrounded by enough gold to fill a palace ten times over generally does the trick where humans are involved, or so I am informed.
{annoyed} Fangbane? The sword that slew more of my kind in two years than any other managed in thousands? You want it back?
Tch, no, but I would’ve if I could. That butcher’s blade should’ve been melted down long ago. Alas, it was impervious even to my fire.
I thought that was clear: no, you can’t have it back. You can have another sword, even a magic one, but not that atrocity forged in steel.
{considering} That would seem to be the question of the hour, yes. “What are you doing here.” Well… why don’t you tell me? You were sent to kill me, that much is clear. But much more isn’t. I would like… an explanation.
{annoyed} Oh, come on. You’ve been interacting with me for days now. Do I really seem like the type of person who burns down villages at random? That excuse is worthless… and… {suspicious} I think we both know it. You were sent here for some other reason. What was it? Tell me, before I grow cross.
Oh, I believe they didn’t tell you. But, though I think you like to pretend otherwise, dumb is one thing you are not. You know more than you’re saying, so answer me. Please. Why does the king want me dead?
{stunned} That’s- that’s it? Of all the petty, arrogant, stupid- I’m not even going to bother trying with that. {snort} And humans use dragons as symbols of greed.
{explaining something obvious} Yes. Because I like gold, its color, its luster. And because I enjoy living comfortably. {disgust} Not just… to have more than others.
Even if you don’t want to concede the difference, surely it does not escape you that I earned all of this, not just killed its old owner and stole it.
{offended} Of course I did! The very idea of taking something unearned… ugh.
{considering} You really know so little of my kind…
All of this, though… brings us back to you. You were sent here, presumably because you’re the kingdom’s best knight, the one with the highest chance of victory. You weren’t given any backup because there’s only one Fangbane. And you were fed a lie about me slaughtering innocents to make the job go down easier, but something in you knew that it was a lie. Tell me, am I hitting the mark with these?
So, my question becomes… why didn’t you? You had me at the point of your blade, and with a sword like that and skills like yours, you could’ve done it. If you wanted me dead, I would be, draconic magic and might notwithstanding. Instead, all I have is a scratch on my snout- {venomous} yes, that is the scar on my nose. Injuries do carry over, thank you so much for noticing.
{curious} And now you’re sorry. I don’t think I understand you at all, no matter how hard I try. Please, answer me. I want to.
Wha- {sigh} {exasperated} Well, if you were so certain it was a lie, why come here in the first place? If you felt you were given unjust orders, you could’ve just left the kingdom. Plenty of other places need knights, and there’s always work to be found as a sellsword. You risked much to gain… nothing, as best as I can see.
{dangerous} He… he what?
The king threatened to…
{cold} No. No, that is unacceptable.
No one threatens my human.
Yes, my human. I- {sigh} {warmer} I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I finally figured out what I’ve been feeling these past few days. At first, I thought it might be love, and, well, I suppose it is, of a kind: hoarding instinct. I feel hoarding instinct when I look at you. I saw you for the first time, and something in me just knew. You are the most precious treasure in this entire cavern, and I need to protect and keep you until the end of time, like the work of art you are.
{worried} Ohh, that’s not a good expression. Did I say something wrong? Come on too strong? I promise, living here won’t be bad at all, it’s quite a comfortable lair, whether I’m in human form or dragon. I maintain a good relationship with the villagers, too, so we can even go down to Wylgrith on day trips, as long as you don’t try to leave. You understand the importance of that, I trust.
{calming} No, no, don’t get all worked up. There’s no need to do something we’ll both regret.
Please, calm down. We’re both rational people, let’s discuss this as such.
{harder} Human, I don’t want to put you to sleep again. Don’t make me.
{pleased} Good, that’s much better. Now, what are your objections?
Mhm, mhm… {logical} Well, in point of fact, no, you don’t have a home anymore. If you go back without proof of my demise, the king will have you executed, will he not?
As I thought. So there’s nowhere else for you to be. As to your next point, of course I won’t keep you as a pet, you’re a sentient human. You have your own free will, thoughts, ideas, desires, the whole package. You would never be a pet. You will be my treasure. Very different thing, and it means I will want to keep you close, keep you safe, and stare at your radiance for as long as draconically possible.
{considering} Well, no, I haven’t heard of this. A living part of a dragon’s hoard? I believe it’s unprecedented, since nothing but gold lasts forever. Nevertheless, we’ll figure something out, we can make it work. And this doesn’t reflect strangely on me, you needn’t worry. I am one of the eldest dragons of this age, the young are used to my… peculiarities by now.
{pleased} Ah, yes, I wondered when we would get to that point. No, as a matter of fact, the king will not be sending other knights, or mages, or armies after me. I will not be killed like that, and you will not be reclaimed by them. And do you wish to know why?
{colder than ice} Because I am going to burn this kingdom to the ground.{amused} Naturally. I could overlook the attempt on my life - it brought me the most precious treasure I have ever known, after all, - I could forgive the use of Fangbane, since now I can make sure it never harms one of my kind again, I could even somewhat tolerate the blatant lies spread about me as flimsy justification. {angry} What I cannot accept, however, is what they have done to you. Threats on your life, on your body, on those you protect, promises of execution, forcing you to stain your soul against your will… no. No one is permitted to harm my human and live. This will, I admit, be something of a first for dragonkind, actually killing humans instead of protecting them is practically unheard of. I may even face repercussions from my kind for this. I find it hard to care, though, these ones are only getting what they deserve, for their actions or their complacence.
Now you’re getting upset again. {soothing} Don’t worry, this isn’t a sign of my outlook changing. I still have no desire to harm humans, and the village is perfectly safe.
We were communicating so well a second ago, if we could return to that, I would be grateful.
I promise you, this shouting and carrying on is nothing but counterproductive.
{tired} Sir knight, if you are not capable of being objective, I will be forced to- oh, forget it.
{magically resonant} Sleep.
{gentle} {slowly fading out} I truly am sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you fighting me on this. I don’t want you to be upset at me, treasure, so, by the time you wake, the cause of this contention will be gone.
Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s just a simple sleep spell, you’ll wake up comfortable and well-rested.
There. It will all be fixed before you awaken. Don’t worry, my treasure, nothing will ever harm you again.
2024.05.21 23:25 Far-War-3804 C01 DEEP STATE ADMIRAL CONVICTED OF TREASON. A COAST GUARD ADMIRAL and MILITARY LIAISON to DHS SECRETARY ALEJANDRO MAYORKAS has been SENTENCED by A MILITARY COMMISSION to HANG BY THE NECK UNTIL DEAD FOR TREASON and SEDITION, a GUANTANAMO BAY SOURCE SAID. March 2, 2024.
 | https://preview.redd.it/1o5qd7lzju1d1.png?width=704&format=png&auto=webp&s=7266d73b9a0150a3448b91feb5a63702f9bad4b2 submitted by Far-War-3804 to CourtofAges [link] [comments] C01 DEEP STATE ADMIRAL CONVICTED OF TREASON. A COAST GUARD ADMIRAL and MILITARY LIAISON to DHS SECRETARY ALEJANDRO MAYORKAS has been SENTENCED by A MILITARY COMMISSION to HANG BY THE NECK UNTIL DEAD FOR TREASON and SEDITION, a GUANTANAMO BAY SOURCE SAID. March 2, 2024. A Coast Guard admiral and military liaison to DHS Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas has been sentenced by a military commission to hang by the neck until dead for treason and sedition, a Guantanamo Bay source told Real Raw News. As reported last month, Marines happened upon Rear Admiral Michael Platt while laying a trap to ensnare Mayorkas in Eagle Pass, Texas. Although Mayorkas never arrived at the embattled border city, Platt’s presence there was viewed by White Hats as a consolation prize. Upon arriving at GITMO, Platt was offered two options: write and sign a written confession attesting to his complicity in Mayorkas’ plan to abolish physical borders and in helping the DHS track down law-abiding military personnel who were at the Capitol on J6, or answer to a military tribunal as an enemy combatant. If he had picked the former, JAG would’ve shown compassion—in the form of a 10-year sentence without the possibility of parole. But Platt had chosen the latter, which had no advantageous stipulations and carried a potential death sentence. He reportedly told JAG he’d sooner die than betray Mayorkas, the “finest lawman” he had ever known. “I answer only to the POTUS, Joseph R. Biden, and Homeland Director Alejandro Mayorkas, and I’m innocent of your made-up crimes,” he had told JAG staff at an initial interrogation. Our source said JAG expedited his trial date to demonstrate what fate would befall other treasonous officers who had or might have been thinking about violating their constitutional oath. JAG even denied Platt his uniform, saying he wasn’t worthy of wearing it and would appear in court festooned in a detainee’s attire—handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit, garb befitting a man of his tarnished achievements. At trial Thursday, Platt seemed mystified, then angry, to learn that Vice Admiral Darse E. Crandall had at the last moment delegated prosecutorial responsibility to a junior officer, a 33-year-old Navy captain whose name RRN was asked to omit from this report. “Where is Admiral Crandall? Where is the coward?” Platt said from his shackled position at the defense table. “Admiral Crandall is attending to important matters,” the captain replied. “So, he sends you? I’m an admiral. A rear admiral. You’re not qualified to adjudicate over me,” said Platt. “I believe you are in error,” the captain said. “Here you are, a detainee, with the rights and privileges afforded a detainee. That’s to say we decide your rights, or who is qualified. You should consider your place, and I mean that physically, as in looking around you, see where you are right now. You’re not in Kansas anymore. Here is your right: You have a right to stay in that seat and be silent until offered a chance to speak.” The captain faced the officer trio JAG had chosen to weigh the evidence against Platt. “I appreciate your time, gentlemen, and won’t take much of it today. On September 7, 2020, the detainee wrote and distributed letters to at least 65 Coast Guard officers in California, Hawaii, Maryland, and Virginia, reminding them to vote for Joseph Biden in the upcoming election. He wrote, and I quote, ‘I’m writing to remind you of the importance of voting for Joseph Biden and Kamala Harris in the 2020 presidential election. Trump has too much military support already, and its urgent we deny him additional support. He is destroying the United States from within, and only Joseph Biden and Kamala Harris can right the wrongs he’s inflicted on the nation. I would look favorably on officers who share my sentiment, and who share my sentiment with lower grades.’ His actions were nothing short of politicizing the uniform, weaponizing his authority, and it’s expressly forbidden. You have copies of this correspondence in your folders, and they’ve been authenticated,” the captain explained. Platt objected, saying he could explain the letter, and the captain allowed him to speak. “I sent the letters to friends, officers who had already told me they’d vote for Biden. I was just reminding them they told me they’d vote for Biden, and it wasn’t like I sent it to every Coast Guard member everywhere,” Platt said. “That makes no sense,” the captain said to the panel. “Why would anyone need to be reminded who to vote for? Did his ‘friends’ have amnesia? Dementia? Did they really need a mental nudge? No, of course not. What the detainee did do is incite insurrection, treason, mutiny. And this set a pattern of future misconduct.” Platt chewed on his lower lip, angry as a cornered beast. He stared lividly at the captain, at the panel, and at the two MPs flanking his seat. It was as though he saw enemies swimming in on him from all sides. “Detainee Platt, did you in any capacity help DHS track down any servicemember, active or retired, that was at the Capitol on January 6, 2021?” the captain asked him. “In 2021 Joseph Biden was president, and I did the job he and my superiors asked of me. Interpret that however you wish; I won’t help you incriminate me,” Platt said. “You’ve been an immense help,” the captain said. On a large screen, he displayed an image of an email, dated 3/5/2021, that Platt had sent to Mayorkas and FBI Director Christopher Wray. In it, Platt offered up the names of 15 service members who had attended President Trump’s speech on the Ellipse on J6, calling them “MAGA Trumpists,” “insurrectionists,” and “traitors.” Of the 15, the captain said, only five marched on the Capitol in peaceful protest, and none had engaged in violence or set foot inside the building. However, that didn’t stop the DHS and FBI from arresting all 15, 12 of whom, the captain said, were still unlawfully incarcerated at secret jails in D.C. “I did my job,” Platt mumbled, “and I’d do it again.” “Then tell this commission, please, what job it was you were performing when you were caught in Eagle Pass on February 13. Last time I checked, the Coast Guard didn’t have any ships in the Rio Grande,” the captain said. “My duty,” Platt said. The captain turned to the panel. “Detainee Platt was at the border representing the Department of Homeland Security. He was there to enforce Mayorkas’ instructions: encourage Customs and Border Enforcement agents to dismantle physical barriers near the Rio Grande, and to allow the unobstructed flow of illegal immigrants into the United States.” He showed the panel a text exchange between Platt and Mayorkas that JAG had pulled from Platt’s phone. “We control the border, not Gregg Abbott, not the Texas Military Department. You will be my representative. You will speak for me there. Make sure that razor wire, every inch of it, comes down,” Mayorkas had written. “I’ll do as you ask, whatever it takes to keep them open. Unifying the United States and Mexico into a single borderless country is what I want to see happen,” Platt had replied. “Treason. Mutiny. Sedition. JAG asks you officers to find detainee Platt guilty and recommend the maximum punishment,” the captain said to the panel. The panelists needed no time to debate a verdict; they agreed with the captain and said that Platt should hang for his crimes. “Secretary Mayorkas will have your heads,” Platt screamed as the MPs escorted him from the courtroom. “This isn’t over!” “It is for you,” the captain said. Platt’s execution is scheduled to take place on March 12 |
2024.05.21 23:08 rickrockster Roger Bacon - Prologue
Olá! It's me! I'm Rickle Pick! Hello everyone!
So, I’ve been listening to some stories about Neckbeards and Kevins, as well as some Legbeards and Kevinas (Is that the correct term??). Well, most of the times I listen to those stories, I am reminded of some people I used to deal with in school. Specifically, this time, the tale of a guy, who I’ll name Roger Bacon for reasons soon to be explained. Sorry for any grammar errors, eu falo português! I also don't really know the posting rules here, so I'll just post it and see how it goes lol
This prologue is more of a compilation of stories that I think is needed before we get to the main shenanigans and awkward situations this guy put himself AND me into. If this generates any interest, I will post more specific tales of this weirdo! Long time lurker, first time poster, english is definitely not my first language and the whole shebang. I also never wrote a text this large, so go easy on me!
THE LIST:
Well, I guess it’s usual to make a list of people that appear in those stories, so I’ll make one just for you!
Me: Your basic musician-type nerdy theater kid white guy! Tall, thin with medium-light brown hair. At the time, I usually wore a leather jacket and sometimes a hat (not a fedora, a Chaplin hat. Also, where I live, hats are an acceptable attire choice lol). I kinda looked like the Once-ler from Lorax. At this time, I had just failed my second year of high school because of… honestly just lack of effort, mixed with undiagnosed ADHD and a bit of lacking in the ol’ confidence and self-respect department. At the time, I also was physically incapable of saying no and had a crippling fear of disappointing people.
Roger Bacon: 168 centimeters (or 5,5ft for the uncivilized) of pure muscle! Or at least he thought it was that way. In reality, he did have some muscles but was kinda chubby and flaccid. Not FAT fat, but athletic fat (???). He was mixed, light skinned, had shaved short curly hair, no beard (except for the inside beard) and his face was a special kind of oval, besides having a, "chiseled jaw". He always smelled like he had just gotten out of a day-long brawl with a french cologne wearing burrito. He wasn't an usual neckbeard, but he was a huge attention whore. Thought too much of himself, as we say here in Brazil: “Promised too much, delivered nothing at all.” His moto was: “Dude, I think she’s into me!”
For now, these are the characters, as the focus is to introduce you all to Roger Bacon as a person.
With the list over, let us get to the story.
FEBUARY 2018:
The year of 2018 started pretty badly for me. I had just been held back from 10th grade, had no friends and didn’t really know anyone. As most people know, high school in Brazil is quite different from America, as we start school in febuary and we share the same class with the same people all day, excluding language classes and extra-curriculum activities. This meant that, for the foreseeable future, I was alone. On the first day of school, I shyly sat on the last desk on the far right corner of the room, as I scanned my classroom to see what I was dealing with. A few groups of people sitting together, talking and greeting their friends, some loners reading or playing on their phones. The artsy girl drawing a beauriful woman on the white board. Some guy drawing a penis right beside her. Perfect balance. A normal classroom.
Another difference between our school systems is that we don’t really have clicks based on like Jocks or Nerds or Pretty Girls, it’s mostly people who connected in childhood or matched personalities, instead of connecting through roles and interests within the school. Not saying either one is better, just different. And yeah, the bullying situation is just as bad. I was bullied for my whole middle school and through first year of high school, and made a very specific group of low profile friends. So when I failed sophomore year I thought to myself “Screw it, if I’m going to be held back, that’s at least a second chance for me to grow an acceptable social life.”
All this elucidates how intimidating it could be for someone to join a new classroom full of mostly new faces. If you were unable to make a friend, you’d pretty much be on your own for the whole year unless an already formed group “adopted” you. So my mindset was to at least try and meet new people.
Well, have you ever said “I’m gonna do this thing I’ve never done before!” And got the worst possible circunstance you could get at the very first attempt? Welp, that’s just what happened. My strategy was to start small, and go talk to only one person at first, and then try to interact with a few of the groups as that was a bit intimidating (fun fact: we call “clicks “panelinhas”, spelled “pah-neh-lin-ias”, wich means “little pans”, because, you know, they’re closed groups, like a closed… pan. Idk, anyway), so I went up to this guy in front of me, and that guy was Roger Bacon.
He was almost lying on his chair, on a cool guy pose while messing around on his phone. He was also wearing a black sports tank top with a grey opened sweatshirt and the standard uniform wine-red shorts that were mandatory in our school, which made him look like a short and jelly version of Rocky balboa mixed with Kick Buttowski.
In real life, my name and his started with sequential letters, and because of this, we would sit near each other for the whole year, so I guessed he’d be the best person to interact with. I also KINDA knew him because we had basketball training after class in like 2015 and I went to the same church as him, in which I befriended his brother, Kevin, slightly, but didn’t have much contact with him because he had already graduated (I have some stories about basketball and church so tell me if yall wanna read them lol). I approached and gestured for him to take of his headphones (They were extremely loud, so I could recognize he was listening to the song In The End by Linkin Park).
Me: Hey! Aren’t you Roger? You’re Kevin’s brother, right?
RB, trying to sound stoic: “Oh, hey Rick. Yeah, it’s me… fortunately for you.”
Me: “What do you mean?”
RB explained: “Well, I’m the cool brother! Kevin was lame, and also had no friends.”
Me: “Isn’t he in a band with [insert band members]? They seem to be his friends…
RB: “They might look nice, but they’re all assholes. Don’t let them fool you! I’m the nice brother, Kevin is a dipshit.
To elucidate you: that band he said was made of assholes was the Worship band of the church we went to. It was also the worship band that I occasionally played the piano with.
I said, jokingly: “Guess I’m an asshole then! Because, ya know, I play with them more often than not”
RB: “No man, it’s just them. They’re just so infuriating! They never let me participate!”
Me: “Wow, that’s weird… I mean, I didn’t know you were a musician too! What instrument do you play?”
RB: “I play the drums, piano, guitar, bass and I also sing. But Kevin keeps me out because he wants to be the 'star brother'!”
I could tell he got a little heated, and went silent for a little while. I decided not to mention the band or his brother in his presence, 'cause ya know, that was pretty awkward lol.
I remember thinking to myself “This guy’s kinda weird”, because his brother was one of the nicest people I had ever known, and he also didn’t have the say on who played on the band, the worship leader did. I thought about confronting Roger with this, but I didn’t want to abandon my quest of finding a friend. And also, he seemed chill at first, if not a little insecure.
I was a little uncomfortable with this line of conversation, so I opted to change the subject. We talked a bit more about me having been held back, and he went on about how he was really good at math and chemistry, and how he could help me with my school stuff.
I was glad to have someone to help me, and even more, someone who apparently liked the stuff I liked. I remembered what he was listening to, so I commented on it and asked which song was his favorite, and we talked about Linkin Park for a bit. He said “In The End” was his favorite song, and then I mentioned I was a huge Linkin Park fan. He told me he was a big fan as well, but as we talked about it, it became a bit fishy. He never specifically said anything and just kinda repeated what I said. It became clear after a while that “In The End” was, in fact, virtually the only song he knew from that band.
That was the first time I noticed something strange, but only in hindsight, as at the time I just thought he really wanted to make a human connection. I remember thinking he was just excited to know someone who was open to talking to him, so I didn’t think anything of it.
Also, not everyone memorizes this stuff, and maybe he did only remember one song, for whatever reason, so I let that pass. I only felt necessary to include this information because it was, at least in some way, the first lie that Roger told me, a little sample, if you will, of what’s to come.
After we talked for a while, mostly catching up on our lives, the bell rung and our first actual class had begun, and I had the first-hand experience of this guy’s sense of humor. The teacher walked into the classroom and introduced himself as the new Geography teacher, and started a power point presentation about some of the subjects we’d be covering that year, saying “Please pay attention to this class, as you’ll need to know how our schedule will work”. Roger looked back and said “Huh, I guess this class is useless for you then, being held back and all, hahah”, which made everyone look at me and just kinda stare like I should say something, and he kept repeating the joke to anyone that showed any reaction besides just staring, adding “Amirite? Huh? Amirite?”.
I was kinda salty about this, but my people pleasing peapod brain couldn’t handle letting it show, so I just laughed and said nothing. I guessed it was a poorly thought out joke at first, but then Roger proceeded to make the same comment on every single one of the opening classes we had for both of the introductory days. There were 12 of them. He did it every time. Every. Single. Time. Sometimes he repeated it even louder, as if he didn’t think people heard it, because no-one was laughing.
“Ok”, I said to myself, “He didn’t mean to make fun of me, he’s just a little overexcited and probably is trying to make a connection and help me get acquainted to our classmates.”
Either way, I was very uncomfortable and annoyed.
Thankfully, this came to a halt when he was practically thrown out of the Literature class for interrupting the teacher mid-sentence while she talked about how important the first month of class would be for our comprehension of the whole subject. He made the joke four times. FOUR TIMES. I was beginning to think that I made a mistake, but well, the mistake was already made, at least I can try and understand him a bit, before judging.
The rest of the week went by and he didn’t get any better, but I got kinda used to it. In fact, I actually enjoyed having conversations with him at recess, when we could talk a bit more freely. And, as all things in life tend to do, it got weirder. Weirder in the sense that as we spoke more and more, I noticed a bit of a concerning pattern: every time I shared an experience I had, he’d share a cooler and more awesome almost equal experience back.
Some light examples:
I told him I went hiking for 2-3 kilometers on a trail by the beach. Then he smirked and said he went hiking for “at least 7 kilometers on a deserted beach that only his father’s company’s employees had access to and he saw a Gorilla. There are no gorillas in Brazil. Maybe in zoos, I guess, but definitely no gorillas.
I told him I was kinda sad because I had just ended a “thing” with a girl from my old grade. He “proudly” said he’s been dumped by his ex, Laura, after they dated for 11 months and made out aaaallll the time after school, and he even saw her “lady parts” once!”.
And then he went on to describe that shit for like 3 straight classes, adding more and more to the story every chance he had to speak, providing me with my daily dose of cringe in tiny bits of uncomfortable information at a time! Like a sporadic cringe snack! Sninge! Crack? Probably Crack.
ANYWAYS
There was also the time I told him the story of how I became best friends with a guy because we got into a fight in P.E.. We were arguing about some nonsense and he wanted to fight, so after he socked me on my stomach, I cheaply kicked him in the face so hard I almost sprained my ankle and then we started laughing (because I guess sometimes that’s all it takes). Phillip is my best friend for almost 10 years now.
Roger puffed up his soap dish chest went on for at least 2 classes worth of time about how he “beat up his last bully and broke both of his arms, and almost went to prison, but his dad is a lawyer and bailed him out”. Dude was 16, and I don’t think he’d need to be bailed out, but okay… He was, in fact, very badass.
Those are all approximations of actual stories he told me, because my ADHD memory is shit, but you get the gist of it.
My days were filled with endless stories filled with absolute bullshit, like a Gary Stu from a dying rpg campaign. (I have a story about a DnD game he participated in, but that’s for another time!)
Roger, not content with lying to me about anecdotal facts about his past that could be true but were almost certainly mostly bullshit (if not entirely), had a tendency to just negate reality when presented with facts in certain situations.
And example of this situation is the time we were doing a group assignment and a girl at least 3 meters in front of him dropped her pencil and he just kinda threw himself on the ground, picked it up and said “Here you go, Lana!”. She said “Thanks Roger!”, barely turning around and carried on with the assignment. Roger, then, turned to me with a sleek shit feasting smirk on his face and said:
RB: “Dude, do you think she’s into me??”
I contained a ridiculing laughter just in time to realize he was dead serious.
I said “I don’t know man… Doesn’t seem like it to me, but sure I guess.”
RB then straight up asked ME to go talk to her and get HIM her number. When I asked why shouldn’t he do it, he said it was “the wingman’s job to get the number of the girl” so that he wouldn’t “look weak for asking”
I said I’d do it, cause I genuinely wanted to see if he was right about her liking him (I hadn’t really understood the dynamics of the classroom, so I actually had no idea if he was actually right, just a gut feeling that yeah, he probably wasn’t).
I went up to her and asked for her number, explaining it was Roger who was interested in her and, as I pulled out my raging 2014’s Sony XPeria, I was swiftly interrupted by her delicately saying “Sorry! I have a boyfriend.” (She said the boyfriend part out loud, and stared at Roger)
I said “Oh, ok, sorry to bother ya!” and, as I was starting to walk back, I noticed that she turned back and glared at Roger. Later that day her boyfriend texted him, telling him that “He’s got to stop asking her out, and next time, if he wants to get rejected, he should come do it himself” He called him a moron. And then they both blocked him.
Well, that was embarrassing.
Despite having been turned down (for the 6th time now, I’d come to find out), Roger still maintained that she was “totally into him”, and it wasn’t just Lana. Any time he had even the smallest interaction with any girl, he’d say that they’re “probably into him”, or that “they made out at a party, but she was drunk and probably won’t remember”, or that they “sent him nudes last year but he’s already deleted them because he’s a good person, with morals”.
This went on for a while and, after about a month, Roger begun to dial down the crazy stories about how he’s a “badass and he gets all the girls but he’s single because he’s too good for them”. Until I started seeing a girl from another church I started going to. I met Janice () at the churches youth group, and we talked the whole time afterwards about lots of stuff. This name’s given because of her insanely similar laughter and demeanor of Janice from Friends. We clicked well and I was very interested in her, but my ADHD ass forgot to get her number, and remembered it only when she had already left.
When I told Roger, he laughed and said “I had just cockblocked myself” and that I’d “probably missed my only chance of banging a girl ever”. I was bummed, but clarified I didn’t really want to have sex before marriage or at least before making an emotional connection (I had just then begun to go to church, so I didn’t really get the rules, so it was more of a personal choice I always had in mind when thinking about dating. Also I met her at church so wtf).
He said “that was dumb” and, “even though he was a virgin, he’d dance the Devil’s Tango with the first chick he had the chance to”
“What about Laura?”, I asked. His face went from a confident smirk to an almost sad expression, and he blankly replied: “She didn’t want to, but I tried anyway at times. I even got a blowie once!” I let it go because I was very tired, as Mondays are hell on earth.
A few classes later, I went up to him and reminded him of our conversation and asked:
I said “Ooookay, but what about all those girls you told me were all over you? Didn’t they want to have some bum bum times with you??”
He was taken by surprise by this, and was visibly trying so hard to think of an answer for at least 15 seconds. He mumbled “Well…”, and like just left. Like he got up in the middle of the class, and walked away. Well that was weird!
He got back and I didn’t pry, thinking he had some kind of trauma, and I tried to change the subject.
I say “tried” because instead we were suddenly interrupted by a girl asking me if I was Rick. I didn’t know her or how she had materialized beside our desks, but later I found out that that girl’s name was Mary. She had blue eyes and was smiling mischievously, and I answered “Yup, that’s me”. She then giggled and said that “Anna wanted to make out with me after class”. Me and Roger were both very much taken aback by this, and I immediately thought to myself that this could only be some type of dare or prank (which it probably was), and was about to try and respond with the first witty joke that popped up in my monkey brain when, without missing a beat, Roger said “Rick’s already seeing someone!”. Mary was visibly surprised and said “Oh, you have a girlfriend??” with a look of disbelief on her face. Ouch. I explained that I wouldn’t say I do, I just liked a girl from church and we’re going to see a movie with some friends on Saturday, and that either way it was a pass on the making out sesh! Mary said “Oh, okay!” and started to walk back to her desk. I was about to make a joke and say that Anna could probably do better than me, when Roger interjected:
RB: “I’d like a making out sesh if she’s interested!”
Mary looked back with a visible “Lol, ew no” expression and just said: “I’m sure you would, Roger!”, turned away and sat down, laughing with her friends when she got to her desk.
Roger turned to me and said:
RB: “Dude, do you think she’s into me?”
This cycle repeated once in a while, so I’m not gonna tell you all of the situations that I felt like shaking him and trying to wake him up like Woody does to Buzz Lightyear in Toy Story. Exhausting, right?
Another thing Roger tended to brag about was that he did Martial Arts. Specifically, Kung Fu (Wushu). I would come to find out that, in the year before, he made a big scene to tell everyone in class that he’d just started Kung-Fu classes and, when no-one payed attention, he started a habit of punching the wall beside his desk, audibly making “hmpft” noises. When anyone asked why, he’d say he was training, and that his Sensei (Not shifu, he actually said sensei) had asked him to do that to strengthen his fists so he could harness all the strength he had, so one day he could put a hole through a wall with his fists.
He would also punch the school’s fireproof doors because, if you didn’t know, they dent pretty easily, and he would show me and tell me to bask at his strength and ability. That until I said I’d give it a try. He told me not to, because “I wasn’t trained” and “it could really hurt my hand”. I punched the door. It made a dent.
Roger said it was beginners luck and that he’s just a good teacher. I told him I really didn’t even make an effort to pay attention, the metal was just bendy and soft. Roger never talked about it again, and started only punching walls. For that, he would feel superior because, yeah I ain’t doing that. There were consequences for his wall punching habits, but I’ll address that some other time.
The last thing I’ll say about him for now is how clueless Roger was, how much he thought of himself and how he treated everyone else like they should (and would) respecting for what he told them, and not for what he showed them.
(I plan on doing another part eventually, with the story of how his disconnection with reality, lies, schemes and generally narcissist behavior eventually exploded back into his face.)
As a last bit of exposition of our circumstances, there’s an important part of our school life that fueled Roger’s social life’s demise.
Pranking was a big part of my class’ culture. There were also some people in my classroom who were bullied. The thing is: the bullies actually made fun of literally everyone else, which made it very hard to figure out if you were considered a target or just a colleague. They’d mess with people’s stuff, tie backpacks to the windows and hide pencil cases, but they would also do it to their own group.
Essentially, the only way to differentiate those who they considered normal schoolmates from those who were bullied was the frequency of the pranks and their demeanor in general towards those people. They would apologize for the pranks, ask to make up for it, buy you lunch, make jokes, try to laugh with you. I swear some of those guys were politicians in the making. Luckily, was very good friends with one of the guys in that group, I’ll call him Turkey, who was also held back a few years before me, and he liked my sister, so I was mostly safe.
Roger, on the other hand, THOUGHT he was one of the pranksters. Every time someone pranked him or anyone else, he would laugh knowingly, like he was in on the joke the whole time, and try to make jokes, only to further humiliate himself. And they would capitalize on that as hard as they could.
You see, Roger liked to portray himself as the “Mysterious-Badass-Quiet-Protagonist-Take-No-Shit-From-Anyone-Mr.-Steal-Yo-Girl” guy. This combo of personality substitutes was the recipe for the downfall of his popularity, and the start of the longest lasting pranks I’ve ever seen in my life, which will come if yall want another post. That prank is also the reason I named him Roger Bacon.
Because he was so into Math and Science (and into himself too lol) he also always wanted to look like the smartest guy in the room. The problem is that, as our first semester went by, it became clear that he wasn’t as good as he hyped himself up to be. Shocker, right? This was proven to be true when we were doing a chemistry group test, and I was paired with him and Anna, and we needed to calculate some entropies or whatever. He made a point of telling us to do all of the “easy ones”, and he would take on the more complicated questions.
The thing is, he was trying really hard to look like a genius, to maybe impress Anna, so every time he made a calculation, he would roll his eyes up and kinda vibrate a little. I guess he wanted to look like a genius mathematics robot, but instead he looked like he was trying to imitate an autistic person having a small stroke. I didn’t mind the Good Doctor amateur impersonation, because at least it looked like he knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, it really just looked like he knew what he was doing.
Each easy question of the test was worth 1 point, and there were 4 of them, and there were 3 hard questions worth 2 points each. We got a 4/10 on that test, and lo and behold, the only questions we got right were the ones me and Anna worked on. We were a bit pissed, not gonna lie.
Until the last time we spoke, Roger still blames Anna for his complete failure at this test for, in his words, distracting him because she was obviously into him.
But that’s just Roger, I guess!
I've got A LOT of stories about Roger and other neckbeards I've encountered, and I can't wait to tell them!
Until then, thanks for reading, and have a good one yall!
submitted by rickrockster to ReddXReads [link] [comments]
So, I’ve been listening to some stories about Neckbeards and Kevins, as well as some Legbeards and Kevinas (Is that the correct term??). Well, most of the times I listen to those stories, I am reminded of some people I used to deal with in school. Specifically, this time, the tale of a guy, who I’ll name Roger Bacon for reasons soon to be explained. Sorry for any grammar errors, eu falo português! I also don't really know the posting rules here, so I'll just post it and see how it goes lol
This prologue is more of a compilation of stories that I think is needed before we get to the main shenanigans and awkward situations this guy put himself AND me into. If this generates any interest, I will post more specific tales of this weirdo! Long time lurker, first time poster, english is definitely not my first language and the whole shebang. I also never wrote a text this large, so go easy on me!
THE LIST:
Well, I guess it’s usual to make a list of people that appear in those stories, so I’ll make one just for you!
Me: Your basic musician-type nerdy theater kid white guy! Tall, thin with medium-light brown hair. At the time, I usually wore a leather jacket and sometimes a hat (not a fedora, a Chaplin hat. Also, where I live, hats are an acceptable attire choice lol). I kinda looked like the Once-ler from Lorax. At this time, I had just failed my second year of high school because of… honestly just lack of effort, mixed with undiagnosed ADHD and a bit of lacking in the ol’ confidence and self-respect department. At the time, I also was physically incapable of saying no and had a crippling fear of disappointing people.
Roger Bacon: 168 centimeters (or 5,5ft for the uncivilized) of pure muscle! Or at least he thought it was that way. In reality, he did have some muscles but was kinda chubby and flaccid. Not FAT fat, but athletic fat (???). He was mixed, light skinned, had shaved short curly hair, no beard (except for the inside beard) and his face was a special kind of oval, besides having a, "chiseled jaw". He always smelled like he had just gotten out of a day-long brawl with a french cologne wearing burrito. He wasn't an usual neckbeard, but he was a huge attention whore. Thought too much of himself, as we say here in Brazil: “Promised too much, delivered nothing at all.” His moto was: “Dude, I think she’s into me!”
For now, these are the characters, as the focus is to introduce you all to Roger Bacon as a person.
With the list over, let us get to the story.
FEBUARY 2018:
The year of 2018 started pretty badly for me. I had just been held back from 10th grade, had no friends and didn’t really know anyone. As most people know, high school in Brazil is quite different from America, as we start school in febuary and we share the same class with the same people all day, excluding language classes and extra-curriculum activities. This meant that, for the foreseeable future, I was alone. On the first day of school, I shyly sat on the last desk on the far right corner of the room, as I scanned my classroom to see what I was dealing with. A few groups of people sitting together, talking and greeting their friends, some loners reading or playing on their phones. The artsy girl drawing a beauriful woman on the white board. Some guy drawing a penis right beside her. Perfect balance. A normal classroom.
Another difference between our school systems is that we don’t really have clicks based on like Jocks or Nerds or Pretty Girls, it’s mostly people who connected in childhood or matched personalities, instead of connecting through roles and interests within the school. Not saying either one is better, just different. And yeah, the bullying situation is just as bad. I was bullied for my whole middle school and through first year of high school, and made a very specific group of low profile friends. So when I failed sophomore year I thought to myself “Screw it, if I’m going to be held back, that’s at least a second chance for me to grow an acceptable social life.”
All this elucidates how intimidating it could be for someone to join a new classroom full of mostly new faces. If you were unable to make a friend, you’d pretty much be on your own for the whole year unless an already formed group “adopted” you. So my mindset was to at least try and meet new people.
Well, have you ever said “I’m gonna do this thing I’ve never done before!” And got the worst possible circunstance you could get at the very first attempt? Welp, that’s just what happened. My strategy was to start small, and go talk to only one person at first, and then try to interact with a few of the groups as that was a bit intimidating (fun fact: we call “clicks “panelinhas”, spelled “pah-neh-lin-ias”, wich means “little pans”, because, you know, they’re closed groups, like a closed… pan. Idk, anyway), so I went up to this guy in front of me, and that guy was Roger Bacon.
He was almost lying on his chair, on a cool guy pose while messing around on his phone. He was also wearing a black sports tank top with a grey opened sweatshirt and the standard uniform wine-red shorts that were mandatory in our school, which made him look like a short and jelly version of Rocky balboa mixed with Kick Buttowski.
In real life, my name and his started with sequential letters, and because of this, we would sit near each other for the whole year, so I guessed he’d be the best person to interact with. I also KINDA knew him because we had basketball training after class in like 2015 and I went to the same church as him, in which I befriended his brother, Kevin, slightly, but didn’t have much contact with him because he had already graduated (I have some stories about basketball and church so tell me if yall wanna read them lol). I approached and gestured for him to take of his headphones (They were extremely loud, so I could recognize he was listening to the song In The End by Linkin Park).
Me: Hey! Aren’t you Roger? You’re Kevin’s brother, right?
RB, trying to sound stoic: “Oh, hey Rick. Yeah, it’s me… fortunately for you.”
Me: “What do you mean?”
RB explained: “Well, I’m the cool brother! Kevin was lame, and also had no friends.”
Me: “Isn’t he in a band with [insert band members]? They seem to be his friends…
RB: “They might look nice, but they’re all assholes. Don’t let them fool you! I’m the nice brother, Kevin is a dipshit.
To elucidate you: that band he said was made of assholes was the Worship band of the church we went to. It was also the worship band that I occasionally played the piano with.
I said, jokingly: “Guess I’m an asshole then! Because, ya know, I play with them more often than not”
RB: “No man, it’s just them. They’re just so infuriating! They never let me participate!”
Me: “Wow, that’s weird… I mean, I didn’t know you were a musician too! What instrument do you play?”
RB: “I play the drums, piano, guitar, bass and I also sing. But Kevin keeps me out because he wants to be the 'star brother'!”
I could tell he got a little heated, and went silent for a little while. I decided not to mention the band or his brother in his presence, 'cause ya know, that was pretty awkward lol.
I remember thinking to myself “This guy’s kinda weird”, because his brother was one of the nicest people I had ever known, and he also didn’t have the say on who played on the band, the worship leader did. I thought about confronting Roger with this, but I didn’t want to abandon my quest of finding a friend. And also, he seemed chill at first, if not a little insecure.
I was a little uncomfortable with this line of conversation, so I opted to change the subject. We talked a bit more about me having been held back, and he went on about how he was really good at math and chemistry, and how he could help me with my school stuff.
I was glad to have someone to help me, and even more, someone who apparently liked the stuff I liked. I remembered what he was listening to, so I commented on it and asked which song was his favorite, and we talked about Linkin Park for a bit. He said “In The End” was his favorite song, and then I mentioned I was a huge Linkin Park fan. He told me he was a big fan as well, but as we talked about it, it became a bit fishy. He never specifically said anything and just kinda repeated what I said. It became clear after a while that “In The End” was, in fact, virtually the only song he knew from that band.
That was the first time I noticed something strange, but only in hindsight, as at the time I just thought he really wanted to make a human connection. I remember thinking he was just excited to know someone who was open to talking to him, so I didn’t think anything of it.
Also, not everyone memorizes this stuff, and maybe he did only remember one song, for whatever reason, so I let that pass. I only felt necessary to include this information because it was, at least in some way, the first lie that Roger told me, a little sample, if you will, of what’s to come.
After we talked for a while, mostly catching up on our lives, the bell rung and our first actual class had begun, and I had the first-hand experience of this guy’s sense of humor. The teacher walked into the classroom and introduced himself as the new Geography teacher, and started a power point presentation about some of the subjects we’d be covering that year, saying “Please pay attention to this class, as you’ll need to know how our schedule will work”. Roger looked back and said “Huh, I guess this class is useless for you then, being held back and all, hahah”, which made everyone look at me and just kinda stare like I should say something, and he kept repeating the joke to anyone that showed any reaction besides just staring, adding “Amirite? Huh? Amirite?”.
I was kinda salty about this, but my people pleasing peapod brain couldn’t handle letting it show, so I just laughed and said nothing. I guessed it was a poorly thought out joke at first, but then Roger proceeded to make the same comment on every single one of the opening classes we had for both of the introductory days. There were 12 of them. He did it every time. Every. Single. Time. Sometimes he repeated it even louder, as if he didn’t think people heard it, because no-one was laughing.
“Ok”, I said to myself, “He didn’t mean to make fun of me, he’s just a little overexcited and probably is trying to make a connection and help me get acquainted to our classmates.”
Either way, I was very uncomfortable and annoyed.
Thankfully, this came to a halt when he was practically thrown out of the Literature class for interrupting the teacher mid-sentence while she talked about how important the first month of class would be for our comprehension of the whole subject. He made the joke four times. FOUR TIMES. I was beginning to think that I made a mistake, but well, the mistake was already made, at least I can try and understand him a bit, before judging.
The rest of the week went by and he didn’t get any better, but I got kinda used to it. In fact, I actually enjoyed having conversations with him at recess, when we could talk a bit more freely. And, as all things in life tend to do, it got weirder. Weirder in the sense that as we spoke more and more, I noticed a bit of a concerning pattern: every time I shared an experience I had, he’d share a cooler and more awesome almost equal experience back.
Some light examples:
I told him I went hiking for 2-3 kilometers on a trail by the beach. Then he smirked and said he went hiking for “at least 7 kilometers on a deserted beach that only his father’s company’s employees had access to and he saw a Gorilla. There are no gorillas in Brazil. Maybe in zoos, I guess, but definitely no gorillas.
I told him I was kinda sad because I had just ended a “thing” with a girl from my old grade. He “proudly” said he’s been dumped by his ex, Laura, after they dated for 11 months and made out aaaallll the time after school, and he even saw her “lady parts” once!”.
And then he went on to describe that shit for like 3 straight classes, adding more and more to the story every chance he had to speak, providing me with my daily dose of cringe in tiny bits of uncomfortable information at a time! Like a sporadic cringe snack! Sninge! Crack? Probably Crack.
ANYWAYS
There was also the time I told him the story of how I became best friends with a guy because we got into a fight in P.E.. We were arguing about some nonsense and he wanted to fight, so after he socked me on my stomach, I cheaply kicked him in the face so hard I almost sprained my ankle and then we started laughing (because I guess sometimes that’s all it takes). Phillip is my best friend for almost 10 years now.
Roger puffed up his soap dish chest went on for at least 2 classes worth of time about how he “beat up his last bully and broke both of his arms, and almost went to prison, but his dad is a lawyer and bailed him out”. Dude was 16, and I don’t think he’d need to be bailed out, but okay… He was, in fact, very badass.
Those are all approximations of actual stories he told me, because my ADHD memory is shit, but you get the gist of it.
My days were filled with endless stories filled with absolute bullshit, like a Gary Stu from a dying rpg campaign. (I have a story about a DnD game he participated in, but that’s for another time!)
Roger, not content with lying to me about anecdotal facts about his past that could be true but were almost certainly mostly bullshit (if not entirely), had a tendency to just negate reality when presented with facts in certain situations.
And example of this situation is the time we were doing a group assignment and a girl at least 3 meters in front of him dropped her pencil and he just kinda threw himself on the ground, picked it up and said “Here you go, Lana!”. She said “Thanks Roger!”, barely turning around and carried on with the assignment. Roger, then, turned to me with a sleek shit feasting smirk on his face and said:
RB: “Dude, do you think she’s into me??”
I contained a ridiculing laughter just in time to realize he was dead serious.
I said “I don’t know man… Doesn’t seem like it to me, but sure I guess.”
RB then straight up asked ME to go talk to her and get HIM her number. When I asked why shouldn’t he do it, he said it was “the wingman’s job to get the number of the girl” so that he wouldn’t “look weak for asking”
I said I’d do it, cause I genuinely wanted to see if he was right about her liking him (I hadn’t really understood the dynamics of the classroom, so I actually had no idea if he was actually right, just a gut feeling that yeah, he probably wasn’t).
I went up to her and asked for her number, explaining it was Roger who was interested in her and, as I pulled out my raging 2014’s Sony XPeria, I was swiftly interrupted by her delicately saying “Sorry! I have a boyfriend.” (She said the boyfriend part out loud, and stared at Roger)
I said “Oh, ok, sorry to bother ya!” and, as I was starting to walk back, I noticed that she turned back and glared at Roger. Later that day her boyfriend texted him, telling him that “He’s got to stop asking her out, and next time, if he wants to get rejected, he should come do it himself” He called him a moron. And then they both blocked him.
Well, that was embarrassing.
Despite having been turned down (for the 6th time now, I’d come to find out), Roger still maintained that she was “totally into him”, and it wasn’t just Lana. Any time he had even the smallest interaction with any girl, he’d say that they’re “probably into him”, or that “they made out at a party, but she was drunk and probably won’t remember”, or that they “sent him nudes last year but he’s already deleted them because he’s a good person, with morals”.
This went on for a while and, after about a month, Roger begun to dial down the crazy stories about how he’s a “badass and he gets all the girls but he’s single because he’s too good for them”. Until I started seeing a girl from another church I started going to. I met Janice () at the churches youth group, and we talked the whole time afterwards about lots of stuff. This name’s given because of her insanely similar laughter and demeanor of Janice from Friends. We clicked well and I was very interested in her, but my ADHD ass forgot to get her number, and remembered it only when she had already left.
When I told Roger, he laughed and said “I had just cockblocked myself” and that I’d “probably missed my only chance of banging a girl ever”. I was bummed, but clarified I didn’t really want to have sex before marriage or at least before making an emotional connection (I had just then begun to go to church, so I didn’t really get the rules, so it was more of a personal choice I always had in mind when thinking about dating. Also I met her at church so wtf).
He said “that was dumb” and, “even though he was a virgin, he’d dance the Devil’s Tango with the first chick he had the chance to”
“What about Laura?”, I asked. His face went from a confident smirk to an almost sad expression, and he blankly replied: “She didn’t want to, but I tried anyway at times. I even got a blowie once!” I let it go because I was very tired, as Mondays are hell on earth.
A few classes later, I went up to him and reminded him of our conversation and asked:
I said “Ooookay, but what about all those girls you told me were all over you? Didn’t they want to have some bum bum times with you??”
He was taken by surprise by this, and was visibly trying so hard to think of an answer for at least 15 seconds. He mumbled “Well…”, and like just left. Like he got up in the middle of the class, and walked away. Well that was weird!
He got back and I didn’t pry, thinking he had some kind of trauma, and I tried to change the subject.
I say “tried” because instead we were suddenly interrupted by a girl asking me if I was Rick. I didn’t know her or how she had materialized beside our desks, but later I found out that that girl’s name was Mary. She had blue eyes and was smiling mischievously, and I answered “Yup, that’s me”. She then giggled and said that “Anna wanted to make out with me after class”. Me and Roger were both very much taken aback by this, and I immediately thought to myself that this could only be some type of dare or prank (which it probably was), and was about to try and respond with the first witty joke that popped up in my monkey brain when, without missing a beat, Roger said “Rick’s already seeing someone!”. Mary was visibly surprised and said “Oh, you have a girlfriend??” with a look of disbelief on her face. Ouch. I explained that I wouldn’t say I do, I just liked a girl from church and we’re going to see a movie with some friends on Saturday, and that either way it was a pass on the making out sesh! Mary said “Oh, okay!” and started to walk back to her desk. I was about to make a joke and say that Anna could probably do better than me, when Roger interjected:
RB: “I’d like a making out sesh if she’s interested!”
Mary looked back with a visible “Lol, ew no” expression and just said: “I’m sure you would, Roger!”, turned away and sat down, laughing with her friends when she got to her desk.
Roger turned to me and said:
RB: “Dude, do you think she’s into me?”
This cycle repeated once in a while, so I’m not gonna tell you all of the situations that I felt like shaking him and trying to wake him up like Woody does to Buzz Lightyear in Toy Story. Exhausting, right?
Another thing Roger tended to brag about was that he did Martial Arts. Specifically, Kung Fu (Wushu). I would come to find out that, in the year before, he made a big scene to tell everyone in class that he’d just started Kung-Fu classes and, when no-one payed attention, he started a habit of punching the wall beside his desk, audibly making “hmpft” noises. When anyone asked why, he’d say he was training, and that his Sensei (Not shifu, he actually said sensei) had asked him to do that to strengthen his fists so he could harness all the strength he had, so one day he could put a hole through a wall with his fists.
He would also punch the school’s fireproof doors because, if you didn’t know, they dent pretty easily, and he would show me and tell me to bask at his strength and ability. That until I said I’d give it a try. He told me not to, because “I wasn’t trained” and “it could really hurt my hand”. I punched the door. It made a dent.
Roger said it was beginners luck and that he’s just a good teacher. I told him I really didn’t even make an effort to pay attention, the metal was just bendy and soft. Roger never talked about it again, and started only punching walls. For that, he would feel superior because, yeah I ain’t doing that. There were consequences for his wall punching habits, but I’ll address that some other time.
The last thing I’ll say about him for now is how clueless Roger was, how much he thought of himself and how he treated everyone else like they should (and would) respecting for what he told them, and not for what he showed them.
(I plan on doing another part eventually, with the story of how his disconnection with reality, lies, schemes and generally narcissist behavior eventually exploded back into his face.)
As a last bit of exposition of our circumstances, there’s an important part of our school life that fueled Roger’s social life’s demise.
Pranking was a big part of my class’ culture. There were also some people in my classroom who were bullied. The thing is: the bullies actually made fun of literally everyone else, which made it very hard to figure out if you were considered a target or just a colleague. They’d mess with people’s stuff, tie backpacks to the windows and hide pencil cases, but they would also do it to their own group.
Essentially, the only way to differentiate those who they considered normal schoolmates from those who were bullied was the frequency of the pranks and their demeanor in general towards those people. They would apologize for the pranks, ask to make up for it, buy you lunch, make jokes, try to laugh with you. I swear some of those guys were politicians in the making. Luckily, was very good friends with one of the guys in that group, I’ll call him Turkey, who was also held back a few years before me, and he liked my sister, so I was mostly safe.
Roger, on the other hand, THOUGHT he was one of the pranksters. Every time someone pranked him or anyone else, he would laugh knowingly, like he was in on the joke the whole time, and try to make jokes, only to further humiliate himself. And they would capitalize on that as hard as they could.
You see, Roger liked to portray himself as the “Mysterious-Badass-Quiet-Protagonist-Take-No-Shit-From-Anyone-Mr.-Steal-Yo-Girl” guy. This combo of personality substitutes was the recipe for the downfall of his popularity, and the start of the longest lasting pranks I’ve ever seen in my life, which will come if yall want another post. That prank is also the reason I named him Roger Bacon.
Because he was so into Math and Science (and into himself too lol) he also always wanted to look like the smartest guy in the room. The problem is that, as our first semester went by, it became clear that he wasn’t as good as he hyped himself up to be. Shocker, right? This was proven to be true when we were doing a chemistry group test, and I was paired with him and Anna, and we needed to calculate some entropies or whatever. He made a point of telling us to do all of the “easy ones”, and he would take on the more complicated questions.
The thing is, he was trying really hard to look like a genius, to maybe impress Anna, so every time he made a calculation, he would roll his eyes up and kinda vibrate a little. I guess he wanted to look like a genius mathematics robot, but instead he looked like he was trying to imitate an autistic person having a small stroke. I didn’t mind the Good Doctor amateur impersonation, because at least it looked like he knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, it really just looked like he knew what he was doing.
Each easy question of the test was worth 1 point, and there were 4 of them, and there were 3 hard questions worth 2 points each. We got a 4/10 on that test, and lo and behold, the only questions we got right were the ones me and Anna worked on. We were a bit pissed, not gonna lie.
Until the last time we spoke, Roger still blames Anna for his complete failure at this test for, in his words, distracting him because she was obviously into him.
But that’s just Roger, I guess!
I've got A LOT of stories about Roger and other neckbeards I've encountered, and I can't wait to tell them!
Until then, thanks for reading, and have a good one yall!
2024.05.21 22:34 AcceptableImage3506 I can't get a grasp on who I am.
This is a lot and I am sorry in advance for not being able to tldr this. i dont know whats going on. From a very young age I was taught a lot of things concerning how to treat people. The do's the don'ts and everything in between right? So I've led a lot of my life with those values being put first and then naturally I learned what a lie was. I never forgot and overtime I keep learning that people can do such horrible things and mask it all with a smile. Watching my mother go through things and seeing her say "It's okay, you just gotta be strong." is where it started. The silent urge in the back of my head to "be strong". I started to become obsessed with it and a lot of unhealthy practices started. At first I thought it was about knowledge so I became that "know it all prodigy" and found that I still got hurt by things. Then it was onto the next definition. And the next. And the next. I started exploring every single version of "strength" I could by putting myself in positions where I would get horribly hurt for doing something. All so I could try to teach myself the kind of strong that I thought would make me "invincible". No I never asked for help. Instead I wrote journal entries that were filled with manic ramblings about the one emotion I couldn't seem to wrap my head around. Being a teenage boy that was obviously love. I found a girl who I fell in love with, truly. We will call her Six. She gave me hell. I have never been in more mental anguish then when I was dealing with her. She had been treated horribly too by life and she was in shambles. I thought it an act of love to try to help her. "I can fix her" basically. The journey of "teaching myself" really started when I met her. From the age of 12 till now I spent so much time with her being used, manipulated, and hurt over and over and then going back to try and figure out where I went wrong.
I was laser focused on this. Surely someone else could see what I saw out of the world right? Someone had to.
I branched out and began dealing with other girls in my vicinity, emotionally experimenting with them to pick up bits and pieces to the puzzle of my twisted "bigger picture". And I forgot. I forgot every single girl I dealt with that wasn't her or an actual friend. Overtime, the initial goal of learning actually faded. I forgot it entirely because someone told me that I was hurting myself by dealing with her, something I had neglected to accept. I separated from her and as far as reality was concerned, I was a hurt boy being hurt by a hurt girl. I worked on myself and mentally I began to focus on the positivity that my mother initially instilled in me as a child. I stopped dealing with a lot of people and I completely forgot about that whole strength obsession. Might as well have been a phase but no. One heart break via someone else and some time later and now I'm in a new relationship. I was happy with this girl too. She didn't deserve any of what happened next. I found my old journals and I read them because I had forgotten they existed. I got sick a few days after that and it was bad. Like victorian child bad. Convinced that it had something to do with the old journals, I ended up leaving the girl. I felt like she would most certainly get hurt if she kept dealing with me. As fate would have it, I was back to better health in 2 days. I went through senior year with my positive streak, keeping a small crew close so I had friends and I met Six again. She said she changed and I believed her because I still had feelings for her. A relationship started and she put me through the same hell only it didn't take me 6 years to leave. I attempted to help her. I tried to give her everything she needed. I put my best foot forward for her only for her to continue to mistreat me at every turn. I was angry about it. Angry that the one thing I genuinely gave everything to was spitting in my face. I left after 6 months. Let me say that I have never been openly angry to anyone a day in my life until the day I left her. I was yelling in the middle of the road as she had tried to trap me into staying with her by showing up at my job. The thought started after that day. I began openly talking to myself. Poking and prodding at myself to hold her accountable for what she did instead of blaming myself for it. To get a get back or something. I always replied as if I was another person, reprimanding a friend for saying something really concerning. Then I started really paying attention to what I was saying to myself and I realized I was making sense. The negativity that I was speaking out made sense and now I was rushing to my journal to write out another entry. Reading that entry back I am concerned. Titled in bunched up letters, "iknowtoomuch" was an essay where I rambled about knowing too much about people and how they perceived life mentally, physically, and spiritually and that I could see people for what they could really be and how I could try to help them become their best selves and if they didnt want to, I would make them. Manipulate them even. I was convinced that I knew some guide to mental perfection and everyone else was the problem for not listening amongst things about hurting people who were labeled as "failures" by my standards.
And I am horrified. I can't unsee the words or unhear the things I said. I can't stop thinking about the goals that revealed themselves after I finished reading. The silent agendas in my head that kept telling me to let people use me, to smile and put all of that genuine kindness forth as some sort of weapon that people could use against me. Now I feel that I can't even look at some of my friends because I know they're only here as guinea pigs. People that have been hurt in various ways, sharing all of their problems and experiences with the "therapist friend" just so I can learn what makes a person tick at the end of the day. Then I offered them my sincerity by giving them genuine help that could nudge them in the right direction. It always made me happy to find that my thoughts and methods were helping people. Their lives were always perfect after they listened. And then there it is. Even now I'm talking in the same way as before because I can't get it out of my head now.
Am I my mothers son? Someone who helps people because he was raised to? Or am I crazy as hell and forcing my twisted and everchanging ideals on these people? Feigning kindness just to prove that my methods of being "strong" can work and that through controlling others I can be strong myself without having to lock my heart away. Whats even worse is that I can't even find a fault in the second statement. To me it sounds right! It sounds just! I don't know what to think anymore.
Then I ask myself, how the hell am I weaponizing being healthy? That part is what doesn't make sense to me. Isn't what I'm doing just helping people? Getting them out of tight spots by telling them better and healthier things to do? That's what it feels like. Then it gets worse. And I remind myself that I wrote;
"I know so much. You. Reading this. I know you. I know you so well that you reading this was something I orchestrated. Every person I interact with, I see every possibility for what or who they truly are. I spend my days worrying about what the next person could do to me. What I could do to them."
and now I know that I can hurt people as well as help them and the idea that I can just flip the switch becomes intoxicating. Then I'm horrified at myself all over again.
submitted by AcceptableImage3506 to mentalhealth [link] [comments]
I was laser focused on this. Surely someone else could see what I saw out of the world right? Someone had to.
I branched out and began dealing with other girls in my vicinity, emotionally experimenting with them to pick up bits and pieces to the puzzle of my twisted "bigger picture". And I forgot. I forgot every single girl I dealt with that wasn't her or an actual friend. Overtime, the initial goal of learning actually faded. I forgot it entirely because someone told me that I was hurting myself by dealing with her, something I had neglected to accept. I separated from her and as far as reality was concerned, I was a hurt boy being hurt by a hurt girl. I worked on myself and mentally I began to focus on the positivity that my mother initially instilled in me as a child. I stopped dealing with a lot of people and I completely forgot about that whole strength obsession. Might as well have been a phase but no. One heart break via someone else and some time later and now I'm in a new relationship. I was happy with this girl too. She didn't deserve any of what happened next. I found my old journals and I read them because I had forgotten they existed. I got sick a few days after that and it was bad. Like victorian child bad. Convinced that it had something to do with the old journals, I ended up leaving the girl. I felt like she would most certainly get hurt if she kept dealing with me. As fate would have it, I was back to better health in 2 days. I went through senior year with my positive streak, keeping a small crew close so I had friends and I met Six again. She said she changed and I believed her because I still had feelings for her. A relationship started and she put me through the same hell only it didn't take me 6 years to leave. I attempted to help her. I tried to give her everything she needed. I put my best foot forward for her only for her to continue to mistreat me at every turn. I was angry about it. Angry that the one thing I genuinely gave everything to was spitting in my face. I left after 6 months. Let me say that I have never been openly angry to anyone a day in my life until the day I left her. I was yelling in the middle of the road as she had tried to trap me into staying with her by showing up at my job. The thought started after that day. I began openly talking to myself. Poking and prodding at myself to hold her accountable for what she did instead of blaming myself for it. To get a get back or something. I always replied as if I was another person, reprimanding a friend for saying something really concerning. Then I started really paying attention to what I was saying to myself and I realized I was making sense. The negativity that I was speaking out made sense and now I was rushing to my journal to write out another entry. Reading that entry back I am concerned. Titled in bunched up letters, "iknowtoomuch" was an essay where I rambled about knowing too much about people and how they perceived life mentally, physically, and spiritually and that I could see people for what they could really be and how I could try to help them become their best selves and if they didnt want to, I would make them. Manipulate them even. I was convinced that I knew some guide to mental perfection and everyone else was the problem for not listening amongst things about hurting people who were labeled as "failures" by my standards.
And I am horrified. I can't unsee the words or unhear the things I said. I can't stop thinking about the goals that revealed themselves after I finished reading. The silent agendas in my head that kept telling me to let people use me, to smile and put all of that genuine kindness forth as some sort of weapon that people could use against me. Now I feel that I can't even look at some of my friends because I know they're only here as guinea pigs. People that have been hurt in various ways, sharing all of their problems and experiences with the "therapist friend" just so I can learn what makes a person tick at the end of the day. Then I offered them my sincerity by giving them genuine help that could nudge them in the right direction. It always made me happy to find that my thoughts and methods were helping people. Their lives were always perfect after they listened. And then there it is. Even now I'm talking in the same way as before because I can't get it out of my head now.
Am I my mothers son? Someone who helps people because he was raised to? Or am I crazy as hell and forcing my twisted and everchanging ideals on these people? Feigning kindness just to prove that my methods of being "strong" can work and that through controlling others I can be strong myself without having to lock my heart away. Whats even worse is that I can't even find a fault in the second statement. To me it sounds right! It sounds just! I don't know what to think anymore.
Then I ask myself, how the hell am I weaponizing being healthy? That part is what doesn't make sense to me. Isn't what I'm doing just helping people? Getting them out of tight spots by telling them better and healthier things to do? That's what it feels like. Then it gets worse. And I remind myself that I wrote;
"I know so much. You. Reading this. I know you. I know you so well that you reading this was something I orchestrated. Every person I interact with, I see every possibility for what or who they truly are. I spend my days worrying about what the next person could do to me. What I could do to them."
and now I know that I can hurt people as well as help them and the idea that I can just flip the switch becomes intoxicating. Then I'm horrified at myself all over again.
2024.05.21 22:24 Choice-Possession-55 Was I abused as a kid?
I believe I was. I’ve told friends about my life and I’ve talked to my parents about their treatment, but I keep getting told other people have it worse or I didn’t have it that bad. I wonder if I’m just being dramatic.
Some non-chronological events:
I would ride along with my mom searching for my dad when he would go on drug binges. I watched my dad hit my grandma over and over after he had to turn the car around because he forgot his wallet at home. She started "talking too much". After he beat her, she laid across the backseat in silence. I was silent too. I wished for superpowers so that when he hit her, I would be the one to feel her pain instead. I screamed at the crackhead women my dad invited into the house after he was gone on a drug binge. She threatened to throw me out of the window. My dad stayed silent. My dad invited that same women into the house a few months later, because she apologized to him. My dad used to give me frequent back scratches. He would trail his hand down my back and rub the area just above my butt. My dad was inebriated and knocking on each of our bedroom doors. My mom texted me to not open my bedroom door for him but I needed to pee. By the time I came back, he had a blanket on the ground and was asleep. My stomach sunk. I slept under the bed. My mom dragged her fingernails across my face and asked what I was going to do about it and if I was going to fight back. My dad called me a waste of brain cells because he went down the wrong way in a one way street going to a fair. He turned around and drove home. I locked myself in my room and sobbed and texted my mom that I didn't want to live anymore. I woke up in the hospital after my suicide attempt to my dad in the room. The first thing he said to me was that I must really care what people think about me. In a drafted suicide note, I addressed each person in my life except my mom. My mom found it in my room and photocopied it. She wrote notes on the side and was upset that I didn't write to her. My dad threatened to give me and my sibling up to adopt some children who would actually spend time with him. My dad badmouthed me to a date when I was in the backseat of his car. I filled out a sheet in elementary school for fun with my friends. It was for something like a summer camp. My mom chased me throughout the house and snatched it. She asked if I was trying to send myself away. My dad told me to not tell authorities about him because I'd get taken away. My mom told me I needed to go home. I cried on the way home because I thought she was going to kill herself after she stopped responding to my texts. She left scavenger hunt instructions for the key to her bedroom. Inside her bedroom were letters to each of us detailing that she was leaving my dad. I didn't see her again for months.
submitted by Choice-Possession-55 to raisedbynarcissists [link] [comments]
Some non-chronological events:
I would ride along with my mom searching for my dad when he would go on drug binges. I watched my dad hit my grandma over and over after he had to turn the car around because he forgot his wallet at home. She started "talking too much". After he beat her, she laid across the backseat in silence. I was silent too. I wished for superpowers so that when he hit her, I would be the one to feel her pain instead. I screamed at the crackhead women my dad invited into the house after he was gone on a drug binge. She threatened to throw me out of the window. My dad stayed silent. My dad invited that same women into the house a few months later, because she apologized to him. My dad used to give me frequent back scratches. He would trail his hand down my back and rub the area just above my butt. My dad was inebriated and knocking on each of our bedroom doors. My mom texted me to not open my bedroom door for him but I needed to pee. By the time I came back, he had a blanket on the ground and was asleep. My stomach sunk. I slept under the bed. My mom dragged her fingernails across my face and asked what I was going to do about it and if I was going to fight back. My dad called me a waste of brain cells because he went down the wrong way in a one way street going to a fair. He turned around and drove home. I locked myself in my room and sobbed and texted my mom that I didn't want to live anymore. I woke up in the hospital after my suicide attempt to my dad in the room. The first thing he said to me was that I must really care what people think about me. In a drafted suicide note, I addressed each person in my life except my mom. My mom found it in my room and photocopied it. She wrote notes on the side and was upset that I didn't write to her. My dad threatened to give me and my sibling up to adopt some children who would actually spend time with him. My dad badmouthed me to a date when I was in the backseat of his car. I filled out a sheet in elementary school for fun with my friends. It was for something like a summer camp. My mom chased me throughout the house and snatched it. She asked if I was trying to send myself away. My dad told me to not tell authorities about him because I'd get taken away. My mom told me I needed to go home. I cried on the way home because I thought she was going to kill herself after she stopped responding to my texts. She left scavenger hunt instructions for the key to her bedroom. Inside her bedroom were letters to each of us detailing that she was leaving my dad. I didn't see her again for months.
2024.05.21 22:22 lilmalchek Got fired, the reason was a lie, and now they’re ghosting me. What can I do?
I was a product designer for an edtech company for over 4 years. The last year and a half has been absolutely horrible - the small product team lost the other product designer, both PMs, and many of the leadership positions including vp of product. The replacement head of product had no experience in tech, but lots of experience in academia (perhaps this should have been a huge red flag). So this person became my manager, as well as the manager of the 2 new PMs.
In the year this new person was manager: -it became clear they had no idea how to manage a designer, or provide feedback, or provide a path for growth - they told me there was no money to backfill the other designer position, or to give me a raise or promotion, but then proceeded to promote 5 engineers and hire two new ones. - they spent weeks coming up with a new business model and product idea that, once work began, was micro managed and turbulent (with regular pauses because company leadership wasn’t aligned) - they literally wouldn’t let us do any sort of research or testing, which caused a lot of friction and definitely got heated a few times - they had no idea what design actually is and constantly asked me to add some delight, while keeping me from getting hints in my job description - they regularly assured me I was doing great, especially every time so brought up the stress I was under, my mental health, and the unsubstianbke pace of design work they asked of me (yet which I continuously met) -they presented constant roadblocks not just to me but to the pm and head engineer as the 3 of us tried to figure out how to try and deliver what they wanted without relying on only assumptions and guesses. -they acted as if they knew everything about how product and design work, and ben though they had no experience. Me, the PM and the head engineer regularly struggled with how to work around or steer them so that we could just do the bare minimum of our jobs. Eventually, the PM and engineer stopped pushing back so much, as we all lost morale and just wanted to get though this huge project /new product release. - they terminated my employment without warning after I delivered the final major piece of the new product (after which I was going on vacation to get married and rest, and then things could slow down, I was assured.)
The kicker is that the reason used was for sharing proprietary information on my portfolio. They said I had the new product on my site. I have proof I didn’t but they pushed back and provided no opportunity ro explain or even ask questions.
It’s clear my incompetent manager got tired of me pushing back, but it burns they lied about the reason and went nuclear without any prior warning. I was honestly flabbergasted. I’ve gotten help from a lawyer friend who has sent one letter but it’s been silent. We’re going to try one more but at this point I feel like this whole system is in their favor and I guess I just needed to vent as I prepare for the possibility that nothing will come from this - no justice or even just.. treating me like a person.
I guess I shouldn’t expect any different after the way I was treated the past year.
I’m really not sure what I’m going to accomplish with posting this. I’m just feeling kinda bitter and hopeless about it all… But if anyone has a similar experience to share, or advice/thoughts, or just a way I can get past this… please share!
Thanks everyone.
submitted by lilmalchek to jobs [link] [comments]
In the year this new person was manager: -it became clear they had no idea how to manage a designer, or provide feedback, or provide a path for growth - they told me there was no money to backfill the other designer position, or to give me a raise or promotion, but then proceeded to promote 5 engineers and hire two new ones. - they spent weeks coming up with a new business model and product idea that, once work began, was micro managed and turbulent (with regular pauses because company leadership wasn’t aligned) - they literally wouldn’t let us do any sort of research or testing, which caused a lot of friction and definitely got heated a few times - they had no idea what design actually is and constantly asked me to add some delight, while keeping me from getting hints in my job description - they regularly assured me I was doing great, especially every time so brought up the stress I was under, my mental health, and the unsubstianbke pace of design work they asked of me (yet which I continuously met) -they presented constant roadblocks not just to me but to the pm and head engineer as the 3 of us tried to figure out how to try and deliver what they wanted without relying on only assumptions and guesses. -they acted as if they knew everything about how product and design work, and ben though they had no experience. Me, the PM and the head engineer regularly struggled with how to work around or steer them so that we could just do the bare minimum of our jobs. Eventually, the PM and engineer stopped pushing back so much, as we all lost morale and just wanted to get though this huge project /new product release. - they terminated my employment without warning after I delivered the final major piece of the new product (after which I was going on vacation to get married and rest, and then things could slow down, I was assured.)
The kicker is that the reason used was for sharing proprietary information on my portfolio. They said I had the new product on my site. I have proof I didn’t but they pushed back and provided no opportunity ro explain or even ask questions.
It’s clear my incompetent manager got tired of me pushing back, but it burns they lied about the reason and went nuclear without any prior warning. I was honestly flabbergasted. I’ve gotten help from a lawyer friend who has sent one letter but it’s been silent. We’re going to try one more but at this point I feel like this whole system is in their favor and I guess I just needed to vent as I prepare for the possibility that nothing will come from this - no justice or even just.. treating me like a person.
I guess I shouldn’t expect any different after the way I was treated the past year.
I’m really not sure what I’m going to accomplish with posting this. I’m just feeling kinda bitter and hopeless about it all… But if anyone has a similar experience to share, or advice/thoughts, or just a way I can get past this… please share!
Thanks everyone.
2024.05.21 21:24 Efficient_Divide7702 Why do I feel guilty over giving my mother silent treatment?
I (30F) have always had a rocky relationship with my parents. Being the only child, I had to play therapist and dealt with their helicopter parenting. I was never able to sustain emotional connections and friendships due to me not being able to hang out with friends, etc.
My mother's rule was "friends need to stay at school." I was not allowed to wear certain clothing. I wanted to wear skirts and dresses (when i first wore one, it resulted in a 4 day fight and silent treatment). Never was allowed to go out or just simple dates until I begged and cried to let me go. Never was able to have a relationship until 22, and that was a shitshow in the start as well.
I was, however, in school clubs and could get away with it because it counted towards school credits and would help me get some scholarships.
My dad would let me have some freedom as he pushed me to go on a school trip overseas (chaperoned by school staff) through a HS program. My mom had issues initially but didn't say much as my dad was on my side. My dad sometimes would agree with her just to agree or get influenced as well on certain things because she then would give him a silent treatment as well.
Anyway, I wanted to get a job as I was transitioning from HS to college, and again, it was a huge thing. She convinced my father that it was a bad decision that I worked. And won't focus on school. Mind you was a honor roll student throughout HS. I was able to get my first job again through a loophole at school where I could also get credits for working if my supervisor gave me good evaluations and got paid. I didn't get my driver's license until later on, so she would have to drop and pick me up EVERYWHERE, so i rushed to finally get one. I wanted to move away for college thinking that I would be able to have more freedom, but then they moved with me to save money on room and board. I would sometimes have evening classes, and sometimes, my mother would stand outside if I was even a little late from college (I am 21 at this point) coming back. Couldn't make new friends at school, had to beg my mom let me go out so friendships would always fall out.
I learned quickly that the only way I could get control over my life is my moving out. So I got a full time job (another huge issue) when I was in my last year of college, I started applying like crazy to be in a different cities to get my foot in the door for my career. And I was able to get a job and move away.
A thing to note is that I had to do this quickly when my mother was out of the country. Otherwise, as always, it was going to be a huge issue. She had a huge problem with it, of course, once she found out and kept telling my father to stop me (he was not with her when she was out of the country). It was all like "why she always like this? Why can't she sit still at home?"You are letting her get in trouble," etc. My dad was whatever, as he didn't think I would actually get the job, but I did. I still remember they thought the offer letter was fake and tried to verify it. It was legit, and so I moved.
Soon, my bf moved in with me to the new city (another problem initially). But it died down a lot, and she toned down her behavior whenever he would be around. Image is a huge thing for her.
But still would still take jabs under the table (like when i got a small tattoo and colored my hair). I ignored it because if she was direct about it, I didn't want to address it.
The final straw that broke me was last week, I had been in contact with some friends that I made who also moved away for college, etc. This was a friend who kind of understood me as her mother was like that too, but she moved to be next to her father and away from her mom.
So she suggested that we can go to a festival together since she just finished her masters degree. I was elated and said yes. I am currently in my masters program, so I felt I deserved a little break.
Also, through therapy I realized that my relationship with my bf was very codependent and clingy and we have had problems due to that a lot so I wanted to work on myself and do my own things to get better to be more emotionally independent.
I mentioned it to her that I am thinking of going to the festival to another country depending on time off and money.
She kept asking where I didn't tell her where because I sensed it was going somewhere.
She started by saying if I asked my bf if he was okay with me going. Recently, I have noticed she usually says that when I do something, she doesn't agree with it, and when i say he has no problem with it doesn't seem to digest well with her. I told her first I don't need permission, and second, he is okay with it as he will be with his friends.
Then she got furious and said that no, I can't go and if I did she would never talk to me again. I was confused because this is not someone I met like online like 2 days ago. It was actually one of my best friends in middle and HS school that I had before we both moved away and kept contact through the phone. Also, I am 30 freaking years old.
She then continued that if I had to go, it would have to be with my bf only. I told her that was ridiculous and I was not asking for permission or money. I was just informing her, and then she lectured me about always starting something new, and one day, I would get in trouble, etc. and lose my job and everything.
So I went off on her and asked exactly what the problem was. Why did she always had an issue with everything. She has been emotionally unavailable throughout my childhood, pushed me away when I needed her, and used me as a catharsis whenever issues occurred between her and my father. When i would confront my father, she would quickly switch sides, leaving be baffled. If I used to cry, she would tell me I was faking it with crocodile tears. She has no friends so I still let it go and talked to her because at the end of the day I feel guilty and now I am an adult and still didn't want a strained relationship with her.
TLDR: My mother who has always been controlling, told me, a 30 year old that if I traveled with anyone other than my bf she won't talk to me again as I would get myself in trouble. I feel guilty for giving the silent treatment to her as I have always been the one that reaches out first after these situations. How do I cope with this feeling? I have been thinking that maybe I was in the wrong and should just talk to her, apologize, and tell her I am not going.
submitted by Efficient_Divide7702 to helicopterparents [link] [comments]
My mother's rule was "friends need to stay at school." I was not allowed to wear certain clothing. I wanted to wear skirts and dresses (when i first wore one, it resulted in a 4 day fight and silent treatment). Never was allowed to go out or just simple dates until I begged and cried to let me go. Never was able to have a relationship until 22, and that was a shitshow in the start as well.
I was, however, in school clubs and could get away with it because it counted towards school credits and would help me get some scholarships.
My dad would let me have some freedom as he pushed me to go on a school trip overseas (chaperoned by school staff) through a HS program. My mom had issues initially but didn't say much as my dad was on my side. My dad sometimes would agree with her just to agree or get influenced as well on certain things because she then would give him a silent treatment as well.
Anyway, I wanted to get a job as I was transitioning from HS to college, and again, it was a huge thing. She convinced my father that it was a bad decision that I worked. And won't focus on school. Mind you was a honor roll student throughout HS. I was able to get my first job again through a loophole at school where I could also get credits for working if my supervisor gave me good evaluations and got paid. I didn't get my driver's license until later on, so she would have to drop and pick me up EVERYWHERE, so i rushed to finally get one. I wanted to move away for college thinking that I would be able to have more freedom, but then they moved with me to save money on room and board. I would sometimes have evening classes, and sometimes, my mother would stand outside if I was even a little late from college (I am 21 at this point) coming back. Couldn't make new friends at school, had to beg my mom let me go out so friendships would always fall out.
I learned quickly that the only way I could get control over my life is my moving out. So I got a full time job (another huge issue) when I was in my last year of college, I started applying like crazy to be in a different cities to get my foot in the door for my career. And I was able to get a job and move away.
A thing to note is that I had to do this quickly when my mother was out of the country. Otherwise, as always, it was going to be a huge issue. She had a huge problem with it, of course, once she found out and kept telling my father to stop me (he was not with her when she was out of the country). It was all like "why she always like this? Why can't she sit still at home?"You are letting her get in trouble," etc. My dad was whatever, as he didn't think I would actually get the job, but I did. I still remember they thought the offer letter was fake and tried to verify it. It was legit, and so I moved.
Soon, my bf moved in with me to the new city (another problem initially). But it died down a lot, and she toned down her behavior whenever he would be around. Image is a huge thing for her.
But still would still take jabs under the table (like when i got a small tattoo and colored my hair). I ignored it because if she was direct about it, I didn't want to address it.
The final straw that broke me was last week, I had been in contact with some friends that I made who also moved away for college, etc. This was a friend who kind of understood me as her mother was like that too, but she moved to be next to her father and away from her mom.
So she suggested that we can go to a festival together since she just finished her masters degree. I was elated and said yes. I am currently in my masters program, so I felt I deserved a little break.
Also, through therapy I realized that my relationship with my bf was very codependent and clingy and we have had problems due to that a lot so I wanted to work on myself and do my own things to get better to be more emotionally independent.
I mentioned it to her that I am thinking of going to the festival to another country depending on time off and money.
She kept asking where I didn't tell her where because I sensed it was going somewhere.
She started by saying if I asked my bf if he was okay with me going. Recently, I have noticed she usually says that when I do something, she doesn't agree with it, and when i say he has no problem with it doesn't seem to digest well with her. I told her first I don't need permission, and second, he is okay with it as he will be with his friends.
Then she got furious and said that no, I can't go and if I did she would never talk to me again. I was confused because this is not someone I met like online like 2 days ago. It was actually one of my best friends in middle and HS school that I had before we both moved away and kept contact through the phone. Also, I am 30 freaking years old.
She then continued that if I had to go, it would have to be with my bf only. I told her that was ridiculous and I was not asking for permission or money. I was just informing her, and then she lectured me about always starting something new, and one day, I would get in trouble, etc. and lose my job and everything.
So I went off on her and asked exactly what the problem was. Why did she always had an issue with everything. She has been emotionally unavailable throughout my childhood, pushed me away when I needed her, and used me as a catharsis whenever issues occurred between her and my father. When i would confront my father, she would quickly switch sides, leaving be baffled. If I used to cry, she would tell me I was faking it with crocodile tears. She has no friends so I still let it go and talked to her because at the end of the day I feel guilty and now I am an adult and still didn't want a strained relationship with her.
TLDR: My mother who has always been controlling, told me, a 30 year old that if I traveled with anyone other than my bf she won't talk to me again as I would get myself in trouble. I feel guilty for giving the silent treatment to her as I have always been the one that reaches out first after these situations. How do I cope with this feeling? I have been thinking that maybe I was in the wrong and should just talk to her, apologize, and tell her I am not going.
2024.05.21 21:16 sitcomsyndrome 20, completely lost. feel like I wasted my life
heyo, im 20F, just finished my bachelor's degree. this has been on my mind for a long time, 5 years to be precise. i feel like life just never happened for me. all the "life is over at 25" rhetoric made me realise ill be 21 in a little less than 5 months, and my life never even STARTED. i was a happy kid for the most part. sure, there were problems, i had moderate to severe asthma for about five years from 2-7, parents' unhappy marriage meant some terrible fights that i remember witnessing even as early as the age of 3, a small house (which ive now lived in all my life), very much a middle class household without too much money. but none of this really mattered too much back then, except the health part of it because obviously it directly affected me. ive always been good at studies, i was a talkative kid who was on good terms with almost everyone on school and had a few close friends every year, went on a lot of trips with my parents that we did enjoy, had some great times w my grandmother. i wouldn't say life was perfect, but it was simple and good.
the trouble started with my mom being kind of conservative when it came to befriending boys, which meant i always was shy and silent around guys, even though I was very much different around girls. a related issue (very much brought on by my mom) caused me to leave my friend group in the sixth grade, and after that honestly things were never the same. it was also around the same time that my friends from my society, who honestly were never good people OR friends anyway, also started bullying me for no reason at all. still even with a few too many traumatic experiences at home, school and the building, 11-13 was bearable because i was still a happy go lucky kid. since i turned 13, what with bullying in school, both physical and mental health problems (pcos, asthma, health anxiety, crippling depression) , family issues (remember the unhappy marriage?), being stuck in the same house and financial condition all my life, things seem to be irreparably screwed up. the other side of this is i missed out on EVERYTHING. every positive experience that people have between the age of 11 and 21, I missed out on. sure there's things i missed out on even before then, not being able to play downstairs like everyone else as a kid because of my asthma being an example, but those weren't things i WANTED in the first place. everything since 8th grade however.... god it's been hell. because of the asthma i couldn't do physical activity, so my weight always fluctuated, altho as a kid i was thin for longer than i was fat. but of course when puberty hit so did pcos, and i was overweight for almost all my teenage years. this along with me never knowing or wanting to put on make up meant i was quite unattractive as a teenager, and so had absolutely no romantic attention from anyone ever. only 3 people have had a crush on me in my (almost) 21 years of life. i lost a lot of weight this past year (on medical advice) and now that im better looking i see random guys look at me in public, and of course that means nothing now, because they wouldn't even have glanced at me a year ago. the friend scenario is just as hopeless, and not just because i happen to be going though a friendless phase for the past 8-10 months lol. at the moment i no longer have anyone from school that i consider a friend, and college is shaping up to be very similar with a couple exceptions.
the worst thing is i no longer have anything to show for academically either, and this coming from someone who had a 99.6% in her 12th boards lol. college was just a failure on every level, social, academic, EVERY LEVEL. and it was supposed to be a fresh start after 8-12th grade. made no real lasting friendships, didn't network, no real extra curriculars, didn't go away so no memories from hostel life, no parties or clubs, really nothing. truly, truly nothing.
ive had this vision in my head for the past 6-7 years of what i want my life to be like. that's one third of my life so far. and i still haven't achieved 1% of it. hell ive achieved 0%. i honestly don't know how i could end up as utter a failure as this. the worst thing is i've got so much potential, i really really do. and now it's all for nothing. the 'best years of my life' are gone, with no memories, no accomplishments, nothing. i must've written 1000 words here and that honestly barely scratches the surface of the past 10 years. i wish i could go back in time so bad. if I was 11 again i know exactly what id do, but at 20 i have no clue. i can't even decide about doing a master's degree, one that ive received an offer letter for and which ive always wanted to do. god i hate my life, and I'm so ashamed of myself. i don't expect anyone to read this far but if you do, id love some perspective.
submitted by sitcomsyndrome to TwoXIndia [link] [comments]
the trouble started with my mom being kind of conservative when it came to befriending boys, which meant i always was shy and silent around guys, even though I was very much different around girls. a related issue (very much brought on by my mom) caused me to leave my friend group in the sixth grade, and after that honestly things were never the same. it was also around the same time that my friends from my society, who honestly were never good people OR friends anyway, also started bullying me for no reason at all. still even with a few too many traumatic experiences at home, school and the building, 11-13 was bearable because i was still a happy go lucky kid. since i turned 13, what with bullying in school, both physical and mental health problems (pcos, asthma, health anxiety, crippling depression) , family issues (remember the unhappy marriage?), being stuck in the same house and financial condition all my life, things seem to be irreparably screwed up. the other side of this is i missed out on EVERYTHING. every positive experience that people have between the age of 11 and 21, I missed out on. sure there's things i missed out on even before then, not being able to play downstairs like everyone else as a kid because of my asthma being an example, but those weren't things i WANTED in the first place. everything since 8th grade however.... god it's been hell. because of the asthma i couldn't do physical activity, so my weight always fluctuated, altho as a kid i was thin for longer than i was fat. but of course when puberty hit so did pcos, and i was overweight for almost all my teenage years. this along with me never knowing or wanting to put on make up meant i was quite unattractive as a teenager, and so had absolutely no romantic attention from anyone ever. only 3 people have had a crush on me in my (almost) 21 years of life. i lost a lot of weight this past year (on medical advice) and now that im better looking i see random guys look at me in public, and of course that means nothing now, because they wouldn't even have glanced at me a year ago. the friend scenario is just as hopeless, and not just because i happen to be going though a friendless phase for the past 8-10 months lol. at the moment i no longer have anyone from school that i consider a friend, and college is shaping up to be very similar with a couple exceptions.
the worst thing is i no longer have anything to show for academically either, and this coming from someone who had a 99.6% in her 12th boards lol. college was just a failure on every level, social, academic, EVERY LEVEL. and it was supposed to be a fresh start after 8-12th grade. made no real lasting friendships, didn't network, no real extra curriculars, didn't go away so no memories from hostel life, no parties or clubs, really nothing. truly, truly nothing.
ive had this vision in my head for the past 6-7 years of what i want my life to be like. that's one third of my life so far. and i still haven't achieved 1% of it. hell ive achieved 0%. i honestly don't know how i could end up as utter a failure as this. the worst thing is i've got so much potential, i really really do. and now it's all for nothing. the 'best years of my life' are gone, with no memories, no accomplishments, nothing. i must've written 1000 words here and that honestly barely scratches the surface of the past 10 years. i wish i could go back in time so bad. if I was 11 again i know exactly what id do, but at 20 i have no clue. i can't even decide about doing a master's degree, one that ive received an offer letter for and which ive always wanted to do. god i hate my life, and I'm so ashamed of myself. i don't expect anyone to read this far but if you do, id love some perspective.
2024.05.21 20:43 CDown01 J.'s Journals: The Lieutenant
Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?
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Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?
2024.05.21 20:42 CDown01 J.'s Journals: The Lieutenant
Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?
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Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?
2024.05.21 20:40 CDown01 J.'s Journals: The Lieutenant
Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?
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Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?
2024.05.21 19:18 TheGoombler Oh hey, I'm not dead, and neither is GME. (A Refresher on COINTELPRO.)
GOOOOOOOOOOD MORNING SUPERSTONKERS! HAHA. It's me again. Yeah, i slipped past the defenses again to drop this off so you can all refresh yourselves on the state of FUD and disinformation in this protracted fight against the legal larcenists doing their best to try and get you to sell. Please spread this amongst the holders, the more people know the less power they have over us holders. We don't sell until we get a call from marge, and that's always been the play.
TLDR: This is a set of tactics used by the Alphabet Boys(CIA, FBI, DEA) to control and manipulate us into drama to collapse our communities and movements. And should be read in full by anyone willing and wanting to learn how these things work.
I've come to notice recently, people keep asking me to repost this for the sake of keeping the new people abreast on what needs to be done to protect the holders of GME. Beneath here will be a detailed account on what you need to be aware of in your online interactions, to avoid being taken for a fool!
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COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum..
There are several techniques for the control and manipulation of a internet forum no matter what, or who is on it. We will go over each technique and demonstrate that only a minimal number of operatives can be used to eventually and effectively gain a control of a 'uncontrolled forum.'
Technique #1 - 'FORUM SLIDING'
If a very sensitive posting of a critical nature has been posted on a forum - it can be quickly removed from public view by 'forum sliding.' In this technique a number of unrelated posts are quietly prepositioned on the forum and allowed to 'age.' Each of these misdirectional forum postings can then be called upon at will to trigger a 'forum slide.' The second requirement is that several fake accounts exist, which can be called upon, to ensure that this technique is not exposed to the public. To trigger a 'forum slide' and 'flush' the critical post out of public view it is simply a matter of logging into each account both real and fake and then 'replying' to prepositioned postings with a simple 1 or 2 line comment. This brings the unrelated postings to the top of the forum list, and the critical posting 'slides' down the front page, and quickly out of public view. Although it is difficult or impossible to censor the posting it is now lost in a sea of unrelated and unuseful postings. By this means it becomes effective to keep the readers of the forum reading unrelated and non-issue items.
Technique #2 - 'CONSENSUS CRACKING'
A second highly effective technique (which you can see in operation all the time at www.abovetopsecret.com
) is 'consensus cracking.' To develop a consensus crack, the following technique is used. Under the guise of a fake account a posting is made which looks legitimate and is towards the truth is made - but the critical point is that it has a VERY WEAK PREMISE without substantive proof to back the posting. Once this is done then under alternative fake accounts a very strong position in your favor is slowly introduced over the life of the posting. It is IMPERATIVE that both sides are initially presented, so the uninformed reader cannot determine which side is the truth. As postings and replies are made the stronger 'evidence' or disinformation in your favor is slowly 'seeded in.' Thus the uninformed reader will most like develop the same position as you, and if their position is against you their opposition to your posting will be most likely dropped. However in some cases where the forum members are highly educated and can counter your disinformation with real facts and linked postings, you can then 'abort' the consensus cracking by initiating a 'forum slide.'
Technique #3 - 'TOPIC DILUTION'
Topic dilution is not only effective in forum sliding it is also very useful in keeping the forum readers on unrelated and non-productive issues. This is a critical and useful technique to cause a 'RESOURCE BURN.' By implementing continual and non-related postings that distract and disrupt (trolling ) the forum readers they are more effectively stopped from anything of any real productivity. If the intensity of gradual dilution is intense enough, the readers will effectively stop researching and simply slip into a 'gossip mode.' In this state they can be more easily misdirected away from facts towards uninformed conjecture and opinion. The less informed they are the more effective and easy it becomes to control the entire group in the direction that you would desire the group to go in. It must be stressed that a proper assessment of the psychological capabilities and levels of education is first determined of the group to determine at what level to 'drive in the wedge.' By being too far off topic too quickly it may trigger censorship by a forum moderator.
Technique #4 - 'INFORMATION COLLECTION'
Information collection is also a very effective method to determine the psychological level of the forum members, and to gather intelligence that can be used against them. In this technique in a light and positive environment a 'show you mine so me yours' posting is initiated. From the number of replies and the answers that are provided much statistical information can be gathered. An example is to post your 'favorite weapon' and then encourage other members of the forum to showcase what they have. In this matter it can be determined by reverse proration what percentage of the forum community owns a firearm, and or a illegal weapon. This same method can be used by posing as one of the form members and posting your favorite 'technique of operation.' From the replies various methods that the group utilizes can be studied and effective methods developed to stop them from their activities.
Technique #5 - 'ANGER TROLLING'
Statistically, there is always a percentage of the forum posters who are more inclined to violence. In order to determine who these individuals are, it is a requirement to present a image to the forum to deliberately incite a strong psychological reaction. From this the most violent in the group can be effectively singled out for reverse IP location and possibly local enforcement tracking. To accomplish this only requires posting a link to a video depicting a local police officer massively abusing his power against a very innocent individual. Statistically of the million or so police officers in America there is always one or two being caught abusing there powers and the taping of the activity can be then used for intelligence gathering purposes - without the requirement to 'stage' a fake abuse video. This method is extremely effective, and the more so the more abusive the video can be made to look. Sometimes it is useful to 'lead' the forum by replying to your own posting with your own statement of violent intent, and that you 'do not care what the authorities think!!' inflammation. By doing this and showing no fear it may be more effective in getting the more silent and self-disciplined violent intent members of the forum to slip and post their real intentions. This can be used later in a court of law during prosecution.
Technique #6 - 'GAINING FULL CONTROL'
It is important to also be harvesting and continually maneuvering for a forum moderator position. Once this position is obtained, the forum can then be effectively and quietly controlled by deleting unfavourable postings - and one can eventually steer the forum into complete failure and lack of interest by the general public. This is the 'ultimate victory' as the forum is no longer participated with by the general public and no longer useful in maintaining their freedoms. Depending on the level of control you can obtain, you can deliberately steer a forum into defeat by censoring postings, deleting memberships, flooding, and or accidentally taking the forum offline. By this method the forum can be quickly killed. However it is not always in the interest to kill a forum as it can be converted into a 'honey pot' gathering center to collect and misdirect newcomers and from this point be completely used for your control for your agenda purposes.
CONCLUSION
Remember these techniques are only effective if the forum participants DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM. Once they are aware of these techniques the operation can completely fail, and the forum can become uncontrolled. At this point other avenues must be considered such as initiating a false legal precidence to simply have the forum shut down and taken offline. This is not desirable as it then leaves the enforcement agencies unable to track the percentage of those in the population who always resist attempts for control against them. Many other techniques can be utilized and developed by the individual and as you develop further techniques of infiltration and control it is imperative to share then with HQ.
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Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Note: The first rule and last five (or six, depending on situation) rules are generally not directly within the ability of the traditional disinfo artist to apply. These rules are generally used more directly by those at the leadership, key players, or planning level of the criminal conspiracy or conspiracy to cover up.
1. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Regardless of what you know, don't discuss it -- especially if you are a public figure, news anchor, etc. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues.
2. Become incredulous and indignant. Avoid discussing key issues and instead focus on side issues which can be used show the topic as being critical of some otherwise sacrosanct group or theme. This is also known as the 'How dare you!' gambit.
3. Create rumor mongers. Avoid discussing issues by describing all charges, regardless of venue or evidence, as mere rumors and wild accusations. Other derogatory terms mutually exclusive of truth may work as well. This method which works especially well with a silent press, because the only way the public can learn of the facts are through such 'arguable rumors'. If you can associate the material with the Internet, use this fact to certify it a 'wild rumor' from a 'bunch of kids on the Internet' which can have no basis in fact.
4. Use a straw man. Find or create a seeming element of your opponent's argument which you can easily knock down to make yourself look good and the opponent to look bad. Either make up an issue you may safely imply exists based on your interpretation of the opponent/opponent arguments/situation, or select the weakest aspect of the weakest charges. Amplify their significance and destroy them in a way which appears to debunk all the charges, real and fabricated alike, while actually avoiding discussion of the real issues.
5. Sidetrack opponents with name calling and ridicule. This is also known as the primary 'attack the messenger' ploy, though other methods qualify as variants of that approach. Associate opponents with unpopular titles such as 'kooks', 'right-wing', 'liberal', 'left-wing', 'terrorists', 'conspiracy buffs', 'radicals', 'militia', 'racists', 'religious fanatics', 'sexual deviates', and so forth. This makes others shrink from support out of fear of gaining the same label, and you avoid dealing with issues.
6. Hit and Run. In any public forum, make a brief attack of your opponent or the opponent position and then scamper off before an answer can be fielded, or simply ignore any answer. This works extremely well in Internet and letters-to-the-editor environments where a steady stream of new identities can be called upon without having to explain criticism, reasoning -- simply make an accusation or other attack, never discussing issues, and never answering any subsequent response, for that would dignify the opponent's viewpoint.
7. Question motives. Twist or amplify any fact which could be taken to imply that the opponent operates out of a hidden personal agenda or other bias. This avoids discussing issues and forces the accuser on the defensive.
8. Invoke authority. Claim for yourself or associate yourself with authority and present your argument with enough 'jargon' and 'minutia' to illustrate you are 'one who knows', and simply say it isn't so without discussing issues or demonstrating concretely why or citing sources.
9. Play Dumb. No matter what evidence or logical argument is offered, avoid discussing issues except with denials they have any credibility, make any sense, provide any proof, contain or make a point, have logic, or support a conclusion. Mix well for maximum effect.
10. Associate opponent charges with old news. A derivative of the straw man -- usually, in any large-scale matter of high visibility, someone will make charges early on which can be or were already easily dealt with - a kind of investment for the future should the matter not be so easily contained.) Where it can be foreseen, have your own side raise a straw man issue and have it dealt with early on as part of the initial contingency plans. Subsequent charges, regardless of validity or new ground uncovered, can usually then be associated with the original charge and dismissed as simply being a rehash without need to address current issues -- so much the better where the opponent is or was involved with the original source.
11. Establish and rely upon fall-back positions. Using a minor matter or element of the facts, take the 'high road' and 'confess' with candor that some innocent mistake, in hindsight, was made -- but that opponents have seized on the opportunity to blow it all out of proportion and imply greater criminalities which, 'just isn't so.' Others can reinforce this on your behalf, later, and even publicly 'call for an end to the nonsense' because you have already 'done the right thing.' Done properly, this can garner sympathy and respect for 'coming clean' and 'owning up' to your mistakes without addressing more serious issues.
12. Enigmas have no solution. Drawing upon the overall umbrella of events surrounding the crime and the multitude of players and events, paint the entire affair as too complex to solve. This causes those otherwise following the matter to begin to lose interest more quickly without having to address the actual issues.
13. Alice in Wonderland Logic. Avoid discussion of the issues by reasoning backwards or with an apparent deductive logic which forbears any actual material fact.
14. Demand complete solutions. Avoid the issues by requiring opponents to solve the crime at hand completely, a ploy which works best with issues qualifying for rule 10.
15. Fit the facts to alternate conclusions. This requires creative thinking unless the crime was planned with contingency conclusions in place.
16. Vanish evidence and witnesses. If it does not exist, it is not fact, and you won't have to address the issue.
17. Change the subject. Usually in connection with one of the other ploys listed here, find a way to side-track the discussion with abrasive or controversial comments in hopes of turning attention to a new, more manageable topic. This works especially well with companions who can 'argue' with you over the new topic and polarize the discussion arena in order to avoid discussing more key issues.
18. Emotionalize, Antagonize, and Goad Opponents. If you can't do anything else, chide and taunt your opponents and draw them into emotional responses which will tend to make them look foolish and overly motivated, and generally render their material somewhat less coherent. Not only will you avoid discussing the issues in the first instance, but even if their emotional response addresses the issue, you can further avoid the issues by then focusing on how 'sensitive they are to criticism.'
19. Ignore proof presented, demand impossible proofs. This is perhaps a variant of the 'play dumb' rule. Regardless of what material may be presented by an opponent in public forums, claim the material irrelevant and demand proof that is impossible for the opponent to come by (it may exist, but not be at his disposal, or it may be something which is known to be safely destroyed or withheld, such as a murder weapon.) In order to completely avoid discussing issues, it may be required that you to categorically deny and be critical of media or books as valid sources, deny that witnesses are acceptable, or even deny that statements made by government or other authorities have any meaning or relevance.
20. False evidence. Whenever possible, introduce new facts or clues designed and manufactured to conflict with opponent presentations -- as useful tools to neutralize sensitive issues or impede resolution. This works best when the crime was designed with contingencies for the purpose, and the facts cannot be easily separated from the fabrications.
21. Call a Grand Jury, Special Prosecutor, or other empowered investigative body. Subvert the (process) to your benefit and effectively neutralize all sensitive issues without open discussion. Once convened, the evidence and testimony are required to be secret when properly handled. For instance, if you own the prosecuting attorney, it can insure a Grand Jury hears no useful evidence and that the evidence is sealed and unavailable to subsequent investigators. Once a favorable verdict is achieved, the matter can be considered officially closed. Usually, this technique is applied to find the guilty innocent, but it can also be used to obtain charges when seeking to frame a victim.
22. Manufacture a new truth. Create your own expert(s), group(s), author(s), leader(s) or influence existing ones willing to forge new ground via scientific, investigative, or social research or testimony which concludes favorably. In this way, if you must actually address issues, you can do so authoritatively.
23. Create bigger distractions. If the above does not seem to be working to distract from sensitive issues, or to prevent unwanted media coverage of unstoppable events such as trials, create bigger news stories (or treat them as such) to distract the multitudes.
24. Silence critics. If the above methods do not prevail, consider removing opponents from circulation by some definitive solution so that the need to address issues is removed entirely. This can be by their death, arrest and detention, blackmail or destruction of their character by release of blackmail information, or merely by destroying them financially, emotionally, or severely damaging their health.
25. Vanish. If you are a key holder of secrets or otherwise overly illuminated and you think the heat is getting too hot, to avoid the issues, vacate the kitchen.
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Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
1) Avoidance. They never actually discuss issues head-on or provide constructive input, generally avoiding citation of references or credentials. Rather, they merely imply this, that, and the other. Virtually everything about their presentation implies their authority and expert knowledge in the matter without any further justification for credibility.
2) Selectivity. They tend to pick and choose opponents carefully, either applying the hit-and-run approach against mere commentators supportive of opponents, or focusing heavier attacks on key opponents who are known to directly address issues. Should a commentator become argumentative with any success, the focus will shift to include the commentator as well.
3) Coincidental. They tend to surface suddenly and somewhat coincidentally with a new controversial topic with no clear prior record of participation in general discussions in the particular public arena involved. They likewise tend to vanish once the topic is no longer of general concern. They were likely directed or elected to be there for a reason, and vanish with the reason.
4) Teamwork. They tend to operate in self-congratulatory and complementary packs or teams. Of course, this can happen naturally in any public forum, but there will likely be an ongoing pattern of frequent exchanges of this sort where professionals are involved. Sometimes one of the players will infiltrate the opponent camp to become a source for straw man or other tactics designed to dilute opponent presentation strength.
5) Anti-conspiratorial. They almost always have disdain for 'conspiracy theorists' and, usually, for those who in any way believe JFK was not killed by LHO. Ask yourself why, if they hold such disdain for conspiracy theorists, do they focus on defending a single topic discussed in a NG focusing on conspiracies? One might think they would either be trying to make fools of everyone on every topic, or simply ignore the group they hold in such disdain. Or, one might more rightly conclude they have an ulterior motive for their actions in going out of their way to focus as they do.
6) Artificial Emotions. An odd kind of 'artificial' emotionalism and an unusually thick skin -- an ability to persevere and persist even in the face of overwhelming criticism and unacceptance. This likely stems from intelligence community training that, no matter how condemning the evidence, deny everything, and never become emotionally involved or reactive. The net result for a disinfo artist is that emotions can seem artificial.
Most people, if responding in anger, for instance, will express their animosity throughout their rebuttal. But disinfo types usually have trouble maintaining the 'image' and are hot and cold with respect to pretended emotions and their usually more calm or unemotional communications style. It's just a job, and they often seem unable to 'act their role in character' as well in a communications medium as they might be able in a real face-to-face conversation/confrontation. You might have outright rage and indignation one moment, ho-hum the next, and more anger later -- an emotional yo-yo.
With respect to being thick-skinned, no amount of criticism will deter them from doing their job, and they will generally continue their old disinfo patterns without any adjustments to criticisms of how obvious it is that they play that game -- where a more rational individual who truly cares what others think might seek to improve their communications style, substance, and so forth, or simply give up.
7) Inconsistent. There is also a tendency to make mistakes which betray their true self/motives. This may stem from not really knowing their topic, or it may be somewhat 'freudian', so to speak, in that perhaps they really root for the side of truth deep within.
I have noted that often, they will simply cite contradictory information which neutralizes itself and the author. For instance, one such player claimed to be a Navy pilot, but blamed his poor communicating skills (spelling, grammar, incoherent style) on having only a grade-school education. I'm not aware of too many Navy pilots who don't have a college degree. Another claimed no knowledge of a particular topic/situation but later claimed first-hand knowledge of it.
8) Time Constant. Recently discovered, with respect to News Groups, is the response time factor. There are three ways this can be seen to work, especially when the government or other empowered player is involved in a cover up operation:
a) ANY NG posting by a targeted proponent for truth can result in an IMMEDIATE response. The government and other empowered players can afford to pay people to sit there and watch for an opportunity to do some damage. SINCE DISINFO IN A NG ONLY WORKS IF THE READER SEES IT - FAST RESPONSE IS CALLED FOR, or the visitor may be swayed towards truth.
b) When dealing in more direct ways with a disinformationalist, such as email, DELAY IS CALLED FOR - there will usually be a minimum of a 48-72 hour delay. This allows a sit-down team discussion on response strategy for best effect, and even enough time to 'get permission' or instruction from a formal chain of command.
c) In the NG example 1) above, it will often ALSO be seen that bigger guns are drawn and fired after the same 48-72 hours delay - the team approach in play. This is especially true when the targeted truth seeker or their comments are considered more important with respect to potential to reveal truth. Thus, a serious truth sayer will be attacked twice for the same sin.
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How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
One way to neutralize a potential activist is to get them to be in a group that does all the wrong things. Why?
1) The message doesn't get out.
2) A lot of time is wasted
3) The activist is frustrated and discouraged
4) Nothing good is accomplished.
FBI and Police Informers and Infiltrators will infest any group and they have phoney activist organizations established.
Their purpose is to prevent any real movement for justice or eco-peace from developing in this country.
Agents come in small, medium or large. They can be of any ethnic background. They can be male or female.
The actual size of the group or movement being infiltrated is irrelevant. It is the potential the movement has for becoming large which brings on the spies and saboteurs.
This booklet lists tactics agents use to slow things down, foul things up, destroy the movement and keep tabs on activists.
It is the agent's job to keep the activist from quitting such a group, thus keeping him/her under control.
In some situations, to get control, the agent will tell the activist:
This invites guilty feelings. Many people can be controlled by guilt. The agents begin relationships with activists behind a well-developed mask of "dedication to the cause." Because of their often declared dedication, (and actions designed to prove this), when they criticize the activist, he or she - being truly dedicated to the movement - becomes convinced that somehow, any issues are THEIR fault. This is because a truly dedicated person tends to believe that everyone has a conscience and that nobody would dissimulate and lie like that "on purpose." It's amazing how far agents can go in manipulating an activist because the activist will constantly make excuses for the agent who regularly declares their dedication to the cause. Even if they do, occasionally, suspect the agent, they will pull the wool over their own eyes by rationalizing: "they did that unconsciously... they didn't really mean it... I can help them by being forgiving and accepting " and so on and so forth.
The agent will tell the activist:
This is "malignant pseudo identification." It is the process by which the agent consciously imitates or simulates a certain behavior to foster the activist's identification with him/her, thus increasing the activist's vulnerability to exploitation. The agent will simulate the more subtle self-concepts of the activist.
Activists and those who have altruistic self-concepts are most vulnerable to malignant pseudo identification especially during work with the agent when the interaction includes matter relating to their competency, autonomy, or knowledge.
The goal of the agent is to increase the activist's general empathy for the agent through pseudo-identification with the activist's self-concepts.
The most common example of this is the agent who will compliment the activist for his competency or knowledge or value to the movement. On a more subtle level, the agent will simulate affects and mannerisms of the activist which promotes identification via mirroring and feelings of "twinship". It is not unheard of for activists, enamored by the perceived helpfulness and competence of a good agent, to find themselves considering ethical violations and perhaps, even illegal behavior, in the service of their agent/handler.
The activist's "felt quality of perfection" [self-concept] is enhanced, and a strong empathic bond is developed with the agent through his/her imitation and simulation of the victim's own narcissistic investments. [self-concepts] That is, if the activist knows, deep inside, their own dedication to the cause, they will project that onto the agent who is "mirroring" them.
The activist will be deluded into thinking that the agent shares this feeling of identification and bonding. In an activist/social movement setting, the adversarial roles that activists naturally play vis a vis the establishment/government, fosters ongoing processes of intrapsychic splitting so that "twinship alliances" between activist and agent may render whole sectors or reality testing unavailable to the activist. They literally "lose touch with reality."
Activists who deny their own narcissistic investments [do not have a good idea of their own self-concepts and that they ARE concepts] and consciously perceive themselves (accurately, as it were) to be "helpers" endowed with a special amount of altruism are exceedingly vulnerable to the affective (emotional) simulation of the accomplished agent.
Empathy is fostered in the activist through the expression of quite visible affects. The presentation of tearfulness, sadness, longing, fear, remorse, and guilt, may induce in the helper-oriented activist a strong sense of compassion, while unconsciously enhancing the activist's narcissistic investment in self as the embodiment of goodness.
The agent's expresssion of such simulated affects may be quite compelling to the observer and difficult to distinguish from deep emotion.
It can usually be identified by two events, however:
First, the activist who has analyzed his/her own narcissistic roots and is aware of his/her own potential for being "emotionally hooked," will be able to remain cool and unaffected by such emotional outpourings by the agent.
As a result of this unaffected, cool, attitude, the Second event will occur: The agent will recompensate much too quickly following such an affective expression leaving the activist with the impression that "the play has ended, the curtain has fallen," and the imposture, for the moment, has finished. The agent will then move quickly to another activist/victim.
The fact is, the movement doesn't need leaders, it needs MOVERS. "Follow the leader" is a waste of time.
A good agent will want to meet as often as possible. He or she will talk a lot and say little. One can expect an onslaught of long, unresolved discussions.
Some agents take on a pushy, arrogant, or defensive manner:
1) To disrupt the agenda
2) To side-track the discussion
3) To interrupt repeatedly
4) To feign ignorance
5) To make an unfounded accusation against a person.
Calling someone a racist, for example. This tactic is used to discredit a person in the eyes of all other group members.
Saboteurs
Some saboteurs pretend to be activists. She or he will ....
1) Write encyclopedic flyers (in the present day, websites)
2) Print flyers in English only.
3) Have demonstrations in places where no one cares.
4) Solicit funding from rich people instead of grass roots support
5) Display banners with too many words that are confusing.
6) Confuse issues.
7) Make the wrong demands.
8) Compromise the goal.
9) Have endless discussions that waste everyone's time. The agent may accompany the endless discussions with drinking, pot smoking or other amusement to slow down the activist's work.
Provocateurs
1) Want to establish "leaders" to set them up for a fall in order to stop the movement.
2) Suggest doing foolish, illegal things to get the activists in trouble.
3) Encourage militancy.
4) Want to taunt the authorities.
5) Attempt to make the activist compromise their values.
6) Attempt to instigate violence. Activism ought to always be non-violent.
7) Attempt to provoke revolt among people who are ill-prepared to deal with the reaction of the authorities to such violence.
Informants
1) Want everyone to sign up and sing in and sign everything.
2) Ask a lot of questions (gathering data).
3) Want to know what events the activist is planning to attend.
4) Attempt to make the activist defend him or herself to identify his or her beliefs, goals, and level of commitment.
Recruiting
Legitimate activists do not subject people to hours of persuasive dialog. Their actions, beliefs, and goals speak for themselves.
Groups that DO recruit are missionaries, military, and fake political parties or movements set up by agents.
Surveillance
ALWAYS assume that you are under surveillance.
At this point, if you are NOT under surveillance, you are not a very good activist!
Scare Tactics
They use them.
Such tactics include slander, defamation, threats, getting close to disaffected or minimally committed fellow activists to persuade them (via psychological tactics described above) to turn against the movement and give false testimony against their former compatriots. They will plant illegal substances on the activist and set up an arrest; they will plant false information and set up "exposure," they will send incriminating letters [emails] in the name of the activist; and more; they will do whatever society will allow.
This booklet in no way covers all the ways agents use to sabotage the lives of sincere an dedicated activists.
If an agent is "exposed," he or she will be transferred or replaced.
COINTELPRO is still in operation today under a different code name. It is no longer placed on paper where it can be discovered through the freedom of information act.
The FBI counterintelligence program's stated purpose: To expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize individuals who the FBI categorize as opposed to the National Interests. "National Security" means the FBI's security from the people ever finding out the vicious things it does in violation of people's civil liberties.
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Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
Strong, credible allegations of high-level criminal activity can bring down a government. When the government lacks an effective, fact-based defense, other techniques must be employed. The success of these techniques depends heavily upon a cooperative, compliant press and a mere token opposition party.
1. Dummy up. If it's not reported, if it's not news, it didn't happen.
2. Wax indignant. This is also known as the "How dare you?" gambit.
3. Characterize the charges as "rumors" or, better yet, "wild rumors." If, in spite of the news blackout, the public is still able to learn about the suspicious facts, it can only be through "rumors." (If they tend to believe the "rumors" it must be because they are simply "paranoid" or "hysterical.")
4. Knock down straw men. Deal only with the weakest aspects of the weakest charges. Even better, create your own straw men. Make up wild rumors (or plant false stories) and give them lead play when you appear to debunk all the charges, real and fanciful alike.
5. Call the skeptics names like "conspiracy theorist," "nutcase," "ranter," "kook," "crackpot," and, of course, "rumor monger." Be sure, too, to use heavily loaded verbs and adjectives when characterizing their charges and defending the "more reasonable" government and its defenders. You must then carefully avoid fair and open debate with any of the people you have thus maligned. For insurance, set up your own "skeptics" to shoot down.
6. Impugn motives. Attempt to marginalize the critics by suggesting strongly that they are not really interested in the truth but are simply pursuing a partisan political agenda or are out to make money (compared to over-compensated adherents to the government line who, presumably, are not).
7. Invoke authority. Here the controlled press and the sham opposition can be very useful.
8. Dismiss the charges as "old news."
9. Come half-clean. This is also known as "confession and avoidance" or "taking the limited hangout route." This way, you create the impression of candor and honesty while you admit only to relatively harmless, less-than-criminal "mistakes." This stratagem often requires the embrace of a fall-back position quite different from the one originally taken. With effective damage control, the fall-back position need only be peddled by stooge skeptics to carefully limited markets.
10. Characterize the crimes as impossibly complex and the truth as ultimately unknowable.
11. Reason backward, using the deductive method with a vengeance. With thoroughly rigorous deduction, troublesome evidence is irrelevant. E.g. We have a completely free press. If evidence exists that the Vince Foster "suicide" note was forged, they would have reported it. They haven't reported it so there is no such evidence. Another variation on this theme involves the likelihood of a conspiracy leaker and a press who would report the leak.
12. Require the skeptics to solve the crime completely. E.g. If Foster was murdered, who did it and why?
13. Change the subject. This technique includes creating and/or publicizing distractions.
14. Lightly report incriminating facts, and then make nothing of them. This is sometimes referred to as "bump and run" reporting.
15. Baldly and brazenly lie. A favorite way of doing this is to attribute the "facts" furnished the public to a plausible-sounding, but anonymous, source.
16. Expanding further on numbers 4 and 5, have your own stooges "expose" scandals and champion popular causes. Their job is to pre-empt real opponents and to play 99-yard football. A variation is to pay rich people for the job who will pretend to spend their own money.
17. Flood the Internet with agents. This is the answer to the question, "What could possibly motivate a person to spend hour upon hour on Internet news groups defending the government and/or the press and harassing genuine critics?" Don t the authorities have defenders enough in all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television? One would think refusing to print critical letters and screening out serious callers or dumping them from radio talk shows would be control enough, but, obviously, it is not.
submitted by TheGoombler to Superstonk [link] [comments]
TLDR: This is a set of tactics used by the Alphabet Boys(CIA, FBI, DEA) to control and manipulate us into drama to collapse our communities and movements. And should be read in full by anyone willing and wanting to learn how these things work.
I've come to notice recently, people keep asking me to repost this for the sake of keeping the new people abreast on what needs to be done to protect the holders of GME. Beneath here will be a detailed account on what you need to be aware of in your online interactions, to avoid being taken for a fool!
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- COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum
- Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
- Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
- How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
- Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum..
There are several techniques for the control and manipulation of a internet forum no matter what, or who is on it. We will go over each technique and demonstrate that only a minimal number of operatives can be used to eventually and effectively gain a control of a 'uncontrolled forum.'
Technique #1 - 'FORUM SLIDING'
If a very sensitive posting of a critical nature has been posted on a forum - it can be quickly removed from public view by 'forum sliding.' In this technique a number of unrelated posts are quietly prepositioned on the forum and allowed to 'age.' Each of these misdirectional forum postings can then be called upon at will to trigger a 'forum slide.' The second requirement is that several fake accounts exist, which can be called upon, to ensure that this technique is not exposed to the public. To trigger a 'forum slide' and 'flush' the critical post out of public view it is simply a matter of logging into each account both real and fake and then 'replying' to prepositioned postings with a simple 1 or 2 line comment. This brings the unrelated postings to the top of the forum list, and the critical posting 'slides' down the front page, and quickly out of public view. Although it is difficult or impossible to censor the posting it is now lost in a sea of unrelated and unuseful postings. By this means it becomes effective to keep the readers of the forum reading unrelated and non-issue items.
Technique #2 - 'CONSENSUS CRACKING'
A second highly effective technique (which you can see in operation all the time at www.abovetopsecret.com
) is 'consensus cracking.' To develop a consensus crack, the following technique is used. Under the guise of a fake account a posting is made which looks legitimate and is towards the truth is made - but the critical point is that it has a VERY WEAK PREMISE without substantive proof to back the posting. Once this is done then under alternative fake accounts a very strong position in your favor is slowly introduced over the life of the posting. It is IMPERATIVE that both sides are initially presented, so the uninformed reader cannot determine which side is the truth. As postings and replies are made the stronger 'evidence' or disinformation in your favor is slowly 'seeded in.' Thus the uninformed reader will most like develop the same position as you, and if their position is against you their opposition to your posting will be most likely dropped. However in some cases where the forum members are highly educated and can counter your disinformation with real facts and linked postings, you can then 'abort' the consensus cracking by initiating a 'forum slide.'
Technique #3 - 'TOPIC DILUTION'
Topic dilution is not only effective in forum sliding it is also very useful in keeping the forum readers on unrelated and non-productive issues. This is a critical and useful technique to cause a 'RESOURCE BURN.' By implementing continual and non-related postings that distract and disrupt (trolling ) the forum readers they are more effectively stopped from anything of any real productivity. If the intensity of gradual dilution is intense enough, the readers will effectively stop researching and simply slip into a 'gossip mode.' In this state they can be more easily misdirected away from facts towards uninformed conjecture and opinion. The less informed they are the more effective and easy it becomes to control the entire group in the direction that you would desire the group to go in. It must be stressed that a proper assessment of the psychological capabilities and levels of education is first determined of the group to determine at what level to 'drive in the wedge.' By being too far off topic too quickly it may trigger censorship by a forum moderator.
Technique #4 - 'INFORMATION COLLECTION'
Information collection is also a very effective method to determine the psychological level of the forum members, and to gather intelligence that can be used against them. In this technique in a light and positive environment a 'show you mine so me yours' posting is initiated. From the number of replies and the answers that are provided much statistical information can be gathered. An example is to post your 'favorite weapon' and then encourage other members of the forum to showcase what they have. In this matter it can be determined by reverse proration what percentage of the forum community owns a firearm, and or a illegal weapon. This same method can be used by posing as one of the form members and posting your favorite 'technique of operation.' From the replies various methods that the group utilizes can be studied and effective methods developed to stop them from their activities.
Technique #5 - 'ANGER TROLLING'
Statistically, there is always a percentage of the forum posters who are more inclined to violence. In order to determine who these individuals are, it is a requirement to present a image to the forum to deliberately incite a strong psychological reaction. From this the most violent in the group can be effectively singled out for reverse IP location and possibly local enforcement tracking. To accomplish this only requires posting a link to a video depicting a local police officer massively abusing his power against a very innocent individual. Statistically of the million or so police officers in America there is always one or two being caught abusing there powers and the taping of the activity can be then used for intelligence gathering purposes - without the requirement to 'stage' a fake abuse video. This method is extremely effective, and the more so the more abusive the video can be made to look. Sometimes it is useful to 'lead' the forum by replying to your own posting with your own statement of violent intent, and that you 'do not care what the authorities think!!' inflammation. By doing this and showing no fear it may be more effective in getting the more silent and self-disciplined violent intent members of the forum to slip and post their real intentions. This can be used later in a court of law during prosecution.
Technique #6 - 'GAINING FULL CONTROL'
It is important to also be harvesting and continually maneuvering for a forum moderator position. Once this position is obtained, the forum can then be effectively and quietly controlled by deleting unfavourable postings - and one can eventually steer the forum into complete failure and lack of interest by the general public. This is the 'ultimate victory' as the forum is no longer participated with by the general public and no longer useful in maintaining their freedoms. Depending on the level of control you can obtain, you can deliberately steer a forum into defeat by censoring postings, deleting memberships, flooding, and or accidentally taking the forum offline. By this method the forum can be quickly killed. However it is not always in the interest to kill a forum as it can be converted into a 'honey pot' gathering center to collect and misdirect newcomers and from this point be completely used for your control for your agenda purposes.
CONCLUSION
Remember these techniques are only effective if the forum participants DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM. Once they are aware of these techniques the operation can completely fail, and the forum can become uncontrolled. At this point other avenues must be considered such as initiating a false legal precidence to simply have the forum shut down and taken offline. This is not desirable as it then leaves the enforcement agencies unable to track the percentage of those in the population who always resist attempts for control against them. Many other techniques can be utilized and developed by the individual and as you develop further techniques of infiltration and control it is imperative to share then with HQ.
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Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Note: The first rule and last five (or six, depending on situation) rules are generally not directly within the ability of the traditional disinfo artist to apply. These rules are generally used more directly by those at the leadership, key players, or planning level of the criminal conspiracy or conspiracy to cover up.
1. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Regardless of what you know, don't discuss it -- especially if you are a public figure, news anchor, etc. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues.
2. Become incredulous and indignant. Avoid discussing key issues and instead focus on side issues which can be used show the topic as being critical of some otherwise sacrosanct group or theme. This is also known as the 'How dare you!' gambit.
3. Create rumor mongers. Avoid discussing issues by describing all charges, regardless of venue or evidence, as mere rumors and wild accusations. Other derogatory terms mutually exclusive of truth may work as well. This method which works especially well with a silent press, because the only way the public can learn of the facts are through such 'arguable rumors'. If you can associate the material with the Internet, use this fact to certify it a 'wild rumor' from a 'bunch of kids on the Internet' which can have no basis in fact.
4. Use a straw man. Find or create a seeming element of your opponent's argument which you can easily knock down to make yourself look good and the opponent to look bad. Either make up an issue you may safely imply exists based on your interpretation of the opponent/opponent arguments/situation, or select the weakest aspect of the weakest charges. Amplify their significance and destroy them in a way which appears to debunk all the charges, real and fabricated alike, while actually avoiding discussion of the real issues.
5. Sidetrack opponents with name calling and ridicule. This is also known as the primary 'attack the messenger' ploy, though other methods qualify as variants of that approach. Associate opponents with unpopular titles such as 'kooks', 'right-wing', 'liberal', 'left-wing', 'terrorists', 'conspiracy buffs', 'radicals', 'militia', 'racists', 'religious fanatics', 'sexual deviates', and so forth. This makes others shrink from support out of fear of gaining the same label, and you avoid dealing with issues.
6. Hit and Run. In any public forum, make a brief attack of your opponent or the opponent position and then scamper off before an answer can be fielded, or simply ignore any answer. This works extremely well in Internet and letters-to-the-editor environments where a steady stream of new identities can be called upon without having to explain criticism, reasoning -- simply make an accusation or other attack, never discussing issues, and never answering any subsequent response, for that would dignify the opponent's viewpoint.
7. Question motives. Twist or amplify any fact which could be taken to imply that the opponent operates out of a hidden personal agenda or other bias. This avoids discussing issues and forces the accuser on the defensive.
8. Invoke authority. Claim for yourself or associate yourself with authority and present your argument with enough 'jargon' and 'minutia' to illustrate you are 'one who knows', and simply say it isn't so without discussing issues or demonstrating concretely why or citing sources.
9. Play Dumb. No matter what evidence or logical argument is offered, avoid discussing issues except with denials they have any credibility, make any sense, provide any proof, contain or make a point, have logic, or support a conclusion. Mix well for maximum effect.
10. Associate opponent charges with old news. A derivative of the straw man -- usually, in any large-scale matter of high visibility, someone will make charges early on which can be or were already easily dealt with - a kind of investment for the future should the matter not be so easily contained.) Where it can be foreseen, have your own side raise a straw man issue and have it dealt with early on as part of the initial contingency plans. Subsequent charges, regardless of validity or new ground uncovered, can usually then be associated with the original charge and dismissed as simply being a rehash without need to address current issues -- so much the better where the opponent is or was involved with the original source.
11. Establish and rely upon fall-back positions. Using a minor matter or element of the facts, take the 'high road' and 'confess' with candor that some innocent mistake, in hindsight, was made -- but that opponents have seized on the opportunity to blow it all out of proportion and imply greater criminalities which, 'just isn't so.' Others can reinforce this on your behalf, later, and even publicly 'call for an end to the nonsense' because you have already 'done the right thing.' Done properly, this can garner sympathy and respect for 'coming clean' and 'owning up' to your mistakes without addressing more serious issues.
12. Enigmas have no solution. Drawing upon the overall umbrella of events surrounding the crime and the multitude of players and events, paint the entire affair as too complex to solve. This causes those otherwise following the matter to begin to lose interest more quickly without having to address the actual issues.
13. Alice in Wonderland Logic. Avoid discussion of the issues by reasoning backwards or with an apparent deductive logic which forbears any actual material fact.
14. Demand complete solutions. Avoid the issues by requiring opponents to solve the crime at hand completely, a ploy which works best with issues qualifying for rule 10.
15. Fit the facts to alternate conclusions. This requires creative thinking unless the crime was planned with contingency conclusions in place.
16. Vanish evidence and witnesses. If it does not exist, it is not fact, and you won't have to address the issue.
17. Change the subject. Usually in connection with one of the other ploys listed here, find a way to side-track the discussion with abrasive or controversial comments in hopes of turning attention to a new, more manageable topic. This works especially well with companions who can 'argue' with you over the new topic and polarize the discussion arena in order to avoid discussing more key issues.
18. Emotionalize, Antagonize, and Goad Opponents. If you can't do anything else, chide and taunt your opponents and draw them into emotional responses which will tend to make them look foolish and overly motivated, and generally render their material somewhat less coherent. Not only will you avoid discussing the issues in the first instance, but even if their emotional response addresses the issue, you can further avoid the issues by then focusing on how 'sensitive they are to criticism.'
19. Ignore proof presented, demand impossible proofs. This is perhaps a variant of the 'play dumb' rule. Regardless of what material may be presented by an opponent in public forums, claim the material irrelevant and demand proof that is impossible for the opponent to come by (it may exist, but not be at his disposal, or it may be something which is known to be safely destroyed or withheld, such as a murder weapon.) In order to completely avoid discussing issues, it may be required that you to categorically deny and be critical of media or books as valid sources, deny that witnesses are acceptable, or even deny that statements made by government or other authorities have any meaning or relevance.
20. False evidence. Whenever possible, introduce new facts or clues designed and manufactured to conflict with opponent presentations -- as useful tools to neutralize sensitive issues or impede resolution. This works best when the crime was designed with contingencies for the purpose, and the facts cannot be easily separated from the fabrications.
21. Call a Grand Jury, Special Prosecutor, or other empowered investigative body. Subvert the (process) to your benefit and effectively neutralize all sensitive issues without open discussion. Once convened, the evidence and testimony are required to be secret when properly handled. For instance, if you own the prosecuting attorney, it can insure a Grand Jury hears no useful evidence and that the evidence is sealed and unavailable to subsequent investigators. Once a favorable verdict is achieved, the matter can be considered officially closed. Usually, this technique is applied to find the guilty innocent, but it can also be used to obtain charges when seeking to frame a victim.
22. Manufacture a new truth. Create your own expert(s), group(s), author(s), leader(s) or influence existing ones willing to forge new ground via scientific, investigative, or social research or testimony which concludes favorably. In this way, if you must actually address issues, you can do so authoritatively.
23. Create bigger distractions. If the above does not seem to be working to distract from sensitive issues, or to prevent unwanted media coverage of unstoppable events such as trials, create bigger news stories (or treat them as such) to distract the multitudes.
24. Silence critics. If the above methods do not prevail, consider removing opponents from circulation by some definitive solution so that the need to address issues is removed entirely. This can be by their death, arrest and detention, blackmail or destruction of their character by release of blackmail information, or merely by destroying them financially, emotionally, or severely damaging their health.
25. Vanish. If you are a key holder of secrets or otherwise overly illuminated and you think the heat is getting too hot, to avoid the issues, vacate the kitchen.
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Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
1) Avoidance. They never actually discuss issues head-on or provide constructive input, generally avoiding citation of references or credentials. Rather, they merely imply this, that, and the other. Virtually everything about their presentation implies their authority and expert knowledge in the matter without any further justification for credibility.
2) Selectivity. They tend to pick and choose opponents carefully, either applying the hit-and-run approach against mere commentators supportive of opponents, or focusing heavier attacks on key opponents who are known to directly address issues. Should a commentator become argumentative with any success, the focus will shift to include the commentator as well.
3) Coincidental. They tend to surface suddenly and somewhat coincidentally with a new controversial topic with no clear prior record of participation in general discussions in the particular public arena involved. They likewise tend to vanish once the topic is no longer of general concern. They were likely directed or elected to be there for a reason, and vanish with the reason.
4) Teamwork. They tend to operate in self-congratulatory and complementary packs or teams. Of course, this can happen naturally in any public forum, but there will likely be an ongoing pattern of frequent exchanges of this sort where professionals are involved. Sometimes one of the players will infiltrate the opponent camp to become a source for straw man or other tactics designed to dilute opponent presentation strength.
5) Anti-conspiratorial. They almost always have disdain for 'conspiracy theorists' and, usually, for those who in any way believe JFK was not killed by LHO. Ask yourself why, if they hold such disdain for conspiracy theorists, do they focus on defending a single topic discussed in a NG focusing on conspiracies? One might think they would either be trying to make fools of everyone on every topic, or simply ignore the group they hold in such disdain. Or, one might more rightly conclude they have an ulterior motive for their actions in going out of their way to focus as they do.
6) Artificial Emotions. An odd kind of 'artificial' emotionalism and an unusually thick skin -- an ability to persevere and persist even in the face of overwhelming criticism and unacceptance. This likely stems from intelligence community training that, no matter how condemning the evidence, deny everything, and never become emotionally involved or reactive. The net result for a disinfo artist is that emotions can seem artificial.
Most people, if responding in anger, for instance, will express their animosity throughout their rebuttal. But disinfo types usually have trouble maintaining the 'image' and are hot and cold with respect to pretended emotions and their usually more calm or unemotional communications style. It's just a job, and they often seem unable to 'act their role in character' as well in a communications medium as they might be able in a real face-to-face conversation/confrontation. You might have outright rage and indignation one moment, ho-hum the next, and more anger later -- an emotional yo-yo.
With respect to being thick-skinned, no amount of criticism will deter them from doing their job, and they will generally continue their old disinfo patterns without any adjustments to criticisms of how obvious it is that they play that game -- where a more rational individual who truly cares what others think might seek to improve their communications style, substance, and so forth, or simply give up.
7) Inconsistent. There is also a tendency to make mistakes which betray their true self/motives. This may stem from not really knowing their topic, or it may be somewhat 'freudian', so to speak, in that perhaps they really root for the side of truth deep within.
I have noted that often, they will simply cite contradictory information which neutralizes itself and the author. For instance, one such player claimed to be a Navy pilot, but blamed his poor communicating skills (spelling, grammar, incoherent style) on having only a grade-school education. I'm not aware of too many Navy pilots who don't have a college degree. Another claimed no knowledge of a particular topic/situation but later claimed first-hand knowledge of it.
8) Time Constant. Recently discovered, with respect to News Groups, is the response time factor. There are three ways this can be seen to work, especially when the government or other empowered player is involved in a cover up operation:
a) ANY NG posting by a targeted proponent for truth can result in an IMMEDIATE response. The government and other empowered players can afford to pay people to sit there and watch for an opportunity to do some damage. SINCE DISINFO IN A NG ONLY WORKS IF THE READER SEES IT - FAST RESPONSE IS CALLED FOR, or the visitor may be swayed towards truth.
b) When dealing in more direct ways with a disinformationalist, such as email, DELAY IS CALLED FOR - there will usually be a minimum of a 48-72 hour delay. This allows a sit-down team discussion on response strategy for best effect, and even enough time to 'get permission' or instruction from a formal chain of command.
c) In the NG example 1) above, it will often ALSO be seen that bigger guns are drawn and fired after the same 48-72 hours delay - the team approach in play. This is especially true when the targeted truth seeker or their comments are considered more important with respect to potential to reveal truth. Thus, a serious truth sayer will be attacked twice for the same sin.
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How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
One way to neutralize a potential activist is to get them to be in a group that does all the wrong things. Why?
1) The message doesn't get out.
2) A lot of time is wasted
3) The activist is frustrated and discouraged
4) Nothing good is accomplished.
FBI and Police Informers and Infiltrators will infest any group and they have phoney activist organizations established.
Their purpose is to prevent any real movement for justice or eco-peace from developing in this country.
Agents come in small, medium or large. They can be of any ethnic background. They can be male or female.
The actual size of the group or movement being infiltrated is irrelevant. It is the potential the movement has for becoming large which brings on the spies and saboteurs.
This booklet lists tactics agents use to slow things down, foul things up, destroy the movement and keep tabs on activists.
It is the agent's job to keep the activist from quitting such a group, thus keeping him/her under control.
In some situations, to get control, the agent will tell the activist:
- "You're dividing the movement."
This invites guilty feelings. Many people can be controlled by guilt. The agents begin relationships with activists behind a well-developed mask of "dedication to the cause." Because of their often declared dedication, (and actions designed to prove this), when they criticize the activist, he or she - being truly dedicated to the movement - becomes convinced that somehow, any issues are THEIR fault. This is because a truly dedicated person tends to believe that everyone has a conscience and that nobody would dissimulate and lie like that "on purpose." It's amazing how far agents can go in manipulating an activist because the activist will constantly make excuses for the agent who regularly declares their dedication to the cause. Even if they do, occasionally, suspect the agent, they will pull the wool over their own eyes by rationalizing: "they did that unconsciously... they didn't really mean it... I can help them by being forgiving and accepting " and so on and so forth.
The agent will tell the activist:
- "You're a leader!"
This is "malignant pseudo identification." It is the process by which the agent consciously imitates or simulates a certain behavior to foster the activist's identification with him/her, thus increasing the activist's vulnerability to exploitation. The agent will simulate the more subtle self-concepts of the activist.
Activists and those who have altruistic self-concepts are most vulnerable to malignant pseudo identification especially during work with the agent when the interaction includes matter relating to their competency, autonomy, or knowledge.
The goal of the agent is to increase the activist's general empathy for the agent through pseudo-identification with the activist's self-concepts.
The most common example of this is the agent who will compliment the activist for his competency or knowledge or value to the movement. On a more subtle level, the agent will simulate affects and mannerisms of the activist which promotes identification via mirroring and feelings of "twinship". It is not unheard of for activists, enamored by the perceived helpfulness and competence of a good agent, to find themselves considering ethical violations and perhaps, even illegal behavior, in the service of their agent/handler.
The activist's "felt quality of perfection" [self-concept] is enhanced, and a strong empathic bond is developed with the agent through his/her imitation and simulation of the victim's own narcissistic investments. [self-concepts] That is, if the activist knows, deep inside, their own dedication to the cause, they will project that onto the agent who is "mirroring" them.
The activist will be deluded into thinking that the agent shares this feeling of identification and bonding. In an activist/social movement setting, the adversarial roles that activists naturally play vis a vis the establishment/government, fosters ongoing processes of intrapsychic splitting so that "twinship alliances" between activist and agent may render whole sectors or reality testing unavailable to the activist. They literally "lose touch with reality."
Activists who deny their own narcissistic investments [do not have a good idea of their own self-concepts and that they ARE concepts] and consciously perceive themselves (accurately, as it were) to be "helpers" endowed with a special amount of altruism are exceedingly vulnerable to the affective (emotional) simulation of the accomplished agent.
Empathy is fostered in the activist through the expression of quite visible affects. The presentation of tearfulness, sadness, longing, fear, remorse, and guilt, may induce in the helper-oriented activist a strong sense of compassion, while unconsciously enhancing the activist's narcissistic investment in self as the embodiment of goodness.
The agent's expresssion of such simulated affects may be quite compelling to the observer and difficult to distinguish from deep emotion.
It can usually be identified by two events, however:
First, the activist who has analyzed his/her own narcissistic roots and is aware of his/her own potential for being "emotionally hooked," will be able to remain cool and unaffected by such emotional outpourings by the agent.
As a result of this unaffected, cool, attitude, the Second event will occur: The agent will recompensate much too quickly following such an affective expression leaving the activist with the impression that "the play has ended, the curtain has fallen," and the imposture, for the moment, has finished. The agent will then move quickly to another activist/victim.
The fact is, the movement doesn't need leaders, it needs MOVERS. "Follow the leader" is a waste of time.
A good agent will want to meet as often as possible. He or she will talk a lot and say little. One can expect an onslaught of long, unresolved discussions.
Some agents take on a pushy, arrogant, or defensive manner:
1) To disrupt the agenda
2) To side-track the discussion
3) To interrupt repeatedly
4) To feign ignorance
5) To make an unfounded accusation against a person.
Calling someone a racist, for example. This tactic is used to discredit a person in the eyes of all other group members.
Saboteurs
Some saboteurs pretend to be activists. She or he will ....
1) Write encyclopedic flyers (in the present day, websites)
2) Print flyers in English only.
3) Have demonstrations in places where no one cares.
4) Solicit funding from rich people instead of grass roots support
5) Display banners with too many words that are confusing.
6) Confuse issues.
7) Make the wrong demands.
8) Compromise the goal.
9) Have endless discussions that waste everyone's time. The agent may accompany the endless discussions with drinking, pot smoking or other amusement to slow down the activist's work.
Provocateurs
1) Want to establish "leaders" to set them up for a fall in order to stop the movement.
2) Suggest doing foolish, illegal things to get the activists in trouble.
3) Encourage militancy.
4) Want to taunt the authorities.
5) Attempt to make the activist compromise their values.
6) Attempt to instigate violence. Activism ought to always be non-violent.
7) Attempt to provoke revolt among people who are ill-prepared to deal with the reaction of the authorities to such violence.
Informants
1) Want everyone to sign up and sing in and sign everything.
2) Ask a lot of questions (gathering data).
3) Want to know what events the activist is planning to attend.
4) Attempt to make the activist defend him or herself to identify his or her beliefs, goals, and level of commitment.
Recruiting
Legitimate activists do not subject people to hours of persuasive dialog. Their actions, beliefs, and goals speak for themselves.
Groups that DO recruit are missionaries, military, and fake political parties or movements set up by agents.
Surveillance
ALWAYS assume that you are under surveillance.
At this point, if you are NOT under surveillance, you are not a very good activist!
Scare Tactics
They use them.
Such tactics include slander, defamation, threats, getting close to disaffected or minimally committed fellow activists to persuade them (via psychological tactics described above) to turn against the movement and give false testimony against their former compatriots. They will plant illegal substances on the activist and set up an arrest; they will plant false information and set up "exposure," they will send incriminating letters [emails] in the name of the activist; and more; they will do whatever society will allow.
This booklet in no way covers all the ways agents use to sabotage the lives of sincere an dedicated activists.
If an agent is "exposed," he or she will be transferred or replaced.
COINTELPRO is still in operation today under a different code name. It is no longer placed on paper where it can be discovered through the freedom of information act.
The FBI counterintelligence program's stated purpose: To expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize individuals who the FBI categorize as opposed to the National Interests. "National Security" means the FBI's security from the people ever finding out the vicious things it does in violation of people's civil liberties.
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Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
Strong, credible allegations of high-level criminal activity can bring down a government. When the government lacks an effective, fact-based defense, other techniques must be employed. The success of these techniques depends heavily upon a cooperative, compliant press and a mere token opposition party.
1. Dummy up. If it's not reported, if it's not news, it didn't happen.
2. Wax indignant. This is also known as the "How dare you?" gambit.
3. Characterize the charges as "rumors" or, better yet, "wild rumors." If, in spite of the news blackout, the public is still able to learn about the suspicious facts, it can only be through "rumors." (If they tend to believe the "rumors" it must be because they are simply "paranoid" or "hysterical.")
4. Knock down straw men. Deal only with the weakest aspects of the weakest charges. Even better, create your own straw men. Make up wild rumors (or plant false stories) and give them lead play when you appear to debunk all the charges, real and fanciful alike.
5. Call the skeptics names like "conspiracy theorist," "nutcase," "ranter," "kook," "crackpot," and, of course, "rumor monger." Be sure, too, to use heavily loaded verbs and adjectives when characterizing their charges and defending the "more reasonable" government and its defenders. You must then carefully avoid fair and open debate with any of the people you have thus maligned. For insurance, set up your own "skeptics" to shoot down.
6. Impugn motives. Attempt to marginalize the critics by suggesting strongly that they are not really interested in the truth but are simply pursuing a partisan political agenda or are out to make money (compared to over-compensated adherents to the government line who, presumably, are not).
7. Invoke authority. Here the controlled press and the sham opposition can be very useful.
8. Dismiss the charges as "old news."
9. Come half-clean. This is also known as "confession and avoidance" or "taking the limited hangout route." This way, you create the impression of candor and honesty while you admit only to relatively harmless, less-than-criminal "mistakes." This stratagem often requires the embrace of a fall-back position quite different from the one originally taken. With effective damage control, the fall-back position need only be peddled by stooge skeptics to carefully limited markets.
10. Characterize the crimes as impossibly complex and the truth as ultimately unknowable.
11. Reason backward, using the deductive method with a vengeance. With thoroughly rigorous deduction, troublesome evidence is irrelevant. E.g. We have a completely free press. If evidence exists that the Vince Foster "suicide" note was forged, they would have reported it. They haven't reported it so there is no such evidence. Another variation on this theme involves the likelihood of a conspiracy leaker and a press who would report the leak.
12. Require the skeptics to solve the crime completely. E.g. If Foster was murdered, who did it and why?
13. Change the subject. This technique includes creating and/or publicizing distractions.
14. Lightly report incriminating facts, and then make nothing of them. This is sometimes referred to as "bump and run" reporting.
15. Baldly and brazenly lie. A favorite way of doing this is to attribute the "facts" furnished the public to a plausible-sounding, but anonymous, source.
16. Expanding further on numbers 4 and 5, have your own stooges "expose" scandals and champion popular causes. Their job is to pre-empt real opponents and to play 99-yard football. A variation is to pay rich people for the job who will pretend to spend their own money.
17. Flood the Internet with agents. This is the answer to the question, "What could possibly motivate a person to spend hour upon hour on Internet news groups defending the government and/or the press and harassing genuine critics?" Don t the authorities have defenders enough in all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television? One would think refusing to print critical letters and screening out serious callers or dumping them from radio talk shows would be control enough, but, obviously, it is not.
2024.05.21 17:16 houseofspooks I inherited the movie theater my Grandpa owned, but I wish he told me about the awful thing that happened in Screen 6.
Supposedly it'd always been this way, stretching way back to when my Grandpa opened this place almost 97 years ago. I inherited it when he passed a decade or so ago given that my father didn't want anything to do with the place, and since then I've made sure to diligently follow his final wish.
He might've left me the theater, but there was one condition. Not that it'd be enforceable if I went against his wish - more about that later - but the condition was present nonetheless.
Never, ever let the film stop running in Screen 6.
Now, I'd practically grown up in that theater given it was a nice little hang-out spot after closing time - but I never knew anything about the existence of a sixth screen. It had always been five. Grandpa left that sentence and a little picture guide to find the controls for that screen as well as the security footage system for it. He also left a letter, only to be opened once I had been running the theatre for long enough to understand the importance of Screen 6. It baffled me at the time, but I kept that wish too and tucked the letter away. He never told me where to find the screen itself, either. The first thing I did was check the cameras, only to find they showed nothing of interest. No movie-goers were present in this secret little screen, nor were any employees. The black and white footage from the vantage point of a camera positioned above the screen of a silent, empty room filled with rows and rows and endless rows of dusty chairs stared back at me. Somehow it was larger than all of our other screens. After unlocking the neat little contraption he described, I realised the system for that screen was digital. "Huh, strange" I mumbled given the fact our theater was always quite proud of being the only film-only establishment in town.
I suppose digital files make running the screen endlessly an easier task. Something jumped out at me, though. The digital file being used to loop over and over was just that, a singular file. It wasn't cycling through a library of movies. The same one was playing over. And over. The file name?
"sacrifice.mxf"
I've always been a curious person, and part of me wanted to resist. Some instinct was screaming at me to stop. But I couldn't. I had to take a glimpse at the little outdated screen synced up to the projector. It was grainy and degraded, footage that looked like it had been shot in the mid-20th century or so. A group of men dressed in black and women dressed in white circled a tree with interlocked hands. They looked like they were speaking. Maybe singing. Regardless, there was no audio. They went round and round this great old tree for what felt like forever, before stopping in their tracks and just standing there for a minute or two. The footage cut an unspecified amount of time forward to reveal their black and white garments blowing in the wind as they hung from various branches of the tree. All of them. It didn't matter that there wasn't any audio, I could feel the silence seeping out of that screen.
Cut to black.
Part of me was horrified, and another part retained some morbid sense of fascination with what I'd seen. I wasn't planning on going against Grandpa's wishes anyway, but at least I'd seen something that spooked me enough to justify the strangeness of it all. Was that the entire film that had been playing over and over for god knows how long? How was such a massive auditorium just hidden away somewhere? What the fuck was that video?
I needed to find out. God, I wish I hadn't. But I did.
The next few weeks were spent meticulously researching everything I could possibly find about our little family-owned theater. My little theater. I spent hours on end in that projector room trying to make sense of what was being played. The footage described above wasn't alone but remained similar to the others I've since seen. All feature large groups of people in what looks like pre-war Europe. 1930 or so is my best guess. They start off peaceful enough, almost joyous, but I've learned by now to reject the faux happiness depicted. It grabs a hold of you before the violent sacrifices that soon follow rip your heart out. Sometimes I wonder about the people shown. There are so many of them across the different short films, probably more than I've known in my entire lifetime. All of them met such a gruesome end. It might sound easy to throw away their collective existence as mere pixels on a screen, but I can't.
The local newspaper allowed me access to their archive to find out a little more, and things began to tie themselves together. I had to sift through cardboard box after cardboard box to find what I'd been looking for, but I eventually did. Back in 1931, there had been an awful incident at our theater. At the time it was owned by Grandpa, and things were looking up given it was the only establishment of its kind in town - unfortunately something terrible was to happen soon. It was a cool October evening when local police were alerted to a disturbance down at the movie theater by terrified patrons. You see, back then there was a screen 6. Nestled right next to screen 5, it was the focal selling point as a state-of-the-art screen showing only the finest films. Those in screen 5 began to realise something was badly wrong when the sound of an incessantly crying and screaming child began to drown out the more pleasant sound of their film. "The Talkies", as films with spoken audio were known in their 1930s heyday, were a phenomenon and it took a lot to distract those in screen 5 from their entertainment. The child screamed for as long as it could until annoyance turned to worry and eventually fear.
By the time police swung open the double doors to Screen 6, the leather white seats were soaked in crimson red blood and the patrons inside had long since taken their last breaths.
Except one.
Still the child screamed.
I've always been open-minded when it comes to the unseen, not a believer per se, but not dismissive of the idea. Things began to come into a clearer focus. Hundreds of people had sacrificed themselves in that screen all those years ago, and now the screen is forever condemned to forever playing films of similar occurrences. The two had to be connected.
The letter.
It was time to open the letter. I was convinced I satisfied Grandpa's requirement for doing so, and it would fill in the parts of this deranged story I was missing. I slipped the letter out of its glum, off-white envelope and began to read.
"To my beloved Grandson,
By now you probably know much more about the story of our little theater than you did when I left it to you. I'm sorry it took until we were separated for you to learn the truth, but it was something that had to be done. Those people that are in the films playing on Screen 6 were part of an ancient cult. The Men of Mephistopheles they called themselves. They would live in communes and the peaceful images you've come to see are of their day-to-day lives, and as you have also come to see they would eventually offer themselves en masse in blood sacrifices. One of these sacrifices happened to take place in Screen 6 of our theater, and once again I'm sure you have come to learn of this given you are reading this letter.
The locations in which these sacrifices take place are forever bound to the souls lost there in some form or another. To illustrate, that great big tree in one of the films is now the site of countless suicides. Their crime? Daring to walk where the Men of Mephistopheles once walked, and where they left this Earth. Our particular curse happens to be that Screen 6 began to be the site of similar suicides, and so did our other screens. We could never figure out why they weren't contained to the immediate site of the original sacrifice, but needed to find a way to stop them. Times were tough, and the money the theater brought in was important to all of our lives. An occultist suggested the endless film screening as a way to stem the flow whilst we found a more permanent solution, but before long we realised it stopped the awful goings-on entirely. So we let the films play and then play some more. Screen 6 had originally been downstairs since the building only allowed for that kind of space down there, so we turned it into a tomb. Maybe the misguided souls lost there found some peace in the dusty catacomb of a theater left behind.
Now if you know the story of the sacrifice at our theater, you know there was a singular child who survived it all.
That child?
Your father.
I'm so sorry for keeping the truth locked away from you the way I did, you deserved to know whilst I was still there with you. Please know I only ever had your best interests at heart.
I love you always,
Poppy"
It's been a few weeks since I found out the truth about our small-town theater. Sleeping has been difficult because of the endless nightmares, as has bothering to keep up maintenance of the place.
Still, though, the film on Screen 6 plays.
submitted by houseofspooks to nosleep [link] [comments]
He might've left me the theater, but there was one condition. Not that it'd be enforceable if I went against his wish - more about that later - but the condition was present nonetheless.
Never, ever let the film stop running in Screen 6.
Now, I'd practically grown up in that theater given it was a nice little hang-out spot after closing time - but I never knew anything about the existence of a sixth screen. It had always been five. Grandpa left that sentence and a little picture guide to find the controls for that screen as well as the security footage system for it. He also left a letter, only to be opened once I had been running the theatre for long enough to understand the importance of Screen 6. It baffled me at the time, but I kept that wish too and tucked the letter away. He never told me where to find the screen itself, either. The first thing I did was check the cameras, only to find they showed nothing of interest. No movie-goers were present in this secret little screen, nor were any employees. The black and white footage from the vantage point of a camera positioned above the screen of a silent, empty room filled with rows and rows and endless rows of dusty chairs stared back at me. Somehow it was larger than all of our other screens. After unlocking the neat little contraption he described, I realised the system for that screen was digital. "Huh, strange" I mumbled given the fact our theater was always quite proud of being the only film-only establishment in town.
I suppose digital files make running the screen endlessly an easier task. Something jumped out at me, though. The digital file being used to loop over and over was just that, a singular file. It wasn't cycling through a library of movies. The same one was playing over. And over. The file name?
"sacrifice.mxf"
I've always been a curious person, and part of me wanted to resist. Some instinct was screaming at me to stop. But I couldn't. I had to take a glimpse at the little outdated screen synced up to the projector. It was grainy and degraded, footage that looked like it had been shot in the mid-20th century or so. A group of men dressed in black and women dressed in white circled a tree with interlocked hands. They looked like they were speaking. Maybe singing. Regardless, there was no audio. They went round and round this great old tree for what felt like forever, before stopping in their tracks and just standing there for a minute or two. The footage cut an unspecified amount of time forward to reveal their black and white garments blowing in the wind as they hung from various branches of the tree. All of them. It didn't matter that there wasn't any audio, I could feel the silence seeping out of that screen.
Cut to black.
Part of me was horrified, and another part retained some morbid sense of fascination with what I'd seen. I wasn't planning on going against Grandpa's wishes anyway, but at least I'd seen something that spooked me enough to justify the strangeness of it all. Was that the entire film that had been playing over and over for god knows how long? How was such a massive auditorium just hidden away somewhere? What the fuck was that video?
I needed to find out. God, I wish I hadn't. But I did.
The next few weeks were spent meticulously researching everything I could possibly find about our little family-owned theater. My little theater. I spent hours on end in that projector room trying to make sense of what was being played. The footage described above wasn't alone but remained similar to the others I've since seen. All feature large groups of people in what looks like pre-war Europe. 1930 or so is my best guess. They start off peaceful enough, almost joyous, but I've learned by now to reject the faux happiness depicted. It grabs a hold of you before the violent sacrifices that soon follow rip your heart out. Sometimes I wonder about the people shown. There are so many of them across the different short films, probably more than I've known in my entire lifetime. All of them met such a gruesome end. It might sound easy to throw away their collective existence as mere pixels on a screen, but I can't.
The local newspaper allowed me access to their archive to find out a little more, and things began to tie themselves together. I had to sift through cardboard box after cardboard box to find what I'd been looking for, but I eventually did. Back in 1931, there had been an awful incident at our theater. At the time it was owned by Grandpa, and things were looking up given it was the only establishment of its kind in town - unfortunately something terrible was to happen soon. It was a cool October evening when local police were alerted to a disturbance down at the movie theater by terrified patrons. You see, back then there was a screen 6. Nestled right next to screen 5, it was the focal selling point as a state-of-the-art screen showing only the finest films. Those in screen 5 began to realise something was badly wrong when the sound of an incessantly crying and screaming child began to drown out the more pleasant sound of their film. "The Talkies", as films with spoken audio were known in their 1930s heyday, were a phenomenon and it took a lot to distract those in screen 5 from their entertainment. The child screamed for as long as it could until annoyance turned to worry and eventually fear.
By the time police swung open the double doors to Screen 6, the leather white seats were soaked in crimson red blood and the patrons inside had long since taken their last breaths.
Except one.
Still the child screamed.
I've always been open-minded when it comes to the unseen, not a believer per se, but not dismissive of the idea. Things began to come into a clearer focus. Hundreds of people had sacrificed themselves in that screen all those years ago, and now the screen is forever condemned to forever playing films of similar occurrences. The two had to be connected.
The letter.
It was time to open the letter. I was convinced I satisfied Grandpa's requirement for doing so, and it would fill in the parts of this deranged story I was missing. I slipped the letter out of its glum, off-white envelope and began to read.
"To my beloved Grandson,
By now you probably know much more about the story of our little theater than you did when I left it to you. I'm sorry it took until we were separated for you to learn the truth, but it was something that had to be done. Those people that are in the films playing on Screen 6 were part of an ancient cult. The Men of Mephistopheles they called themselves. They would live in communes and the peaceful images you've come to see are of their day-to-day lives, and as you have also come to see they would eventually offer themselves en masse in blood sacrifices. One of these sacrifices happened to take place in Screen 6 of our theater, and once again I'm sure you have come to learn of this given you are reading this letter.
The locations in which these sacrifices take place are forever bound to the souls lost there in some form or another. To illustrate, that great big tree in one of the films is now the site of countless suicides. Their crime? Daring to walk where the Men of Mephistopheles once walked, and where they left this Earth. Our particular curse happens to be that Screen 6 began to be the site of similar suicides, and so did our other screens. We could never figure out why they weren't contained to the immediate site of the original sacrifice, but needed to find a way to stop them. Times were tough, and the money the theater brought in was important to all of our lives. An occultist suggested the endless film screening as a way to stem the flow whilst we found a more permanent solution, but before long we realised it stopped the awful goings-on entirely. So we let the films play and then play some more. Screen 6 had originally been downstairs since the building only allowed for that kind of space down there, so we turned it into a tomb. Maybe the misguided souls lost there found some peace in the dusty catacomb of a theater left behind.
Now if you know the story of the sacrifice at our theater, you know there was a singular child who survived it all.
That child?
Your father.
I'm so sorry for keeping the truth locked away from you the way I did, you deserved to know whilst I was still there with you. Please know I only ever had your best interests at heart.
I love you always,
Poppy"
It's been a few weeks since I found out the truth about our small-town theater. Sleeping has been difficult because of the endless nightmares, as has bothering to keep up maintenance of the place.
Still, though, the film on Screen 6 plays.
2024.05.21 16:57 TorentinaTuesday Dark Skies
It stormed in Starfall.
Perhaps elsewhere, too. Allyria couldn’t be sure. But a storm never kept a raven from its duties, and so surely that wasn’t an excuse for hers to have not yet returned from the North. Not that she was expecting a reply – she never got those from Widow’s Watch – but it was unusual for the bird to be gone as long as it was and Allyria tended to worry about them after a while.
“Maybe he’s stopped to roost with some friends,” she wondered aloud. Birds were social creatures. Not like her.
From the north-facing windows of her tower, Allyria could see that the ironmen’s structures had held through the lashing rains and heavy winds of the past two days and were now awash in noon’s sunshine. Those structures would eventually be home to however many Dornishmen who’d joined the Princess’ caravan thus far on their way to the Great Council.
Time was running out. They’d be here soon.
Allyria thought the sight of the waiting tents might make her sad – a reminder that Lord Erik had gone. But she had his gift to remember him by, and had already filled the secret compartment of the broken-looking far eye with treasures: a sea shell, a few coins, a small figurine of a sheep carved with wood and wrapped in real wool that was given to her when she was a child. She held the lens in her hands, fiddling with it as she gazed out the window in the hope of seeing black wings.
“I am talking to myself,” she said. “When I send letters to Widow’s Watch, I am addressing no one but myself.”
She had been writing the northern holdfast for years now. Allyria thought it a pity that star keepers outside the Citadel did not converse more with one another. She had never been North, and would likely never go, but she knew that the stars would look different from the peninsula jutting into the Shivering Sea than they did from here. Different, too, from Seagard and Bear Island. From the Fingers and from Claw Isle. But while Cailin passed to her the records of those maesters, there was none from that eastern holdfast – the small castle on the lonely strip of land jutting out into the wide, mysterious sea north of Essos.
She wrote them nonetheless.
Her raven always returned, but never brought with it a new message. What was done with the scrolls she attached – handwritten copies of her star charts, occasional questions and observations – she did not know. Perhaps the bird simply dropped them into the sea.
“I ought to stop talking to myself.”
Allyria gathered a few things and headed for the stairs that would take her down from her tower and into Starfall. It wasn’t often that she was awake during the daytime (she had the storm to thank for that) and she could do with some company.
Qoren was the obvious choice, but he had become difficult to find as of late. Perhaps it was because of the impending guests, but whereas normally he’d be waiting outside her chambers by nightfall, now she found herself charting the stars alone, occasionally opening the door to her tower in the hopes of finding him. But she was always disappointed. Tonight she resolved to go further than the top of the tower stairs, however. She’d go all the way to the barracks, if she had to. And it turned out she did.
“Qoren, milady?” The sentry outside seemed doubtful as to whom she was asking for. “The deaf one?”
“Yes, Qoren.”
“I think he’s in the yard with Lady Arianne.”
“Could you tell him I was looking for him when he gets back?”
Satisfied with his obligatory promise to do so, Allyria wandered up to the rookery a second time. Her bird had still not returned. The last message she’d sent Widow’s Watch was an unusual one, which was perhaps why she held out hope that this time, despite years of precedent, would be different. She’d written it half-awake after being pulled from a strange dream. In it, the Dornish Princess arrived at Starfall wrapped in long silk made from moonlight. She’d brought with her a chest and in it were the remains of Ulrich: his ribs, his skull, his arm. The chest was leaking blood all over the floor of the great hall, pooling at the Princess’ feet, but the hem of her silvery gown was not stained. It seemed to sit atop it, like oil upon water.
Allyria had described the dream in her letter and carried it to the rookery while still in her bare feet and nightgown, sleep crusted in her eyes. She’d been in the process of binding it with string when a final thought occurred to her, which she hastily scribbled at the bottom of the parchment.
If the sun sets in the west, how could darkness come from the east?
She pictured the raven stopping to roost in the rocky cliffs of the Prince’s Pass, her letter fastened to its ankle as it caught up with old friends. Perhaps they discussed her ramblings amongst themselves, swapping their own theories about what the cryptic message from the stars meant: darkness comes from the east. Perhaps they lined their nests with her parchment.
She meant to go back to her tower, perhaps catch some precious sleep before night fell and the stars came out, but Allyria found herself instead on one of the balconies overlooking the training yard. It wasn’t noise that drew her there, for Arianne and Qoren were quiet. The only sounds in their training was the shuffling of feet on sandy stone, a soft grunt here and there, the occasional muffled thud of steel greatswords on leather. Allyria wasn’t sure what it was that prompted her to pause and observe.
She leaned over the rail and watched them spar. They did not speak to one another, she noted, communicating only in nods and small gestures. Sometimes, when her sister was concentrating, she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth. But Arianne’s expression now was grim. She blocked and parried. She watched how Qoren moved his feet and imitated the motions.
Then, the sky darkened. For a moment, Allyria thought a new storm was rolling in. But this was a different sort of darkness. It was as though someone were slowly draping a veil over the whole world… except that she could see a thin layer of orange on the horizon, just beyond the castle’s walls. There, in the distance, it was day. But above Starfall, quite suddenly, it was night. The temperature sank, frogs in the banks of the Torrentine began to croak, shadows sprung up where none had been, and those that were there grew blacker, more distinct.
Allyira might have thought she were imagining things, but Arianne and Qoren had stopped their sparring and turned their gazes towards the heavens, along with every sentry on the wall. Around them, and around Allyria, too, guards were similarly staring at the sky in confusion and wonder. But no one spoke. They were all looking at the same sun – now a ball of black with only a thin halo of light around it – in a tense kind of confusion. It was disorienting. Allyria felt her heart thumping in her chest and realised, as though from a distance, that she was frightened. She had lived her whole life within these walls and yet the sight before her now was of another world.
So, too, were her sister and Qoren. Arianne was in the shade of the balcony but the steel of Qoren’s sword reflected a bar of silver light across her face. Beside her pale features, Qoren’s grew even darker in the black shadow – his dark hair was now black as pitch, his eyes obscured beneath black brows, even his armour, dyed leather, was black.
Darkness comes from the east.
Whole minutes passed before the day’s second sunrise seemed to happen before her eyes: the sky lightened, shadows returned to where they ought have been, and the sun grew bright and yellow once more. The frogs and the bank insects grew silent. Birds sang again.
Allyria flew.
Past guards, past guests, past the members of Starfall’s counsel, all headed in a panicked confusion towards the courtyard, Allyria ran. She took the stairs of the Palestone Sword tower two at a time, losing a sandal along the way but abandoning it entirely.
How could I have been so stupid? she wondered. Darkness from the east! It wasn’t the tree, it was never the tree!
In her chamber she found her desk in a state of disarray. Her work had been much more organised with Qoren’s involvement and the absence of it showed.
Darkness comes from the east. Dawn. Dawn!
She hadn’t yet found the chart she was looking for when she heard a pounding on the door. She ran to it quickly, dragging open the heavy wooden board and finding an unexpected face on the other side. Her confusion must have shown, because the steward began with his explanation.
“I don’t mean to disturb you, my lady, but a raven came and I thought you would want to read it right away.”
Allyria blinked.
“It’s from Widow’s Watch.”
She snatched the scroll from Colin’s hand the moment he showed it, unravelling it hastily as she rushed back to her desk. The astrolabe sat crooked on the wall. She didn’t realise she’d accidentally knocked it askew in her haste.
Pressing the parchment flat against her desk, she read the words written in an unfamiliar hand.
You are missing the second half of your riddle:
bringing with it dawn.
A drawing was etched beneath it and Allyria scanned the markings quickly. They painted a picture of the night sky, each star’s position carefully logged. The Crone’s Lantern, the Ghost and the Galley, the Sword of the Morning…
“It’s Qoren.”
Allyrica looked up from the paper at the astrolabe on the wall. The device that had deceived her.
“The next Sword of the Morning. It’s Qoren.”
submitted by TorentinaTuesday to GameofThronesRP [link] [comments]
Perhaps elsewhere, too. Allyria couldn’t be sure. But a storm never kept a raven from its duties, and so surely that wasn’t an excuse for hers to have not yet returned from the North. Not that she was expecting a reply – she never got those from Widow’s Watch – but it was unusual for the bird to be gone as long as it was and Allyria tended to worry about them after a while.
“Maybe he’s stopped to roost with some friends,” she wondered aloud. Birds were social creatures. Not like her.
From the north-facing windows of her tower, Allyria could see that the ironmen’s structures had held through the lashing rains and heavy winds of the past two days and were now awash in noon’s sunshine. Those structures would eventually be home to however many Dornishmen who’d joined the Princess’ caravan thus far on their way to the Great Council.
Time was running out. They’d be here soon.
Allyria thought the sight of the waiting tents might make her sad – a reminder that Lord Erik had gone. But she had his gift to remember him by, and had already filled the secret compartment of the broken-looking far eye with treasures: a sea shell, a few coins, a small figurine of a sheep carved with wood and wrapped in real wool that was given to her when she was a child. She held the lens in her hands, fiddling with it as she gazed out the window in the hope of seeing black wings.
“I am talking to myself,” she said. “When I send letters to Widow’s Watch, I am addressing no one but myself.”
She had been writing the northern holdfast for years now. Allyria thought it a pity that star keepers outside the Citadel did not converse more with one another. She had never been North, and would likely never go, but she knew that the stars would look different from the peninsula jutting into the Shivering Sea than they did from here. Different, too, from Seagard and Bear Island. From the Fingers and from Claw Isle. But while Cailin passed to her the records of those maesters, there was none from that eastern holdfast – the small castle on the lonely strip of land jutting out into the wide, mysterious sea north of Essos.
She wrote them nonetheless.
Her raven always returned, but never brought with it a new message. What was done with the scrolls she attached – handwritten copies of her star charts, occasional questions and observations – she did not know. Perhaps the bird simply dropped them into the sea.
“I ought to stop talking to myself.”
Allyria gathered a few things and headed for the stairs that would take her down from her tower and into Starfall. It wasn’t often that she was awake during the daytime (she had the storm to thank for that) and she could do with some company.
Qoren was the obvious choice, but he had become difficult to find as of late. Perhaps it was because of the impending guests, but whereas normally he’d be waiting outside her chambers by nightfall, now she found herself charting the stars alone, occasionally opening the door to her tower in the hopes of finding him. But she was always disappointed. Tonight she resolved to go further than the top of the tower stairs, however. She’d go all the way to the barracks, if she had to. And it turned out she did.
“Qoren, milady?” The sentry outside seemed doubtful as to whom she was asking for. “The deaf one?”
“Yes, Qoren.”
“I think he’s in the yard with Lady Arianne.”
“Could you tell him I was looking for him when he gets back?”
Satisfied with his obligatory promise to do so, Allyria wandered up to the rookery a second time. Her bird had still not returned. The last message she’d sent Widow’s Watch was an unusual one, which was perhaps why she held out hope that this time, despite years of precedent, would be different. She’d written it half-awake after being pulled from a strange dream. In it, the Dornish Princess arrived at Starfall wrapped in long silk made from moonlight. She’d brought with her a chest and in it were the remains of Ulrich: his ribs, his skull, his arm. The chest was leaking blood all over the floor of the great hall, pooling at the Princess’ feet, but the hem of her silvery gown was not stained. It seemed to sit atop it, like oil upon water.
Allyria had described the dream in her letter and carried it to the rookery while still in her bare feet and nightgown, sleep crusted in her eyes. She’d been in the process of binding it with string when a final thought occurred to her, which she hastily scribbled at the bottom of the parchment.
If the sun sets in the west, how could darkness come from the east?
She pictured the raven stopping to roost in the rocky cliffs of the Prince’s Pass, her letter fastened to its ankle as it caught up with old friends. Perhaps they discussed her ramblings amongst themselves, swapping their own theories about what the cryptic message from the stars meant: darkness comes from the east. Perhaps they lined their nests with her parchment.
She meant to go back to her tower, perhaps catch some precious sleep before night fell and the stars came out, but Allyria found herself instead on one of the balconies overlooking the training yard. It wasn’t noise that drew her there, for Arianne and Qoren were quiet. The only sounds in their training was the shuffling of feet on sandy stone, a soft grunt here and there, the occasional muffled thud of steel greatswords on leather. Allyria wasn’t sure what it was that prompted her to pause and observe.
She leaned over the rail and watched them spar. They did not speak to one another, she noted, communicating only in nods and small gestures. Sometimes, when her sister was concentrating, she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth. But Arianne’s expression now was grim. She blocked and parried. She watched how Qoren moved his feet and imitated the motions.
Then, the sky darkened. For a moment, Allyria thought a new storm was rolling in. But this was a different sort of darkness. It was as though someone were slowly draping a veil over the whole world… except that she could see a thin layer of orange on the horizon, just beyond the castle’s walls. There, in the distance, it was day. But above Starfall, quite suddenly, it was night. The temperature sank, frogs in the banks of the Torrentine began to croak, shadows sprung up where none had been, and those that were there grew blacker, more distinct.
Allyira might have thought she were imagining things, but Arianne and Qoren had stopped their sparring and turned their gazes towards the heavens, along with every sentry on the wall. Around them, and around Allyria, too, guards were similarly staring at the sky in confusion and wonder. But no one spoke. They were all looking at the same sun – now a ball of black with only a thin halo of light around it – in a tense kind of confusion. It was disorienting. Allyria felt her heart thumping in her chest and realised, as though from a distance, that she was frightened. She had lived her whole life within these walls and yet the sight before her now was of another world.
So, too, were her sister and Qoren. Arianne was in the shade of the balcony but the steel of Qoren’s sword reflected a bar of silver light across her face. Beside her pale features, Qoren’s grew even darker in the black shadow – his dark hair was now black as pitch, his eyes obscured beneath black brows, even his armour, dyed leather, was black.
Darkness comes from the east.
Whole minutes passed before the day’s second sunrise seemed to happen before her eyes: the sky lightened, shadows returned to where they ought have been, and the sun grew bright and yellow once more. The frogs and the bank insects grew silent. Birds sang again.
Allyria flew.
Past guards, past guests, past the members of Starfall’s counsel, all headed in a panicked confusion towards the courtyard, Allyria ran. She took the stairs of the Palestone Sword tower two at a time, losing a sandal along the way but abandoning it entirely.
How could I have been so stupid? she wondered. Darkness from the east! It wasn’t the tree, it was never the tree!
In her chamber she found her desk in a state of disarray. Her work had been much more organised with Qoren’s involvement and the absence of it showed.
Darkness comes from the east. Dawn. Dawn!
She hadn’t yet found the chart she was looking for when she heard a pounding on the door. She ran to it quickly, dragging open the heavy wooden board and finding an unexpected face on the other side. Her confusion must have shown, because the steward began with his explanation.
“I don’t mean to disturb you, my lady, but a raven came and I thought you would want to read it right away.”
Allyria blinked.
“It’s from Widow’s Watch.”
She snatched the scroll from Colin’s hand the moment he showed it, unravelling it hastily as she rushed back to her desk. The astrolabe sat crooked on the wall. She didn’t realise she’d accidentally knocked it askew in her haste.
Pressing the parchment flat against her desk, she read the words written in an unfamiliar hand.
You are missing the second half of your riddle:
bringing with it dawn.
A drawing was etched beneath it and Allyria scanned the markings quickly. They painted a picture of the night sky, each star’s position carefully logged. The Crone’s Lantern, the Ghost and the Galley, the Sword of the Morning…
“It’s Qoren.”
Allyrica looked up from the paper at the astrolabe on the wall. The device that had deceived her.
“The next Sword of the Morning. It’s Qoren.”
2024.05.21 16:57 Shagrrotten The Greatest Car Chases in Movie History, Ranked
Taken from: https://www.theringer.com/movies/2024/5/21/24161120/greatest-movie-car-chase-scenes-ranked-furiosa-mad-max-saga
In honor of the imminent ‘Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,’ we’re shifting into high gear to determine the best chase scene in cinema history
By Miles Surrey May 21, 2024, 6:30am EDTGetty Images/Ringer illustration
After wowing audiences with Mad Max: Fury Road, director George Miller returns to the franchise’s post-apocalyptic wastelands for Furiosa, the epic origin story of the eponymous heroine (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), premiering on Friday. As the follow-up to one of the greatest action films ever made, it’s hard to overstate the hype for Furiosa, and that was before word got out about a showstopping 15-minute sequence that required nearly 200 stuntpeople and took 78 days to shoot. While Furiosa will have its own distinct flavor, as is true of every Mad Max movie, there’s one thing that unites these projects: intense, jaw-dropping scenes of vehicular mayhem. And what better way to honor the franchise than by celebrating what it does best?
Ahead of Furiosa’s release, we’ve put together our definitive ranking of the best car chases in cinema. There weren’t any strict rules in place, other than capping the list at 20—mostly for my own sanity—and limiting every franchise to one entry. (Apologies to Fury Road’s kickass predecessor The Road Warrior.) We also won’t discriminate against scenes that feature motorbikes, so long as cars (and/or trucks) remain part of the equation. As for what, exactly, constitutes a good car chase? Like list making, it’s bound to be subjective, but I tend to gravitate toward two key elements: the skill of the stuntwork on display and the ways in which a filmmaker conveys the action in relation to the story. (Also, the less CGI, the better.) Buckle up, ’cause we’re not wasting any time shifting into high gear.
If we’re being honest, though, it feels like James Bond has yet to create a franchise-defining car chase. Perhaps that’s a mission the newest 007, whoever it ends up being, can undertake.
We’ll be sure to update this ranking if and when Cruise does something even more dangerous down the road, pun unintended.
Vanishing Point might not boast the impressive production values of other movies on this list, but considering Tarantino would go on to feature a white Challenger in Death Proof, its influence in the car cinema canon is undeniable.
If the Fast franchise is going to break out of its recent slump, it would do well to remember that there’s nothing better than letting its heroes live their lives a quarter mile at a time—no detours to outer space required.
The sheer scale of The Blues Brothers’ final set piece is commendable in and of itself—as is the movie’s commitment to treating real-life cars like a bunch of Hot Wheels.
Baby Driver’s gimmick stretches a little thin by the end, but it’s hard to deny the crowd-pleasing power of Wright’s film when it’s firing on all cylinders.
This belongs in an entirely new category of combat: car fights. There are so many action scenes in The Raid 2 worth writing home about—the kitchen showdown is an all-timer—but the fact that Evans casually tossed in an unforgettable car chase shows why he’s one of one.
If the general vibes of The Driver seem familiar, that’s because it was a major inspiration for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, which just so happened to feature an unnamed protagonist (Ryan Gosling) evading police through the streets of Los Angeles.
If I’m being honest, I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like the Bourne movies’ shaky-cam style, but when it’s executed with such craftsmanship, you can’t help but get caught up in its adrenaline-pumping power.
The sequence isn’t quite at the level of Bullitt or The French Connection—very few are—but D’Antoni still manages to leave an unmistakable imprint on the car chase canon.
If the Academy handed out Oscars to stunt performers—and let’s hope it does happen one day—Bell would’ve won in a landslide.
The fact that Friedkin shot the chase at the end of filming—in case anything disastrous happened to the actors—underscores just how risky the endeavor was. The pulse-pounding results speak for themselves.
The Matrix remains the Wachowskis’ masterpiece, but don’t get it twisted: The filmmakers were still cooking with gas in the sequel.
While Halicki wound up making a few more indies after Gone in 60 Seconds, he died in an accident on the set of its sequel. His legacy as a do-it-all daredevil, however, lives on.
Big Jim is still revolutionizing what can be achieved with visual effects in the Avatar franchise, and while I cherish those movies, nothing beats his old-school showmanship.
Spielberg would move on to bigger and better things after Duel, but considering how much the director accomplished with so little, you can’t help but wonder what else he could conjure up with limited resources.
To quote Steven Soderbergh’s thoughts on Fury Road: “I don’t understand how they’re not still shooting that film and I don’t understand how hundreds of people aren’t dead.” Whether or not Miller manages to one-up the action in Furiosa, the director is already in the pantheon.
My Ringer colleague Justin Sayles believes The French Connection’s chase should’ve landed at no. 1, and I’m sure many folks will agree with him. Being the only film on this list to win Best Picture, however, is a solid consolation prize.
That the car driven by McQueen was recently sold at auction for $3.74 million, a then-record price for a Mustang, underlines Bullitt’s enduring legacy.
There are many worthy car chases in this ranking, but in my view, Ronin takes pole position. And while I can’t imagine a movie ever topping what Frankenheimer achieved, I’d love nothing more than to be proved wrong.
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In honor of the imminent ‘Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,’ we’re shifting into high gear to determine the best chase scene in cinema history
By Miles Surrey May 21, 2024, 6:30am EDTGetty Images/Ringer illustration
After wowing audiences with Mad Max: Fury Road, director George Miller returns to the franchise’s post-apocalyptic wastelands for Furiosa, the epic origin story of the eponymous heroine (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), premiering on Friday. As the follow-up to one of the greatest action films ever made, it’s hard to overstate the hype for Furiosa, and that was before word got out about a showstopping 15-minute sequence that required nearly 200 stuntpeople and took 78 days to shoot. While Furiosa will have its own distinct flavor, as is true of every Mad Max movie, there’s one thing that unites these projects: intense, jaw-dropping scenes of vehicular mayhem. And what better way to honor the franchise than by celebrating what it does best?
Ahead of Furiosa’s release, we’ve put together our definitive ranking of the best car chases in cinema. There weren’t any strict rules in place, other than capping the list at 20—mostly for my own sanity—and limiting every franchise to one entry. (Apologies to Fury Road’s kickass predecessor The Road Warrior.) We also won’t discriminate against scenes that feature motorbikes, so long as cars (and/or trucks) remain part of the equation. As for what, exactly, constitutes a good car chase? Like list making, it’s bound to be subjective, but I tend to gravitate toward two key elements: the skill of the stuntwork on display and the ways in which a filmmaker conveys the action in relation to the story. (Also, the less CGI, the better.) Buckle up, ’cause we’re not wasting any time shifting into high gear.
20. Quantum of Solace (2008)
There have been some memorable car chases in the James Bond franchise: the first sequence featuring the iconic Aston Martin DB5 in Goldfinger, the corkscrew jump in The Man With the Golden Gun, the Lotus Esprit submarine in The Spy Who Loved Me. But I’m going with a somewhat controversial pick here: Quantum of Solace. There are many issues with Quantum of Solace—namely, it was one of the most high-profile blockbusters affected by the 2007-08 writers strike—but its opening scene isn’t one of them. Picking up right where Casino Royale left off, we find Bond (Daniel Craig) evading henchmen through the narrow roads around Italy’s Lake Garda. The frenetic, furious chase mirrors Bond’s sense of anguish after losing Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), the woman he opened his heart to, and his relentless quest for answers. It’s a thrilling tone-setter for Quantum of Solace and one that doesn’t overstay its welcome, capped off by Bond sending his final pursuers flying off a cliff:If we’re being honest, though, it feels like James Bond has yet to create a franchise-defining car chase. Perhaps that’s a mission the newest 007, whoever it ends up being, can undertake.
19. Mission: Impossible—Rogue Nation (2015)
The Mission: Impossible franchise is no stranger to electrifying chase scenes, the best of which find Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt working up his heart rate. When it comes to action behind the wheel, though, Fallout tends to dominate the discussion—even on this very website. But I think the vehicular chase in Rogue Nation is being slept on. What we have is effectively two sequences for the price of one: The first finds Hunt pursuing Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) by car through the narrow streets of Casablanca alongside some nefarious henchmen; the second sees him continue the chase outside the city on motorbike. (Adding to the chaos: Hunt had only just been resuscitated, and he’s clearly not all there.) In terms of death-defying stunts for the audience’s entertainment, a helmetless Cruise taking corners like a MotoGP racer is child’s play compared to his other exploits, but the actor’s authentic reaction to scraping his knee on the road underlines that there’s no one else in Hollywood doing it like him:We’ll be sure to update this ranking if and when Cruise does something even more dangerous down the road, pun unintended.
18. Vanishing Point (1971)
A movie that counts the likes of Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino among its biggest fans, Vanishing Point is the first of a few entries on this ranking that’s essentially one extended car chase. The film stars Barry Newman as Kowalski, a man tasked with delivering a Dodge Challenger T 440 Magnum from Colorado to California while eluding police across four states. One of Kowalski’s most memorable run-ins comes when a guy driving a Jaguar E-Type convertible challenges him to an impromptu race. Incredibly, we’re expected to believe the man in the Jag comes out of this crash in one piece:Vanishing Point might not boast the impressive production values of other movies on this list, but considering Tarantino would go on to feature a white Challenger in Death Proof, its influence in the car cinema canon is undeniable.
17. Fast Five (2011)
Let’s face it, Fast & Furious has seen better days. Some believe the franchise’s dip in quality coincided with the death of Paul Walker; others are dismayed by the pivot from street racing to absurd feats of superherodom—emphasis on the Dom. Perhaps it’s a bit of both, but the very best movie in the series, Fast Five, manages to strike the perfect balance: It’s a relatively grounded heist thriller that nevertheless takes the franchise to ridiculous new heights. After Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his crew steal $100 million from a Brazilian kingpin, they drag the entire bank vault holding the money through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, all while being pursued by authorities. It’s a delightfully destructive sequence that does untold damage to Rio’s infrastructure and features some of the most bone-crunching crashes committed to film:If the Fast franchise is going to break out of its recent slump, it would do well to remember that there’s nothing better than letting its heroes live their lives a quarter mile at a time—no detours to outer space required.
16. The Blues Brothers (1980)
A good car chase isn’t reserved just for action flicks: Comedies can get in on the act, too. In The Blues Brothers, starring the recurring Saturday Night Live characters played by John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, the beloved bandmates must prevent the foreclosure of the orphanage where they were raised by scrounging together $5,000. Naturally, that’s easier said than done: Along the way, the Blues Brothers draw the attention of neo-Nazis, a country-and-western band, and local police. While The Blues Brothers has amusing gags and musical numbers, its chase sequences with the Brothers behind the wheel of a 1974 Dodge Monaco are what really steal the show—and none are better than a climactic pursuit across Chicago. More than 60 old police cars were used in the film, some of which are wrecked in a comically over-the-top pileup:The sheer scale of The Blues Brothers’ final set piece is commendable in and of itself—as is the movie’s commitment to treating real-life cars like a bunch of Hot Wheels.
15. Baby Driver (2017)
For good and for ill, Edgar Wright’s movies exude an abundance of style, and Baby Driver is no exception. Baby Driver is centered on a clever gimmick: The action works in tandem with its soundtrack because the film’s protagonist, Baby (Ansel Elgort), suffers from tinnitus and constantly plays music to drown out the ringing. When everything’s clicking into place, Baby Driver feels like a supersized series of music videos, and nothing hits quite like its opening sequence. Baby acts as the getaway driver for a bank robbery while listening to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s “Bellbottoms.” The ensuing chase works around rhythms of the song, as if Baby’s Subaru WRX were the star of its own dance number. Take nothing away from the actual driving, either, which puts the rally car to good use:Baby Driver’s gimmick stretches a little thin by the end, but it’s hard to deny the crowd-pleasing power of Wright’s film when it’s firing on all cylinders.
14. The Raid 2 (2014)
With a trio of kickass Indonesian martial arts films under his belt, Gareth Evans has established himself as one of the most exciting action directors on the planet—someone who seems most in his element staging positively brutal hand-to-hand combat. In The Raid 2, however, Evans also brought his signature brand of carnage to the road. While there’s some cleverly executed close-quarters fighting within the confines of an SUV, courtesy of Iko Uwais’s hard-hitting protagonist, what really cements this sequence’s greatness are the moments when Evans turns the cars into an extension of the characters’ fists:This belongs in an entirely new category of combat: car fights. There are so many action scenes in The Raid 2 worth writing home about—the kitchen showdown is an all-timer—but the fact that Evans casually tossed in an unforgettable car chase shows why he’s one of one.
13. The Driver (1978)
I’ll say this for Walter Hill’s The Driver: It sure lives up to its title. In this stripped-down thriller—one where none of the characters have a name—we follow the Driver (Ryan O’Neal), a getaway driver who has become a thorn in the side of the LAPD. In the film’s best scene, we see its taciturn protagonist living up to his reputation. With the Driver behind the wheel of a 1974 Ford Galaxie, a cat-and-mouse game unfolds when a handful of police cars are hot on his tail. What I love about this sequence is the pared-down nature of it all: The Driver outwits the cops as much as he outraces them. (Though, ironically, that wasn’t entirely by design: As Hill later explained, an accident on the last night of shooting meant they had to cobble together what had already been filmed.) Frankly, you’d never know the difference from the finished article:If the general vibes of The Driver seem familiar, that’s because it was a major inspiration for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, which just so happened to feature an unnamed protagonist (Ryan Gosling) evading police through the streets of Los Angeles.
12. The Bourne Supremacy (2004)
The shaky-cam style of the Bourne franchise isn’t for everyone—just ask John Woo—but credit where it’s due: These movies know how to deliver a good chase scene. (A friendly reminder that The Bourne Legacy is an underrated gem with an awesome motorbike sequence to boot.) But there’s one Bourne chase that stands above the rest: the Moscow getaway in The Bourne Supremacy. After being wounded by the Russian assassin Kirill (Karl Urban), Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) hijacks a taxi, with both the police and Kirill in hot pursuit. This isn’t the kind of sequence that lingers on any one shot; instead, what makes it work is the frenetic nature of the editing, which allows the viewer to feel like they’re in Bourne’s fight-or-flight headspace:If I’m being honest, I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like the Bourne movies’ shaky-cam style, but when it’s executed with such craftsmanship, you can’t help but get caught up in its adrenaline-pumping power.
11. The Seven-Ups (1973)
Philip D’Antoni was the producer of two movies featuring Hall of Fame car chases, Bullitt and The French Connection, the latter of which won him an Oscar for Best Picture. And with his lone directorial feature, The Seven-Ups, D’Antoni sought to craft an iconic sequence of his own. The film stars Roy Scheider as NYPD detective Buddy Mannuci (elite Italian American name; I can practically smell the gabagool), who commands a unit handling major felony cases that lead to seven-plus-year prison sentences; that’s why they’re known as the Seven-Ups. Midway through the movie, when one of the team members is killed by two shooters who flee the scene, Buddy chases after them. The 10-minute sequence, which starts in the Upper West Side before moving out of the city, is thrillingly immersive, alternating between close-ups of the characters and wider shots of all the damage they’ve caused. But the chase’s defining moment comes right at the end, when Buddy narrowly avoids a grisly death:The sequence isn’t quite at the level of Bullitt or The French Connection—very few are—but D’Antoni still manages to leave an unmistakable imprint on the car chase canon.
10. Death Proof (2007)
If you ask Quentin Tarantino, Death Proof, his knowingly trashy tribute to exploitation cinema, is the worst movie he’s ever made. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot to admire about the film, which honors the unsung heroes of Hollywood: stunt performers. The first half of Death Proof follows three female friends who cross paths with Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a misogynistic serial killer who takes them out in his “death-proof” Chevy Nova. Fourteen months later, a group that includes stuntwoman Zoë Bell, playing herself, also lands on Mike’s radar. As Bell and her friends test out a ’70s Challenger, she performs a “ship’s mast” stunt, clinging onto the hood of the car with fastening belts. Unfortunately, when Mike pursues the women, it puts Bell in a precarious situation. Most of the entries on this list celebrate some next-level driving skills, but Death Proof’s inclusion is all about Bell pulling off one of the wildest stunts you’ll ever see. She’s quite literally hanging on for dear life:If the Academy handed out Oscars to stunt performers—and let’s hope it does happen one day—Bell would’ve won in a landslide.
9. To Live and Die in L.A. (1985)
William Friedkin was already responsible for an all-time great car chase in The French Connection (more on that later), but the filmmaker made a commendable bid to outdo himself with To Live and Die in L.A. In this neo-noir thriller, Secret Service agent Richard Chance (William L. Petersen) is hell-bent on arresting an expert counterfeiter, Rick Masters (Willem Dafoe), who kills Chance’s partner days before his retirement. To capture Masters, Chance and his new partner, John Vukovich (John Pankow), attempt to steal $50,000 from a jewelry buyer for an undercover operation. The sting goes bad when the buyer, who is later revealed to be an undercover FBI agent, is killed and a group of gunmen goes after Chance and Vukovich. It’s a clever inversion of the usual car chase formula—this time, it’s the lawmen running away from the criminals. The outside-the-box thinking extends to the film’s most astonishing stretch, in which Chance evades the gunmen by driving into oncoming traffic:The fact that Friedkin shot the chase at the end of filming—in case anything disastrous happened to the actors—underscores just how risky the endeavor was. The pulse-pounding results speak for themselves.
8. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)
The Matrix sequels have never been held in high esteem, but I’m ready to live my truth: The Matrix Reloaded fucking rules. (If anyone’s got a problem with this take, file your complaints with the Architect.) What’s more, the film happens to boast the finest action set piece of the franchise: the highway chase. After Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) free the Keymaker (Randall Duk Kim), a program capable of creating shortcuts within the Matrix, they’re pursued by the Twins (Neil and Adrian Rayment). Morpheus once warned that going on the freeway was “suicide,” and it doesn’t take long to see why: The chase draws the attention of several Agents, who repeatedly take over the bodies of other drivers on the road. The scene is the best of both worlds: There’s some incredible stuntwork on display, including when Moss weaves around on a Ducati, and CGI augments some feats of superhuman strength. But the most jaw-dropping aspect of the sequence is how it came together, as the production spent $2.5 million to construct its own highway (!) on California’s Alameda Island. If that weren’t unique enough, I’m pretty sure Reloaded is also the only movie in existence in which a katana takes out an SUV:The Matrix remains the Wachowskis’ masterpiece, but don’t get it twisted: The filmmakers were still cooking with gas in the sequel.
7. Gone in 60 Seconds (1974)
Size isn’t everything, but for H. B. Halicki, who produced, wrote, directed, and starred in Gone in 60 Seconds, it’s certainly part of the package. The indie action flick follows Maindrian Pace (Halicki), a Los Angeles insurance investigator who has a lucrative side hustle jacking high-end cars. The plot kicks into motion when a South American drug lord enlists Pace to nab 48 cars within five days in exchange for $400,000. Of course, Gone in 60 Seconds is best known for what happens after Pace is caught stealing a 1973 Ford Mustang Mach 1, when he leads police on a chase that lasts a whopping 40 minutes. (More than 90 cars were destroyed in the process.) Halicki, for his part, did all the driving himself, including a spectacular jump off a makeshift ramp of crashed cars:While Halicki wound up making a few more indies after Gone in 60 Seconds, he died in an accident on the set of its sequel. His legacy as a do-it-all daredevil, however, lives on.
6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
Long before James Cameron immersed himself in the world of Pandora, he was a pioneer of state-of-the-art visual effects. Case in point: Terminator 2: Judgment Day is credited for having the first CGI character in a blockbuster, the T-1000 (Robert Patrick), a killing machine composed of a futuristic liquid metal. But Cameron also understood that the CGI of that era shouldn’t be the main attraction: It worked best as a complement to the practical effects, as seen in Judgment Day’s epic viaduct chase. When the T-1000 tracks down a young John Connor (Edward Furlong) in a shopping mall, he’s saved at the last minute by the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), giving John a chance to escape on his dirt bike. As the T-1000 gives chase, the David and Goliath vibes between man and machine are further epitomized by the T-1000’s commandeering of a truck. The sequence already has a terrifying sense of urgency, but it hits another level when the T-1000 crashes through the viaduct like the Kool-Aid Man:Big Jim is still revolutionizing what can be achieved with visual effects in the Avatar franchise, and while I cherish those movies, nothing beats his old-school showmanship.
5. Duel (1971)
The feature-length debut of Steven Spielberg—perhaps you’ve heard of him—the TV movie Duel is essentially one extended chase sequence between salesman David Mann (Dennis Weaver) and a sinister trucker determined to drive him off the road. I’ve attached a clip from the ending of the film, but that doesn’t do Duel justice. What cements this movie’s greatness is how it sustains an unbearable level of tension across its 90-minute running time—with a budget under $500,000, no less. Spielberg’s masterstroke is never once showing us the other driver, anthropomorphizing the truck itself as a monster. (You can see a lot of similarities with how he would build suspense in Jaws.) When Mann finally gets the upper hand, tricking his adversary into driving off a cliff, it feels like you can breathe again:Spielberg would move on to bigger and better things after Duel, but considering how much the director accomplished with so little, you can’t help but wonder what else he could conjure up with limited resources.
4. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)
Like Duel, Fury Road is basically one long car chase—the difference is Miller got to work with a blockbuster budget, and made every cent of it count. It’s hard to pick a single standout sequence in Fury Road, but if I had to choose, I’d go with the first attack on the War Rig after Furiosa (Charlize Theron) flees with the wives of Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). Here’s why: Think back to when you saw Fury Road for the first time, before you fully grasped the vehicular carnage that was in store. And then stuff like this kept happening:To quote Steven Soderbergh’s thoughts on Fury Road: “I don’t understand how they’re not still shooting that film and I don’t understand how hundreds of people aren’t dead.” Whether or not Miller manages to one-up the action in Furiosa, the director is already in the pantheon.
3. The French Connection (1971)
We return to the Friedkin-verse for what may be his best film, The French Connection, the crime thriller based on Robin Moore’s 1969 nonfiction book of the same name. The story concerns two NYPD detectives, Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy “Cloudy” Russo (Roy Scheider), and their tireless pursuit of a French heroin smuggler. But while there’s plenty to admire about how The French Connection illustrates the thin line between police and criminals, its greatest claim to fame is its car chase. After Popeye narrowly survives a sniper attack, he goes after the shooter, who escapes on an elevated train. The ensuing sequence is true daredevil filmmaking that Friedkin shot without permits, leading to real crashes with New Yorkers that made the final cut. But Friedkin’s finest touch was mounting a camera to the front of the car, making the audience feel like they’re part of the action:My Ringer colleague Justin Sayles believes The French Connection’s chase should’ve landed at no. 1, and I’m sure many folks will agree with him. Being the only film on this list to win Best Picture, however, is a solid consolation prize.
2. Bullitt (1968)
When it comes to modern car chases, all roads lead back to Bullitt. A Dad Cinema classic, the film stars Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt, a San Francisco detective who pursues a group of mobsters after a key witness is killed in protective custody. In his search for answers, Bullitt realizes he’s being tailed by a couple of hitmen, and then turns the tables on them. From there, the chase is on. Aside from McQueen doing most of his own stunts behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang GT 390 Fastback, what’s so impressive about the sequence is how timeless it is. Even the little imperfections, like hubcaps repeatedly coming off the wheels, work to the film’s advantage, stressing just how much these drivers are living on a razor’s edge. It’s been more than 50 years since Bullitt revolutionized the car chase, and yet few movies since have felt like they’re pushing the envelope to such an exhilarating degree:That the car driven by McQueen was recently sold at auction for $3.74 million, a then-record price for a Mustang, underlines Bullitt’s enduring legacy.
1. Ronin (1998)
“If I’m going to do a car chase,” filmmaker John Frankenheimer said in an interview with the American Society of Cinematographers, “I’m going to do a car chase that’s going to make somebody think about whether or not they want to do another one!” Boy, did he ever. In Frankenheimer’s late-career masterpiece, Ronin, the director actually incorporated several chases, but it’s the climactic sequence that stands alone as the greatest ever filmed. The movie concerns an international group of mercenaries who are hired to steal a mysterious briefcase; a series of double-crosses and double-bluffs ensue. But for the final chase, all you need to know is that Sam (Robert De Niro), a mercenary with ties to the CIA, is in pursuit of Deirdre (Natascha McElhone), an IRA operative in possession of the case. Winding through the streets and tunnels of Paris, what’s most striking is just how fluid it all feels. You’re completely engrossed in the chase’s forward momentum, captured from every conceivable angle; a symphony of controlled chaos. The driving styles even reflect the characters: Deirdre is reckless and impulsive, while Sam remains calm and controlled.There are many worthy car chases in this ranking, but in my view, Ronin takes pole position. And while I can’t imagine a movie ever topping what Frankenheimer achieved, I’d love nothing more than to be proved wrong.