Belt conference mens
College Baseball
2011.01.29 02:58 garyp714 College Baseball
The ping of the metal bat, rabid college fans and a trip to the CWS, welcome to collegebaseball!
2013.03.06 21:19 AtlantaDave Sun Belt Conference
Discussion of all Sun Belt Conference member universities.
2016.06.23 07:37 cobras89 University Of North Dakota Athletics
Dedicated to the athletics of the Unviersity of North Dakota
2024.05.22 05:01 tragic_girl13 1991 in review
So I did something similar with the year 1994, looking at music culture and some events during then, so why not do an equally/more important year in music. 1991, what a time to be alive.... I say this even though I was delivered 16 years too late.... oh well lol. One of the most impactful years in music history with plethora of major releases under its belt... so why not go over a bucket list of most (I can't promise to cover all as there's like so much) of them:
Nevermind by Nirvana
Ten by Pearl Jam
Badmotorfinger by Soundgarden
Temple of the Dog
Loveless by MBV
Just For A Day by Slowdive
Blue Lines by Massive Attack
Dangerous by MJ
Death Certificate by Ice Cube
Screamadelica by Primal Scream
Use Your Illusion I/II by GNR
Out Of Time by REM
Blood Sugar Sex Magik by RHCP
Low End Theory by ATCQ
Achtung Baby by U2
Black by Metallica
Cypress Hill
Apocalypse 91 by Public Enemy
Spiderland by Slint
Cooleyhighharmony by Boyz II Men
De La Soul Is Dead by De La Soul
Laughing Stock by Talk Talk
Diamonds & Pearls by Prince
Sailing the Seas of Cheese by Primus
No More Tears by Ozzy
Innuendo by Queen
Gish by SP
2pacalypse Now by 2pac
Trompe Le Monde by PIxies
Fear by TTWS
Goat by Jesus Lizard
Green Mind by Dino Jr
Arise by Sepultura
Pretty on the Inside by Hole
Electronic
Organized Konfusion
Seamonsters by The Wedding Present
Efil4zaggin by NWA
The Real Ramona by Throwing Muses
The Soul Cages by Sting
No Pocky For Kitty by Superchunk
Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge by Mudhoney
and finally Whirlpool by Chapterhouse
1991 was where alternative boomed into the mainstream kicking out hair metal and corporate rock in favor of more eccentric and emotional-bound stuff, with Grunge being the main spokes-genre in mind and Nirvana's Nevermind being regarded as the one who broke the barrier between alternative and the mainstream. 1991 was also the year alternative rap got pretty big with stuff like The Low End Theory by Tribe Called Quest on the rise.
Thats all that I rlly know much on 1991, it's a wonderful and culturally impactful year in terms of releases with stellar hits and little to no misses.
Have a nice day <3
submitted by tragic_girl13 to grunge [link] [comments]
Nevermind by Nirvana
Ten by Pearl Jam
Badmotorfinger by Soundgarden
Temple of the Dog
Loveless by MBV
Just For A Day by Slowdive
Blue Lines by Massive Attack
Dangerous by MJ
Death Certificate by Ice Cube
Screamadelica by Primal Scream
Use Your Illusion I/II by GNR
Out Of Time by REM
Blood Sugar Sex Magik by RHCP
Low End Theory by ATCQ
Achtung Baby by U2
Black by Metallica
Cypress Hill
Apocalypse 91 by Public Enemy
Spiderland by Slint
Cooleyhighharmony by Boyz II Men
De La Soul Is Dead by De La Soul
Laughing Stock by Talk Talk
Diamonds & Pearls by Prince
Sailing the Seas of Cheese by Primus
No More Tears by Ozzy
Innuendo by Queen
Gish by SP
2pacalypse Now by 2pac
Trompe Le Monde by PIxies
Fear by TTWS
Goat by Jesus Lizard
Green Mind by Dino Jr
Arise by Sepultura
Pretty on the Inside by Hole
Electronic
Organized Konfusion
Seamonsters by The Wedding Present
Efil4zaggin by NWA
The Real Ramona by Throwing Muses
The Soul Cages by Sting
No Pocky For Kitty by Superchunk
Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge by Mudhoney
and finally Whirlpool by Chapterhouse
1991 was where alternative boomed into the mainstream kicking out hair metal and corporate rock in favor of more eccentric and emotional-bound stuff, with Grunge being the main spokes-genre in mind and Nirvana's Nevermind being regarded as the one who broke the barrier between alternative and the mainstream. 1991 was also the year alternative rap got pretty big with stuff like The Low End Theory by Tribe Called Quest on the rise.
Thats all that I rlly know much on 1991, it's a wonderful and culturally impactful year in terms of releases with stellar hits and little to no misses.
Have a nice day <3
2024.05.22 04:35 perishable Theory on what happened that night after hearing Jen’s cross today
I believe John found out about Higgins and Karen that night at the waterfall. Perhaps she showed him the text OR talked about her and Higgins on the way to 34 Fairview. She didn’t want to go inside because Higgins was there. They argued and he went inside and confronted Higgins. The men take it downstairs to talk it out because Brian Jr birthday party guests and vibes. Fight ensues, dog gets involved because everything pops off quickly and is coming in from peeing, and Colin jumps in because he had his own beef towards John.
John gets slammed against something and gets a head wound, starts seizuring, agonal breathing, and, as first responders, they know these signs aren’t compatible with life. They probably undressed him to render first aid, hence phone tossed aside.
Jen comes downstairs because she seems like the type to be involved with drama and sees what’s happening. She goes into “problem solving mode” because she knows, along with everyone else in that house, that they can’t call for help. There are drugs, underage drinking (Colin).
They start coming up with a plan: clean up, find John’s phone (which explains her calls to his phone), and get everyone out of the house. They probably explained to the guests that it was an accident, and that if they tell anyone that they would be sending them all to jail. OR, the guests simply never saw John come in and never new anything was happening because he was corralled downstairs.
I believe they undressed him and washed his clothes and re-dressed him. Perhaps the shoe was too saturated with blood and couldn’t be cleaned. Perhaps they forgot to put his belt back on. Or maybe those items had dog bite signs on them. They dunk John in the pool to wash the blood off him. He didn’t die yet but they knew he would. They leave him outside.
The plan became that after the guests leave, they re-dress him and they put him outside to make it look like a snow plow hit him. Brian Albert and Coco clean. Jen knows the plan and gets home, paces around, and googles about stomach contents after death, “hos long to die in the cold” because she’s freaking out and can’t help herself.
And then Karen calls Kerry and Jen because Karen was feeling like John didn’t come home because of what he found out about Higgins. Perhaps Karen thought Kerry and Jen were women John may “retaliate” cheat with because Kerry had a history with him, and Jen was at Fairview, perhaps flirty at Waterfall. Karen was pissed, wanted answers, and when it became apparent that John wasn’t with them, she became concerned, freaking out.
And then the rest unfolds.
EDIT: They wash John off somehow. No pool. Pool being filled in has been de-bunked. And pools are just not a thing in Mass that time of the year.
submitted by perishable to justiceforKarenRead [link] [comments]
John gets slammed against something and gets a head wound, starts seizuring, agonal breathing, and, as first responders, they know these signs aren’t compatible with life. They probably undressed him to render first aid, hence phone tossed aside.
Jen comes downstairs because she seems like the type to be involved with drama and sees what’s happening. She goes into “problem solving mode” because she knows, along with everyone else in that house, that they can’t call for help. There are drugs, underage drinking (Colin).
They start coming up with a plan: clean up, find John’s phone (which explains her calls to his phone), and get everyone out of the house. They probably explained to the guests that it was an accident, and that if they tell anyone that they would be sending them all to jail. OR, the guests simply never saw John come in and never new anything was happening because he was corralled downstairs.
I believe they undressed him and washed his clothes and re-dressed him. Perhaps the shoe was too saturated with blood and couldn’t be cleaned. Perhaps they forgot to put his belt back on. Or maybe those items had dog bite signs on them. They dunk John in the pool to wash the blood off him. He didn’t die yet but they knew he would. They leave him outside.
The plan became that after the guests leave, they re-dress him and they put him outside to make it look like a snow plow hit him. Brian Albert and Coco clean. Jen knows the plan and gets home, paces around, and googles about stomach contents after death, “hos long to die in the cold” because she’s freaking out and can’t help herself.
And then Karen calls Kerry and Jen because Karen was feeling like John didn’t come home because of what he found out about Higgins. Perhaps Karen thought Kerry and Jen were women John may “retaliate” cheat with because Kerry had a history with him, and Jen was at Fairview, perhaps flirty at Waterfall. Karen was pissed, wanted answers, and when it became apparent that John wasn’t with them, she became concerned, freaking out.
And then the rest unfolds.
EDIT: They wash John off somehow. No pool. Pool being filled in has been de-bunked. And pools are just not a thing in Mass that time of the year.
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 00:57 Far-War-3804 C06 WHITE HATS FOIL (another) PLOT TO ASSASSINATE PRESIDENT TRUMP. February 24, 2024.
 | https://preview.redd.it/d0spe3yc0v1d1.jpg?width=1000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a03dcd180e6feed2763f5c0ed795a5b1287059f1 submitted by Far-War-3804 to CourtofAges [link] [comments] C06 WHITE HATS FOIL (another) PLOT TO ASSASSINATE PRESIDENT TRUMP. February 24, 2024. U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Division officers on Wednesday arrested two men suspected of plotting to assassinate President Donald J. Trump at the CPAC conference in National Harbor, Maryland, sources at CID’s headquarters told Real Raw News. He said White Hats shadowing President Trump on the campaign trail learned of the diabolical scheme Tuesday morning when CID officers spotted a pair of suspicious characters lingering outside the Gaylord National Resort & Convention Center and drawing a map of the venue and side streets on a sheet of graph paper. The observant CID men witnessed a suspect sketching an outline of a multi-level parking garage adjacent to and overlooking the convention center’s main entrance, through which attendees and speakers, including President Trump, would enter the building later in the week. The suspects also drew a dashed line that the CID investigators took as the flight path/line of sight a bullet would take from the upper level of the garage to the doors leading into the convention center. The suspects appeared to be foreigners who spoke limited English with thick Eastern European accents, characterized by heavy use of guttural and palatal consonants. Although the duo discussed dining arrangements and not devious details of assassinating the president, the existence of the map and its shady artists raised the alarm, and the CID officers, having notified their commanding officer and Gen. Smith’s office, requested permission to surveil the suspects. “We sent four guys to back them up, just in case,” our source said. “It was damn suspicious, but the parking garage seemed an unlikely vantage point. The conference is several days long, and that garage would be packed with cars and people coming to and leaving the convention center. It would be a great place to take a shot—for someone wanting to get caught. Not to mention it had security cameras. I can tell you President Trump was cautioned against appearing in Deep State territory—and we hadn’t had any credible threats until that point—he wanted to send the Deep State a message—he didn’t fear them. Anyway, we quietly watched the two.” CID learned quickly that the suspects had leased a nondescript van and rented a room at the MGM National Harbor Hotel & Casino a mile north of the convention center. White Hats at U.S. Army Cyber Command accessed the hotel’s registry and discovered that the men had booked separate rooms using the undeniable aliases of William Henry James and Stephen Butler. On Tuesday evening, CID considered apprehending and grilling “James” and “Butler,” but superiors at CID headquarters advised the officers on location to continue observing the suspects in case they belonged to a larger terrorist cell. The CPAC conference would kick off in two days, with President Trump to speak Saturday night. Early Wednesday morning, while the sky was still black as pitch and “James” and “Butler” slept soundly in their rooms, the CID team located the suspects’ van, parked on a crossroad, and discovered that someone had cut out a circular hole—large enough to accommodate a scoped rifle—in a rear door pane of glass, which had been carefully reseated using transparent tape. Our source said the team bypassed the vehicle alarm. The interior held electronic surveillance gear and a steel case secured with a padlock, which CID picked. Upon opening the case, their fears became realized; it held a suppressor-equipped M2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle, a U.S. Army weapon that supplemented the venerable M24 Sniper Weapons System in 2010 and saw combat in Afghanistan a year later. The case also had two pistols with silencers, the drawn map, ammunition, and notes on President Trump’s publicized travel itinerary. “That cemented everything. These guys planned to drive to the top level of the garage and snipe President Trump, somehow, try to, even though he’d be heavily shielded by security. The agents on scene informed HQ, which consulted with Gen. Smith, and they said to stake out the van and grab the suspects ASAP,” our source said. The CID hadn’t waited too long. At 7:00 a.m. Wednesday, “James” and “Butler” exited the hotel and began sauntering toward the van, unaware of the CID investigators walking behind them and at the truck, ready to pounce. CID sprang into action when the suspects touched the door handles, tackling them to the ground and holding them at gunpoint while frisking them for firearms or paperwork that might betray their real identities. CID seized the van and took “James” and “Butler” to an undisclosed location for interrogation, our source said, adding that President Donald J. Trump was immediately made aware of the situation and again encouraged to postpone his speech—should additional assailants lurk elsewhere nearby. But Trump would have none of it. He agreed to added protection but refused to shirk his responsibilities to MAGA and the United States of America. He said his oration would continue as scheduled, and he will speak tonight, delivering what MAGA says will be a passionate Magnum Opus. According to our source, White Hats identified one suspect as a member of Ukraine’s Intelligence Directorate who entered the U.S. with forged credentials 10 days ago. How or where they obtained the rifle is unclear. “We know one thing for sure, President Trump plans to stop funding Ukraine’s aggression. That alone might be reason enough for them to take a pop shot at him. We’re doing whatever’s needed to get a full confession,” our source said. |
2024.05.22 00:32 Defiant-Flower-135 I wish I turned out differently
M21 I'm doubting if it was strict parenting or if it was the drink but I want opinions. She has done a lot but I don't feel entirely satisfied either. But in the days I have drafted this, my doubts only grow.
As a kid my mom hawked over me and now things I wish I could have experienced did not exist, like going to a park or playground with a friend without supervision, whereas she did. Going to the gas station for snack I couldn't, when she asked her parents and was given a quarter when everything was a cent. Riding a bike was limited to the street we live on, and when I was able to leave, I couldn't leave the neighborhood when she walked for a while to make sure her friend got home. Once sitting on my bike at the edge of the sidewalk and she walked over, cursed me out for going on a different street and wouldn't believe me. I couldn't go to a friends house because I was going to do my homework how my teacher taught me instead of hers, which I didnt know and was not taught. At a friends house, she berated me for making her wait in the car for a few minutes longer than the arranged pickup time. By comparison to what it would have been like, it is a magical opportunity lost.
For most of my school years, all I did was go to school, do homework and play games. Despite catching on to lessons quickly, classes were something to pass, nothing more, not even for life skills. Have a B? Make it an A. I did. Is the project due? Make it better. Alright. Taking orchestra and painting was fleeting then and while I enjoyed it, it was only done for practice or assignment. Now I am upset that it was all I did instead of going out and experiencing life: going out with friends, finding a club or sport to do, or just big activity sessions. Never had a curfew because I never left home to start. I may have had fun gaming then, but I lament heavy over that now to where I will not touch one. A future education and the future as a whole I should have taken a lot more seriously than I could possibly have imagined. School did push for it, but I was a fool and did not care.
Other than the occasional family visit, I did nothing and learned nothing. Never taught to cook much, properly clean, shop for necessities, make right finances, etc. Future prospects was left to whatever I would choose, which I would put it later down the road. Never got any real world experience and just been sheltered for so long, both by my doing and my moms. No drive to do anything, nothing of a hopeful future, no being pulled out of whatever I was doing to learn anything or having skills necessary in the world today be incentivized. Aside from making sure I did well in school, I was left to myself.
She always has something to complain about. Streaks of mean and grumpy. Remembered somethings of what we were interested in but other times just an empty face. Who my mom is today is doom and gloom, speaking two different points that are showing the worst of her and nitpicking over every possible detail. Most of who she enjoys in media has an underlying toxic presence to them with name calling. Polarize, prejudice, politicize, judge and bias everything. Norway and Iceland? Too cold and mountainous, how could anyone have settled there? Germany? They all speak the same language and cannot understand anyone in a city that is 30 minutes away. That guy's accent she can't stand and defaulted to being generated, even though he sounds the same speaking Finnish. All for a better planet yet everything is wasted, trashed, or sent to China. Treat others how you want to be and from where I stand, seem like a backtalking coward. Couldn't have a water pitcher because "no one refilled it" to keep the filter going when I made sure to keep it plentiful. If she has a problem she will bring up the one exact same example related to the topic that I have heard plenty before. And most of the negative aspects of society happen more likely than they should. All while bring home a 24, 30 or however many count of budweiser a week at least. I imagine we only got along because I wasn't a brat anymore and did not try to upset her. Falling in line if you will.
Emotions bottled or maybe emotionally dead. The masculinity trap of what is the general expectation of "men". To express myself, to show emotion, to even cry is something I don't want to do out of fear of being seen, which is ironic given the code of the samurai. 6th grade she didn't remember to pick me up even though I said and called and a friend and his friend caught me being emotional and stayed around a bit to comfort me.
The fear that was put into everything. An actual quote went something as "If you get hurt, I'm not going to drive you to the hospital". Another "All girls are evil". And "that sounds too confrontational" when I asked neighbors to clean after their dog. Even questioning if my eyes doing something required a doctor for her to say that my eyes will fail naturally and something about her relative who had an eye problem and didn't see a doctor. Things that made me not do the kinds of things I want to do now. I have been so sheltered then and now that I want to go out but there is the ever scared part of me towards the unknown world. I feel I have been prejudiced into thinking such ways but there's no personal experience to back or challenge said thoughts.
Admittably, parts of me are glad I know what I have and want for morals and mindset, but its also a matter of temptation and theres still so much that I wish to explore. At times I feel I matured too quickly at the cost of a kids stupidity or innocence and now am too serious and heavyhearted for my own good. To be told how I've matured when there wasn't much to mature from. A part of me feels that I have taken after her cold, judgemental, selfish attitude and that makes me fearful to screw up any kind of friendship or relationship, and dreading that I could reflect that onto any child I may have no matter how far away into the future I do have one. I kind of want to hate her but I am so emotionally gone or warped that I can't. If I "rebel" now, or begin to, I feel that might get the fire started.
She would argue with my dad from time to time but then that continued on for days and it was a cold environment lasting days to weeks after a fight. Even prior to their fights, they rarely slept together in the same bed, let alone the same room. She would critique his employer and even his choice of friends. Once he woke up late, thus having us late to get ready for school and she began one for that. I don't remember the exact details but she once criticized him over a coat he got me. All while listening from the top of the stairs to even the bottom where I was covered by a wall. A few times we listened and we made noise that I think made them aware of us but that didn't stop them. Even starting in our presence where we would leave the room. It got to the point where he actually packed lightly to leave for the night or days and my brother and I stopped him just so he could be home. I wish I did let him go then.
I really do believe I could have had it differently if my dad was alive. He made such an effort. When I was in hospital at 4, he made the efforts to get me out and moving around. When I didn't know a swim style, he literally chucked me towards the deeper waters (I was scared, but he was right in the end, one of the fondest memories). He taught me how to use the mower and had a mini shop set up in the garage. I played with him so much and he got me into the complex games he enjoyed as I got older. For as rough we were, he was so gentle. I looked up to him then and even more than ever now. He made the effort to be one worthy of "Dad" and he was damn well worthy of that and no one could be more better for me.
"Faded gray are all the days of yesteryears So much time has turned to memories and to tears" -Valkyrja
I did graduate HS 3 years ago, did a summer program and since nothing. No job, education chances, or life plans. Even though I felt smarter, I was turned off of college simply for cost reasons and "feeding the rich" mindset. Last summer I began to look at my past and future with a whole new look with no physical change taking effect. First week into March this year I realized what I have been doing compared to how others are living through good and bad and I fell into depression hard. Now it persists with great off and on. Where I have been up at 9 in the morning to suddenly be up at 5 or 6 in the afternoon. Throughout the past 3 years, there was no making sure I was ok, no seeing how I felt, no finding out what I wanted to do. And I am still frightened of what may be out there, even when that is the key to the living that I want. I want to go, I need to go. But where? I leave for the good and better of myself, but I also leave behind this place I've called home, yet it's now so far from the one I want to remember with a fond memory. So much happens that seems to have been "normal" when it doesn't seem like it should. The same place with the same inhabitants in the same motions. No going out, no difference, no change, and VERY artificial. Nothing means anything anymore. To let how I feel about the previous years subside in me or blow over...
Always have been insecure, hesitant, second guessing. While others had spent their 18s, 19s and 20s going into the world doing many things, I've had the summer program at 18, nothing at 19, and two days in the big city to attend a concert at 20. Little noteworthy moments under my belt. It seems like love in the immediate family was not two ways or had to be earned. I have not grown. Who I am is not who I want to be at heart.
For 21, I know I should have more skills and be in better places, but theres nothing from anyone. No check-in, no advice, no motivation. Like "the birdling will leave the nest" instead of anyone preparing a boy to what is before him. Its not a snap of fingers or blink of an eye do I learn what is expected. On the grown up part, I feel heavily underprepared for the world and life. Far too long have I stayed and lived in my head. I cannot understand why I am still at home, a part of myself thinks to keep the peace but what peace needs to be kept? Nothing and no one is stopping me from leaving except myself and the thought that they will most definitely want to know where I am if I go, which I do not want to tell anyone. Or that I've been sheltered and not have realised the gates have been unlocked long ago. Things are not ok and I want to stop pretending when I leave. Even with Spring's green grass under a blue sky that ends the day with the orange sunset piercing the clouds to make them blue and pink do I feel grey.
"Watching to the night with tired eyes Waiting for nothing all my life" -Battle Against Time
I feel the kid within me, wanting to do those exciting things, yearning for any kind of companion or fellowship. What daylight reveries I can conjure to make him feel hopeful enough so he can shine soon. The things I want to do to feel happy. I want to water that little guy.
A lot of this I have remembered recently and still am connecting the dots. I already am upset at myself for not doing anything in life, but I want to be angry and I honestly hate myself for not seeing this sooner and listening to her for so long. Despite feeling broken and defunct, I still feel young enough but there's been so little done that it feels many chances are long gone. There is more freedoms I have that I do not know about and ones that I have had before that gathered dust. And now I am in a toss up between beginning college preparation now, leaving states or the country to act on these now childhood regrets. I don't want to be who I am now any longer. I just want to do something. And in between it all, confusion of what to do, how to feel and saddened that I am not who I once was or could have been.
submitted by Defiant-Flower-135 to AdultChildren [link] [comments]
As a kid my mom hawked over me and now things I wish I could have experienced did not exist, like going to a park or playground with a friend without supervision, whereas she did. Going to the gas station for snack I couldn't, when she asked her parents and was given a quarter when everything was a cent. Riding a bike was limited to the street we live on, and when I was able to leave, I couldn't leave the neighborhood when she walked for a while to make sure her friend got home. Once sitting on my bike at the edge of the sidewalk and she walked over, cursed me out for going on a different street and wouldn't believe me. I couldn't go to a friends house because I was going to do my homework how my teacher taught me instead of hers, which I didnt know and was not taught. At a friends house, she berated me for making her wait in the car for a few minutes longer than the arranged pickup time. By comparison to what it would have been like, it is a magical opportunity lost.
For most of my school years, all I did was go to school, do homework and play games. Despite catching on to lessons quickly, classes were something to pass, nothing more, not even for life skills. Have a B? Make it an A. I did. Is the project due? Make it better. Alright. Taking orchestra and painting was fleeting then and while I enjoyed it, it was only done for practice or assignment. Now I am upset that it was all I did instead of going out and experiencing life: going out with friends, finding a club or sport to do, or just big activity sessions. Never had a curfew because I never left home to start. I may have had fun gaming then, but I lament heavy over that now to where I will not touch one. A future education and the future as a whole I should have taken a lot more seriously than I could possibly have imagined. School did push for it, but I was a fool and did not care.
Other than the occasional family visit, I did nothing and learned nothing. Never taught to cook much, properly clean, shop for necessities, make right finances, etc. Future prospects was left to whatever I would choose, which I would put it later down the road. Never got any real world experience and just been sheltered for so long, both by my doing and my moms. No drive to do anything, nothing of a hopeful future, no being pulled out of whatever I was doing to learn anything or having skills necessary in the world today be incentivized. Aside from making sure I did well in school, I was left to myself.
She always has something to complain about. Streaks of mean and grumpy. Remembered somethings of what we were interested in but other times just an empty face. Who my mom is today is doom and gloom, speaking two different points that are showing the worst of her and nitpicking over every possible detail. Most of who she enjoys in media has an underlying toxic presence to them with name calling. Polarize, prejudice, politicize, judge and bias everything. Norway and Iceland? Too cold and mountainous, how could anyone have settled there? Germany? They all speak the same language and cannot understand anyone in a city that is 30 minutes away. That guy's accent she can't stand and defaulted to being generated, even though he sounds the same speaking Finnish. All for a better planet yet everything is wasted, trashed, or sent to China. Treat others how you want to be and from where I stand, seem like a backtalking coward. Couldn't have a water pitcher because "no one refilled it" to keep the filter going when I made sure to keep it plentiful. If she has a problem she will bring up the one exact same example related to the topic that I have heard plenty before. And most of the negative aspects of society happen more likely than they should. All while bring home a 24, 30 or however many count of budweiser a week at least. I imagine we only got along because I wasn't a brat anymore and did not try to upset her. Falling in line if you will.
Emotions bottled or maybe emotionally dead. The masculinity trap of what is the general expectation of "men". To express myself, to show emotion, to even cry is something I don't want to do out of fear of being seen, which is ironic given the code of the samurai. 6th grade she didn't remember to pick me up even though I said and called and a friend and his friend caught me being emotional and stayed around a bit to comfort me.
The fear that was put into everything. An actual quote went something as "If you get hurt, I'm not going to drive you to the hospital". Another "All girls are evil". And "that sounds too confrontational" when I asked neighbors to clean after their dog. Even questioning if my eyes doing something required a doctor for her to say that my eyes will fail naturally and something about her relative who had an eye problem and didn't see a doctor. Things that made me not do the kinds of things I want to do now. I have been so sheltered then and now that I want to go out but there is the ever scared part of me towards the unknown world. I feel I have been prejudiced into thinking such ways but there's no personal experience to back or challenge said thoughts.
Admittably, parts of me are glad I know what I have and want for morals and mindset, but its also a matter of temptation and theres still so much that I wish to explore. At times I feel I matured too quickly at the cost of a kids stupidity or innocence and now am too serious and heavyhearted for my own good. To be told how I've matured when there wasn't much to mature from. A part of me feels that I have taken after her cold, judgemental, selfish attitude and that makes me fearful to screw up any kind of friendship or relationship, and dreading that I could reflect that onto any child I may have no matter how far away into the future I do have one. I kind of want to hate her but I am so emotionally gone or warped that I can't. If I "rebel" now, or begin to, I feel that might get the fire started.
She would argue with my dad from time to time but then that continued on for days and it was a cold environment lasting days to weeks after a fight. Even prior to their fights, they rarely slept together in the same bed, let alone the same room. She would critique his employer and even his choice of friends. Once he woke up late, thus having us late to get ready for school and she began one for that. I don't remember the exact details but she once criticized him over a coat he got me. All while listening from the top of the stairs to even the bottom where I was covered by a wall. A few times we listened and we made noise that I think made them aware of us but that didn't stop them. Even starting in our presence where we would leave the room. It got to the point where he actually packed lightly to leave for the night or days and my brother and I stopped him just so he could be home. I wish I did let him go then.
I really do believe I could have had it differently if my dad was alive. He made such an effort. When I was in hospital at 4, he made the efforts to get me out and moving around. When I didn't know a swim style, he literally chucked me towards the deeper waters (I was scared, but he was right in the end, one of the fondest memories). He taught me how to use the mower and had a mini shop set up in the garage. I played with him so much and he got me into the complex games he enjoyed as I got older. For as rough we were, he was so gentle. I looked up to him then and even more than ever now. He made the effort to be one worthy of "Dad" and he was damn well worthy of that and no one could be more better for me.
"Faded gray are all the days of yesteryears So much time has turned to memories and to tears" -Valkyrja
I did graduate HS 3 years ago, did a summer program and since nothing. No job, education chances, or life plans. Even though I felt smarter, I was turned off of college simply for cost reasons and "feeding the rich" mindset. Last summer I began to look at my past and future with a whole new look with no physical change taking effect. First week into March this year I realized what I have been doing compared to how others are living through good and bad and I fell into depression hard. Now it persists with great off and on. Where I have been up at 9 in the morning to suddenly be up at 5 or 6 in the afternoon. Throughout the past 3 years, there was no making sure I was ok, no seeing how I felt, no finding out what I wanted to do. And I am still frightened of what may be out there, even when that is the key to the living that I want. I want to go, I need to go. But where? I leave for the good and better of myself, but I also leave behind this place I've called home, yet it's now so far from the one I want to remember with a fond memory. So much happens that seems to have been "normal" when it doesn't seem like it should. The same place with the same inhabitants in the same motions. No going out, no difference, no change, and VERY artificial. Nothing means anything anymore. To let how I feel about the previous years subside in me or blow over...
Always have been insecure, hesitant, second guessing. While others had spent their 18s, 19s and 20s going into the world doing many things, I've had the summer program at 18, nothing at 19, and two days in the big city to attend a concert at 20. Little noteworthy moments under my belt. It seems like love in the immediate family was not two ways or had to be earned. I have not grown. Who I am is not who I want to be at heart.
For 21, I know I should have more skills and be in better places, but theres nothing from anyone. No check-in, no advice, no motivation. Like "the birdling will leave the nest" instead of anyone preparing a boy to what is before him. Its not a snap of fingers or blink of an eye do I learn what is expected. On the grown up part, I feel heavily underprepared for the world and life. Far too long have I stayed and lived in my head. I cannot understand why I am still at home, a part of myself thinks to keep the peace but what peace needs to be kept? Nothing and no one is stopping me from leaving except myself and the thought that they will most definitely want to know where I am if I go, which I do not want to tell anyone. Or that I've been sheltered and not have realised the gates have been unlocked long ago. Things are not ok and I want to stop pretending when I leave. Even with Spring's green grass under a blue sky that ends the day with the orange sunset piercing the clouds to make them blue and pink do I feel grey.
"Watching to the night with tired eyes Waiting for nothing all my life" -Battle Against Time
I feel the kid within me, wanting to do those exciting things, yearning for any kind of companion or fellowship. What daylight reveries I can conjure to make him feel hopeful enough so he can shine soon. The things I want to do to feel happy. I want to water that little guy.
A lot of this I have remembered recently and still am connecting the dots. I already am upset at myself for not doing anything in life, but I want to be angry and I honestly hate myself for not seeing this sooner and listening to her for so long. Despite feeling broken and defunct, I still feel young enough but there's been so little done that it feels many chances are long gone. There is more freedoms I have that I do not know about and ones that I have had before that gathered dust. And now I am in a toss up between beginning college preparation now, leaving states or the country to act on these now childhood regrets. I don't want to be who I am now any longer. I just want to do something. And in between it all, confusion of what to do, how to feel and saddened that I am not who I once was or could have been.
2024.05.22 00:07 Spirited_Butterfly67 Have any men changed their mind about kids and why?
Has any men here changed their mind about a pregnancy and if so why?
So me and my boyfriend have been together 3 years. We have had 2 pregnancies already that ended in miscarriage. Last year he was so hell bent on having a child, he really wanted to become a dad etc. We split up for a while during the end of last year and was healing from our trauma (mostly due to the miscarriages we just weren't good for each other at the time and needed time away to heal) anyway fast forward to this year and we are back together. We spoke again about children and I said that I would like to wait until next year to start trying again for a baby (2025) as during my healing I started to realise maybe l'm not as ready for a baby as l initially thought (but who really is lol). He agreed to this so that was our plan. I am now pregnant and he wants me to have an abortion. He is dead set on not having this child and Thave absolutely no idea why. He keeps saying it's because it's not our plan, it's not in the plan etc. and I know men are very different from women, you guys tend to think more logically whereas we women tend to think more emotionally. He has a million and one goals he "hasn't accomplished yet" and "we agreed next year to start trying" so he is hell bent that he does not want this baby at all, full stop. Even though half these goals he has accomplished or is in the process of completing so I just don't understand where this is all coming from. I am at the point thinking will he ever have enough? Will he ever be ready? Our first pregnancy he was really scared as this was the first time ever he had gotten someone pregnant and he did say he wasn't sure if he wanted it as he was still in uni, didn't have a job, no house etc so he hadn't completed his "goals" but eventually he came around but sadly we lost it. It's like he never has enough, before it was because he was in uni and didn't have a proper job (which is fair enough!) but he still eventually came around to the idea. Now he has finished his uni and has a stable, well paying job, and he has a car etc. so he's already completed the goals he set out before but now he has come with a whole bunch of new goals (that really just seem like excuses at this point) as he doesn't have a house, however he is in the process of buying a house which would be completed by the time the baby is born!!! I know men tend to never feel like they are ready for a child unless they have the typical car, job, house etc but nobody is ever truly ready for a baby even with all that stuff & it's not like he doesn't have any of that stuff under his belt if you get what I mean. He is a wonderful man, he's so kind and compassionate and he would make an amazing dad. He's so understanding and protective but has a lovely soft side to him. I adore him so much, I am just so shocked by his reaction to this pregnancy as he is in a better place than he ever was with our other pregnancies and he wanted those 2 but this one he is dead set against and I really don't understand why.
I have tried speaking to him about it and I have tried putting all these points across to him but he just shuts it down and says he's not going in circles about it. I'm just genuinely shocked by the reaction as it's not like him at all to be like this. Part of me feels like maybe it's because of our miscarriages but even if so why ask for an abortion? That's way worse than a miscarriage.
I guess my question really is have any men here been dead set against a pregnancy, even as going far as asking for an abortion but then changed their mind about it and is now a family? If so, what was it that changed your mind or what was it that clicked for you? Is there anything I can do to get him to change his mind? As it's not like this is something he never ever wanted, he did want this it's just not happened in the time frame we agreed, it's happened a year ahead of schedule. I just don't know what to do? For someone who agreed to have children to then turn around and do this is just caught me completely off guard. I know nobody here will have the answers to my specific situation, I am just wondering if maybe any men here have been in a similar situation and can shed any light as he has completely shut down. I just don't know how to make it better or help him. If there is anything I can do or show him that would make him take a second thought or even change his mind? I'm at a loss tbh
submitted by Spirited_Butterfly67 to AskMenAdvice [link] [comments]
So me and my boyfriend have been together 3 years. We have had 2 pregnancies already that ended in miscarriage. Last year he was so hell bent on having a child, he really wanted to become a dad etc. We split up for a while during the end of last year and was healing from our trauma (mostly due to the miscarriages we just weren't good for each other at the time and needed time away to heal) anyway fast forward to this year and we are back together. We spoke again about children and I said that I would like to wait until next year to start trying again for a baby (2025) as during my healing I started to realise maybe l'm not as ready for a baby as l initially thought (but who really is lol). He agreed to this so that was our plan. I am now pregnant and he wants me to have an abortion. He is dead set on not having this child and Thave absolutely no idea why. He keeps saying it's because it's not our plan, it's not in the plan etc. and I know men are very different from women, you guys tend to think more logically whereas we women tend to think more emotionally. He has a million and one goals he "hasn't accomplished yet" and "we agreed next year to start trying" so he is hell bent that he does not want this baby at all, full stop. Even though half these goals he has accomplished or is in the process of completing so I just don't understand where this is all coming from. I am at the point thinking will he ever have enough? Will he ever be ready? Our first pregnancy he was really scared as this was the first time ever he had gotten someone pregnant and he did say he wasn't sure if he wanted it as he was still in uni, didn't have a job, no house etc so he hadn't completed his "goals" but eventually he came around but sadly we lost it. It's like he never has enough, before it was because he was in uni and didn't have a proper job (which is fair enough!) but he still eventually came around to the idea. Now he has finished his uni and has a stable, well paying job, and he has a car etc. so he's already completed the goals he set out before but now he has come with a whole bunch of new goals (that really just seem like excuses at this point) as he doesn't have a house, however he is in the process of buying a house which would be completed by the time the baby is born!!! I know men tend to never feel like they are ready for a child unless they have the typical car, job, house etc but nobody is ever truly ready for a baby even with all that stuff & it's not like he doesn't have any of that stuff under his belt if you get what I mean. He is a wonderful man, he's so kind and compassionate and he would make an amazing dad. He's so understanding and protective but has a lovely soft side to him. I adore him so much, I am just so shocked by his reaction to this pregnancy as he is in a better place than he ever was with our other pregnancies and he wanted those 2 but this one he is dead set against and I really don't understand why.
I have tried speaking to him about it and I have tried putting all these points across to him but he just shuts it down and says he's not going in circles about it. I'm just genuinely shocked by the reaction as it's not like him at all to be like this. Part of me feels like maybe it's because of our miscarriages but even if so why ask for an abortion? That's way worse than a miscarriage.
I guess my question really is have any men here been dead set against a pregnancy, even as going far as asking for an abortion but then changed their mind about it and is now a family? If so, what was it that changed your mind or what was it that clicked for you? Is there anything I can do to get him to change his mind? As it's not like this is something he never ever wanted, he did want this it's just not happened in the time frame we agreed, it's happened a year ahead of schedule. I just don't know what to do? For someone who agreed to have children to then turn around and do this is just caught me completely off guard. I know nobody here will have the answers to my specific situation, I am just wondering if maybe any men here have been in a similar situation and can shed any light as he has completely shut down. I just don't know how to make it better or help him. If there is anything I can do or show him that would make him take a second thought or even change his mind? I'm at a loss tbh
2024.05.22 00:01 Coyote_Havoc Gallóglaigh: Heather and Heath
First Previous
"Heather has feathers but heath has teeth."
"Captain Hobbs!"
From above, Arran looks like a paradise, rich and green with ample water and perfect for settlement, it's only when you are on the ground that you understand why life had a hard time springing up here. Some time in the distant past, volcanic activity rose up from several specific areas of the planet and created an environment suitable for cyanobacteria which produced oxygen but can also make soils alkaline rich which happened on several distant worlds such as Earth. The volcanic activity on Arran produced great clouds, prevented an earth like environment to a certain degree but life began to rise from the planet, struggling with rocky terrain as well as acidic water, but refusing to gve up. Eventually plant life adapted to the conditions of the planets atmosphere creating a world of deep forests, fertile grasslands and bogs similar to the one Captain Hobbs had led his troops into.
Robert took his time walking through the field, letting himself calm down as the men pulled each other from the mire. He understood that it would take time and effort to adapt to this new world and had relied on the wisdom Brian McMurray had shared with him, regarding Arran, but it had already been two weeks since the furlough had ended and training had gone nowhere. Picking two plant stems, he approached The soggy Captain and his now exhausted and mud caked company.
"Let's review." Robert said tiredly, holding up the two stems.
"I don't do plants Robert." Hobbs said defiantly. "I get it and I remember it. Heather is higher than heath and heath grows on higher ground. Heather blooms in winter and heath blooms in summer, but none of that matters when the terrain is still shit."
"Heather blooms in summer..." Robert said, trying to hold back his frustration.
"Its spring asshole!" Hobbs interrupted. "The whole planet is a swamp and navigating it is going to be a pain in the ass. What isn't occupied for farming or goats is full of trees, mountains and mud."
"What would you suggest Hobbs?!" Robert shot back.
"I'd suggest you need to get laid again." Hobbs retorted.
Robert balled up a fist to strike Hobbs, but he let the anger and frustration go instead. Captain Hobbs had a point, the easiest land was occupied by agriculture and the moorland was too soft for most normal infantry tactics. A file could navigate well enough but a wedge formation would inevitably find a soft spot and both provided easy pickings for anyone paying attention. The mountains were equally difficult to navigate for their own reasons and the forests of the planet were damn near impenetrable.
"Round them up and head back Hobbs." Robert said defeated.
"What ever you sau, SIR!" Hobbs replied mockingly.
Robert dismissed the other companies in the same manner, none of them had faired well in the soupy terrain. The 449th made their way back to where their coaches had been parked, but Robert lingered a while longer, watching them load up and head back to town on the coaches. Things had changed in their short time on Arran, he felt distant from his men, like a chasm had formed between him and them, and the feeling he had let them down too many times weighed heavily on his shoulders as he starting his long walk back to Brodick.
/////
"Welcome back Colonel." Scarlet said brightly.
The local star had begun to set when Robert arrived. Clouds were painted in soft pastel colors by the falling star, further highlighting Robert's dark mood. He was thankful that the Laird had left the planet recently for a conference and wouldn't be back for a few more days, perhaps he could turn things around before the Laird returned. In his stead, he had left Scarlet and the butler who had suffered his abominable attitude. He would have to make it up to them soon.
"I take it training didn't go well today either?"
At first impression, the Butler of the MacSweeney estate always seemed to be in afoul mood, but nothing was further from the truth. His stoic disposition and rigid bearing was the result of a few years in the Terran Marines, but he preferred to be called Dean and shared his life freely over a finger or two of the local scotch when he was off duty. He hadn't been blessed with a wife or children, but made up for it by being a father figure to the staff.
"Thanks Dean," Robert replied, "it hasn't been a good day and I was wondering if I could pick your brain."
Dean's normally strait face cracked a little and he let out a small chuckle.
"Asking a butler for military advice? You must be desperate." He quipped.
"Asking a Marine what I'm doing wrong as an officer." Robert corrected. "A drink would be nice as well."
Dean led Robert into the staff dining room and produced a bottle of whiskey, pouring a glass for both of them.
"What seems to be the trouble?" Dean asked, holding out a glass for Robert.
"I don't know really." Robert confided. "I almost hit Hobbs today out of frustration and I don't feel like I'm a part of the unit as much as I used to."
Dean took a sip of the whiskey and rolled it around for a moment before swallowing. "May I ask why you almost struck a subordinate?"
"He can't figure out the difference between heather hand heath." Robert replied before knocking back his own glass.
"Couldn't stay out of the bog." Dean said. "Do you know that they are different?"
Robert looked at Dean with suspicion. "They look alike from a distance, but when you look closely they have a lot of differences."
"Heath is an Erica but heather is Calluna Vulgaris." Dean stated. "It was confusing for the early botanists on earth as well who thoughtthey were the same species for a long time." Dean said. "From a distance most people assume they're the same plant with the same needs. Heaths and Heathers native to this world require different things. If you were to clump them all into a single pot some would die."
"Why do I have the feeling this isn't about plants?" Robert asked.
"Because it isn't" Dean said before finishing his glass. "All of you have been clumped together for so long that even you think your all the same, and treating them like they are the same as you is already showing signs of trouble."
"Have any suggestions?" Robert asked as Dean emptied the bottle into the glasses.
"Two suggestions. First i would advise that you empty that glass." Dean said.
Robert did as he was advised, draining the glass in one go.
"I believe you have your men's ranks and positions in order correct?" Dean asked.
"For the most part." Robert replied.
"Would you be so kind as to retrieve them?" Dean requested.
"Sure, but.... whats the other thing?" Robert inquired.
Dean held up the empty bottle.
"It appears we are out of scotch."
submitted by Coyote_Havoc to HFY [link] [comments]
"Heather has feathers but heath has teeth."
"Captain Hobbs!"
From above, Arran looks like a paradise, rich and green with ample water and perfect for settlement, it's only when you are on the ground that you understand why life had a hard time springing up here. Some time in the distant past, volcanic activity rose up from several specific areas of the planet and created an environment suitable for cyanobacteria which produced oxygen but can also make soils alkaline rich which happened on several distant worlds such as Earth. The volcanic activity on Arran produced great clouds, prevented an earth like environment to a certain degree but life began to rise from the planet, struggling with rocky terrain as well as acidic water, but refusing to gve up. Eventually plant life adapted to the conditions of the planets atmosphere creating a world of deep forests, fertile grasslands and bogs similar to the one Captain Hobbs had led his troops into.
Robert took his time walking through the field, letting himself calm down as the men pulled each other from the mire. He understood that it would take time and effort to adapt to this new world and had relied on the wisdom Brian McMurray had shared with him, regarding Arran, but it had already been two weeks since the furlough had ended and training had gone nowhere. Picking two plant stems, he approached The soggy Captain and his now exhausted and mud caked company.
"Let's review." Robert said tiredly, holding up the two stems.
"I don't do plants Robert." Hobbs said defiantly. "I get it and I remember it. Heather is higher than heath and heath grows on higher ground. Heather blooms in winter and heath blooms in summer, but none of that matters when the terrain is still shit."
"Heather blooms in summer..." Robert said, trying to hold back his frustration.
"Its spring asshole!" Hobbs interrupted. "The whole planet is a swamp and navigating it is going to be a pain in the ass. What isn't occupied for farming or goats is full of trees, mountains and mud."
"What would you suggest Hobbs?!" Robert shot back.
"I'd suggest you need to get laid again." Hobbs retorted.
Robert balled up a fist to strike Hobbs, but he let the anger and frustration go instead. Captain Hobbs had a point, the easiest land was occupied by agriculture and the moorland was too soft for most normal infantry tactics. A file could navigate well enough but a wedge formation would inevitably find a soft spot and both provided easy pickings for anyone paying attention. The mountains were equally difficult to navigate for their own reasons and the forests of the planet were damn near impenetrable.
"Round them up and head back Hobbs." Robert said defeated.
"What ever you sau, SIR!" Hobbs replied mockingly.
Robert dismissed the other companies in the same manner, none of them had faired well in the soupy terrain. The 449th made their way back to where their coaches had been parked, but Robert lingered a while longer, watching them load up and head back to town on the coaches. Things had changed in their short time on Arran, he felt distant from his men, like a chasm had formed between him and them, and the feeling he had let them down too many times weighed heavily on his shoulders as he starting his long walk back to Brodick.
/////
"Welcome back Colonel." Scarlet said brightly.
The local star had begun to set when Robert arrived. Clouds were painted in soft pastel colors by the falling star, further highlighting Robert's dark mood. He was thankful that the Laird had left the planet recently for a conference and wouldn't be back for a few more days, perhaps he could turn things around before the Laird returned. In his stead, he had left Scarlet and the butler who had suffered his abominable attitude. He would have to make it up to them soon.
"I take it training didn't go well today either?"
At first impression, the Butler of the MacSweeney estate always seemed to be in afoul mood, but nothing was further from the truth. His stoic disposition and rigid bearing was the result of a few years in the Terran Marines, but he preferred to be called Dean and shared his life freely over a finger or two of the local scotch when he was off duty. He hadn't been blessed with a wife or children, but made up for it by being a father figure to the staff.
"Thanks Dean," Robert replied, "it hasn't been a good day and I was wondering if I could pick your brain."
Dean's normally strait face cracked a little and he let out a small chuckle.
"Asking a butler for military advice? You must be desperate." He quipped.
"Asking a Marine what I'm doing wrong as an officer." Robert corrected. "A drink would be nice as well."
Dean led Robert into the staff dining room and produced a bottle of whiskey, pouring a glass for both of them.
"What seems to be the trouble?" Dean asked, holding out a glass for Robert.
"I don't know really." Robert confided. "I almost hit Hobbs today out of frustration and I don't feel like I'm a part of the unit as much as I used to."
Dean took a sip of the whiskey and rolled it around for a moment before swallowing. "May I ask why you almost struck a subordinate?"
"He can't figure out the difference between heather hand heath." Robert replied before knocking back his own glass.
"Couldn't stay out of the bog." Dean said. "Do you know that they are different?"
Robert looked at Dean with suspicion. "They look alike from a distance, but when you look closely they have a lot of differences."
"Heath is an Erica but heather is Calluna Vulgaris." Dean stated. "It was confusing for the early botanists on earth as well who thoughtthey were the same species for a long time." Dean said. "From a distance most people assume they're the same plant with the same needs. Heaths and Heathers native to this world require different things. If you were to clump them all into a single pot some would die."
"Why do I have the feeling this isn't about plants?" Robert asked.
"Because it isn't" Dean said before finishing his glass. "All of you have been clumped together for so long that even you think your all the same, and treating them like they are the same as you is already showing signs of trouble."
"Have any suggestions?" Robert asked as Dean emptied the bottle into the glasses.
"Two suggestions. First i would advise that you empty that glass." Dean said.
Robert did as he was advised, draining the glass in one go.
"I believe you have your men's ranks and positions in order correct?" Dean asked.
"For the most part." Robert replied.
"Would you be so kind as to retrieve them?" Dean requested.
"Sure, but.... whats the other thing?" Robert inquired.
Dean held up the empty bottle.
"It appears we are out of scotch."
2024.05.21 23:38 geoffsn Gave a talk on Sunday. Happy to hear thoughts on it.
Good morning sisters and brothers, fellow Saints of our aspirational Zion. I was asked to speak and allowed to decide what the topic would be. After a lot of consideration I felt inspired to speak about being Actively Engaged in a Good Cause and how that relates to the full name of the church.
I was glad when President Nelson decided to put more emphasis on the full name of the church. Not that I mind using the term Mormon, but because I do find the full name of the church to be significant. When the church was organized in 1830 it was called the Church of Christ. In 1834 the members voted to change the name of the church to the Church of the Latter-day Saints. Then in 1838 Joseph had a revelation for the name to be The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While this effectively combined the two previous names, it also highlights something that I think most people overlook. Namely that the church is not only Jesus’s church, but that the church also belongs to us, the Latter-day Saints. We too have ownership of the church. While this may sound strange at first, it actually also fits very well with another concept that Joseph Smith taught: Theodemocracy.
Joseph spoke of this most actively the year before his death when running for President of the United States and when the Council of Fifty was created. The idea also holds in it that while God is in charge, we also have ownership and must have a say, actively vote, propose new ideas, and generally be actively engaged in moving things forward. It is not a theocracy with a fake voting system attached like that of North Korea. However, we have largely seen our own tradition move from one in which we do things by common consent including adding to our canon or as in 1834 voting to change the name of the church, towards something much more akin to voting in North Korea. This has coincided with other shifts in which we have taken less and less ownership of our church and as a result failed to properly sustain and support our leaders.
It is unfair to our leaders for us to sit back and wait for them to do frankly most of the heavy lifting when it comes to the running and functioning of our church, stake, and ward. In the past when I’ve been in callings that required me to be overseeing the assignments of home teaching or really any other church assignments, my experience has been that occasionally some inspiration will strike for some of the assignments, but that for the majority, I felt like I was left to figure out myself what assignments seemed to make the most sense. I know that many leaders that I have spoken to on this topic have also had such experiences. When we as members speak with our leaders, share information with them, it makes it much easier to make the best decisions. Without that feedback much more is left to guesswork.
We need to support and sustain our leaders, but this becomes difficult or challenging if we bring some assumptions to the table when considering how we do this. A major one as I see it is when we put too much trust in the arm of the flesh and grant our leaders infallibility or the lesser but largely equivalent functional infallibility.
As the saying goes: “Catholics say that the Pope is infallible, but none of them believe it. Mormons say that the Prophet is fallible, but none of them believe it.” Brigham Young recognized the potential for harm in this setting and said:
"I am fearful [the Saints will] settle down in a state of blind self-security, trusting their eternal destiny in the hands of their leaders with a reckless confidence that in itself would thwart the purposes of God in their salvation, and weaken the influence they could give to their leaders, did they know for themselves, by the revelations of Jesus, that they are led in the right way.” – Brigham Young 1862 General Conference (quoted in General Conference of the church in 1963 and in 1989)
And this one is also important:
"And none are required to tamely and blindly submit to a man because he has a portion of the priesthood. We have heard men who hold the priesthood remark, that they would do anything they were told to do by those who presided over them, if they knew it was wrong; but such obedience as this is worse than folly to us; it is slavery in the extreme; and the man who would thus willingly degrade himself should not claim a rank among intelligent beings, until he turns from his folly. A man of God… would despise the idea. Others, in the extreme exercise of their almighty authority have taught that such obedience was necessary, and that no matter what the saints were told to do by their presidents, they should do it without asking any questions. When Elders of Israel will so far indulge in these extreme notions of obedience as to teach them to the people, it is generally because they have it in their minds to do wrong themselves.” – Millennial Star, vol.14 #38, pp. 593-95
Yet does this functionally happen in the church? Do we follow this council to find out for ourselves instead of simply assuming everything from our leaders is divine? Apostle Charles W. Penrose, who would later serve as counselor to President Smith, declared:
"President Wilford Woodruff is a man of wisdom and experience, and we respect him, but we do not believe his personal views or utterances are revelations from God; and when ‘Thus saith the Lord’, comes from him, the saints investigate it: they do not shut their eyes and take it down like a pill.” – Millennial Star 54:191
Do we do this? When the prophet says “Thus saith the Lord” do we take the time to investigate it? Do we remember President Kimball’s reaction to Elder Benson’s talk on the “14 fundamentals of following the prophet”?
"Spencer felt concern about the talk, wanting to protect the Church against being misunderstood as espousing ultraconservative politics or an unthinking “follow the leader” mentality. The First Presidency again called Elder Benson in to discuss what he had said and asked him to make explanation to the full Quorum of the Twelve and other General Authorities… A First Presidency spokesman Don LeFevre reiterated to the press the day after the speech that it is “simply not true” that the Church President’s “word is law on all issues—including politics.” – Lengthen Your Stride – Working Draft, by Edward Kimball
I’ve had the opportunity to know some great Mormons who do take this approach, but I’ve also known many who treat quotes from church leaders like downloaded messages from God (no human filters involved).
If we can believe that God is capable of inspiring our leaders, surely we can believe God is capable of letting us know when they’re wrong. If instead we assume that their judgment is always superior to our own, perhaps we’re helping to put up a massive iron gate.
"How often has the Holy Spirit tried to tell us something we needed to know but couldn’t get past the massive iron gate of what we thought we already knew?" – Dieter Uchtdorf 2012 Worldwide Leadership Training
Moses once opined “Would that all the Lord's people were prophets, that the Lord would put his Spirit on them!” We have all been confirmed members of the church and in that confirmation told to receive the Holy Ghost. It is easy to forget that when the spirit tells us something, that is a member of the Godhead speaking to us. If we can believe that God can give guidance to our leaders surely we can also believe God can give us guidance.
Another important and often overlooked point is the context to this oft quoted verse:
"We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion." -D&C 121:39
This statement wasn’t given in a vacuum. It is in the middle of a long discussion of priesthood and priesthood authority. This is talking specifically about priesthood leaders. When we read that “many are called but few are chosen,” we’re reading that many priesthood leaders abuse their power and only few truly honor it. The saints in Joseph’s day understood this. I think we’ve sanitized it over the years to make it seem like an aside, an intermission on the discussion of priesthood. This statement is as true now as ever. This verse, with its proper context, needs to be a lesson for us as members. We need to sustain and support our leaders. This doesn’t mean following them blindly. This doesn’t mean we must become “yes-men” to them. This does mean pray for them to be chosen instead of just called. This does mean to influence our leaders to do God’s will. Remember, one of Brigham’s concerns about us acting as if all our leaders decisions were divine is that it will “weaken the influence [we] could give to [our] leaders.”
What questions our church leaders will take to the Lord are impacted by our own openness to those things. In 1977 President Kimball expressed concern that if the Race-ban on priesthood was removed that there would be pushback from members in the American South and from some in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. When President Hinckley was asked in an interview about the Gender-ban on priesthood his response was that “there’s no agitation for it.” Until we better engage in our own history and understand how we got to where we are now it will be very difficult if not impossible for us as members to be prepared for the removal of the current gender-ban on priesthood.
Sometimes we might justify our own spiritual laziness by saying that while our leaders are fallible that God will never let them lead us astray, granting them a sort of functional infallibility. Nevermind that this was first said when my 3rd-great-grandpa President Woodruff was trying to convince members not to leave over the Manifesto. Nevermind that it means that we’re denying our leaders their agency by assuming that God removes their ability to make mistakes in their callings. Maybe some make such a statement more nuanced. Maybe they think that our leaders can make mistakes, but they won’t be majosignificant mistakes. Well, what is and isn’t significant depends a lot on who you are and how you’re being affected by it. I’m thinking that the women and children who were slaughtered in prophet-sanctioned genocide in the Bible considered that a significant mistake. I’m thinking that the thousands denied temple blessings their entire lives because of the color of their skin might consider that significant.
Let’s just recognize that few are chosen and that we need to give our leaders constructive/interactive support. We place a lot of responsibility on our leaders and they are very likely to make mistakes. Because they are human and doing their best, but as humans we all err from time to time. Recognizing the mistakes of our leaders is essential to giving them true support; it is vital to sustaining them. I would hope that we would avoid enabling or cheerleading bad decisions that friends or family are about to make. Pointing out why a decision will be or was problematic is what we expect of people who we truly love and support us, because it helps us to avoid pain and pitfalls and enables us to be our best.
Here’s a story from our little section of Salt Lake City in which members recognized the potential for mistakes and took ownership of our church. On August 23rd, 1896 Stake President Angus M. Cannon proposed a man to be the bishop of a new ward which was to be divided from the Sugar House Ward. The congregation voted against the proposed new bishop. President Angus M. Cannon then purportedly shouted "Sit down! and shut your mouths, you have no right to speak!" When Cannon engaged in a shouting match with the dissenting congregation, a ward member and policeman threatened to arrest the stake president for disturbing the peace. President Cannon more calmly repeated his attempt but was voted down "again several times." The Secretary of the First Council of the Seventy was in attendance and wrote in his journal: "I have been taught that the appointing power comes from the priesthood and the sustaining power from the people and that they have the right of sustaining or not sustaining appointees.
When it comes to being actively engaged in church endeavors our neighborhood and the general Sugar House area has done a lot. The "stake missionary program" began in the Granite Stake under President Frank Taylor in the early 1900s. It was an idea presented to President Taylor who then prayerfully considered trying it out as a stake. It proved successful and was later picked up by the General Authorities who made it a church-wide program.
The seminary program was also started in our stake after Joseph Merrill (a newly called member of the Granite Stake Presidency) felt inspired to start it and worked out agreements with the school board and got it going at the very new (at the time) Granite High School.
Also, in 1909 the Granite Stake started a monthly family home evening program. After counseling with many sisters and brothers in the stake, the Stake Presidency asked each family to spend Tuesday evening home together. All of these were local things which were eventually picked up and run at the church-wide level. We have a history in our area of being anxiously engaged and pioneering with new ideas.
While those are all instances of members, wards, and stakes starting programs for good causes in our area of Salt Lake City, they are just a few examples of Saints starting inspired efforts which were eventually accepted and promoted by the top church leaders. The relief society started when women in Nauvoo came together to do some good. The Primary program, Sunday school, Mutual Improvement Association, welfare/farming, organized genealogy efforts, and Young Adult programs all also started as members and local leaders were anxiously engaged and thereby gave influence to the top church leaders.
So as we consider how we can more actively engage in the church and look at what we can do now that would help to further the kingdom of God, I’d like to share a few things that have been on my mind which I feel would be steps which we can do now and which doesn’t require any new doctrines, revelations, or organizational adjustments from our leadership.
There are near infinite ways that we can innovate and get engaged in good causes. Awake and arise, join in the cause of Zion. The aspiration of Zion is to be of one heart and one mind and have no poor among us. I think it is worth noting that being of one mind doesn’t mean agreeing on everything. It means that we are united in love; love for God and for all persons. When this is our top priority, when we worry about how our actions impact others and whether our words and actions are conveying love, we become united. I’ve been a long-time fan of Eugene England’s essay “The church is as true as the gospel.” In it he makes the case that the church is true because it is a vehicle in which we are able to actually try to put the gospel into practice. In doing so we encounter difficulties as we interact with other fallible mortals and try to navigate our interactions in a Christ-like way. We all try and this mix of imperfect people who unite in love and service can help to bring each other and others to Christ. It is my prayer that we can find ways to engage with love, and humble ourselves like little children, to change our ways as needed to come closer to Christ. I leave this with you in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
submitted by geoffsn to mormon [link] [comments]
I was glad when President Nelson decided to put more emphasis on the full name of the church. Not that I mind using the term Mormon, but because I do find the full name of the church to be significant. When the church was organized in 1830 it was called the Church of Christ. In 1834 the members voted to change the name of the church to the Church of the Latter-day Saints. Then in 1838 Joseph had a revelation for the name to be The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While this effectively combined the two previous names, it also highlights something that I think most people overlook. Namely that the church is not only Jesus’s church, but that the church also belongs to us, the Latter-day Saints. We too have ownership of the church. While this may sound strange at first, it actually also fits very well with another concept that Joseph Smith taught: Theodemocracy.
Joseph spoke of this most actively the year before his death when running for President of the United States and when the Council of Fifty was created. The idea also holds in it that while God is in charge, we also have ownership and must have a say, actively vote, propose new ideas, and generally be actively engaged in moving things forward. It is not a theocracy with a fake voting system attached like that of North Korea. However, we have largely seen our own tradition move from one in which we do things by common consent including adding to our canon or as in 1834 voting to change the name of the church, towards something much more akin to voting in North Korea. This has coincided with other shifts in which we have taken less and less ownership of our church and as a result failed to properly sustain and support our leaders.
It is unfair to our leaders for us to sit back and wait for them to do frankly most of the heavy lifting when it comes to the running and functioning of our church, stake, and ward. In the past when I’ve been in callings that required me to be overseeing the assignments of home teaching or really any other church assignments, my experience has been that occasionally some inspiration will strike for some of the assignments, but that for the majority, I felt like I was left to figure out myself what assignments seemed to make the most sense. I know that many leaders that I have spoken to on this topic have also had such experiences. When we as members speak with our leaders, share information with them, it makes it much easier to make the best decisions. Without that feedback much more is left to guesswork.
We need to support and sustain our leaders, but this becomes difficult or challenging if we bring some assumptions to the table when considering how we do this. A major one as I see it is when we put too much trust in the arm of the flesh and grant our leaders infallibility or the lesser but largely equivalent functional infallibility.
As the saying goes: “Catholics say that the Pope is infallible, but none of them believe it. Mormons say that the Prophet is fallible, but none of them believe it.” Brigham Young recognized the potential for harm in this setting and said:
"I am fearful [the Saints will] settle down in a state of blind self-security, trusting their eternal destiny in the hands of their leaders with a reckless confidence that in itself would thwart the purposes of God in their salvation, and weaken the influence they could give to their leaders, did they know for themselves, by the revelations of Jesus, that they are led in the right way.” – Brigham Young 1862 General Conference (quoted in General Conference of the church in 1963 and in 1989)
And this one is also important:
"And none are required to tamely and blindly submit to a man because he has a portion of the priesthood. We have heard men who hold the priesthood remark, that they would do anything they were told to do by those who presided over them, if they knew it was wrong; but such obedience as this is worse than folly to us; it is slavery in the extreme; and the man who would thus willingly degrade himself should not claim a rank among intelligent beings, until he turns from his folly. A man of God… would despise the idea. Others, in the extreme exercise of their almighty authority have taught that such obedience was necessary, and that no matter what the saints were told to do by their presidents, they should do it without asking any questions. When Elders of Israel will so far indulge in these extreme notions of obedience as to teach them to the people, it is generally because they have it in their minds to do wrong themselves.” – Millennial Star, vol.14 #38, pp. 593-95
Yet does this functionally happen in the church? Do we follow this council to find out for ourselves instead of simply assuming everything from our leaders is divine? Apostle Charles W. Penrose, who would later serve as counselor to President Smith, declared:
"President Wilford Woodruff is a man of wisdom and experience, and we respect him, but we do not believe his personal views or utterances are revelations from God; and when ‘Thus saith the Lord’, comes from him, the saints investigate it: they do not shut their eyes and take it down like a pill.” – Millennial Star 54:191
Do we do this? When the prophet says “Thus saith the Lord” do we take the time to investigate it? Do we remember President Kimball’s reaction to Elder Benson’s talk on the “14 fundamentals of following the prophet”?
"Spencer felt concern about the talk, wanting to protect the Church against being misunderstood as espousing ultraconservative politics or an unthinking “follow the leader” mentality. The First Presidency again called Elder Benson in to discuss what he had said and asked him to make explanation to the full Quorum of the Twelve and other General Authorities… A First Presidency spokesman Don LeFevre reiterated to the press the day after the speech that it is “simply not true” that the Church President’s “word is law on all issues—including politics.” – Lengthen Your Stride – Working Draft, by Edward Kimball
I’ve had the opportunity to know some great Mormons who do take this approach, but I’ve also known many who treat quotes from church leaders like downloaded messages from God (no human filters involved).
If we can believe that God is capable of inspiring our leaders, surely we can believe God is capable of letting us know when they’re wrong. If instead we assume that their judgment is always superior to our own, perhaps we’re helping to put up a massive iron gate.
"How often has the Holy Spirit tried to tell us something we needed to know but couldn’t get past the massive iron gate of what we thought we already knew?" – Dieter Uchtdorf 2012 Worldwide Leadership Training
Moses once opined “Would that all the Lord's people were prophets, that the Lord would put his Spirit on them!” We have all been confirmed members of the church and in that confirmation told to receive the Holy Ghost. It is easy to forget that when the spirit tells us something, that is a member of the Godhead speaking to us. If we can believe that God can give guidance to our leaders surely we can also believe God can give us guidance.
Another important and often overlooked point is the context to this oft quoted verse:
"We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion." -D&C 121:39
This statement wasn’t given in a vacuum. It is in the middle of a long discussion of priesthood and priesthood authority. This is talking specifically about priesthood leaders. When we read that “many are called but few are chosen,” we’re reading that many priesthood leaders abuse their power and only few truly honor it. The saints in Joseph’s day understood this. I think we’ve sanitized it over the years to make it seem like an aside, an intermission on the discussion of priesthood. This statement is as true now as ever. This verse, with its proper context, needs to be a lesson for us as members. We need to sustain and support our leaders. This doesn’t mean following them blindly. This doesn’t mean we must become “yes-men” to them. This does mean pray for them to be chosen instead of just called. This does mean to influence our leaders to do God’s will. Remember, one of Brigham’s concerns about us acting as if all our leaders decisions were divine is that it will “weaken the influence [we] could give to [our] leaders.”
What questions our church leaders will take to the Lord are impacted by our own openness to those things. In 1977 President Kimball expressed concern that if the Race-ban on priesthood was removed that there would be pushback from members in the American South and from some in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. When President Hinckley was asked in an interview about the Gender-ban on priesthood his response was that “there’s no agitation for it.” Until we better engage in our own history and understand how we got to where we are now it will be very difficult if not impossible for us as members to be prepared for the removal of the current gender-ban on priesthood.
Sometimes we might justify our own spiritual laziness by saying that while our leaders are fallible that God will never let them lead us astray, granting them a sort of functional infallibility. Nevermind that this was first said when my 3rd-great-grandpa President Woodruff was trying to convince members not to leave over the Manifesto. Nevermind that it means that we’re denying our leaders their agency by assuming that God removes their ability to make mistakes in their callings. Maybe some make such a statement more nuanced. Maybe they think that our leaders can make mistakes, but they won’t be majosignificant mistakes. Well, what is and isn’t significant depends a lot on who you are and how you’re being affected by it. I’m thinking that the women and children who were slaughtered in prophet-sanctioned genocide in the Bible considered that a significant mistake. I’m thinking that the thousands denied temple blessings their entire lives because of the color of their skin might consider that significant.
Let’s just recognize that few are chosen and that we need to give our leaders constructive/interactive support. We place a lot of responsibility on our leaders and they are very likely to make mistakes. Because they are human and doing their best, but as humans we all err from time to time. Recognizing the mistakes of our leaders is essential to giving them true support; it is vital to sustaining them. I would hope that we would avoid enabling or cheerleading bad decisions that friends or family are about to make. Pointing out why a decision will be or was problematic is what we expect of people who we truly love and support us, because it helps us to avoid pain and pitfalls and enables us to be our best.
Here’s a story from our little section of Salt Lake City in which members recognized the potential for mistakes and took ownership of our church. On August 23rd, 1896 Stake President Angus M. Cannon proposed a man to be the bishop of a new ward which was to be divided from the Sugar House Ward. The congregation voted against the proposed new bishop. President Angus M. Cannon then purportedly shouted "Sit down! and shut your mouths, you have no right to speak!" When Cannon engaged in a shouting match with the dissenting congregation, a ward member and policeman threatened to arrest the stake president for disturbing the peace. President Cannon more calmly repeated his attempt but was voted down "again several times." The Secretary of the First Council of the Seventy was in attendance and wrote in his journal: "I have been taught that the appointing power comes from the priesthood and the sustaining power from the people and that they have the right of sustaining or not sustaining appointees.
When it comes to being actively engaged in church endeavors our neighborhood and the general Sugar House area has done a lot. The "stake missionary program" began in the Granite Stake under President Frank Taylor in the early 1900s. It was an idea presented to President Taylor who then prayerfully considered trying it out as a stake. It proved successful and was later picked up by the General Authorities who made it a church-wide program.
The seminary program was also started in our stake after Joseph Merrill (a newly called member of the Granite Stake Presidency) felt inspired to start it and worked out agreements with the school board and got it going at the very new (at the time) Granite High School.
Also, in 1909 the Granite Stake started a monthly family home evening program. After counseling with many sisters and brothers in the stake, the Stake Presidency asked each family to spend Tuesday evening home together. All of these were local things which were eventually picked up and run at the church-wide level. We have a history in our area of being anxiously engaged and pioneering with new ideas.
While those are all instances of members, wards, and stakes starting programs for good causes in our area of Salt Lake City, they are just a few examples of Saints starting inspired efforts which were eventually accepted and promoted by the top church leaders. The relief society started when women in Nauvoo came together to do some good. The Primary program, Sunday school, Mutual Improvement Association, welfare/farming, organized genealogy efforts, and Young Adult programs all also started as members and local leaders were anxiously engaged and thereby gave influence to the top church leaders.
So as we consider how we can more actively engage in the church and look at what we can do now that would help to further the kingdom of God, I’d like to share a few things that have been on my mind which I feel would be steps which we can do now and which doesn’t require any new doctrines, revelations, or organizational adjustments from our leadership.
- Give leaders their agency and remove the false idol of functional infallibility
- Stop turning into a time capsule of the 1950s
- Always speak at church as though the audience is the general public
There are near infinite ways that we can innovate and get engaged in good causes. Awake and arise, join in the cause of Zion. The aspiration of Zion is to be of one heart and one mind and have no poor among us. I think it is worth noting that being of one mind doesn’t mean agreeing on everything. It means that we are united in love; love for God and for all persons. When this is our top priority, when we worry about how our actions impact others and whether our words and actions are conveying love, we become united. I’ve been a long-time fan of Eugene England’s essay “The church is as true as the gospel.” In it he makes the case that the church is true because it is a vehicle in which we are able to actually try to put the gospel into practice. In doing so we encounter difficulties as we interact with other fallible mortals and try to navigate our interactions in a Christ-like way. We all try and this mix of imperfect people who unite in love and service can help to bring each other and others to Christ. It is my prayer that we can find ways to engage with love, and humble ourselves like little children, to change our ways as needed to come closer to Christ. I leave this with you in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
2024.05.21 23:26 atticuskraft [WTS] mens Melanzana, Patagonia and other various men's and women's stuff.
https://imgur.com/a/Oa2xiRh
Men's red and blue medium v2 Melanzana Microgrid - $80 -Well worn but no holes or stains and always washed and treated well.
Men's blue small v1 Melanzana Microgrid - $80 -Also well worn but treated well and washed only when needed.
Men's medium Patagonia R1 quarter zip - $60 -Only worn one time so basically still brand new.
Men's medium Air blaster Beast 2L jacket -$70 -Worn for a full season. Super soft and comfortable lightly insulated jacket. Some signs of use included small fray around seams but seams are still very much intact. Also a very small hole on front left.
Arcade belt -$10 -Brand new
Women's small Burton Avalon Bib Snow Pants Short - $75 originally $220 -Worn for two seasons, one stain on left thigh, and bottom corner of back pocket starting to come off but plenty of other pockets that zip
Women's small Patagonia Mission Thermal Tights - $45 originally $90 - only worn a couple of times, like new
cedar ridge 0f synthetic UP quilt. Size regular short. Weight about 34oz. Only used for one 6 night through hike. Packs down super small. Great condition. -$75
Prices don't include shipping or PayPal fees.
submitted by atticuskraft to GearTrade [link] [comments]
Men's red and blue medium v2 Melanzana Microgrid - $80 -Well worn but no holes or stains and always washed and treated well.
Men's blue small v1 Melanzana Microgrid - $80 -Also well worn but treated well and washed only when needed.
Men's medium Patagonia R1 quarter zip - $60 -Only worn one time so basically still brand new.
Men's medium Air blaster Beast 2L jacket -$70 -Worn for a full season. Super soft and comfortable lightly insulated jacket. Some signs of use included small fray around seams but seams are still very much intact. Also a very small hole on front left.
Arcade belt -$10 -Brand new
Women's small Burton Avalon Bib Snow Pants Short - $75 originally $220 -Worn for two seasons, one stain on left thigh, and bottom corner of back pocket starting to come off but plenty of other pockets that zip
Women's small Patagonia Mission Thermal Tights - $45 originally $90 - only worn a couple of times, like new
cedar ridge 0f synthetic UP quilt. Size regular short. Weight about 34oz. Only used for one 6 night through hike. Packs down super small. Great condition. -$75
Prices don't include shipping or PayPal fees.
2024.05.21 23:24 acekingoffsuit Who is the lineal father of Dominik Mysterio if the role could only be defended in broadcasted matches?
At SummerSlam 2005, Rey Mysterio and Eddie Guerrero fought in a ladder match where the winner would be considered the legal father of Rey's son Dominik. That match started a "title" lineage that has lasted for nearly 20 years. It has been tracked by several people, including multiple Redditors. You can find the true lineage of Dom's Daddy here.
But let's be honest: this title is pretty damn soap opera-y. As such, shouldn't all of its developments happen on-screen? If the title of Dom's father could change hands like any other title could (most matches excluding battle royales/Royal Rumbles or gauntlets, and not by DQ or countout) but only in matches that were broadcasted in some form - not at house shows, but on any other event that was broadcasted on TV, pay-per-view, or the internet in some way - what would that look like?
The answer was a bit more involved than I expected.
del Rio el Patron became Alberto el Padre in March 2017 by beating Bobby Lashley. He worked for TNA/Impact for a year, but he competed elsewhere as well. That included for WhatCulture Pro Wrestling. Alberto tried to qualify for their World Cup tournament, but he was denied by Rey Mysterio. Thus, WCPW made its greatest contribution to the wrestling world, temporarily unifying Dominik's televised paternity with his actual paternity. Deadbeat that he is, Rey lost custody of his son four months later to Will Osperay, who then lost it to Kushida. Kushida's win unified Dominik's televised paternity with the WCPW World Cup title.
This reign marks a new era in Dominik's televised custody. It starts a run where the fatherhood of Dom is defended across many different independent promotions. It does reappear in Impact during this stretch, but it adds major indies like Ring of Honor, Lucha Underground, and Game Changer Wrestling to its storied lineage.
submitted by acekingoffsuit to SquaredCircle [link] [comments]
But let's be honest: this title is pretty damn soap opera-y. As such, shouldn't all of its developments happen on-screen? If the title of Dom's father could change hands like any other title could (most matches excluding battle royales/Royal Rumbles or gauntlets, and not by DQ or countout) but only in matches that were broadcasted in some form - not at house shows, but on any other event that was broadcasted on TV, pay-per-view, or the internet in some way - what would that look like?
The answer was a bit more involved than I expected.
THE WWE YEARS
Things start as they do on the official list. Rey wins the role at SummerSlam '05 and hangs on to it for a few weeks. For the first year of its existence, the televised and true lineages are identical.- REY MYSTERIO: Aug. 21, 2005 (SummerSlam 2005) - Sept. 2, 2005 (SmackDown #316)
- RANDY ORTON: Sept. 2, 2005 - Sept. 16, 2005 (SmackDown #318)
- UNDERTAKER: Sept. 16, 2005 - Feb. 19, 2006 (No Way Out 2006)
- KURT ANGLE: Feb. 19, 2006 - Mar. 24, 2006 (SmackDown #345)
- MARK HENRY: Mar. 24, 2006 - Apr. 2, 2006 (WrestleMania 22)
- UNDERTAKER: Apr. 2, 2006 - May 21, 2006 (Judgement Day 2006)
- GREAT KHALI: May 21, 2006 - Aug. 18, 2006 (SmackDown #366)
- UNDERTAKER: Aug. 18, 2006 - Nov. 26, 2006 (Survivor Series 2006)
- MR. KENNEDY: Nov. 26, 2006 - Dec. 17, 2006 (Armageddon 2006)
- UNDERTAKER: Dec. 17, 2006 - May 11, 2007 (SmackDown #403)
- EDGE: May 11, 2007 - May 14, 2007 (Raw #729)
- SHAWN MICHAELS: May 14, 2007 - May 20, 2007 (Judgement Day 2007)
- RANDY ORTON: May 20, 2007 - June 3, 2007 (One Night Stand 2007)
THE TNA YEARS
See, RVD wrestled just 3 more televised matches over the next two-and-a-half years: a 45-second victory over Santino Marella later that year, a one-off match in Japan's IGF, and an appearance in the 2009 Royal Rumble. With wins in those first two matches and the third not being eligible for this lineage, RVD took custody of Dominik off of WWE television... and on to TNA in March 2010. That's where the role stays for the next seven years.- ROB VAN DAM: June 3, 2007 - May 13, 2010 (TNA Impact #306)
- AJ STYLES: May 13, 2010 - May 16, 2010 (TNA Sacrifice 2010)
- ROB VAN DAM: May 16, 2010 - Nov. 4, 2010 (TNA Impact #330)
- AJ STYLES: Nov. 4, 2010 - Dec. 5, 2010 (TNA Final Resolution 2010)
- DOUG WILLIAMS: Dec. 5, 2010 - Jan. 5, 2011 (TNA Genesis 2011)
- ABYSS: Jan. 5, 2011 - Jan. 13, 2011 (TNA Impact #340)
- MATT MORGAN: Jan. 13, 2011 - Feb. 10, 2011 (TNA Impact #344)
- MR. ANDERSON (fka MR. KENNEDY): Feb. 10, 2011 - Feb. 13, 2011 (TNA Against All Odds 2011)
- JEFF HARDY: Feb. 13, 2011 - Mar. 3, 2011 (TNA Impact #347)
- STING: Mar. 3, 2011 - Apr. 7, 2011 (TNA Impact #352)
- ROB VAN DAM: Apr. 7, 2011 - Apr. 17, 2011 (TNA Lockdown 2011)
- STING: Apr. 17, 2011 - June 12, 2011 (TNA Slammiversary IX)
- MR. ANDERSON (fka MR. KENNEDY): June 12, 2011 - June 16, 2011 (Impact #362)
- GUNNER: June 16, 2011 - July 21, 2011 (Impact #367)
- MATT MORGAN: July 21, 2011 - Sept. 15, 2011 (Impact #375)
- SAMOA JOE: Sept. 15, 2011 - Oct. 13, 2011 (Impact #379)
- MATT MORGAN: Oct. 13, 2011 - Oct. 16, 2011 (Bound for Glory 2011)
- CRIMSON: Oct. 15, 2011 - June 10, 2012 (Slammiversary X)
- JAMES STORM: June 10, 2012 - July 5, 2012 (Impact #417)
- JEFF HARDY: July 5, 2012 - July 19, 2012 (Impact #419)
- ROBBIE E: July 19, 2012 - Aug. 2, 2012 (Impact #421)
- BULLY RAY: Aug. 2, 2012 - Aug. 16, 2012 (Impact #423)
- JEFF HARDY: Aug. 16, 2012 - Oct. 4, 2012 (Impact #430)
- BULLY RAY: Oct. 4, 2012 - Dec. 9, 2012 (TNA Final Resolution 2012)
- AUSTIN ARIES: Dec. 9, 2012 - Dec. 20, 2012 (Impact #441)
- JEFF HARDY: Dec. 20, 2012 - Mar. 10, 2013 (TNA Lockdown 2013)
- BULLY RAY: Mar. 10, 2013 - July 18, 2013 (Impact #471)
- CHRIS SABIN: July 18, 2013 - Aug. 15, 2013 (Impact #475)
- BULLY RAY: Aug. 15, 2013 - Sept. 5, 2013 (Impact #478)
- STING: Sept. 5, 2013 - Oct. 20, 2013 (TNA Bound for Glory 2013)
- MAGNUS: Oct. 20, 2013 - Apr. 10, 2014 (Impact #509)
- ERIC YOUNG: Apr. 10, 2014 - May 22, 2014 (Impact #515)
- BOBBY LASHLEY: May 22, 2014 - June 15, 2014 (TNA Slammiversary XII)
- ERIC YOUNG: June 15, 2014 - June 19, 2014 (Impact #519)
- BOBBY LASHLEY: June 19, 2014 - Oct. 29, 2014 (Impact #538)
- BOBBY ROODE: Oct. 29, 2014 - Jan. 7, 2015 (Impact #547)
- BOBBY LASHLEY: Jan. 7, 2015 - Mar. 20, 2015 (Impact #557)
- KURT ANGLE: Mar. 20, 2015 - May 1, 2015 (Impact #563)
- ERIC YOUNG: May 1, 2015 - May 8, 2015 (Impact #564)
- KURT ANGLE: May 8, 2015 - July 1, 2015 (Impact #572)
- EC3: July 1, 2015 - Oct. 4, 2015 (TNA Bound for Glory 2015)
- MATT HARDY: Oct. 4, 2015 - Jan. 5, 2016 (Impact #599)
- EC3: Jan. 5, 2016 - Jan. 19, 2016 (Impact #601)
- MATT HARDY: Jan. 19, 2016 - Mar. 15, 2016 (Impact #609)
- DREW GALLOWAY: Mar. 15, 2016 - June 12, 2016 (TNA Slammiversary XIV)
- BOBBY LASHLEY: June 12, 2016 - Oct. 6, 2016 (Impact #638)
- EDDIE EDWARDS: Oct. 6, 2016 - Jan. 26, 2017 (Impact #654)
- BOBBY LASHLEY: Jan. 26, 2017 - Mar. 9, 2017 (Impact #660)
THE INDEPENDENT YEARS
AlbertoThis reign marks a new era in Dominik's televised custody. It starts a run where the fatherhood of Dom is defended across many different independent promotions. It does reappear in Impact during this stretch, but it adds major indies like Ring of Honor, Lucha Underground, and Game Changer Wrestling to its storied lineage.
- ALBERTO EL PATRON: Mar. 9, 2017 - Apr. 30, 2017 (WCPW World Cup Mexico Qualifier)
- REY MYSTERIO: Apr. 30, 2017 - Aug. 23, 2017 (WCPW World Cup, Night 1)
- WILL OSPERAY: Aug. 23, 2017 - Aug. 26, 2017 (WCPW World Cup, Night 3)
- KUSHIDA: Aug. 26, 2017 - Sept. 22, 2017 (ROH Death Before Dishonor XV)
- KENNY KING: Sept. 22, 2017 - Dec. 15, 2017 (ROH Final Battle 2017)
- SILAS YOUNG: Dec. 15, 2017 - Feb. 24, 2018 (ROH TV #336)
- KENNY KING: Feb. 24, 2018 - Apr. 7, 2018 (ROH Supercard of Honor XII)
- SILAS YOUNG: Apr. 7, 2018 - June 16, 2018 (ROH State of the Art 2018, Night 2)
- PUNISHMENT MARTINEZ: June 16, 2018 - Oct. 20, 2018 (ROH TV #370)
- JEFF COBB: Oct. 20, 2018 - Nov. 7, 2018 (Lucha Underground Ultima Lucha 4, Part 2)
- JOHNNY MUNDO/JOHNNY IMPACT: Nov. 7, 2018 - Jan. 11, 2019 (Impact #756)
- KILLER KROSS: Jan. 11, 2019 - Jan. 25, 2019 (Impact #758)
- JOHNNY IMPACT: Jan. 25, 2019 - Apr. 5, 2019 (Blackcraft No Apologies)
- MATTHEW JUSTICE: Apr. 5, 2019 - June 1, 2019 (GCW Tournament of Survival 4)
- KTB: June 1, 2019 - June 15, 2019 (AIW JT Lightning Invitational 2019, Night 2)
- MATTHEW JUSTICE: June 15, 2019 - June 20, 2019 (GCW Crushed Up 2019)
- DAN MAFF: June 20, 2019 - Aug. 9, 2019 (PCW ULTRA No Quarter)
- MIL MUERTES/JUDAS MESIAS: Aug. 20, 2019 - Nov. 22, 2020 (VxS Eternal Atake)
- JIMMY LLOYD: Nov. 22, 2020 - Dec. 5, 2020 (GCW Slime Session)
- KTB: Dec. 5, 2020 - Jan. 29, 2021 (GCW Fight Forever: The Wind of God)
- MATTHEW JUSTICE: Jan. 29, 2021 - Mar. 5, 2021 (New South HOSS Tournament 2021, Night 1)
- SHEAN CHRISTOPHER: Mar. 5, 2021 - Mar. 6, 2021 (New South HOSS Tournament 2021, Night 2)
- ADAM PRIEST: Mar. 6, 2021 - Mar. 22, 2021 (AEW Dark: Elevation #2)
THE AEW YEARS
After winning New South's HOSS tournament, Adam Priest showed up on the second ever episode of AEW Dark: Elevation. He fell to Lee Johnson on that card, meaning that Dirty Dom's televised paternity is All Elite. The lineage remains in AEW to this day. Fittingly, the two men who have battled over the right to be Dom's father are Patriarchy head Christian Cage and the man who has held Dom's lineal paternity longer than anyone else, Adam Copeland.- LEE JOHNSON: Mar. 22, 2021 - July 12, 2021 (AEW Dark: Elevation #18)
- JUNGLE BOY JACK PERRY: July 12, 2021 - Sept. 29, 2021 (AEW Dynamite #104)
- ADAM COLE: Sept. 29, 2021 - Jan. 26, 2022 (AEW Dynamite #121)
- ORANGE CASSIDY: Jan. 26, 2022 - Mar. 6, 2022 (AEW Revolution 2022)
- WARDLOW: Mar. 6, 2022 - Mar. 16, 2022 (AEW Dynamite #128)
- SCORPIO SKY: Mar. 16, 2022 - Apr. 16, 2022 (AEW Battle of the Belts II)
- SAMMY GUEVARA: Apr. 16, 2022 - Apr. 27, 2022 (AEW Dynamite #134)
- SCORPIO SKY: Apr. 27, 2022 - July 6, 2022 (AEW Dynamite #144)
- WARDLOW: July 6, 2022 - Nov. 19, 2022 (AEW Full Gear 2022)
- SAMOA JOE: Nov. 19, 2022 - Jan. 4, 2023 (AEW Dynamite #170)
- DARBY ALLIN: Jan. 4, 2023 - Feb. 1, 2023 (AEW Dynamite #174)
- SAMOA JOE: Feb. 1, 2023 - Mar. 5, 2023 (AEW Revolution 2023)
- WARDLOW: Mar. 5, 2023 - Mar. 8, 2023 (AEW Dynamite #179)
- POWERHOUSE HOBBS: Mar. 8, 2023 - Apr. 19, 2023 (AEW Dynamite #185)
- WARDLOW: Apr. 19, 2023 - June 17, 2023 (AEW Collision #1)
- LUCHASAURUS: June 17, 2023 - Oct. 10, 2023 (AEW Dynamite #210)
- ADAM COPELAND (fka EDGE): Oct. 10, 2023 - Dec. 6, 2023 (AEW Dynamite #218)
- CHRISTIAN CAGE: Dec. 6, 2023 - Dec. 30, 2023 (AEW World's End 2023)
- ADAM COPELAND (fka EDGE): Dec. 30, 2023 - Dec. 30, 2023 (AEW World's End 2023)
- CHRISTIAN CAGE: Dec. 30, 2023 - Mar. 20, 2024 (AEW Dynamite #233)
- ADAM COPELAND (fka EDGE): Mar. 20, 2024 - Present
2024.05.21 23:13 KyleKKent OOCS, Into A Wider Galaxy 009
~First~
Cats, Cops and C4
The Erumenta woman tries to fight even as he forces her into the cell, her natural fire flaring hot enough for his clothing to smoulder and him to mentally congratulate himself for his Undaunted Brand. It’s literally saved his fingers multiple times today.
Marlintine Spire is like many of the spires of Centris still reeling from the massive scan. Sure it had been legal, and both Living Goddesses upon the world had told everyone to calm down in their own way. But just because something is legal and endorsed by powerful figures does not make it a popular move.
“You burn any of your fellow prisoners while you’re in there and you’re getting a suppression collar.” He tells the obstinate criminal as he shoves her into the holding cell and slams the bars shut. The forcefields supplementing the metal bars flickers into place and the blast of flame she aimed at his face splashes against it without further effect. “Cute, keep it up and we won’t need a court hearing to upgrade you to a real prison.”
“He’s being serious. Stripper boy is playing at being a serious police officer.” Another criminal mocks and is subsequently ignored as Chenk leaves the area. He has other things to do.
“Ma’am.” He greets Chief Bowman as he slips by to head back out.
“Hold it human. I know your kind are endurance monsters, but you need to sit the hell down. You’ve been dragging in cult soldiers for six and a half hours straight. Your legal overtime ended a half hour ago.”
“Then keep a cell open for me as I keep bringing in more people. This needs to be quelled.” Chenk says and as he turns to keep going she grabs his belt and pulls him back.
“You need to rest.”
“The Spire is in the middle of a borderline insurrection. I can rest when it’s...” He begins to say before a sudden movement to his right makes his head snap around. Just before Vera the Takra-Takra crashes into him.
“Thanks for stalling him out Chief! Come on you goofy human!” Vera announces as she drags him down the hallway and into Linda’s Office. She tosses him onto the couch and then pounces onto him and pins him.
“Really?” Chenk asks.
“Yes really. You need to calm down. And I found a way to force it.” Linda states.
“But the Spire is...”
“You are one officer. Supersoldier on loan to the station or not, you’re still only one officer. The structural integrity of this spire only depends upon you when there’s a bomb threat and even then, only when it’s a chemical bomb.” Linda tells him. “Or do we have to restrict you to only being called out during a bomb threat?”
“No.” He says. “But people are still getting hurt and...”
“And they're the ones hurting themselves. Just please calm down. I know you’re skilled, but your sense of justice is just going to hurt you at this rate. Don’t want to leave a bad example for Amy now do you?” Linda teases him and Chenk groans in frustration.
“... I really should have thought things through before growing attached to that girl.”
“Oh probably, but it was adorable to see. The world crashing down on a poor little girl in over her head and then Officer Hero, Supersoldier from the blackest void of the galaxy flies in to save her.” Vera teases.
“Still, him being a supersoildier is a bit of a problem right now. Big man needs a mission, or he’s going to go nuts!” Linda notes. “Luckily! I called one of your friends on the ship. Soldier, you’re in position to requre a talking to from The Observer. However, the call is on hold, but you need to be here when it goes off.”
“That’s a dirty trick.” Chenk notes even as an Undaunted communicator is tossed at him and he catches it. It’s activated, it’s in a waiting queue and there’s no way he can go into the field now if he’s waiting for an official answer. “Very dirty.”
“Good thinking!” Vera compliments as she cuddles closer to her pinned target. Her hair spikes out in sudden shock as The Communicator then goes off to signify the call has gone through. “I jinxed it!”
“Specialist Chenk Barnabas sir!” Chenk answers the call instantly as he sits up and Vera scurries off him.
“Really? I put him on that waiting list to get him to calm down and stop working.”
“Specialist Barnabas, I’m one of numerous individuals filtering the sheer number of incoming calls to The Inevitable. You’re in the proper queue now, please state what you have been doing as a member of The Undaunted so that Observer Wu can better decide who to speak with.”
“I’m on loan to one of Marlintine Spire’s major police stations. Due to the overpopulation of Centris this means I have been acting as elite law enforcement over a population that exceeds that of many of earth’s countries.”
“I see, anything in particular that you’re doing?”
“I’m a chemical expert and accredited detective at this rate. I am the go to specialist for law enforcement when it comes to chemical explosives for a full ten percent of Centris Police Departments.”
“Any particularly interesting cases you’ve been assigned to?”
“Yes, one that is still being debated in court by none other than The Trytite Lady. It involves cloning, murder, mercenaries, numerous criminal gangs and a great deal of more nonsense such as massive prison breaks, fighting robots and Axiom effects so dangerous that even speaking about them in anything more than the most broad and general of terms on an open frequency is a punishable offence.”
“So you have seen a fair amount of what has occurred in the galaxy.”
“I’ve seen enough that I’m going to be very hard to surprise or overwhelm any longer.” Chenk says.
“Very good. I’ll just note this down. The Galaxy is absolutely insane, I’ve been fielding calls from people with like nine heads all speaking in concert and god damn lobster people and more...”
“That’s reality for you.” Chenk replies. “Always more absurd than it should be.”
“Indeed, stand by. I’m putting you into the next proper queue. It shouldn’t be more than a minute or two long.” The Assistant states and then the call shifts to simply display that he’s fourth in the queue now.
“Hunh. Faster and somehow slower than expected at the same time.” Chenk says even as Vera leans against him.
“Even when you take a break you’re still working.”
“You didn’t complain about me being an endurance monster when I planted this in you.” He says gently patting her growing stomach and she pushes him a bit in protest.
“Problem with getting the super-babies of doom is the wait for the baby.” Vera complains and he chuckles before the communicator activates again. He puts it in broadcast mode as Linda leaves her desk to sit next to him for support.
“Observer Wu I take it?” Chenk asks the Asian man who nods.
“And you are Officer and Operative Barnabas. The little summary in front of your call has my attention. Tell me, how are laws generally handled in the Centris space.”
“Centris is a massively overpopulated planet consisting of Spires and Plates. The Spires are the massive multi tiered towers that have two hundred levels each and each level holds enough people to populate any major city on Earth with ease. The lower the level on the spire the less funding, infrastructure and support it has with the bottom ten generally considered a universal slum or no man’s land. Law enforcement in those areas is nigh on impossible and the air itself has been described as thick and fetid. No natural light reaches those areas either.”
“And higher up?”
“Increasing amounts of wealth and support. To such a degree that the plates, which form an artificial ring around Centris are of such high quality that their most squalid and desperate places are at roughly the same standard of living as the middle fifty floors of a well off Spire. As you can imagine, policing all this is an outright herculean effort and every station, no matter how well funded, armed or endorsed is simply inadequate for the task.”
“What sort of crimes have you witnessed?”
“I’ve stopped terrorist conspiracies, torn down drug labs, found myself between assassins and their targets, I’ve stood in the middle of gang wars commanding people to stand down, I have tackled muggers, murderers and maniacs alike into walls and cuffed them. Not even twenty minutes ago I dragged a criminal who could light fires with her will alone into a cell, my jacket is still singed from it.”
“So the world is rife with criminality.”
“No more than any other place, there’s just so many people crammed in here that it’s constant, and that’s without the recent provocation that every single criminal organization received more or less simultaneously. Generally for every single idiot that needs a police officer to remind them why good behaviour is a good idea, there’s an entire bus full of people that didn’t even consider breaking the law.” Chenk explains.
“But when they truly commit crimes they don’t stop do they?”
“No, more resources, technology and Axiom means that if someone wants to break the rules they can break the very concept of rules. The last major case I was in before this flashfire of criminality was kicked off involved the sanctity of body and mind being shattered for the sake of mere greed by a figure so underworld infamous that for a chance to get either evidence on the person in question or ingratiate themselves to them we had an all out war break out in the station. One that if not for a quick trick, we would have lost.”
“And the trick was?”
“Switching out the prize for a disguised tracking beacon.” Chenk says and Observer Wu nods appreciatively. “I can’t credit on that though, it was The Private Stream that did that.”
“I haven’t had that fully explained to me. What is THE Private Stream?”
“I’m not the best person to explain it, but a quick summary is that it’s a shared persona for low profile work. Operative Jameson is the founder and original Private Stream, a persona that lets him go around while heavily armed and armoured while arousing no suspicion.”
Vera snorts in amusement. “Arousing... lot of girls find the aw shucks innocent routine to be arousing.”
Chenk slowly urns to her. “What?”
“You know what.”
“Maybe I don’t!”
“Maybe you do.”
“Could we focus please?” Observer Wu asks. “Now, as an Officer, are there any laws that you would find concerning about humans?”
“Yes, they’re usually location dependant thankfully. So the issue can be avoided. Furthermore there’s a lot of leeway given in laws where the traits of a species would make following the law difficult if not impossible. For example a human can generally get away carrying substances that are considered highly toxic or dangerous due to the fact that our diets contain what many people in the galaxy are nothing more than hard core poisons.”
“Hmm... Could you be more specific?”
“Well, this one won’t apply to you due to an amendment that Admiral Cistern was able to get allies to help him push through, but one of the most popular religions the galaxy over is the Gravid Faith, it has numerous denominations and variants and several of them create what’s called Arrangement Systems where men are required by law to have a hundred wives.”
“And the amendment is?”
“That if you are gainfully employed by governmental or military forces that you are exempt from the law so long as you remained employed in such a manner. You Observer Wu are the eyes of hundreds of Earth Nations meaning a government employee.” Chenk explains and he nods.
“I see. Any other exemptions?”
“Generally the Galaxy looks down on kinetic weaponry, so when it was pushed that humans wear weapons and cultural garb it was allowed through without issue. So humans are legally allowed to carry weapons like knives and pistols at almost all time without question. It’s... rather stupid in my opinion, but well it would be even more foolish for me to complain about something I’m outright benefiting from.”
“Hmm... any other laws?”
“They very much vary by location. Which are further influenced by the species of the residents, local culture, religion, political association, economic status. The name of the game is jurisdiction issues here on Centris. The local police departments all help one another, but always at the invite of the local officers who can actually confirm if what’s taking place is a crime or not in the local area.”
“Can you give an example of this working against things?”
“Alright, the easiest example is with drugs. There is no agreed on way to combat the spread of illegal narcotics. Some make the growing of the plants that produce what you want illegal. Others make the refinement of it’s fruit illegal and some make the selling of the drug illegal. So you can produce it all on the third Spire and sell it on the first two legally. You can grow the plant on the second and third spire legally, refine it on the first and third legally and that way you have a massive multi-jurisdiction drug running operation without technically breaking any law.”
“Hmm... that is a great deal to consider. I presume other such crimes can operate the same way?”
“Unfortunately yes. But that’s the problem with laws, you need to set where the boundaries are, but not make people prisoners in their own homes. There’s always a loophole.”
“Tragically yes.” Observer Wu remarks. “Now, I do need to speak to the others, but I have a few moments more. Who and what are you sitting near. The vaguely catlike woman on your right and the... generally human looking woman on your left are?”
“Linda is to my left. Partner and wife, the first actual police officer of us three. Vera is to my right. Wandering Warrior and wife. Linda is a Tret woman, they’re best considered to be humans if we evolved with Axiom helping us, a sister species to our own people. Vera is a Takra-Takra, she and her kind can shapeshift into the ferocious Warform and use it in battle. They pride their skill as Warriors and seek out stronger mates to empower the next generation.” Chenk explains before tiltiing the view down a little to show the pregnant stomach on Vera. “A work in progress.”
“I see. Congratulations. Although compared to many other Undaunted you seem a little behind.”
“I wasn’t aware it was a race.”
“Which is exactly how you lose the race!” Vera says in an amused tone.
“Indeed. Every conversation leads me to believe that I need to take an entire university degree in order to understand things. Thankfully your own is rather straight forward.”
“Really? Who are you speaking with next?”
“I haven't decided yet, but I need to speak with everyone in some way.” Observer Wu states.
“Good luck sir, I think you’ll need it.” Chenk says.
“Excuse me, is there a way to get a human to calm down and take a break? Ever since Centris was Scanned and hidden societies were exposed all over Chenk has refused to stop working. Is there any way to just get him to take a break?” Linda asks.
“It generally varies from person to person. But I would suggest guilting him. Emotional blackmail is a powerful tool.” Observer Wu says with a slight smirk.
“Traitor!” Chenk declares and there’s a chuckle from The Observer.
“Indeed. I’m afraid this call needs to finish now. Best of luck.” Observer Wu says before the call ends.
“So... we need to guilt you then? Okay!” Vera exclaims before her eyes start to water. “Don’t you wanna be there for the baby? Doesn’t she deserve a daddy?”
“Oh my god woman!”
~First~ Last
submitted by KyleKKent to HFY [link] [comments]
Cats, Cops and C4
The Erumenta woman tries to fight even as he forces her into the cell, her natural fire flaring hot enough for his clothing to smoulder and him to mentally congratulate himself for his Undaunted Brand. It’s literally saved his fingers multiple times today.
Marlintine Spire is like many of the spires of Centris still reeling from the massive scan. Sure it had been legal, and both Living Goddesses upon the world had told everyone to calm down in their own way. But just because something is legal and endorsed by powerful figures does not make it a popular move.
“You burn any of your fellow prisoners while you’re in there and you’re getting a suppression collar.” He tells the obstinate criminal as he shoves her into the holding cell and slams the bars shut. The forcefields supplementing the metal bars flickers into place and the blast of flame she aimed at his face splashes against it without further effect. “Cute, keep it up and we won’t need a court hearing to upgrade you to a real prison.”
“He’s being serious. Stripper boy is playing at being a serious police officer.” Another criminal mocks and is subsequently ignored as Chenk leaves the area. He has other things to do.
“Ma’am.” He greets Chief Bowman as he slips by to head back out.
“Hold it human. I know your kind are endurance monsters, but you need to sit the hell down. You’ve been dragging in cult soldiers for six and a half hours straight. Your legal overtime ended a half hour ago.”
“Then keep a cell open for me as I keep bringing in more people. This needs to be quelled.” Chenk says and as he turns to keep going she grabs his belt and pulls him back.
“You need to rest.”
“The Spire is in the middle of a borderline insurrection. I can rest when it’s...” He begins to say before a sudden movement to his right makes his head snap around. Just before Vera the Takra-Takra crashes into him.
“Thanks for stalling him out Chief! Come on you goofy human!” Vera announces as she drags him down the hallway and into Linda’s Office. She tosses him onto the couch and then pounces onto him and pins him.
“Really?” Chenk asks.
“Yes really. You need to calm down. And I found a way to force it.” Linda states.
“But the Spire is...”
“You are one officer. Supersoldier on loan to the station or not, you’re still only one officer. The structural integrity of this spire only depends upon you when there’s a bomb threat and even then, only when it’s a chemical bomb.” Linda tells him. “Or do we have to restrict you to only being called out during a bomb threat?”
“No.” He says. “But people are still getting hurt and...”
“And they're the ones hurting themselves. Just please calm down. I know you’re skilled, but your sense of justice is just going to hurt you at this rate. Don’t want to leave a bad example for Amy now do you?” Linda teases him and Chenk groans in frustration.
“... I really should have thought things through before growing attached to that girl.”
“Oh probably, but it was adorable to see. The world crashing down on a poor little girl in over her head and then Officer Hero, Supersoldier from the blackest void of the galaxy flies in to save her.” Vera teases.
“Still, him being a supersoildier is a bit of a problem right now. Big man needs a mission, or he’s going to go nuts!” Linda notes. “Luckily! I called one of your friends on the ship. Soldier, you’re in position to requre a talking to from The Observer. However, the call is on hold, but you need to be here when it goes off.”
“That’s a dirty trick.” Chenk notes even as an Undaunted communicator is tossed at him and he catches it. It’s activated, it’s in a waiting queue and there’s no way he can go into the field now if he’s waiting for an official answer. “Very dirty.”
“Good thinking!” Vera compliments as she cuddles closer to her pinned target. Her hair spikes out in sudden shock as The Communicator then goes off to signify the call has gone through. “I jinxed it!”
“Specialist Chenk Barnabas sir!” Chenk answers the call instantly as he sits up and Vera scurries off him.
“Really? I put him on that waiting list to get him to calm down and stop working.”
“Specialist Barnabas, I’m one of numerous individuals filtering the sheer number of incoming calls to The Inevitable. You’re in the proper queue now, please state what you have been doing as a member of The Undaunted so that Observer Wu can better decide who to speak with.”
“I’m on loan to one of Marlintine Spire’s major police stations. Due to the overpopulation of Centris this means I have been acting as elite law enforcement over a population that exceeds that of many of earth’s countries.”
“I see, anything in particular that you’re doing?”
“I’m a chemical expert and accredited detective at this rate. I am the go to specialist for law enforcement when it comes to chemical explosives for a full ten percent of Centris Police Departments.”
“Any particularly interesting cases you’ve been assigned to?”
“Yes, one that is still being debated in court by none other than The Trytite Lady. It involves cloning, murder, mercenaries, numerous criminal gangs and a great deal of more nonsense such as massive prison breaks, fighting robots and Axiom effects so dangerous that even speaking about them in anything more than the most broad and general of terms on an open frequency is a punishable offence.”
“So you have seen a fair amount of what has occurred in the galaxy.”
“I’ve seen enough that I’m going to be very hard to surprise or overwhelm any longer.” Chenk says.
“Very good. I’ll just note this down. The Galaxy is absolutely insane, I’ve been fielding calls from people with like nine heads all speaking in concert and god damn lobster people and more...”
“That’s reality for you.” Chenk replies. “Always more absurd than it should be.”
“Indeed, stand by. I’m putting you into the next proper queue. It shouldn’t be more than a minute or two long.” The Assistant states and then the call shifts to simply display that he’s fourth in the queue now.
“Hunh. Faster and somehow slower than expected at the same time.” Chenk says even as Vera leans against him.
“Even when you take a break you’re still working.”
“You didn’t complain about me being an endurance monster when I planted this in you.” He says gently patting her growing stomach and she pushes him a bit in protest.
“Problem with getting the super-babies of doom is the wait for the baby.” Vera complains and he chuckles before the communicator activates again. He puts it in broadcast mode as Linda leaves her desk to sit next to him for support.
“Observer Wu I take it?” Chenk asks the Asian man who nods.
“And you are Officer and Operative Barnabas. The little summary in front of your call has my attention. Tell me, how are laws generally handled in the Centris space.”
“Centris is a massively overpopulated planet consisting of Spires and Plates. The Spires are the massive multi tiered towers that have two hundred levels each and each level holds enough people to populate any major city on Earth with ease. The lower the level on the spire the less funding, infrastructure and support it has with the bottom ten generally considered a universal slum or no man’s land. Law enforcement in those areas is nigh on impossible and the air itself has been described as thick and fetid. No natural light reaches those areas either.”
“And higher up?”
“Increasing amounts of wealth and support. To such a degree that the plates, which form an artificial ring around Centris are of such high quality that their most squalid and desperate places are at roughly the same standard of living as the middle fifty floors of a well off Spire. As you can imagine, policing all this is an outright herculean effort and every station, no matter how well funded, armed or endorsed is simply inadequate for the task.”
“What sort of crimes have you witnessed?”
“I’ve stopped terrorist conspiracies, torn down drug labs, found myself between assassins and their targets, I’ve stood in the middle of gang wars commanding people to stand down, I have tackled muggers, murderers and maniacs alike into walls and cuffed them. Not even twenty minutes ago I dragged a criminal who could light fires with her will alone into a cell, my jacket is still singed from it.”
“So the world is rife with criminality.”
“No more than any other place, there’s just so many people crammed in here that it’s constant, and that’s without the recent provocation that every single criminal organization received more or less simultaneously. Generally for every single idiot that needs a police officer to remind them why good behaviour is a good idea, there’s an entire bus full of people that didn’t even consider breaking the law.” Chenk explains.
“But when they truly commit crimes they don’t stop do they?”
“No, more resources, technology and Axiom means that if someone wants to break the rules they can break the very concept of rules. The last major case I was in before this flashfire of criminality was kicked off involved the sanctity of body and mind being shattered for the sake of mere greed by a figure so underworld infamous that for a chance to get either evidence on the person in question or ingratiate themselves to them we had an all out war break out in the station. One that if not for a quick trick, we would have lost.”
“And the trick was?”
“Switching out the prize for a disguised tracking beacon.” Chenk says and Observer Wu nods appreciatively. “I can’t credit on that though, it was The Private Stream that did that.”
“I haven’t had that fully explained to me. What is THE Private Stream?”
“I’m not the best person to explain it, but a quick summary is that it’s a shared persona for low profile work. Operative Jameson is the founder and original Private Stream, a persona that lets him go around while heavily armed and armoured while arousing no suspicion.”
Vera snorts in amusement. “Arousing... lot of girls find the aw shucks innocent routine to be arousing.”
Chenk slowly urns to her. “What?”
“You know what.”
“Maybe I don’t!”
“Maybe you do.”
“Could we focus please?” Observer Wu asks. “Now, as an Officer, are there any laws that you would find concerning about humans?”
“Yes, they’re usually location dependant thankfully. So the issue can be avoided. Furthermore there’s a lot of leeway given in laws where the traits of a species would make following the law difficult if not impossible. For example a human can generally get away carrying substances that are considered highly toxic or dangerous due to the fact that our diets contain what many people in the galaxy are nothing more than hard core poisons.”
“Hmm... Could you be more specific?”
“Well, this one won’t apply to you due to an amendment that Admiral Cistern was able to get allies to help him push through, but one of the most popular religions the galaxy over is the Gravid Faith, it has numerous denominations and variants and several of them create what’s called Arrangement Systems where men are required by law to have a hundred wives.”
“And the amendment is?”
“That if you are gainfully employed by governmental or military forces that you are exempt from the law so long as you remained employed in such a manner. You Observer Wu are the eyes of hundreds of Earth Nations meaning a government employee.” Chenk explains and he nods.
“I see. Any other exemptions?”
“Generally the Galaxy looks down on kinetic weaponry, so when it was pushed that humans wear weapons and cultural garb it was allowed through without issue. So humans are legally allowed to carry weapons like knives and pistols at almost all time without question. It’s... rather stupid in my opinion, but well it would be even more foolish for me to complain about something I’m outright benefiting from.”
“Hmm... any other laws?”
“They very much vary by location. Which are further influenced by the species of the residents, local culture, religion, political association, economic status. The name of the game is jurisdiction issues here on Centris. The local police departments all help one another, but always at the invite of the local officers who can actually confirm if what’s taking place is a crime or not in the local area.”
“Can you give an example of this working against things?”
“Alright, the easiest example is with drugs. There is no agreed on way to combat the spread of illegal narcotics. Some make the growing of the plants that produce what you want illegal. Others make the refinement of it’s fruit illegal and some make the selling of the drug illegal. So you can produce it all on the third Spire and sell it on the first two legally. You can grow the plant on the second and third spire legally, refine it on the first and third legally and that way you have a massive multi-jurisdiction drug running operation without technically breaking any law.”
“Hmm... that is a great deal to consider. I presume other such crimes can operate the same way?”
“Unfortunately yes. But that’s the problem with laws, you need to set where the boundaries are, but not make people prisoners in their own homes. There’s always a loophole.”
“Tragically yes.” Observer Wu remarks. “Now, I do need to speak to the others, but I have a few moments more. Who and what are you sitting near. The vaguely catlike woman on your right and the... generally human looking woman on your left are?”
“Linda is to my left. Partner and wife, the first actual police officer of us three. Vera is to my right. Wandering Warrior and wife. Linda is a Tret woman, they’re best considered to be humans if we evolved with Axiom helping us, a sister species to our own people. Vera is a Takra-Takra, she and her kind can shapeshift into the ferocious Warform and use it in battle. They pride their skill as Warriors and seek out stronger mates to empower the next generation.” Chenk explains before tiltiing the view down a little to show the pregnant stomach on Vera. “A work in progress.”
“I see. Congratulations. Although compared to many other Undaunted you seem a little behind.”
“I wasn’t aware it was a race.”
“Which is exactly how you lose the race!” Vera says in an amused tone.
“Indeed. Every conversation leads me to believe that I need to take an entire university degree in order to understand things. Thankfully your own is rather straight forward.”
“Really? Who are you speaking with next?”
“I haven't decided yet, but I need to speak with everyone in some way.” Observer Wu states.
“Good luck sir, I think you’ll need it.” Chenk says.
“Excuse me, is there a way to get a human to calm down and take a break? Ever since Centris was Scanned and hidden societies were exposed all over Chenk has refused to stop working. Is there any way to just get him to take a break?” Linda asks.
“It generally varies from person to person. But I would suggest guilting him. Emotional blackmail is a powerful tool.” Observer Wu says with a slight smirk.
“Traitor!” Chenk declares and there’s a chuckle from The Observer.
“Indeed. I’m afraid this call needs to finish now. Best of luck.” Observer Wu says before the call ends.
“So... we need to guilt you then? Okay!” Vera exclaims before her eyes start to water. “Don’t you wanna be there for the baby? Doesn’t she deserve a daddy?”
“Oh my god woman!”
~First~ Last
2024.05.21 23:00 wavesfan22 Interview with Coach Schilling
There are a few mistakes in this article (ie. 10 scholarships to give) but it IS the first interview I have seen since his announcement as the new head coach.
https://malibutimes.com/waves-hoops-coach-schilling-has-a-zeal-for-basketball
“I have a great desire to see players get better and teams improve,” said Schilling, a coaching veteran who has coached everywhere from the high school gymnasiums to NBA arenas. “That really gets me on fire. A lot of times, if players can see themselves getting better on the court, they’ll allow you to try and help them get better as men. That is ultimately what it is all about.”
Schilling, 58, an Indiana native, got his basketball fervor from his dad, Ed Schilling Sr., who coached hoops in the high school and college levels. Schilling said his father, also a college professor, who passed away in 2020, had an intensity to educate on the court and in the classroom.
“He loved to teach,” Pepperdine’s coach said. “He was a teacher at heart. Every single day he went to teach, he was excited. We both love to teach. I’m a teacher at heart.”
Schilling expects his love for the game to be evident has he leads Pepperdine’s men’s hoops program. The coach laced up his sneakers and hit the court running soon after he was hired for the coaching gig in early April.
Schilling solidified his coaching staff in the middle of last month and is working to complete the Waves’ roster before practices in June.
Schilling’s coaching staff includes Scott Rigot, Tyus Edney, Peyton Prudhomme, Mike Doig, and Jeremy Grubbs. The quintet are all seasoned coaches with experience teaching the game in college and high school.
For a considerable time, Schilling said, he dreamed about the type of coaching staff he desired.
“I wanted guys that are good coaches, who can get out on the court and really help players get better,” he said. “I also wanted guys that mesh well together. It’s not about building an all-star team, it’s about building a team that works well together. I wanted a group that played off each other’s strengths and covered up for each other’s weaknesses. That is what I was looking for. I feel like I did that.”
Pepperdine ended last season with a 13-20 record. The team’s coach for six seasons, Lorenzo Romar, was let go after the Waves’ final contest. Several players also transferred out of the program since then.
Four players from last season’s squad — guard David Mager, forwards John Squire and Boubacar Coulibaly, and center and forwards Aladji Gassama and Martin Gumwel — are still on the roster. Guard Aaron Clark and forwards Stefan Todorvic and Alonso Faure have also transferred to Pepperdine. The team has signed one recruit, and still has 10 scholarships available, so Schilling and his coaches have been busy hosting potential players and their families on campus and showing them around Malibu.
Schilling envisions the Waves taking the court next season with a talented roster and a playing style spearheaded by the best players’ strengths. He said competing in the West Coast Conference is a challenge he welcomes.
“Ideally, we want to play positionless basketball on offense, and we want to be challenging and tough to score against,” he said. “In this league, you have to be able to defend or you are not going to win. You have to be able to score too, because there are some high-powered offenses in this league.”
Schilling played for his dad in high school and played at Miami University (Ohio) in college, where was backcourt mates with future NBA champion Ron Harper.
“I broke all the assist records because I figured out it was really good if I passed the ball to [Harper] to take the shot,” Schilling said.
Schilling suffered two ACL injuries during his college years, and started his coaching career right after college. He coached high school basketball and spent time as an English and physical education teacher.
“The one thing I had when I started coaching was incredible passion for the game,” Schilling remembered. “I was 22 years old and trying to figure things out. My practices were about four and a half hours. I’m glad I didn’t play for myself back then.”
Schilling soon moved up the coaching ranks. He coached at the University of Massachusetts under legendary coach John Calipari. When Calipari accepted a job to coach the NBA’s New Jersey Nets, Schilling joined his coaching staff.
Schilling was then the head coach at Wright State and later an assistant on the University of Memphis coaching staff.
Then, for seven years, Schilling worked as a trainer — helping pros get ready for the NBA Draft and NBA season.
Schilling returned to the coach ranks as an assistant at UCLA for four years. Then, he was an assistant coach at Indiana University for two years and had the same role at Grand Canyon University for four years before he became the Waves coach.
Pepperdine President Jim Gash said in a press release that Schilling has demonstrated the highest levels of leadership and player development and preparedness during his years coaching.
“His extensive coaching experience throughout his career has exemplified the visionary leadership, strategic thinking, adaptability, and emotional intelligence required to navigate the world of college athletics,” Gash stated.
Schilling said the best thing about coaching is the opportunity to impact lives. He is excited to step on the sidelines and lead the Waves.
“I feel fortunate to be here,” he said. “There are not many places in the world like Pepperdine.”
submitted by wavesfan22 to PepperdineBasketball [link] [comments]
https://malibutimes.com/waves-hoops-coach-schilling-has-a-zeal-for-basketball
For seven years, Ed Schilling worked as a trainer, helping pros get ready for the NBA Draft and NBA season
New Pepperdine Waves men’s basketball head coach Ed Schilling is passionate about his sport.“I have a great desire to see players get better and teams improve,” said Schilling, a coaching veteran who has coached everywhere from the high school gymnasiums to NBA arenas. “That really gets me on fire. A lot of times, if players can see themselves getting better on the court, they’ll allow you to try and help them get better as men. That is ultimately what it is all about.”
Schilling, 58, an Indiana native, got his basketball fervor from his dad, Ed Schilling Sr., who coached hoops in the high school and college levels. Schilling said his father, also a college professor, who passed away in 2020, had an intensity to educate on the court and in the classroom.
“He loved to teach,” Pepperdine’s coach said. “He was a teacher at heart. Every single day he went to teach, he was excited. We both love to teach. I’m a teacher at heart.”
Schilling expects his love for the game to be evident has he leads Pepperdine’s men’s hoops program. The coach laced up his sneakers and hit the court running soon after he was hired for the coaching gig in early April.
Schilling solidified his coaching staff in the middle of last month and is working to complete the Waves’ roster before practices in June.
Schilling’s coaching staff includes Scott Rigot, Tyus Edney, Peyton Prudhomme, Mike Doig, and Jeremy Grubbs. The quintet are all seasoned coaches with experience teaching the game in college and high school.
For a considerable time, Schilling said, he dreamed about the type of coaching staff he desired.
“I wanted guys that are good coaches, who can get out on the court and really help players get better,” he said. “I also wanted guys that mesh well together. It’s not about building an all-star team, it’s about building a team that works well together. I wanted a group that played off each other’s strengths and covered up for each other’s weaknesses. That is what I was looking for. I feel like I did that.”
Pepperdine ended last season with a 13-20 record. The team’s coach for six seasons, Lorenzo Romar, was let go after the Waves’ final contest. Several players also transferred out of the program since then.
Four players from last season’s squad — guard David Mager, forwards John Squire and Boubacar Coulibaly, and center and forwards Aladji Gassama and Martin Gumwel — are still on the roster. Guard Aaron Clark and forwards Stefan Todorvic and Alonso Faure have also transferred to Pepperdine. The team has signed one recruit, and still has 10 scholarships available, so Schilling and his coaches have been busy hosting potential players and their families on campus and showing them around Malibu.
Schilling envisions the Waves taking the court next season with a talented roster and a playing style spearheaded by the best players’ strengths. He said competing in the West Coast Conference is a challenge he welcomes.
“Ideally, we want to play positionless basketball on offense, and we want to be challenging and tough to score against,” he said. “In this league, you have to be able to defend or you are not going to win. You have to be able to score too, because there are some high-powered offenses in this league.”
Schilling played for his dad in high school and played at Miami University (Ohio) in college, where was backcourt mates with future NBA champion Ron Harper.
“I broke all the assist records because I figured out it was really good if I passed the ball to [Harper] to take the shot,” Schilling said.
Schilling suffered two ACL injuries during his college years, and started his coaching career right after college. He coached high school basketball and spent time as an English and physical education teacher.
“The one thing I had when I started coaching was incredible passion for the game,” Schilling remembered. “I was 22 years old and trying to figure things out. My practices were about four and a half hours. I’m glad I didn’t play for myself back then.”
Schilling soon moved up the coaching ranks. He coached at the University of Massachusetts under legendary coach John Calipari. When Calipari accepted a job to coach the NBA’s New Jersey Nets, Schilling joined his coaching staff.
Schilling was then the head coach at Wright State and later an assistant on the University of Memphis coaching staff.
Then, for seven years, Schilling worked as a trainer — helping pros get ready for the NBA Draft and NBA season.
Schilling returned to the coach ranks as an assistant at UCLA for four years. Then, he was an assistant coach at Indiana University for two years and had the same role at Grand Canyon University for four years before he became the Waves coach.
Pepperdine President Jim Gash said in a press release that Schilling has demonstrated the highest levels of leadership and player development and preparedness during his years coaching.
“His extensive coaching experience throughout his career has exemplified the visionary leadership, strategic thinking, adaptability, and emotional intelligence required to navigate the world of college athletics,” Gash stated.
Schilling said the best thing about coaching is the opportunity to impact lives. He is excited to step on the sidelines and lead the Waves.
“I feel fortunate to be here,” he said. “There are not many places in the world like Pepperdine.”
2024.05.21 22:52 germanideology Enticement at the Encampment: An Erotic Short Story
Tom took another look at the dwindling encampment as his dismay began to fade away. "Whoever's left to hang out with are the most committed to the cause" he thought to himself. "If anything, I'll have more fun than I did before." And after all, they had a good lineup of activists scheduled to visit in the next few days, and an anarchist band had even agreed to play this afternoon. He had definitely noticed a rapid drop in the number of campers since the end of the semester, and had even begun to doubt that they would be able to get any sort of concessions out of the university. But his thinking had changed after hearing the speeches that morning.
First to speak was Tom's friend and comrade, Eric. His impassioned indictment of the Israeli government reminded Tom of the importance of their activism. Then came the married grad students, the Trotskyist Abdou and the pan-Arabist Farida. They were international students studying English and anthropology, respectively. Or was it anthropology and sociology? Abdou lectured on the university's connection to the military-industrial complex. His speech was filled with threats to the administration that Tom was sure the limp-dicked Trot had no means of fulfilling. Even so, he had to admit that despite all his other inadequacies, Abdou was a powerful speaker. Finally came Farida. Tom had always considered her the best speaker of them all, but frankly he had a hard time taking his eyes off her whether she was speaking or not. He had tried flirting with her before, and he got the feeling that Abdou was even more into it than she was. Thinking about it now, he couldn't quite remember what her speech had been about, but it had certainly improved his spirits.
As the "Bacon Brigade" began setting up their instruments, Tom decided to make a point of dancing with Farida that afternoon. As the average tent now held two campers rather than five, he even thought he might get a chance to enjoy some of the newfound privacy.
...
When there was a break in the music, Tom sauntered over to the table where Abdou was sitting. As an ML, Tom could hardly stand Trotskyists, but he put on a smile for the sake of "left unity."
"She's a good dancer isn't she?" said Abdou.
"Oh yes, the best," agreed Tom. He was trying to think of a way of progressing his slow seduction of this Muslim woman and decided to be bold. "Look Abdou, the band will be winding down soon, why don't you both come back to my tent and I'll show you some comradely hospitality. I also have some suggestions that I know you'll love."
Abdou's mind was racing with the possibilities of the situation. Would this be the chance to see his wife seduced and taken by this big stud? Supposing Farida won't agree? Before he could engage his brain Abdou found himself agreeing to Tom's offer. "Wonderful, wonderful," beamed Tom and he could feel his big cock twitch at the thought of bedding Abdou's beautiful wife.
Just then Farida reappeared. "What are you two talking about?" she said.
Before Abdou could say a word, Tom said "Well my dear, your husband has kindly accepted my invitation of hospitality at my tent."
Farida didn't know what to say. She had thought Abdou would whisk her off back to the hotel and give her the fucking she desperately needed. Rubbing up against Tom's manhood had taken its toll. "Well I suppose we could come and see where you camp," she said, "but we mustn't stay too late must we Abdou?"
"What? I err no, I suppose not," stammered Abdou as Tom rose and offered Farida his arm.
And the three of them found themselves heading off to tent where the lives of Abdou and Farida would be changed forever. As they walked along Abdou held one of Farida's arms and Tom the other. However, after a while Abdou consciously let go of his wife's arm and stepped behind Tom.
This was not lost on the big white and he put his big protective arm around Abdou's wife as if to say to everyone "she's mine." If Farida hadn't been so dazed by the afternoon's events, she might have noticed various other white students smiling at Tom with knowing grins. They had recognized the situation immediately; a Muslim couple with cuckold husband following on as a big powerful white man led the wife to his cot.
Soon they reached Tom's tent and both Abdou and Farida were pleasantly surprised at how spacious it was. "Let me get you some coffee," said Tom as both Abdou and Farida collapsed onto a big sleeping bag.
Having sorted the drinks, Tom put some music on, and crawling over to Farida he said, "Can we have another dance Farida, you're such a good dancer?"
Before Farida could answer she felt her husband pushing her up. "Go on Farida, you know how much you enjoy it."
Abdou secretly wanted to see his wife in the arms of this Adonis again and who knows maybe more. Having no real reason to object, Farida agreed and as she accepted Toms hand she couldn't help but feel a shiver at the thought of being reacquainted with his penis, albeit covered by his trousers. However, as they left the tent she had a suspicion that he wasn't wearing any under garments since his penis had seemed so clearly outlined earlier.
As he clasped her to himself Tom could feel his big cock twitch once again. He moved one hand down to the small of her back, just to test the waters and meeting no resistance after another minute or so he moved his hand onto her sexy bottom. He could feel through the thin dress that Farida wasn't wearing thick pants, or perhaps only very skimpy ones and he couldn't wait to see her naked.
Farida felt lost in a different world as she circled round with this big man. Not only could she feel his penis growing hard against her once more, but she felt his big hand on her bottom pulling her onto his hardness. When she looked at her husband (still sitting in the tent), she noticed that he was just rubbing his own penis through his trousers. "My goodness," she thought, "he's getting turned on watching us. Supposing I flirt a bit more and show him what he's missing?"
With that Farida deliberately started to open her legs and let Tom's muscular leg rub against her inflamed sex.
This change in Farida's demeanor was not lost on Tom. As he led her back to the tent, he let his hands roam all over the back of this sexy hijabi Muslim wife and he leaned down to kiss and nibble her neck and ears. He heard Farida sigh and knew that he was close to capturing this sexy wife. "Fatima, let's give Abdou a show to remember shall we?"
Farida was brought back from her dreamlike state by Tom's question. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Almost in a whisper Tom said, "You know, a bit of thesis-antithesis-synthesis."
He had already found the zipper that ran down the back of Farida's dress and he had it in his hands as he spoke to her. He slowly started to pull the zipper down and it was half way down her back before Farida realised what was happening. "Wait Tom, we can't do this, I'm married."
"So what of it, Abdou wants me to undress you, don't you Abdou?"
Abdou had no hesitation in replying in the affirmative. This is what he had wanted for so long.
Caught in the confusion and surprise of hearing her husband say that he wanted to see another man, undress her, Farida just lay there while Tom pulled the zipper right down and then eased the dress off her shoulders. Suddenly she realised that she was lying in only her stockings, garter belt, and thong panties.
As she looked up at Tom she saw something that she hadn't seen in a man for years and that was undisguised lust. This man was lusting after her, this married women! She should have felt ashamed at her feelings but she didn't. Having got half-naked, she realised that she was enjoying the attention of this muscular white man. In fact she decided to crawl around in front of him as if to say 'look at what my husband has and you haven't'.
This might have been a foolish act, but it merely served to confirm what both men knew. For Tom it confirmed that Farida was absolutely gorgeous, the sexiest Muslim woman he had ever seen and that she needed to be loved sexually. For Abdou as he fingered his painfully erect cock, he knew that he was just a few steps away from pushing his wife into a sleeping bag with another man. He was close to realizing his fantasy.
Tom pulled Farida to him, lifted her face to his and he kissed her. Farida would always remember that first kiss since it was both passionate but more significantly the precursor to her crossing a line that could not be re- crossed, and to setting in motion events that would last her and her husband a lifetime. She accepted his big tongue into her mouth and her tongue fenced with his. She could feel his big hands roaming all over body now.
In her trance-like state it seemed quite natural that Tom should start to remove his clothing. Both Farida and Abdou watched as the big man removed his shirt to reveal a hugely-muscled chest and then he dropped his trousers and just as Farida had suspected he wore no underwear. His big cock reared up in all is magnificence and Tom was gratified to hear both husband and wife express surprise at his size.
Tom crawled over to the sleeping bag where Farida was sitting and crouched in front of her, his big cock semi erect. He remembered that Eric had told him that the cops were closing in, and he knew he would have to move quickly if he wanted to finish before they cleared the encampment. Farida's head was at the same level as the big man's groin and she was amazed at the whole size and muscularity of this man. Her trance-like state was broken by Tom who said softly "Take my cock into your mouth."
Farida was aghast, "I can't! It's dirty and I've never done that before."
Tom laughed to himself. This wife was indeed naive and yet he was gratified that he would be the first man to have his cock sucked by her. Lifting her face so that she could look into his eyes, Tom said, "As we hear from German ideologists, Germany has in the last few years gone through an unparalleled revolution. The decomposition of the Hegelian philosophy, which began with Strauss, has developed into a universal ferment into which all the “powers of the past” are swept. In the general chaos mighty empires have arisen only to meet with immediate doom, heroes have emerged momentarily only to be hurled back into obscurity by bolder and stronger rivals. It was a revolution beside which the French Revolution was child’s play, a world struggle beside which the struggles of the Diadochi [successors of Alexander the Great] appear insignificant. Principles ousted one another, heroes of the mind overthrew each other with unheard-of rapidity, and in the three years 1842-45 more of the past was swept away in Germany than at other times in three centuries.
"All this is supposed to have taken place in the realm of pure thought.
"Certainly it is an interesting event we are dealing with: the putrescence of the absolute spirit. When the last spark of its life had failed, the various components of this caput mortuum began to decompose, entered into new combinations and formed new substances. The industrialists of philosophy, who till then had lived on the exploitation of the absolute spirit, now seized upon the new combinations. Each with all possible zeal set about retailing his apportioned share. This naturally gave rise to competition, which, to start with, was carried on in moderately staid bourgeois fashion. Later when the German market was glutted, and the commodity in spite of all efforts found no response in the world market, the business was spoiled in the usual German manner by fabricated and fictitious production, deterioration in quality, adulteration of the raw materials, falsification of labels, fictitious purchases, bill-jobbing and a credit system devoid of any real basis. The competition turned into a bitter struggle, which is now being extolled and interpreted to us as a revolution of world significance, the begetter of the most prodigious results and achievements.
"If we wish to rate at its true value this philosophic charlatanry, which awakens even in the breast of the honest German citizen a glow of national pride, if we wish to bring out clearly the pettiness, the parochial narrowness of this whole Young-Hegelian movement and in particular the tragicomic contrast between the illusions of these heroes about their achievements and the actual achievements themselves, we must look at the whole spectacle from a standpoint beyond the frontiers of Germany.
"Ideology in General, German Ideology in Particular: German criticism has, right up to its latest efforts, never quitted the realm of philosophy. Far from examining its general philosophic premises, the whole body of its inquiries has actually sprung from the soil of a definite philosophical system, that of Hegel. Not only in their answers but in their very questions there was a mystification. This dependence on Hegel is the reason why not one of these modern critics has even attempted a comprehensive criticism of the Hegelian system, however much each professes to have advanced beyond Hegel. Their polemics against Hegel and against one another are confined to this – each extracts one side of the Hegelian system and turns this against the whole system as well as against the sides extracted by the others. To begin with they extracted pure unfalsified Hegelian categories such as “substance” and “self-consciousness,” later they desecrated these categories with more secular names such as species “the Unique,” “Man,” etc.
"The entire body of German philosophical criticism from Strauss to Stirner is confined to criticism of religious conceptions. [The following passage is crossed out in the manuscript:] claiming to be the absolute redeemer of the world from all evil. Religion was continually regarded and treated as the arch-enemy, as the ultimate cause of all relations repugnant to these philosophers. The critics started from real religion and actual theology. What religious consciousness and a religious conception really meant was determined variously as they went along. Their advance consisted in subsuming the allegedly dominant metaphysical, political, juridical, moral and other conceptions under the class of religious or theological conceptions; and similarly in pronouncing political, juridical, moral consciousness as religious or theological, and the political, juridical, moral man – “man” in the last resort – as religious. The dominance of religion was taken for granted. Gradually every dominant relationship was pronounced a religious relationship and transformed into a cult, a cult of law, a cult of the State, etc. On all sides it was only a question of dogmas and belief in dogmas. The world was sanctified to an ever-increasing extent till at last our venerable Saint Max was able to canonise it en bloc and thus dispose of it once for all.
"The Old Hegelians had comprehended everything as soon as it was reduced to an Hegelian logical category. The Young Hegelians criticised everything by attributing to it religious conceptions or by pronouncing it a theological matter. The Young Hegelians are in agreement with the Old Hegelians in their belief in the rule of religion, of concepts, of a universal principle in the existing world. Only, the one party attacks this dominion as usurpation, while the other extols it as legitimate.
"Since the Young Hegelians consider conceptions, thoughts, ideas, in fact all the products of consciousness, to which they attribute an independent existence, as the real chains of men (just as the Old Hegelians declared them the true bonds of human society) it is evident that the Young Hegelians have to fight only against these illusions of consciousness. Since, according to their fantasy, the relationships of men, all their doings, their chains and their limitations are products of their consciousness, the Young Hegelians logically put to men the moral postulate of exchanging their present consciousness for human, critical or egoistic consciousness, and thus of removing their limitations. This demand to change consciousness amounts to a demand to interpret reality in another way, i.e. to recognise it by means of another interpretation. The Young-Hegelian ideologists, in spite of their allegedly “world-shattering" statements, are the staunchest conservatives. The most recent of them have found the correct expression for their activity when they declare they are only fighting against “phrases.” They forget, however, that to these phrases they themselves are only opposing other phrases, and that they are in no way combating the real existing world when they are merely combating the phrases of this world. The only results which this philosophic criticism could achieve were a few (and at that thoroughly one-sided) elucidations of Christianity from the point of view of religious history; all the rest of their assertions are only further embellishments of their claim to have furnished, in these unimportant elucidations, discoveries of universal importance.
"It has not occurred to any one of these philosophers to inquire into the connection of German philosophy with German reality, the relation of their criticism to their own material surroundings.
"First Premises of Materialist Method: The premises from which we begin are not arbitrary ones, not dogmas, but real premises from which abstraction can only be made in the imagination. They are the real individuals, their activity and the material conditions under which they live, both those which they find already existing and those produced by their activity. These premises can thus be verified in a purely empirical way.
"The first premise of all human history is, of course, the existence of living human individuals. Thus the first fact to be established is the physical organisation of these individuals and their consequent relation to the rest of nature. Of course, we cannot here go either into the actual physical nature of man, or into the natural conditions in which man finds himself – geological, hydrographical, climatic and so on. The writing of history must always set out from these natural bases and their modification in the course of history through the action of men.
"Men can be distinguished from animals by consciousness, by religion or anything else you like. They themselves begin to distinguish themselves from animals as soon as they begin to produce their means of subsistence, a step which is conditioned by their physical organisation. By producing their means of subsistence men are indirectly producing their actual material life.
"The way in which men produce their means of subsistence depends first of all on the nature of the actual means of subsistence they find in existence and have to reproduce. This mode of production must not be considered simply as being the production of the physical existence of the individuals. Rather it is a definite form of activity of these individuals, a definite form of expressing their life, a definite mode of life on their part. As individuals express their life, so they are. What they are, therefore, coincides with their production, both with what they produce and with how they produce. The nature of individuals thus depends on the material conditions determining their production.
"This production only makes its appearance with the increase of population. In its turn this presupposes the intercourse [Verkehr] of individuals with one another. The form of this intercourse is again determined by production.
[continues in comment]
submitted by germanideology to Ultraleft [link] [comments]
First to speak was Tom's friend and comrade, Eric. His impassioned indictment of the Israeli government reminded Tom of the importance of their activism. Then came the married grad students, the Trotskyist Abdou and the pan-Arabist Farida. They were international students studying English and anthropology, respectively. Or was it anthropology and sociology? Abdou lectured on the university's connection to the military-industrial complex. His speech was filled with threats to the administration that Tom was sure the limp-dicked Trot had no means of fulfilling. Even so, he had to admit that despite all his other inadequacies, Abdou was a powerful speaker. Finally came Farida. Tom had always considered her the best speaker of them all, but frankly he had a hard time taking his eyes off her whether she was speaking or not. He had tried flirting with her before, and he got the feeling that Abdou was even more into it than she was. Thinking about it now, he couldn't quite remember what her speech had been about, but it had certainly improved his spirits.
As the "Bacon Brigade" began setting up their instruments, Tom decided to make a point of dancing with Farida that afternoon. As the average tent now held two campers rather than five, he even thought he might get a chance to enjoy some of the newfound privacy.
...
When there was a break in the music, Tom sauntered over to the table where Abdou was sitting. As an ML, Tom could hardly stand Trotskyists, but he put on a smile for the sake of "left unity."
"She's a good dancer isn't she?" said Abdou.
"Oh yes, the best," agreed Tom. He was trying to think of a way of progressing his slow seduction of this Muslim woman and decided to be bold. "Look Abdou, the band will be winding down soon, why don't you both come back to my tent and I'll show you some comradely hospitality. I also have some suggestions that I know you'll love."
Abdou's mind was racing with the possibilities of the situation. Would this be the chance to see his wife seduced and taken by this big stud? Supposing Farida won't agree? Before he could engage his brain Abdou found himself agreeing to Tom's offer. "Wonderful, wonderful," beamed Tom and he could feel his big cock twitch at the thought of bedding Abdou's beautiful wife.
Just then Farida reappeared. "What are you two talking about?" she said.
Before Abdou could say a word, Tom said "Well my dear, your husband has kindly accepted my invitation of hospitality at my tent."
Farida didn't know what to say. She had thought Abdou would whisk her off back to the hotel and give her the fucking she desperately needed. Rubbing up against Tom's manhood had taken its toll. "Well I suppose we could come and see where you camp," she said, "but we mustn't stay too late must we Abdou?"
"What? I err no, I suppose not," stammered Abdou as Tom rose and offered Farida his arm.
And the three of them found themselves heading off to tent where the lives of Abdou and Farida would be changed forever. As they walked along Abdou held one of Farida's arms and Tom the other. However, after a while Abdou consciously let go of his wife's arm and stepped behind Tom.
This was not lost on the big white and he put his big protective arm around Abdou's wife as if to say to everyone "she's mine." If Farida hadn't been so dazed by the afternoon's events, she might have noticed various other white students smiling at Tom with knowing grins. They had recognized the situation immediately; a Muslim couple with cuckold husband following on as a big powerful white man led the wife to his cot.
Soon they reached Tom's tent and both Abdou and Farida were pleasantly surprised at how spacious it was. "Let me get you some coffee," said Tom as both Abdou and Farida collapsed onto a big sleeping bag.
Having sorted the drinks, Tom put some music on, and crawling over to Farida he said, "Can we have another dance Farida, you're such a good dancer?"
Before Farida could answer she felt her husband pushing her up. "Go on Farida, you know how much you enjoy it."
Abdou secretly wanted to see his wife in the arms of this Adonis again and who knows maybe more. Having no real reason to object, Farida agreed and as she accepted Toms hand she couldn't help but feel a shiver at the thought of being reacquainted with his penis, albeit covered by his trousers. However, as they left the tent she had a suspicion that he wasn't wearing any under garments since his penis had seemed so clearly outlined earlier.
As he clasped her to himself Tom could feel his big cock twitch once again. He moved one hand down to the small of her back, just to test the waters and meeting no resistance after another minute or so he moved his hand onto her sexy bottom. He could feel through the thin dress that Farida wasn't wearing thick pants, or perhaps only very skimpy ones and he couldn't wait to see her naked.
Farida felt lost in a different world as she circled round with this big man. Not only could she feel his penis growing hard against her once more, but she felt his big hand on her bottom pulling her onto his hardness. When she looked at her husband (still sitting in the tent), she noticed that he was just rubbing his own penis through his trousers. "My goodness," she thought, "he's getting turned on watching us. Supposing I flirt a bit more and show him what he's missing?"
With that Farida deliberately started to open her legs and let Tom's muscular leg rub against her inflamed sex.
This change in Farida's demeanor was not lost on Tom. As he led her back to the tent, he let his hands roam all over the back of this sexy hijabi Muslim wife and he leaned down to kiss and nibble her neck and ears. He heard Farida sigh and knew that he was close to capturing this sexy wife. "Fatima, let's give Abdou a show to remember shall we?"
Farida was brought back from her dreamlike state by Tom's question. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Almost in a whisper Tom said, "You know, a bit of thesis-antithesis-synthesis."
He had already found the zipper that ran down the back of Farida's dress and he had it in his hands as he spoke to her. He slowly started to pull the zipper down and it was half way down her back before Farida realised what was happening. "Wait Tom, we can't do this, I'm married."
"So what of it, Abdou wants me to undress you, don't you Abdou?"
Abdou had no hesitation in replying in the affirmative. This is what he had wanted for so long.
Caught in the confusion and surprise of hearing her husband say that he wanted to see another man, undress her, Farida just lay there while Tom pulled the zipper right down and then eased the dress off her shoulders. Suddenly she realised that she was lying in only her stockings, garter belt, and thong panties.
As she looked up at Tom she saw something that she hadn't seen in a man for years and that was undisguised lust. This man was lusting after her, this married women! She should have felt ashamed at her feelings but she didn't. Having got half-naked, she realised that she was enjoying the attention of this muscular white man. In fact she decided to crawl around in front of him as if to say 'look at what my husband has and you haven't'.
This might have been a foolish act, but it merely served to confirm what both men knew. For Tom it confirmed that Farida was absolutely gorgeous, the sexiest Muslim woman he had ever seen and that she needed to be loved sexually. For Abdou as he fingered his painfully erect cock, he knew that he was just a few steps away from pushing his wife into a sleeping bag with another man. He was close to realizing his fantasy.
Tom pulled Farida to him, lifted her face to his and he kissed her. Farida would always remember that first kiss since it was both passionate but more significantly the precursor to her crossing a line that could not be re- crossed, and to setting in motion events that would last her and her husband a lifetime. She accepted his big tongue into her mouth and her tongue fenced with his. She could feel his big hands roaming all over body now.
In her trance-like state it seemed quite natural that Tom should start to remove his clothing. Both Farida and Abdou watched as the big man removed his shirt to reveal a hugely-muscled chest and then he dropped his trousers and just as Farida had suspected he wore no underwear. His big cock reared up in all is magnificence and Tom was gratified to hear both husband and wife express surprise at his size.
Tom crawled over to the sleeping bag where Farida was sitting and crouched in front of her, his big cock semi erect. He remembered that Eric had told him that the cops were closing in, and he knew he would have to move quickly if he wanted to finish before they cleared the encampment. Farida's head was at the same level as the big man's groin and she was amazed at the whole size and muscularity of this man. Her trance-like state was broken by Tom who said softly "Take my cock into your mouth."
Farida was aghast, "I can't! It's dirty and I've never done that before."
Tom laughed to himself. This wife was indeed naive and yet he was gratified that he would be the first man to have his cock sucked by her. Lifting her face so that she could look into his eyes, Tom said, "As we hear from German ideologists, Germany has in the last few years gone through an unparalleled revolution. The decomposition of the Hegelian philosophy, which began with Strauss, has developed into a universal ferment into which all the “powers of the past” are swept. In the general chaos mighty empires have arisen only to meet with immediate doom, heroes have emerged momentarily only to be hurled back into obscurity by bolder and stronger rivals. It was a revolution beside which the French Revolution was child’s play, a world struggle beside which the struggles of the Diadochi [successors of Alexander the Great] appear insignificant. Principles ousted one another, heroes of the mind overthrew each other with unheard-of rapidity, and in the three years 1842-45 more of the past was swept away in Germany than at other times in three centuries.
"All this is supposed to have taken place in the realm of pure thought.
"Certainly it is an interesting event we are dealing with: the putrescence of the absolute spirit. When the last spark of its life had failed, the various components of this caput mortuum began to decompose, entered into new combinations and formed new substances. The industrialists of philosophy, who till then had lived on the exploitation of the absolute spirit, now seized upon the new combinations. Each with all possible zeal set about retailing his apportioned share. This naturally gave rise to competition, which, to start with, was carried on in moderately staid bourgeois fashion. Later when the German market was glutted, and the commodity in spite of all efforts found no response in the world market, the business was spoiled in the usual German manner by fabricated and fictitious production, deterioration in quality, adulteration of the raw materials, falsification of labels, fictitious purchases, bill-jobbing and a credit system devoid of any real basis. The competition turned into a bitter struggle, which is now being extolled and interpreted to us as a revolution of world significance, the begetter of the most prodigious results and achievements.
"If we wish to rate at its true value this philosophic charlatanry, which awakens even in the breast of the honest German citizen a glow of national pride, if we wish to bring out clearly the pettiness, the parochial narrowness of this whole Young-Hegelian movement and in particular the tragicomic contrast between the illusions of these heroes about their achievements and the actual achievements themselves, we must look at the whole spectacle from a standpoint beyond the frontiers of Germany.
"Ideology in General, German Ideology in Particular: German criticism has, right up to its latest efforts, never quitted the realm of philosophy. Far from examining its general philosophic premises, the whole body of its inquiries has actually sprung from the soil of a definite philosophical system, that of Hegel. Not only in their answers but in their very questions there was a mystification. This dependence on Hegel is the reason why not one of these modern critics has even attempted a comprehensive criticism of the Hegelian system, however much each professes to have advanced beyond Hegel. Their polemics against Hegel and against one another are confined to this – each extracts one side of the Hegelian system and turns this against the whole system as well as against the sides extracted by the others. To begin with they extracted pure unfalsified Hegelian categories such as “substance” and “self-consciousness,” later they desecrated these categories with more secular names such as species “the Unique,” “Man,” etc.
"The entire body of German philosophical criticism from Strauss to Stirner is confined to criticism of religious conceptions. [The following passage is crossed out in the manuscript:] claiming to be the absolute redeemer of the world from all evil. Religion was continually regarded and treated as the arch-enemy, as the ultimate cause of all relations repugnant to these philosophers. The critics started from real religion and actual theology. What religious consciousness and a religious conception really meant was determined variously as they went along. Their advance consisted in subsuming the allegedly dominant metaphysical, political, juridical, moral and other conceptions under the class of religious or theological conceptions; and similarly in pronouncing political, juridical, moral consciousness as religious or theological, and the political, juridical, moral man – “man” in the last resort – as religious. The dominance of religion was taken for granted. Gradually every dominant relationship was pronounced a religious relationship and transformed into a cult, a cult of law, a cult of the State, etc. On all sides it was only a question of dogmas and belief in dogmas. The world was sanctified to an ever-increasing extent till at last our venerable Saint Max was able to canonise it en bloc and thus dispose of it once for all.
"The Old Hegelians had comprehended everything as soon as it was reduced to an Hegelian logical category. The Young Hegelians criticised everything by attributing to it religious conceptions or by pronouncing it a theological matter. The Young Hegelians are in agreement with the Old Hegelians in their belief in the rule of religion, of concepts, of a universal principle in the existing world. Only, the one party attacks this dominion as usurpation, while the other extols it as legitimate.
"Since the Young Hegelians consider conceptions, thoughts, ideas, in fact all the products of consciousness, to which they attribute an independent existence, as the real chains of men (just as the Old Hegelians declared them the true bonds of human society) it is evident that the Young Hegelians have to fight only against these illusions of consciousness. Since, according to their fantasy, the relationships of men, all their doings, their chains and their limitations are products of their consciousness, the Young Hegelians logically put to men the moral postulate of exchanging their present consciousness for human, critical or egoistic consciousness, and thus of removing their limitations. This demand to change consciousness amounts to a demand to interpret reality in another way, i.e. to recognise it by means of another interpretation. The Young-Hegelian ideologists, in spite of their allegedly “world-shattering" statements, are the staunchest conservatives. The most recent of them have found the correct expression for their activity when they declare they are only fighting against “phrases.” They forget, however, that to these phrases they themselves are only opposing other phrases, and that they are in no way combating the real existing world when they are merely combating the phrases of this world. The only results which this philosophic criticism could achieve were a few (and at that thoroughly one-sided) elucidations of Christianity from the point of view of religious history; all the rest of their assertions are only further embellishments of their claim to have furnished, in these unimportant elucidations, discoveries of universal importance.
"It has not occurred to any one of these philosophers to inquire into the connection of German philosophy with German reality, the relation of their criticism to their own material surroundings.
"First Premises of Materialist Method: The premises from which we begin are not arbitrary ones, not dogmas, but real premises from which abstraction can only be made in the imagination. They are the real individuals, their activity and the material conditions under which they live, both those which they find already existing and those produced by their activity. These premises can thus be verified in a purely empirical way.
"The first premise of all human history is, of course, the existence of living human individuals. Thus the first fact to be established is the physical organisation of these individuals and their consequent relation to the rest of nature. Of course, we cannot here go either into the actual physical nature of man, or into the natural conditions in which man finds himself – geological, hydrographical, climatic and so on. The writing of history must always set out from these natural bases and their modification in the course of history through the action of men.
"Men can be distinguished from animals by consciousness, by religion or anything else you like. They themselves begin to distinguish themselves from animals as soon as they begin to produce their means of subsistence, a step which is conditioned by their physical organisation. By producing their means of subsistence men are indirectly producing their actual material life.
"The way in which men produce their means of subsistence depends first of all on the nature of the actual means of subsistence they find in existence and have to reproduce. This mode of production must not be considered simply as being the production of the physical existence of the individuals. Rather it is a definite form of activity of these individuals, a definite form of expressing their life, a definite mode of life on their part. As individuals express their life, so they are. What they are, therefore, coincides with their production, both with what they produce and with how they produce. The nature of individuals thus depends on the material conditions determining their production.
"This production only makes its appearance with the increase of population. In its turn this presupposes the intercourse [Verkehr] of individuals with one another. The form of this intercourse is again determined by production.
[continues in comment]
2024.05.21 22:39 hunterd_patternfall The Wolves of Atmora
By Chase Lorraine, Wayrest Mages House on loan to College of Winterhold
Forward:
I have been released from the Wayrest House’s Studies for Daedric Influences, dear readers, but with a monitoring protocol in place. I have been instructed by my betters to avoid contact with items that may have historical significance to Meridia and, by extension, my research into the varied legends of Dame Lucianne Etoile, for the time being. It was encouraged that I travel outside of High Rock at this time. My protocols were forwarded to the College at Winterhold and I was placed within the library’s efforts to catalog items of Atmoran history and totemic mythos.
The following is a translation of a runic stone tablet that was found in ruin not far from the excavation of Saarthal. This ruin had previously been buried and thought lost, but the Great Collapse had revealed a cave that eventually lead into the opening. I have taken great care to confer with several Nordic scholars to ensure that the wording is precise and measured accurately. The Bards College of Solitude, through correspondence, has provided some additional context for the meter that may have been used. Very few pieces like this one are present, especially as it was an unbroken tablet.
Date of Translation: 4E 204
Date of Origin: Late Merethic Era
Translated text:
In the Howls of the Snows
Before the Woods gave way to Men
The Stars gave birth to the Wolves
The packs were strong and many
Two packs ravaged the others
He-Wolf, Strong of Claw and Tooth
He-Wolf’s song was low and deep
His pack ravaged the forests
His fur was dark and sleek
The night was his to roam
She-Wolf, Strong of Cunning and Heart
She-Wolf’s song was high and bright
Her pack ran the shores
Her fur was white and thick
The day was hers to settle
In the early Dawn, by the Hawk cries
The packs met at the forest’s edge
She-Wolf sang high and bright
He-Wolf sang low and deep
The packs did mingle and roam
In time, with Tooth and Cunning, new wolves came
The new pack could roam in day and night
He-Wolf sang low and deep
In his song, he taught them the Hunt
The Hunt called to his pack to ravage the forests as Wolves
She-Wolf sang high and bright
In her song, she taught them the Sails
The Sails called to her pack to ravage the seas as Atmorans
She-Wolf grew to love her People
She came to be less Wolf under the change of time
Care for her People became her cry
He-Wolf loved and fostered his Wolves
He came to be less Wolf under the change of time
Hunt of the weaker People became his howl
The packs remained kith and kin
The Forest grows cold and bleak
The Sea Wolves travel the waves, seek a new forest
Mother Mara, Father Hircine watch over the Sea Wolves
The call of the Hawk, godmother Kyne, leads them
The call of the Hawk brings them back to the Mountain
submitted by hunterd_patternfall to teslore [link] [comments]
Forward:
I have been released from the Wayrest House’s Studies for Daedric Influences, dear readers, but with a monitoring protocol in place. I have been instructed by my betters to avoid contact with items that may have historical significance to Meridia and, by extension, my research into the varied legends of Dame Lucianne Etoile, for the time being. It was encouraged that I travel outside of High Rock at this time. My protocols were forwarded to the College at Winterhold and I was placed within the library’s efforts to catalog items of Atmoran history and totemic mythos.
The following is a translation of a runic stone tablet that was found in ruin not far from the excavation of Saarthal. This ruin had previously been buried and thought lost, but the Great Collapse had revealed a cave that eventually lead into the opening. I have taken great care to confer with several Nordic scholars to ensure that the wording is precise and measured accurately. The Bards College of Solitude, through correspondence, has provided some additional context for the meter that may have been used. Very few pieces like this one are present, especially as it was an unbroken tablet.
Date of Translation: 4E 204
Date of Origin: Late Merethic Era
Translated text:
In the Howls of the Snows
Before the Woods gave way to Men
The Stars gave birth to the Wolves
The packs were strong and many
Two packs ravaged the others
He-Wolf, Strong of Claw and Tooth
He-Wolf’s song was low and deep
His pack ravaged the forests
His fur was dark and sleek
The night was his to roam
She-Wolf, Strong of Cunning and Heart
She-Wolf’s song was high and bright
Her pack ran the shores
Her fur was white and thick
The day was hers to settle
In the early Dawn, by the Hawk cries
The packs met at the forest’s edge
She-Wolf sang high and bright
He-Wolf sang low and deep
The packs did mingle and roam
In time, with Tooth and Cunning, new wolves came
The new pack could roam in day and night
He-Wolf sang low and deep
In his song, he taught them the Hunt
The Hunt called to his pack to ravage the forests as Wolves
She-Wolf sang high and bright
In her song, she taught them the Sails
The Sails called to her pack to ravage the seas as Atmorans
She-Wolf grew to love her People
She came to be less Wolf under the change of time
Care for her People became her cry
He-Wolf loved and fostered his Wolves
He came to be less Wolf under the change of time
Hunt of the weaker People became his howl
The packs remained kith and kin
The Forest grows cold and bleak
The Sea Wolves travel the waves, seek a new forest
Mother Mara, Father Hircine watch over the Sea Wolves
The call of the Hawk, godmother Kyne, leads them
The call of the Hawk brings them back to the Mountain
2024.05.21 22:17 do_not_look_4_door We Were Driving Cross-Country When We Entered A Tunnel. DO NOT TRY TO FIND IT!
My wife, Mia, and I were driving cross-country. It was our first attempt at the “Great American Roadtrip.”
Mia and I rented a small RV; more of a camper than a full blown RV. We packed up a couple suitcases with plenty of room for any souvenirs and we hit the dusty trail.
We started our journey on the “Mother Road”-- Route 66-- driving south from Chicago until we connected to i-70 and shot straight west through Missouri.
The goal was to see those parts of the country we had never seen before, stopping anywhere that seemed interesting. From the plains of Kansas up through the badlands of Wyoming and South Dakota.
In Missouri we saw the world’s largest cap gun. In Kansas we visited the Evel Knievel Museum and the World’s Largest Belt Buckle.
We love all those kitschy, tourist trap places.
Eventually, we made it to Colorado and after a few hours more of driving through amber waves of grain, we saw them... the Rocky Mountains.
We made an exit and headed north through the winding mountain highways.
The Rockies were gorgeous. Snow capped in the middle of summer, some of the peaks pierced through the white fluffy clouds.
We saw a sign that read “Traffic Tunnel - 3 Miles.”
A little further and sure enough, there it was, a large tunnel bored directly through the mountain in front of us.
A large sign read, “Pike Tunnel - Longest Traffic Tunnel in the Nation! - Please turn your headlights on now.”
“How long is it?” asked Mia.
“That’s what she said,” I quipped.
But she was right, there was no information beyond the detail that this was the longest tunnel in the nation.
“Can’t be more than a mile or two,” I said as I watched the little white car ahead of us slip into the darkness. A moment later we joined it.
The tunnel was lit by fluorescents that gave everything a greenish yellow tinge. On the left hand side was a raised walkway behind a railing for maintenance access.
Initially I was struck by the incredible amount of work that went into the construction of this man- made marvel.
“We’re under a million tons of rocky mountain right now,” I said.
“How many years before this caves in?” Mia responded.
I shot her a look--
“Let’s save the cave-in talk until we’re out on the other side.”
“I’m just saying, nature will take this back eventually,” she continued.
I scanned the empty road ahead of us.
“Where did the other car go?” I asked.
We were now alone in the tunnel, no cars ahead of us nor behind us.
“Huh... they must have sped off ahead. Maybe they’re scared of a cave-in?”
My Spotify playlist had stopped playing. Mia looked at the phone.
“No cell service.”
She turned on the radio and spun the dial only to find static.
“You’re not going to be able to pick up a station in here,” I said.
She turned the volume down.
“Just wanted to check... If only we had some CDs. This tunnel really keeps going.”
“I would have thought we’d be through it by now,” I replied.
I looked at the RV’s odometer, 45,600 miles. I picked up speed. I wanted to try and catch up to the little white car.
Up until this point, the tunnel was a straight shot, but now the tunnel started to curve to the right. It may have been my imagination but it also felt as though we were descending…
Mia felt it too and she started to get antsy.
“Where did that other car go? How long is this tunnel?”
There was an urgency in her voice.
I was getting nervous, claustrophobia was not usually a problem for me but when I looked down at the odometer and I saw that it had gone up by 3 miles, my mind began to wander to unsettling places.
We were descending in altitude. I could feel it. I could see a slope in the lights on the ceiling and the railing of the maintenance walkway. I could feel a pressure in my head, and I was getting cold.
“Could you grab me a coke from the back, Mia?”
I couldn’t have Mia getting anxious, that would only start a chain reaction and make me freak out which would then make her freak out.
She unbuckled and ducked into the back of the RV to where we had a cooler stocked with drinks and food.
Just as she stepped into the back, I saw something.
There standing on the side of the road was a MAN wearing a reflective safety vest and a hard hat. He was WAVING to me as I passed him by.
Something about him looked... strange…
I watched him in the side-view mirror as we passed and he was still watching the RV, still waving at the back of our vehicle as he faded into the distance.
Mia reappeared from the back of the RV, Coke in hand. She popped it and handed it to me.
“You look worried.”
“I’m fine,” I smiled and took a sip of the Coke.
“Eric, slow down!”
I slammed on the breaks as I saw what made Mia scream. In the road in front of us was a roadblock.
Two reflective traffic sawhorses blocked both lanes of the tunnel. Beyond the roadblock, the lights of the tunnel were dark. There was nothing but a void of blackness.
Standing in front of the roadblock was another man wearing a reflective vest and a hard hat, only this time his hard hat had a light on top which obscured his face.
We came to a jolting stop.
I turned to Mia
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “It’s a cave-in isn’t it?”
“God, I hope not.”
I rolled down the window, leaned out and yelled to the man in the hard hat.
“Hey! What’s going on?!”
The man was about 5 yards away. He took two steps towards us and then raised a hand to his mouth and yelled.
“Just doing some maintenance!”
“How long is it going to take?!” I yelled back.
The man made a hand gesture as if he didn’t hear me.
“How long is it going to take?!” I called again.
He made the same gesture. I unbuckled my seat belt and grabbed the door release.
“What are you doing?” Mia asked.
“I gotta know what’s going on.”
“Eric, just stay here, it might not be safe.”
“I’ll be just a second,” I said.
I pushed the door open and stepped down from the RV.
“Stay in your vehicle!” the man yelled.
He took a couple steps towards me with his hand out telling me to stop.
“What’s the hold up?!” I shouted.
The man was a bit closer now but I still couldn’t see his face through the shining light on his helmet.
“Please stay in your vehicle!” he shouted.
There was something off about him.
Then I heard it–
“EEEAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHHH!!!”
A scream, or something, rolled from deep in the tunnel. The worker turned and looked into the darkness. Then he ran past the barricades and soon all we could see of him was the light on his helmet.
The light disappeared a moment later.
“What the hell was that?! Is someone hurt?” Mia asked.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“Should we do something?” Mia asked.
I just sat there and watched the pitch black tunnel in front of me. I had no idea what to tell her. I checked the sideview mirrors. There was still nobody behind us.
“Where are the other cars?” I asked.
“They must have gotten through before the roadblock... Or maybe they caused the roadblock?” Mia replied.
“I saw another worker a little ways back. We could try to go back and talk to him.”
“We’d be going straight into any oncoming cars.”
“There’s a maintenance walkway. We didn’t pass him that long ago. We can probably catch him on foot.”
“Maybe we should just wait for the guy to come back.”
She reached over and grabbed my arm. I squeezed her hand.
She was right.
I looked out at the tunnel ahead of us. I turned on the RV’s high beams but all I could see beyond the roadblock was more tunnel and more road.
I checked my phone. Unsurprisingly, there was no service still.
We waited, but the man never came back.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Mia said, “How come there hasn’t been another car behind us?
I was having the same thought. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. I looked back at the road behind us. It went back about 200 yards before curving out of sight.
There was no sign of that first worker I saw on the maintenance walk way. I looked at the roadblock ahead of us and clicked on the RV’s high beams. There was nothing beyond the roadblock but more tunnel. It didn’t look like it was under construction, just very dark.
“I think we should keep going,” I said.
“What about the roadblock?”
“We’ll move those sawhorses out of the way and just drive past,” I said as I opened my door.
Mia looked at me, then she cast her eyes to the dark tunnel ahead of us. I knew she was processing the same limited options that I was.
Driving backwards would be a huge risk in the instance of another car finally coming along.
Getting out and walking would take God knows how long, we could have driven 10 miles at this point.
Forward was our best option.
“Let’s do it,” Mia said.
We jumped out and quickly pulled the two sawhorses out of the right lane. I pulled the RV up past the barriers, then we jumped out again and put the sawhorses back where they were. We didn't need another car to come barreling through.
We were finally moving again, slowly. It was pitch black save for the high beams of the RV.
We crept forward at around 15 miles per hour. As the tunnel turned and twisted, my eyes started to play tricks on me. I kept seeing shapes at the furthest point of the tunnel.
I kept seeing something standing just at the end of the next bend but as we roll forward, there was nothing there.
“Where are the workers?” Mia asked.
“I don’t know.”
I was done rationalizing. This was all wrong. Traffic tunnels are never this long.
My mind started to wander to all the road trip urban legends I’d read about; The Killer in the Backseat, The Disappearing Gas Station, The Pale Man In The Corn Field.
Did we stumble into some strange outlier location? An in-between point on the endless roads that cross this country?
Then I saw it–
“Look! A person! Thank god!” Mia shouted.
As we rounded a curve in the tunnel, a group of maintenance workers entered our view.
The three of them stood on the left side of the road behind two more sawhorses topped with flashing lights.
Two of them faced towards us, the third was facing the other two.
The one with his back to us wore a light on his hard hat. Was this the same guy we saw earlier? How did he get this far away?
I approached slowly and rolled down the window.
“Hey! You left us waiting back there!” I yelled.
There was no response.
In fact, all three men were completely silent, and it was hard to tell in the flashing light of the sawhorses, but they looked to be standing COMPLETELY STILL.
“Hello?!” I yelled again.
I pushed open my door and stepped out onto the pavement.
“Eric wait--”
I held up a finger to Mia.
“Just a second.”
I slowly stepped towards the 3 men.
“Hello?”
No response… What the fuck?
The bright lights of the sawhorses obscured their faces.
I kept moving closer.
“Hey, what’s going on--”
Then I saw it.
Their faces... They were plastic.
In front of me stood three mannequins.
I backed away toward the RV, then I turned and walked hurriedly to the vehicle.
I was seriously freaked out but I didn’t want to alarm Mia. I climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
“They’re mannequins.” I said.
“What?”
“They’re mannequins.”
”Why?... What?...”
“I don’t know…”
I looked back over at the three figures and my blood ran cold…
The Hard Hat Mannequin had somehow TURNED AROUND to face us. All three figures appeared to be watching us now.
Then we heard it--
A loud resonant banging on the side, and then the roof of the RV.
“What the hell was that?” Mia whispered.
We listened, holding our breath. Then--
A shuffling sound--
Something was moving ON or IN the RV.
“Stay here.” I said.
I got up.
“Eric, wait!”
I moved to the back of the RV.
It was dark. I went for a drawer in the kitchenette space and pulled out a flashlight.
I moved to the rear of the RV, the bedroom. My flashlight illuminated an empty room.
“Whoever is back here, I have a gun…”
A shitty bluff. But I didn’t see anything.
I shone the light out of the windows of each side of the RV. Nothing.
Then I heard it–
A shuffling sound, from right above me.
I looked up and screamed–
“Fuck!”
On the roof of the RV, staring through the skylight was a woman with vacuous black eyes and a dead smile.
Her stringy black hair dangled down towards me casting thing black shadows across her horrible pale face.
“Mia, drive! Fast!” I screamed.
Mia JUMPED over to the driver’s seat, shifted into gear and STOMPED on the gas. The RV was clunky but it could move when it needed to.
We lurched forward and I fell back.
I trained my flashlight up onto the skylight again and the woman was gone.
I scrambled to my feet and looked out of the side windows.
Did Mia shake her off? There was no sign of the woman. I moved to the passenger seat, breathing heavily and sweating.
“What happened?” She asked, keeping the RV at a steady 50 mph.
“There was a woman on the roof,” I said flatly.
I realize now that I was in a kind of shock.
“A woman?”
“Her eyes were black.”
Mia just looked at me, then back at the tunnel ahead of us.
“There’s something wrong with this tunnel.” I whispered.
Mia pointed at the road ahead, “Look.”
I looked out at the tunnel. There were more mannequins. A LOT more mannequins. They were positioned on both sides of the road.
They were all facing us and even though I never saw them move, when I looked in the side-view mirror, they were somehow STILL facing us, turning to watch us as we drove past. Watching without eyes.
“Just keep driving.” I said.
As we drove on, the mannequins crowded the sides of the road more and more. There were thousands of them. Eventually they were so close that some of their outstretched arms hit the side of the RV.
They were closing in on us. Squeezing our path forward. One stood in the middle of the road.
“I don’t think i can get around it.”
“Run it over. Don’t stop.”
The RV smashed into the mannequin. Its head shot forward and bounced against the windshield and the vehicle shuddered as it rolled over the body.
Soon there were two in the road. Then three.
I could see where this was going. Pretty soon there would be too many for the RV to ram through, but goddammit we were going to get through as many as we could.
“Speed up, Mia.”
CRASH!
The sound was surreal, smashing into mannequin after mannequin at nearly 60 miles per hour.
Hands, legs, heads and torsos flew.
The windshield cracked, the RV shuddered and screamed and eventually slowed down, despite the screaming engine.
I’m certain the axle was jammed up with lifeless, plastic body parts. Eventually we came to a stop.
“She won’t move,” Mia said.
She pressed on the gas but it was no use, the RV just rocked a little bit.
“Try reverse.”
She shifted and pressed on the gas, we got some decent movement before running into another jam.
“Fuck.”
“Should we get out and look?” Mia asked.
“I’ll go,” I said as I grabbed the flashlight and popped the passenger door. Mia unbuckled her seatbelt.
“We’ll go together.”
We stumbled out of the RV on the passenger side. It was like stepping into Hell.
Countless, lifeless faces stared out at us from the darkness. The only light came from the headlights of the RV and my flashlight.
We clumsily made our way along the side of the RV. The ground was littered with mannequin pieces.
I thought to myself, if we could get a couple yards cleared out behind the rear tires, we might be able to back out and get enough momentum to reverse all the way back out of here.
Instead, when we got to the back of the RV, my stomach flipped and my heart sank.
I was expecting to see a trail of flattened mannequins, instead the RV was now surrounded by thousands of perfectly intact mannequins standing at attention. As if their ranks had some how been replenished after our vehicular assault.
“This is impossible.”
She started to cry. I held her close.
“We’ll keep moving.” I said.
“It will never end. The tunnel makes no sense. It only curves one direction.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“This whole time the tunnel has only been curving to the right. it would sometimes straighten out or go left for a few yards but before too long we were curving to the right again. We’ve either been driving in circles or spiraling downwards.”
“So we’ll go back the way we came and hope we’re not going in circles.” I said.
We had been driving for hours at this point. Walking back out the way we came would take days. But now that I thought about it, Mia was right, we’d only been curving to the right.
This tunnel seemed to be very gradually taking us downwards into the earth.
Going forward would not get us any closer to escape.
“We’ll need food from the RV,” Mia said.
I nodded and we stumbled our way back to the front of the RV, the mannequins’ lifeless faces watching us the whole time.
I stepped up to the passenger door and nearly fell back when I looked through the window.
“What the fuck?” I breathed.
What I saw were two mannequins sitting in the driver’s and passenger’s seat.
How they got in there? I have no idea, but what really made my blood run cold was that they were dressed EXACTLY like MIA and I.
They wore identical sets of clothes. The one in the passenger seat had my same New Order T-shirt and black jeans. The one in the driver’s seat had Mia’s green striped sweater and denim shorts.
Their plastic faces stared out through the shattered windshield at the endless crowd of mannequins staring back at them.
Mia stepped up and saw the uncanny display.
“What the fuck?” Mia echoed.
I pulled myself up into the RV and slowly stepped around my mannequin doppelgänger. I avoided looking into its face but I swear i could feel it watching me as I stumbled around it.
Mia followed and we made our way into the back of our dark RV. Luckily we had just stocked our cooler full of deli meat and water not long after crossing the Colorado state line.
I handed Mia the flashlight and pulled open the cooler. I filled a backpack full of food and water.
I turned and saw them–
My mannequin double had somehow moved. It was standing in the aisle watching us.
Mia’s doppelgänger was still seated in the driver’s seat but had turned to peer back at us with its eyeless gaze.
Mia saw the look in my eyes and turned. She screamed when she saw them and backed into me. I put my arm around her and we stood there a moment, letting our skyrocketing heart rates return to Earth.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
I slid the backpack onto my shoulders.
Mia joined me at the door. I looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?” She nodded. I kissed her.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you,” she said.
The look on her face killed me. She was terrified. I’m sure the look on my face was similar.
I opened the door and we stepped out…
We again stumbled to the back of the RV. Once we were clear of the RV and all the crushed mannequin body parts, it became easier to find footing, though weaving through an endless crowd of lifeless people was a slow process.
It was pitch black. Without the flashlight we wouldn’t be able to see a foot in front of us.
As I walked, the beam of light created the illusion of movement in the crowd. At least I hoped it was an illusion.
The limbs of the mannequins seemed to stretch and turn, but the only sound was that of Mia and I shuffling our way through the crowded tunnel.
Things went on like this for what felt like hours. Mia and I were sweating and aching. I was about to suggest we stop and rest, but then I saw it and I froze…
Out in the crowd, beyond rows of blank faces I saw a pale face, black hair and a dead smile.
I saw two vacuous eyes staring right at me.
“Mia, do you see her?” I whispered.
“See who?”
I slowly raised my arm and pointed.
It was the woman, or whatever it was, that stared back at me through the skylight on the roof of the RV.
“Oh my god!” Mia squeaked.
I could see now that the Pale Faced Woman was tall. A few inches taller than the mannequins.
As I pointed, she stared back at me with that terrible grin.
“What do we do?” Mia whispered.
I raised the flashlight and pointed it right at the Pale Faced Woman. I thought maybe this would scare her off.
I was wrong.
The light only made her appear more unsettling as she stared back, unflinchingly.
“What do you want?!” I yelled.
She only stared back at me. She was as still as the mannequins.
“We have to keep going.” I whispered.
Mia didn’t respond. Her body was tense as she held onto me.
“We’ve come this far, we can’t turn back again,” I continued.
I pulled Mia’s hand and we continued on our way through the mannequins, keeping the distance between us and her as wide as possible.
As we moved past, she kept watching us. Though her movements were imperceptible to us, her eyes never left us. Like one of those portraits whose eyes appear to watch you no matter where you stand.
Finally, we got far enough that she was out of sight. But the thought of her being somewhere behind us only unsettled me further and I quickened our pace.
As the hours wore on, there was no sign of the Pale Faced Woman and the crowd of mannequins began to thin out. They still populated the tunnel from one end to the other, but there was more space between them, allowing Mia and I to walk more freely.
The mannequins on the maintenance walkway on the side of the tunnel seemed to thin out as well and I decided it would give us a better vantage if we were walking up there.
I helped Mia climb up the railing that bordered the walkway, then I climbed up behind her. The walkway was elevated 3 or 4 feet above the roadway. We could easily see over the heads of the mannequins in both directions.
There was, of course, no end to the tunnel in sight.
We kept walking.
The mannequins continued to thin out, but they were different now.
There were mannequins dressed as maintenance workers again, but also mannequins dressed as families and businessmen. There was even a group of mannequin nuns standing in a single file line, heads bowed in prayer.
Needless to say, we passed none of this on the way in to the tunnel. I was feeling very hopeless that we were going to be able to find our way out.
I was far beyond speculating how this was at all possible. It’s NOT possible. And even if it were, there is no good reason for someone to do this to us.
The only explanation was the supernatural. Then I saw Her. Rather, I saw THEM.
Arranged in the middle of the tunnel was a circle of mannequins with long black hair and tattered cloth.
They looked exactly like the Pale Faced Woman, minus any facial features. I kept a close watch on them as we passed to make sure they didn’t start following us.
“A door!” Mia shouted.
Mia pointed a few paces ahead of her. There was a door leading into the wall of the tunnel.
We ran towards it. Mia grabbed the handle, turned it and pulled. It was heavy and Mia had to brace her foot on the wall to get it moving.
The metal door groaned as if it hadn’t been opened in years.
Finally, it was open enough to see past.
It was a hallway. It went out about 5 yards then turned right at a 90 degree angle.
The strangest part was the design of the hallway.
It wasn’t cement or pavement like the tunnel.
The walls were wood paneled and the floor was covered in a thick carpet, like a house from the 1970s.
“I say we see where this takes us.” Mia said.
There was no reason to disagree, but I wasn’t going to get us trapped in there.
I opened up my backpack and took out a water bottle. I opened it and handed it to Mia. She drank half, then I drank the other half.
I slowly closed the door, shoving the empty water bottle in the crack to keep it from closing all the way.
I turned to Mia-- “Okay, let’s go.”
We slowly made our way down the quiet hallway. We got down to where the hallway cornered to the right and that’s when we heard it–
KA-CHUNK!!!--
I whipped around. The door had closed behind us. I ran back to it and tried to push it open, but it was no use. There was no way it closed on its own.
Someone had to have removed the water bottle. Our path had been chosen for us.
There was no turning back.
We continued down the hallway. We turned right. The hallway continued, then turned right again. That should have led us right back to the tunnel. But it didn’t. This part of the hallway went on far longer than was possible without running into the tunnel. Then it turned right again.
It went on like this. Sometimes a section of the hallway was 20 feet long, sometimes it was 20 yards long, sometimes it was 3 feet long. But it always turned to the right.
At first it was a relief to be somewhere other than the cold, dark tunnel. But the hallway very quickly became claustrophobic and before too long, I heard someone walking behind us.
We had stopped to take a break and I heard a third pair of footsteps on the carpet coming from behind us. I backtracked to the last corner.
I was terrified as I slowly peeked around the corner, tense and waiting to see the vacuous eyes and inky black hair of the Pale Faced Woman... but there was nothing there. I wasn’t about to backtrack any further.
“There was no one there.” I whispered.
Mia slumped against the wall and slid down to the carpet.
“I think I need to rest.” She said.
I put my backpack down on the ground for Mia to use as a pillow. She laid her head down and was passed out in seconds.
I had no idea how long we had been walking at this point. I stood leaning against the wall. My body was telling me to rest but I couldn’t risk falling asleep. I had to keep watch. I knew SHE was following us.
I took in the details of the hallway for the first time. The carpet was a dull brown and the walls a cheap wood paneling. The hanging lighting fixtures were shaded by stained glass, something you might see in an old diner.
Who built this place? Did someone pick out the carpet and the lighting fixtures? Did a team of workers blast these tunnels into the Earth? Or has this place always existed? Was this Purgatory?
I began to feel dizzy. I was panicking. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I slumped to the floor and tried to slow my breathing.
I closed my eyes... –
I SHOT up in a panic. I had fallen asleep while I was meant to be keeping watch.
I snapped to my feet and looked around.
Mia was still asleep on my backpack.
Then I noticed that the hallway had changed. A few paces away there was now a plain wooden door in the wall.
I slowly approached it. I put my ear to the door and I could hear what sounded like TV static and the low murmur of voices.
I discreetly grabbed the door handle and turned it slowly. I felt the latch bolt clear and I carefully cracked the door just enough to peek inside.
It was dark, so it took a second for me to register what I was seeing. I saw a small board room. A long table in the center was surrounded by seated men in suits.
At the end of the table stood another man next to an old CRT TV that was playing static. This was the only source of light in the room and all the men around the table were turned towards the tv.
Suddenly the screen flickered from static to a solid dark background. And some warped new age style muzak began playing.
Then the words appeared on the screen that terrified me like nothing else before. In plain text the words read–
“YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I froze as I knew these words were meant for me I watched with terror as the men seated around the table slowly turned toward me in unison.
They were mannequins.
The TV screen then clicked off and they continued staring at me as I could barely make out their forms through the near pitch darkness.
I quickly pulled the door shut. And whipped around to look at Mia, I had a horrible feeling of dread that when I turned around she would be gone, like the message on the TV promised–
“Eric? What are you doing?” Mia was leaning up and staring at me.
Thank God. There was Mia, right where I left her.
I pointed at the door and said, “This door appeared and I--”
“What door?” she interrupted.
I turned and sure enough, the door was now gone.
I explained what happened to her, but I left out the message that appeared on the screen.
-- YOU WILL LOSE HER –
Those words still burned in my brain. I tried to force them out.
We drank water, ate granola and then got moving again.
Hallways. Endless hallways.
After a couple hours of walking we started to hear music. There were small speakers in the corners of the ceiling.
I recognized it as the same new-age muzak that played on the TV in the board room. The melody drilled into our minds. Combined with the dull aesthetics of the quiet hallways and the endless right turns, the music had a hypnotizing effect.
The lengths of the halls became more uniform. That is to say, the straight section of hallway was about 7 paces, then a right turn, then 7 paces and a right turn.
“I think we’re walking in circles... or a square,” Mia said.
I looked at her and took out a bottle of water. I peeled off the plastic label and dropped it on the floor.
Then we kept walking.
7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. And there it was... Mia was right.
The label from my water bottle lay in the middle of the hallway. Somehow we had been led into a loop. I lost it.
“FUUUCK!”
I kicked the wall repeatedly and screamed. Mia just leaned her back against the wall.
This was our dynamic. If one of us lost it, the other became zen and thought of a solution. More often than not, I was the one to lose it.
I finally stopped freaking out
“There has to be a way out. A door,” Mia said.
“We would have seen it,” I replied.
“A hidden door,” she said.
She turned around and ran her hands along the cracks of the wood paneling.
“Most likely on the outer wall,” she said.
She beat her fist on the wall, listening for a change in the sound. I exhaled heavily, sweating and tired, and I started searching the wall as well.
We checked the whole first wall, nothing. We checked the second wall, nothing. The third, nothing.
The final wall... Nothing. I gave up and slumped on the floor. Mia immediately went over to the other side of the hall and started checking the inner wall.
“What are you doing? I thought you said it would be on the outer wall?” I asked.
Then we heard it.
Mia beat the wall and instead of the dead thud, we heard a resonate BOOM –
A door…
I shot up and started tapping the wall with Mia until we found where the door ended. It was the width of about 4 wooden panels. I lined myself up in the center, lowered my shoulder and pushed–
IT MOVED! It barely moved but it was enough to confirm this actually was a door! I re-centered and tried again, lowering my center of gravity, I pushed as hard as I could. The door pushed inward about 3 inches, then Mia joined in. We slowly moved the door, 5 inches, then 10, then 15, then 20.
Then Mia slipped inside.
I had a moment of panic as she disappeared into the darkness and those haunting words came back into my mind, “YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I darted past the doorway, falling through the threshold and hitting the concrete floor.
I looked up and there was Mia, thank God. I promised myself I’d never let her out of my sight again.
“The exit...” Mia said.
She looked and sounded as if she were a thousand miles away. I got to my feet and followed her gaze. What I saw nearly brought me to tears.
We were back in the tunnel, but there was light. About a mile down was the mouth of the tunnel, and daylight pouring in. Beautiful daylight. I grabbed Mia tight and kissed her.
“Thank God...” she cried.
We started moving. Nothing was going to slow us down this time. We sped up into a RUN down the maintenance walkway towards that beautiful sunlight.
As we approached, something else came into view. Parked in the middle of the roadway was a large vehicle…
It couldn’t be…
It was!
Our RV sat in the road waiting for us. We ran all the way to it, pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in. There were no mannequins to be seen.
I fell into the driver’s seat and Mia handed me the keys. I turned over the engine, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I shifted into gear and floored it towards the sunlight.
As we got closer, I could see the green of trees and the blue of the sky. We were maybe one hundred yards away.
I turned to Mia, tears in my eyes…
And what I saw turned my blood to ice.
Just beyond Mia’s window, that horrifying pale face grinned at me.
The Pale Faced Woman was somehow floating outside of the RV.
Before I could say anything, her hand smashed through the window and gripped Mia by the throat, then in one horrible motion the thing PULLED MIA SCREAMING THROUGH THE WINDOW AND…
Disappeared…
I SLAMMED on the breaks just as the RV passed through the exit of the tunnel and sunlight flooded the cab of the RV. I threw it in park and shot out of the door screaming.
“Mia!? Mia??!!”
I screamed over and over. I rounded the front of the RV and looked back at the tunnel –
-- and what I saw shattered my mind…
The tunnel was gone.
There was only open road.
I had lost her.
submitted by do_not_look_4_door to nosleep [link] [comments]
Mia and I rented a small RV; more of a camper than a full blown RV. We packed up a couple suitcases with plenty of room for any souvenirs and we hit the dusty trail.
We started our journey on the “Mother Road”-- Route 66-- driving south from Chicago until we connected to i-70 and shot straight west through Missouri.
The goal was to see those parts of the country we had never seen before, stopping anywhere that seemed interesting. From the plains of Kansas up through the badlands of Wyoming and South Dakota.
In Missouri we saw the world’s largest cap gun. In Kansas we visited the Evel Knievel Museum and the World’s Largest Belt Buckle.
We love all those kitschy, tourist trap places.
Eventually, we made it to Colorado and after a few hours more of driving through amber waves of grain, we saw them... the Rocky Mountains.
We made an exit and headed north through the winding mountain highways.
The Rockies were gorgeous. Snow capped in the middle of summer, some of the peaks pierced through the white fluffy clouds.
We saw a sign that read “Traffic Tunnel - 3 Miles.”
A little further and sure enough, there it was, a large tunnel bored directly through the mountain in front of us.
A large sign read, “Pike Tunnel - Longest Traffic Tunnel in the Nation! - Please turn your headlights on now.”
“How long is it?” asked Mia.
“That’s what she said,” I quipped.
But she was right, there was no information beyond the detail that this was the longest tunnel in the nation.
“Can’t be more than a mile or two,” I said as I watched the little white car ahead of us slip into the darkness. A moment later we joined it.
The tunnel was lit by fluorescents that gave everything a greenish yellow tinge. On the left hand side was a raised walkway behind a railing for maintenance access.
Initially I was struck by the incredible amount of work that went into the construction of this man- made marvel.
“We’re under a million tons of rocky mountain right now,” I said.
“How many years before this caves in?” Mia responded.
I shot her a look--
“Let’s save the cave-in talk until we’re out on the other side.”
“I’m just saying, nature will take this back eventually,” she continued.
I scanned the empty road ahead of us.
“Where did the other car go?” I asked.
We were now alone in the tunnel, no cars ahead of us nor behind us.
“Huh... they must have sped off ahead. Maybe they’re scared of a cave-in?”
My Spotify playlist had stopped playing. Mia looked at the phone.
“No cell service.”
She turned on the radio and spun the dial only to find static.
“You’re not going to be able to pick up a station in here,” I said.
She turned the volume down.
“Just wanted to check... If only we had some CDs. This tunnel really keeps going.”
“I would have thought we’d be through it by now,” I replied.
I looked at the RV’s odometer, 45,600 miles. I picked up speed. I wanted to try and catch up to the little white car.
Up until this point, the tunnel was a straight shot, but now the tunnel started to curve to the right. It may have been my imagination but it also felt as though we were descending…
Mia felt it too and she started to get antsy.
“Where did that other car go? How long is this tunnel?”
There was an urgency in her voice.
I was getting nervous, claustrophobia was not usually a problem for me but when I looked down at the odometer and I saw that it had gone up by 3 miles, my mind began to wander to unsettling places.
We were descending in altitude. I could feel it. I could see a slope in the lights on the ceiling and the railing of the maintenance walkway. I could feel a pressure in my head, and I was getting cold.
“Could you grab me a coke from the back, Mia?”
I couldn’t have Mia getting anxious, that would only start a chain reaction and make me freak out which would then make her freak out.
She unbuckled and ducked into the back of the RV to where we had a cooler stocked with drinks and food.
Just as she stepped into the back, I saw something.
There standing on the side of the road was a MAN wearing a reflective safety vest and a hard hat. He was WAVING to me as I passed him by.
Something about him looked... strange…
I watched him in the side-view mirror as we passed and he was still watching the RV, still waving at the back of our vehicle as he faded into the distance.
Mia reappeared from the back of the RV, Coke in hand. She popped it and handed it to me.
“You look worried.”
“I’m fine,” I smiled and took a sip of the Coke.
“Eric, slow down!”
I slammed on the breaks as I saw what made Mia scream. In the road in front of us was a roadblock.
Two reflective traffic sawhorses blocked both lanes of the tunnel. Beyond the roadblock, the lights of the tunnel were dark. There was nothing but a void of blackness.
Standing in front of the roadblock was another man wearing a reflective vest and a hard hat, only this time his hard hat had a light on top which obscured his face.
We came to a jolting stop.
I turned to Mia
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “It’s a cave-in isn’t it?”
“God, I hope not.”
I rolled down the window, leaned out and yelled to the man in the hard hat.
“Hey! What’s going on?!”
The man was about 5 yards away. He took two steps towards us and then raised a hand to his mouth and yelled.
“Just doing some maintenance!”
“How long is it going to take?!” I yelled back.
The man made a hand gesture as if he didn’t hear me.
“How long is it going to take?!” I called again.
He made the same gesture. I unbuckled my seat belt and grabbed the door release.
“What are you doing?” Mia asked.
“I gotta know what’s going on.”
“Eric, just stay here, it might not be safe.”
“I’ll be just a second,” I said.
I pushed the door open and stepped down from the RV.
“Stay in your vehicle!” the man yelled.
He took a couple steps towards me with his hand out telling me to stop.
“What’s the hold up?!” I shouted.
The man was a bit closer now but I still couldn’t see his face through the shining light on his helmet.
“Please stay in your vehicle!” he shouted.
There was something off about him.
Then I heard it–
“EEEAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHHH!!!”
A scream, or something, rolled from deep in the tunnel. The worker turned and looked into the darkness. Then he ran past the barricades and soon all we could see of him was the light on his helmet.
The light disappeared a moment later.
“What the hell was that?! Is someone hurt?” Mia asked.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“Should we do something?” Mia asked.
I just sat there and watched the pitch black tunnel in front of me. I had no idea what to tell her. I checked the sideview mirrors. There was still nobody behind us.
“Where are the other cars?” I asked.
“They must have gotten through before the roadblock... Or maybe they caused the roadblock?” Mia replied.
“I saw another worker a little ways back. We could try to go back and talk to him.”
“We’d be going straight into any oncoming cars.”
“There’s a maintenance walkway. We didn’t pass him that long ago. We can probably catch him on foot.”
“Maybe we should just wait for the guy to come back.”
She reached over and grabbed my arm. I squeezed her hand.
She was right.
I looked out at the tunnel ahead of us. I turned on the RV’s high beams but all I could see beyond the roadblock was more tunnel and more road.
I checked my phone. Unsurprisingly, there was no service still.
We waited, but the man never came back.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Mia said, “How come there hasn’t been another car behind us?
I was having the same thought. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. I looked back at the road behind us. It went back about 200 yards before curving out of sight.
There was no sign of that first worker I saw on the maintenance walk way. I looked at the roadblock ahead of us and clicked on the RV’s high beams. There was nothing beyond the roadblock but more tunnel. It didn’t look like it was under construction, just very dark.
“I think we should keep going,” I said.
“What about the roadblock?”
“We’ll move those sawhorses out of the way and just drive past,” I said as I opened my door.
Mia looked at me, then she cast her eyes to the dark tunnel ahead of us. I knew she was processing the same limited options that I was.
Driving backwards would be a huge risk in the instance of another car finally coming along.
Getting out and walking would take God knows how long, we could have driven 10 miles at this point.
Forward was our best option.
“Let’s do it,” Mia said.
We jumped out and quickly pulled the two sawhorses out of the right lane. I pulled the RV up past the barriers, then we jumped out again and put the sawhorses back where they were. We didn't need another car to come barreling through.
We were finally moving again, slowly. It was pitch black save for the high beams of the RV.
We crept forward at around 15 miles per hour. As the tunnel turned and twisted, my eyes started to play tricks on me. I kept seeing shapes at the furthest point of the tunnel.
I kept seeing something standing just at the end of the next bend but as we roll forward, there was nothing there.
“Where are the workers?” Mia asked.
“I don’t know.”
I was done rationalizing. This was all wrong. Traffic tunnels are never this long.
My mind started to wander to all the road trip urban legends I’d read about; The Killer in the Backseat, The Disappearing Gas Station, The Pale Man In The Corn Field.
Did we stumble into some strange outlier location? An in-between point on the endless roads that cross this country?
Then I saw it–
“Look! A person! Thank god!” Mia shouted.
As we rounded a curve in the tunnel, a group of maintenance workers entered our view.
The three of them stood on the left side of the road behind two more sawhorses topped with flashing lights.
Two of them faced towards us, the third was facing the other two.
The one with his back to us wore a light on his hard hat. Was this the same guy we saw earlier? How did he get this far away?
I approached slowly and rolled down the window.
“Hey! You left us waiting back there!” I yelled.
There was no response.
In fact, all three men were completely silent, and it was hard to tell in the flashing light of the sawhorses, but they looked to be standing COMPLETELY STILL.
“Hello?!” I yelled again.
I pushed open my door and stepped out onto the pavement.
“Eric wait--”
I held up a finger to Mia.
“Just a second.”
I slowly stepped towards the 3 men.
“Hello?”
No response… What the fuck?
The bright lights of the sawhorses obscured their faces.
I kept moving closer.
“Hey, what’s going on--”
Then I saw it.
Their faces... They were plastic.
In front of me stood three mannequins.
I backed away toward the RV, then I turned and walked hurriedly to the vehicle.
I was seriously freaked out but I didn’t want to alarm Mia. I climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
“They’re mannequins.” I said.
“What?”
“They’re mannequins.”
”Why?... What?...”
“I don’t know…”
I looked back over at the three figures and my blood ran cold…
The Hard Hat Mannequin had somehow TURNED AROUND to face us. All three figures appeared to be watching us now.
Then we heard it--
A loud resonant banging on the side, and then the roof of the RV.
“What the hell was that?” Mia whispered.
We listened, holding our breath. Then--
A shuffling sound--
Something was moving ON or IN the RV.
“Stay here.” I said.
I got up.
“Eric, wait!”
I moved to the back of the RV.
It was dark. I went for a drawer in the kitchenette space and pulled out a flashlight.
I moved to the rear of the RV, the bedroom. My flashlight illuminated an empty room.
“Whoever is back here, I have a gun…”
A shitty bluff. But I didn’t see anything.
I shone the light out of the windows of each side of the RV. Nothing.
Then I heard it–
A shuffling sound, from right above me.
I looked up and screamed–
“Fuck!”
On the roof of the RV, staring through the skylight was a woman with vacuous black eyes and a dead smile.
Her stringy black hair dangled down towards me casting thing black shadows across her horrible pale face.
“Mia, drive! Fast!” I screamed.
Mia JUMPED over to the driver’s seat, shifted into gear and STOMPED on the gas. The RV was clunky but it could move when it needed to.
We lurched forward and I fell back.
I trained my flashlight up onto the skylight again and the woman was gone.
I scrambled to my feet and looked out of the side windows.
Did Mia shake her off? There was no sign of the woman. I moved to the passenger seat, breathing heavily and sweating.
“What happened?” She asked, keeping the RV at a steady 50 mph.
“There was a woman on the roof,” I said flatly.
I realize now that I was in a kind of shock.
“A woman?”
“Her eyes were black.”
Mia just looked at me, then back at the tunnel ahead of us.
“There’s something wrong with this tunnel.” I whispered.
Mia pointed at the road ahead, “Look.”
I looked out at the tunnel. There were more mannequins. A LOT more mannequins. They were positioned on both sides of the road.
They were all facing us and even though I never saw them move, when I looked in the side-view mirror, they were somehow STILL facing us, turning to watch us as we drove past. Watching without eyes.
“Just keep driving.” I said.
As we drove on, the mannequins crowded the sides of the road more and more. There were thousands of them. Eventually they were so close that some of their outstretched arms hit the side of the RV.
They were closing in on us. Squeezing our path forward. One stood in the middle of the road.
“I don’t think i can get around it.”
“Run it over. Don’t stop.”
The RV smashed into the mannequin. Its head shot forward and bounced against the windshield and the vehicle shuddered as it rolled over the body.
Soon there were two in the road. Then three.
I could see where this was going. Pretty soon there would be too many for the RV to ram through, but goddammit we were going to get through as many as we could.
“Speed up, Mia.”
CRASH!
The sound was surreal, smashing into mannequin after mannequin at nearly 60 miles per hour.
Hands, legs, heads and torsos flew.
The windshield cracked, the RV shuddered and screamed and eventually slowed down, despite the screaming engine.
I’m certain the axle was jammed up with lifeless, plastic body parts. Eventually we came to a stop.
“She won’t move,” Mia said.
She pressed on the gas but it was no use, the RV just rocked a little bit.
“Try reverse.”
She shifted and pressed on the gas, we got some decent movement before running into another jam.
“Fuck.”
“Should we get out and look?” Mia asked.
“I’ll go,” I said as I grabbed the flashlight and popped the passenger door. Mia unbuckled her seatbelt.
“We’ll go together.”
We stumbled out of the RV on the passenger side. It was like stepping into Hell.
Countless, lifeless faces stared out at us from the darkness. The only light came from the headlights of the RV and my flashlight.
We clumsily made our way along the side of the RV. The ground was littered with mannequin pieces.
I thought to myself, if we could get a couple yards cleared out behind the rear tires, we might be able to back out and get enough momentum to reverse all the way back out of here.
Instead, when we got to the back of the RV, my stomach flipped and my heart sank.
I was expecting to see a trail of flattened mannequins, instead the RV was now surrounded by thousands of perfectly intact mannequins standing at attention. As if their ranks had some how been replenished after our vehicular assault.
“This is impossible.”
She started to cry. I held her close.
“We’ll keep moving.” I said.
“It will never end. The tunnel makes no sense. It only curves one direction.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“This whole time the tunnel has only been curving to the right. it would sometimes straighten out or go left for a few yards but before too long we were curving to the right again. We’ve either been driving in circles or spiraling downwards.”
“So we’ll go back the way we came and hope we’re not going in circles.” I said.
We had been driving for hours at this point. Walking back out the way we came would take days. But now that I thought about it, Mia was right, we’d only been curving to the right.
This tunnel seemed to be very gradually taking us downwards into the earth.
Going forward would not get us any closer to escape.
“We’ll need food from the RV,” Mia said.
I nodded and we stumbled our way back to the front of the RV, the mannequins’ lifeless faces watching us the whole time.
I stepped up to the passenger door and nearly fell back when I looked through the window.
“What the fuck?” I breathed.
What I saw were two mannequins sitting in the driver’s and passenger’s seat.
How they got in there? I have no idea, but what really made my blood run cold was that they were dressed EXACTLY like MIA and I.
They wore identical sets of clothes. The one in the passenger seat had my same New Order T-shirt and black jeans. The one in the driver’s seat had Mia’s green striped sweater and denim shorts.
Their plastic faces stared out through the shattered windshield at the endless crowd of mannequins staring back at them.
Mia stepped up and saw the uncanny display.
“What the fuck?” Mia echoed.
I pulled myself up into the RV and slowly stepped around my mannequin doppelgänger. I avoided looking into its face but I swear i could feel it watching me as I stumbled around it.
Mia followed and we made our way into the back of our dark RV. Luckily we had just stocked our cooler full of deli meat and water not long after crossing the Colorado state line.
I handed Mia the flashlight and pulled open the cooler. I filled a backpack full of food and water.
I turned and saw them–
My mannequin double had somehow moved. It was standing in the aisle watching us.
Mia’s doppelgänger was still seated in the driver’s seat but had turned to peer back at us with its eyeless gaze.
Mia saw the look in my eyes and turned. She screamed when she saw them and backed into me. I put my arm around her and we stood there a moment, letting our skyrocketing heart rates return to Earth.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
I slid the backpack onto my shoulders.
Mia joined me at the door. I looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?” She nodded. I kissed her.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you,” she said.
The look on her face killed me. She was terrified. I’m sure the look on my face was similar.
I opened the door and we stepped out…
We again stumbled to the back of the RV. Once we were clear of the RV and all the crushed mannequin body parts, it became easier to find footing, though weaving through an endless crowd of lifeless people was a slow process.
It was pitch black. Without the flashlight we wouldn’t be able to see a foot in front of us.
As I walked, the beam of light created the illusion of movement in the crowd. At least I hoped it was an illusion.
The limbs of the mannequins seemed to stretch and turn, but the only sound was that of Mia and I shuffling our way through the crowded tunnel.
Things went on like this for what felt like hours. Mia and I were sweating and aching. I was about to suggest we stop and rest, but then I saw it and I froze…
Out in the crowd, beyond rows of blank faces I saw a pale face, black hair and a dead smile.
I saw two vacuous eyes staring right at me.
“Mia, do you see her?” I whispered.
“See who?”
I slowly raised my arm and pointed.
It was the woman, or whatever it was, that stared back at me through the skylight on the roof of the RV.
“Oh my god!” Mia squeaked.
I could see now that the Pale Faced Woman was tall. A few inches taller than the mannequins.
As I pointed, she stared back at me with that terrible grin.
“What do we do?” Mia whispered.
I raised the flashlight and pointed it right at the Pale Faced Woman. I thought maybe this would scare her off.
I was wrong.
The light only made her appear more unsettling as she stared back, unflinchingly.
“What do you want?!” I yelled.
She only stared back at me. She was as still as the mannequins.
“We have to keep going.” I whispered.
Mia didn’t respond. Her body was tense as she held onto me.
“We’ve come this far, we can’t turn back again,” I continued.
I pulled Mia’s hand and we continued on our way through the mannequins, keeping the distance between us and her as wide as possible.
As we moved past, she kept watching us. Though her movements were imperceptible to us, her eyes never left us. Like one of those portraits whose eyes appear to watch you no matter where you stand.
Finally, we got far enough that she was out of sight. But the thought of her being somewhere behind us only unsettled me further and I quickened our pace.
As the hours wore on, there was no sign of the Pale Faced Woman and the crowd of mannequins began to thin out. They still populated the tunnel from one end to the other, but there was more space between them, allowing Mia and I to walk more freely.
The mannequins on the maintenance walkway on the side of the tunnel seemed to thin out as well and I decided it would give us a better vantage if we were walking up there.
I helped Mia climb up the railing that bordered the walkway, then I climbed up behind her. The walkway was elevated 3 or 4 feet above the roadway. We could easily see over the heads of the mannequins in both directions.
There was, of course, no end to the tunnel in sight.
We kept walking.
The mannequins continued to thin out, but they were different now.
There were mannequins dressed as maintenance workers again, but also mannequins dressed as families and businessmen. There was even a group of mannequin nuns standing in a single file line, heads bowed in prayer.
Needless to say, we passed none of this on the way in to the tunnel. I was feeling very hopeless that we were going to be able to find our way out.
I was far beyond speculating how this was at all possible. It’s NOT possible. And even if it were, there is no good reason for someone to do this to us.
The only explanation was the supernatural. Then I saw Her. Rather, I saw THEM.
Arranged in the middle of the tunnel was a circle of mannequins with long black hair and tattered cloth.
They looked exactly like the Pale Faced Woman, minus any facial features. I kept a close watch on them as we passed to make sure they didn’t start following us.
“A door!” Mia shouted.
Mia pointed a few paces ahead of her. There was a door leading into the wall of the tunnel.
We ran towards it. Mia grabbed the handle, turned it and pulled. It was heavy and Mia had to brace her foot on the wall to get it moving.
The metal door groaned as if it hadn’t been opened in years.
Finally, it was open enough to see past.
It was a hallway. It went out about 5 yards then turned right at a 90 degree angle.
The strangest part was the design of the hallway.
It wasn’t cement or pavement like the tunnel.
The walls were wood paneled and the floor was covered in a thick carpet, like a house from the 1970s.
“I say we see where this takes us.” Mia said.
There was no reason to disagree, but I wasn’t going to get us trapped in there.
I opened up my backpack and took out a water bottle. I opened it and handed it to Mia. She drank half, then I drank the other half.
I slowly closed the door, shoving the empty water bottle in the crack to keep it from closing all the way.
I turned to Mia-- “Okay, let’s go.”
We slowly made our way down the quiet hallway. We got down to where the hallway cornered to the right and that’s when we heard it–
KA-CHUNK!!!--
I whipped around. The door had closed behind us. I ran back to it and tried to push it open, but it was no use. There was no way it closed on its own.
Someone had to have removed the water bottle. Our path had been chosen for us.
There was no turning back.
We continued down the hallway. We turned right. The hallway continued, then turned right again. That should have led us right back to the tunnel. But it didn’t. This part of the hallway went on far longer than was possible without running into the tunnel. Then it turned right again.
It went on like this. Sometimes a section of the hallway was 20 feet long, sometimes it was 20 yards long, sometimes it was 3 feet long. But it always turned to the right.
At first it was a relief to be somewhere other than the cold, dark tunnel. But the hallway very quickly became claustrophobic and before too long, I heard someone walking behind us.
We had stopped to take a break and I heard a third pair of footsteps on the carpet coming from behind us. I backtracked to the last corner.
I was terrified as I slowly peeked around the corner, tense and waiting to see the vacuous eyes and inky black hair of the Pale Faced Woman... but there was nothing there. I wasn’t about to backtrack any further.
“There was no one there.” I whispered.
Mia slumped against the wall and slid down to the carpet.
“I think I need to rest.” She said.
I put my backpack down on the ground for Mia to use as a pillow. She laid her head down and was passed out in seconds.
I had no idea how long we had been walking at this point. I stood leaning against the wall. My body was telling me to rest but I couldn’t risk falling asleep. I had to keep watch. I knew SHE was following us.
I took in the details of the hallway for the first time. The carpet was a dull brown and the walls a cheap wood paneling. The hanging lighting fixtures were shaded by stained glass, something you might see in an old diner.
Who built this place? Did someone pick out the carpet and the lighting fixtures? Did a team of workers blast these tunnels into the Earth? Or has this place always existed? Was this Purgatory?
I began to feel dizzy. I was panicking. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I slumped to the floor and tried to slow my breathing.
I closed my eyes... –
I SHOT up in a panic. I had fallen asleep while I was meant to be keeping watch.
I snapped to my feet and looked around.
Mia was still asleep on my backpack.
Then I noticed that the hallway had changed. A few paces away there was now a plain wooden door in the wall.
I slowly approached it. I put my ear to the door and I could hear what sounded like TV static and the low murmur of voices.
I discreetly grabbed the door handle and turned it slowly. I felt the latch bolt clear and I carefully cracked the door just enough to peek inside.
It was dark, so it took a second for me to register what I was seeing. I saw a small board room. A long table in the center was surrounded by seated men in suits.
At the end of the table stood another man next to an old CRT TV that was playing static. This was the only source of light in the room and all the men around the table were turned towards the tv.
Suddenly the screen flickered from static to a solid dark background. And some warped new age style muzak began playing.
Then the words appeared on the screen that terrified me like nothing else before. In plain text the words read–
“YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I froze as I knew these words were meant for me I watched with terror as the men seated around the table slowly turned toward me in unison.
They were mannequins.
The TV screen then clicked off and they continued staring at me as I could barely make out their forms through the near pitch darkness.
I quickly pulled the door shut. And whipped around to look at Mia, I had a horrible feeling of dread that when I turned around she would be gone, like the message on the TV promised–
“Eric? What are you doing?” Mia was leaning up and staring at me.
Thank God. There was Mia, right where I left her.
I pointed at the door and said, “This door appeared and I--”
“What door?” she interrupted.
I turned and sure enough, the door was now gone.
I explained what happened to her, but I left out the message that appeared on the screen.
-- YOU WILL LOSE HER –
Those words still burned in my brain. I tried to force them out.
We drank water, ate granola and then got moving again.
Hallways. Endless hallways.
After a couple hours of walking we started to hear music. There were small speakers in the corners of the ceiling.
I recognized it as the same new-age muzak that played on the TV in the board room. The melody drilled into our minds. Combined with the dull aesthetics of the quiet hallways and the endless right turns, the music had a hypnotizing effect.
The lengths of the halls became more uniform. That is to say, the straight section of hallway was about 7 paces, then a right turn, then 7 paces and a right turn.
“I think we’re walking in circles... or a square,” Mia said.
I looked at her and took out a bottle of water. I peeled off the plastic label and dropped it on the floor.
Then we kept walking.
7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. And there it was... Mia was right.
The label from my water bottle lay in the middle of the hallway. Somehow we had been led into a loop. I lost it.
“FUUUCK!”
I kicked the wall repeatedly and screamed. Mia just leaned her back against the wall.
This was our dynamic. If one of us lost it, the other became zen and thought of a solution. More often than not, I was the one to lose it.
I finally stopped freaking out
“There has to be a way out. A door,” Mia said.
“We would have seen it,” I replied.
“A hidden door,” she said.
She turned around and ran her hands along the cracks of the wood paneling.
“Most likely on the outer wall,” she said.
She beat her fist on the wall, listening for a change in the sound. I exhaled heavily, sweating and tired, and I started searching the wall as well.
We checked the whole first wall, nothing. We checked the second wall, nothing. The third, nothing.
The final wall... Nothing. I gave up and slumped on the floor. Mia immediately went over to the other side of the hall and started checking the inner wall.
“What are you doing? I thought you said it would be on the outer wall?” I asked.
Then we heard it.
Mia beat the wall and instead of the dead thud, we heard a resonate BOOM –
A door…
I shot up and started tapping the wall with Mia until we found where the door ended. It was the width of about 4 wooden panels. I lined myself up in the center, lowered my shoulder and pushed–
IT MOVED! It barely moved but it was enough to confirm this actually was a door! I re-centered and tried again, lowering my center of gravity, I pushed as hard as I could. The door pushed inward about 3 inches, then Mia joined in. We slowly moved the door, 5 inches, then 10, then 15, then 20.
Then Mia slipped inside.
I had a moment of panic as she disappeared into the darkness and those haunting words came back into my mind, “YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I darted past the doorway, falling through the threshold and hitting the concrete floor.
I looked up and there was Mia, thank God. I promised myself I’d never let her out of my sight again.
“The exit...” Mia said.
She looked and sounded as if she were a thousand miles away. I got to my feet and followed her gaze. What I saw nearly brought me to tears.
We were back in the tunnel, but there was light. About a mile down was the mouth of the tunnel, and daylight pouring in. Beautiful daylight. I grabbed Mia tight and kissed her.
“Thank God...” she cried.
We started moving. Nothing was going to slow us down this time. We sped up into a RUN down the maintenance walkway towards that beautiful sunlight.
As we approached, something else came into view. Parked in the middle of the roadway was a large vehicle…
It couldn’t be…
It was!
Our RV sat in the road waiting for us. We ran all the way to it, pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in. There were no mannequins to be seen.
I fell into the driver’s seat and Mia handed me the keys. I turned over the engine, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I shifted into gear and floored it towards the sunlight.
As we got closer, I could see the green of trees and the blue of the sky. We were maybe one hundred yards away.
I turned to Mia, tears in my eyes…
And what I saw turned my blood to ice.
Just beyond Mia’s window, that horrifying pale face grinned at me.
The Pale Faced Woman was somehow floating outside of the RV.
Before I could say anything, her hand smashed through the window and gripped Mia by the throat, then in one horrible motion the thing PULLED MIA SCREAMING THROUGH THE WINDOW AND…
Disappeared…
I SLAMMED on the breaks just as the RV passed through the exit of the tunnel and sunlight flooded the cab of the RV. I threw it in park and shot out of the door screaming.
“Mia!? Mia??!!”
I screamed over and over. I rounded the front of the RV and looked back at the tunnel –
-- and what I saw shattered my mind…
The tunnel was gone.
There was only open road.
I had lost her.
2024.05.21 21:15 dasanman69 What does your wardrobe budget look like?
 | submitted by dasanman69 to FuckImOld [link] [comments] |
2024.05.21 20:51 biggoof I sure hope we win next time against FCD
 | submitted by biggoof to AustinFC [link] [comments] |
2024.05.21 20:47 OhIboughtacar Plead guilty to Driving While Suspended. Now I'm suspended for a year.
I got a ticket in '21 for no seat belt in Louisiana. Hurricane Ida hit and my house was in shambles. We evacuated and had to live away from our house for weeks. In dealing with the fallout I forgot about the ticket and my license was suspended 6 months later. When I realized this, I payed the ticket immediately.
I then went through the difficult process of dealing with the OMV. They were still affected by COVID and getting in touch with a person was difficult. I can't remember what happened because it was 2 years ago, but I really thought I had taken care of everything with the OMV. I thought my license was reinstated and I could drive. Looking through my records now I can see a charge on my bank statement to the OMV of $17 for reinstatement (it should have been $100). I have no recept or other information of the payment.
Fast forward to this year, I got pulled over for a speeding ticket, and the officer said my license was suspended (still from not paying the seat belt violation). I was shocked. He took my license and gave me 2 tickets (speeding and driving while suspended) but let me drive 3 blocks to my house. I got in touch with the OMV and this time had a super easy time getting my license reinstated and I could see it was valid on the LA Wallet app.
This is where I did something really stupid. I tried to pay both tickets and realized I had to go to court for the Driving While Suspended charge. I went in expecting to plead not guilty and explain to the judge what happened, but that day the judge wasn't hearing anything other than a plea. The young lady in front of me tried to tell her story but the judge said she would have to plead not guilty to have her case heard.
There were so many things going through my head. I had so little time to think, I thought I was in traffic court and I didn't think this was a serious crime. I had yet to find in my records I had paid $17 to the OMV for the first attempt to reinstate. I thought the only penalty was going to be a fine. I just wanted to get it over and done with. So I plead guilty. I paid my fine and went on living and driving thinking this was finished.
This weekend I got a letter from the OMV saying because I was convicted my driving privileges are suspended for a YEAR. Not being able to drive for a year is devastating to me and my family. I had NO idea this was going to happen.
My question is what should I do now? Is there any one I can talk to to have my plea reversed? Should I get a lawyer (I'm really scared of having a large financial burden because of lawyer fees)?
I know hardship license exists but I'm scared of the driving restrictions. I have a job working self employed with a nonprofit. My job is weird. I drive to at least 5 different locations a week. I have conferences and service trips I go to in different states. I have to schedule to meet with people for donation purposes at random times. Not to mention driving kids to school, Dr visits, psych visits for my son's ADHD. But should I give up and go this route and try to work my life around it?
Sorry I know this is an information dump, but I'm not sure what info is relevant. I need help and I really don't know what I'm doing. At least some pointers in where to get started would be helpful. I'm trying to meet with someone from the DA's office today to see if they could help (a friend knows someone there). But if that doesn't help, I want to know what to do next.
TL; DR: Made a dumb decision and plead guilty to to driving while suspended instead of waiting to explain my case to the judge. Didn't realize the penalty and now a seatbelt violation has turned into a year suspension from driving.
submitted by OhIboughtacar to legaladvice [link] [comments]
I then went through the difficult process of dealing with the OMV. They were still affected by COVID and getting in touch with a person was difficult. I can't remember what happened because it was 2 years ago, but I really thought I had taken care of everything with the OMV. I thought my license was reinstated and I could drive. Looking through my records now I can see a charge on my bank statement to the OMV of $17 for reinstatement (it should have been $100). I have no recept or other information of the payment.
Fast forward to this year, I got pulled over for a speeding ticket, and the officer said my license was suspended (still from not paying the seat belt violation). I was shocked. He took my license and gave me 2 tickets (speeding and driving while suspended) but let me drive 3 blocks to my house. I got in touch with the OMV and this time had a super easy time getting my license reinstated and I could see it was valid on the LA Wallet app.
This is where I did something really stupid. I tried to pay both tickets and realized I had to go to court for the Driving While Suspended charge. I went in expecting to plead not guilty and explain to the judge what happened, but that day the judge wasn't hearing anything other than a plea. The young lady in front of me tried to tell her story but the judge said she would have to plead not guilty to have her case heard.
There were so many things going through my head. I had so little time to think, I thought I was in traffic court and I didn't think this was a serious crime. I had yet to find in my records I had paid $17 to the OMV for the first attempt to reinstate. I thought the only penalty was going to be a fine. I just wanted to get it over and done with. So I plead guilty. I paid my fine and went on living and driving thinking this was finished.
This weekend I got a letter from the OMV saying because I was convicted my driving privileges are suspended for a YEAR. Not being able to drive for a year is devastating to me and my family. I had NO idea this was going to happen.
My question is what should I do now? Is there any one I can talk to to have my plea reversed? Should I get a lawyer (I'm really scared of having a large financial burden because of lawyer fees)?
I know hardship license exists but I'm scared of the driving restrictions. I have a job working self employed with a nonprofit. My job is weird. I drive to at least 5 different locations a week. I have conferences and service trips I go to in different states. I have to schedule to meet with people for donation purposes at random times. Not to mention driving kids to school, Dr visits, psych visits for my son's ADHD. But should I give up and go this route and try to work my life around it?
Sorry I know this is an information dump, but I'm not sure what info is relevant. I need help and I really don't know what I'm doing. At least some pointers in where to get started would be helpful. I'm trying to meet with someone from the DA's office today to see if they could help (a friend knows someone there). But if that doesn't help, I want to know what to do next.
TL; DR: Made a dumb decision and plead guilty to to driving while suspended instead of waiting to explain my case to the judge. Didn't realize the penalty and now a seatbelt violation has turned into a year suspension from driving.
2024.05.21 20:04 Saca312 [FS][USA][CAN] VOUCHED SALE! DÜJ@ V£, M@1$0N K1TSÜN£, TH1$1$N3V£RTH@T, ŁV ȚŘÅ1N€Ř$, T$1 HIGH M0CHÂ, R3V3RS3, G0LF, PH@NT0M, ¥Z¥ BR3D, ÄJ1 ÜN10N BLK T0E, RUST, ÄJ4 M1ÐŃ1ĞĦŤ Ņ@V¥, M1L1T@RY BLÜE ,0R30, BR3D REIM@GINED + MORE
Hey all! Got some great stuff all around!
With the status of agents in limbo, get these for a great price and fast domestic shipping!
CURRENT VOUCH THREAD: https://www.reddit.com/RepVouch/comments/ntvbpw/usaca312_part_3/
• • •
CLOTHES
1.) DÜJ@ V£ BLACK JACKET SIZE M TTS - $55 SHIPPED
2.) TH1$1$N3V£RTH@T CREAM QUARTER ZIP SIZE M TTS - $40 SHIPPED
• • •
1.) LU3Y FÜTT0N TR@1N3RS
2.) ÅJ1 x T$ G0LF "N3UTR@L 0LIV3" L0W
3.) ÅJ1 1 x B@SEL PINK
4.) ÅJ1 1 x T$ OG HIGH BROWN
5.) ÅJ4 M1DN1GĦT NÄV¥
6.) ÅJ1 x T$ R3V3RSE M0ĆH@ LOW
7.) ÅJ1 x T$ OG L0W M0CHǍ
8.) ÅJ4 1NDÜ$TR1AL / M1L1TÄR¥ BLÜE
9.) ÅJ4 0R£0
10.) ÅJ4 BR3Ð R3IM@G1NED
11.) ÅJ1 x UN!0N BL@ĆK TOE
12.) ÅJ1 x T$ "PH@NT0M" L0W
•••
SOLD.) TAN CARGO F0G £$$€NT1@LS PANTS SIZE S (FITS S-M) - $48 SHIPPED
SOLD.) N!K£ DŨŃĶ L0W GR3Y F0G
SOLD.) DEADSTOCK G0Y@RD CARDHOLDERS
SOLD.) DEADSTOCK AM1R1 APPAREL
SOLD.) DEADSTOCK & NWT MENS UNDERGARMENT APPAREL
SOLD.) DEADSTOCK B@l3nc1@ga Apparel
SOLD.) DEADSTOCK LUEY FUTTON Apparel
SOLD.) DEADSTOCK GU€€I APPAREL
SOLD.) DEADSTOCK F0G APPAREL
SOLD.) B0TT3GA V3N3TA 0RBIT METALLIC
SOLD.) ÅJ1 x BAS3L IGL00
SOLD.) ǍJ1 x B@S3L ŘÚ$Ț P1ÑĶ
SOLD.) ÅJ1 1 x T$ OG HIGH BROWN
SOLD.) ÅJ4 BL@CK C@T
SOLD.) ÅJ1 x T$ R3V3RSE M0ĆH@ LOW
SOLD.) ÅJ1 UŅ1V3RS1TY BLUE
SOLD.) ÅJ4 1NDÜ$TR1AL / M1L1TÄR¥ BLÜE
SOLD.) ÅJ4 P1N£ GR3£Ņ
SOLD.) ÅJ4 BR3Ð R3IM@G1NED
SOLD.) ÅJ4 BLUE T$ C@ĆTÜ$ J@ÇĶ
SOLD.) ÅJ1 x T$ "PH@NT0M" L0W
SOLD). ÅJ1 x T$ "0L1V£" L0W
SOLD.) ÅJ1 x T$ OG L0W M0CHǍ
SOLD.) ÂJ1 x T$ x FR@GM£ÑT L0W
SOLD.) ÅJ4 M1L1TÄR¥ BL@CK
SOLD.) ¥Z¥ B00$T TREE-FIDDYv2 BR3D
SOLD.) ¥Z¥ B00$T TREE-FIDDYv2 CR3AM YT
SOLD.) ÅJ1 M1D SM0KE GR3Y
SOLD.) ÅJ11 LOW "SN@KE N@VY"
SOLD.) ÅJ4 0R£0
SOLD.) ÅJ1 BL@ÇK T0£S
SOLD.) ĀJ4 R3D THÜND£R
SOLD.) ǍJ3 RÆC£R BLÜ£
SOLD.) ÅJ1 x T$ G0LF "N3UTR@L 0LIV3" L0W
SOLD.) ÅJ4 UŅ1V3RS1TY BLŨ£
SOLD.) ǍJ1 ÜŃ10Ņ $T0ŘM BLÜ£
SOLD.) RETAIL (USED) ÄJ4 BL@ÇĶ CÃT$ SIZE 11 (eB@y Authenticated) - $335 SHIPPED
SOLD. ĄJ4 M3T@LL1C PÚRPL3
SOLD.) M@1$0N K1TSÜN£ WHITE CREWNECK SIZE M TTS - $50 SHIPPED
That is all for what I have! Feel free to reach out if you have any questions!
If you ever encounter any issues, please don't hesitate to reach out to me via PM or chat. I'll do my best to resolve them for you. If anything falls short of your expectations, please send me a message, as I'm committed to ensuring your satisfaction with your purchase. However, please understand that certain factors like shipping delays are beyond my control, and I won't be able to provide refunds in those cases. Your satisfaction with your purchase is my top priority!
Thank you for your understanding, and thank you for taking the time to browse through my items. If you're interested, feel free to PM, chat, or comment!
submitted by Saca312 to FashionRepsBST [link] [comments]
With the status of agents in limbo, get these for a great price and fast domestic shipping!
CURRENT VOUCH THREAD: https://www.reddit.com/RepVouch/comments/ntvbpw/usaca312_part_3/
- VENMO, CASHAPP, ZELLE AND PAYPAL F&F PRIMARY PREFERENCES. I AM VOUCHED, SO NO G&S NOR PAYPAL INVOICE ONLY VENMO, ZELLE, CASHAPP, AND PP F&F
- USA BASED. ALL PRICES INCLUDE SHIPPING FOR THE CONTIGUOUS USA. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU ARE NOT FROM THE USA, OR FROM HAWAII/ALASKA
- I'M A FAST SHIPPER. WILL BE SHIPPED THE DAY OF OR THE VERY NEXT BUSINESS DAY. TRACKING PROVIDED SAME DAY OF PURCHASE USUALLY. YOU CAN CHECK MY VOUCHES FOR THAT :)
• • •
CLOTHES
• • •
SHOES
I have a certain process with shoe orders to best serve you, the consumer. The following is a breakdown of important things to note:- CONDITION: All shoes are in pristine deadstock condition, fit TTS and complete with their original boxes and laces unless otherwise specified.
- PRICING: Pricing is determined by the acquisition cost (batch), convenience of domestic shipping, popularity and subjective assessment of quality.
- DESCRIPTIONS: Anything of necessary note will be provided in imgur albums to highlight any notable features. If none exist, assume I see no issues of note and consider both condition and quality to be of solid note reflective of its pricing.
- BATCH VARIABILITY: Please note that due to batch restocks and material supply constraints, I cannot guarantee a specific batch will have equivalent materials to oldenewer restocks. Therefore, I'm no longer listing the batch name. However, I'm here to provide my best interpretation + the batch supplier claims it is upon request. Typically, price is reflective of whether its a high quality batch or lower quality.
- ORDERING PROCESS: The pictures provided are an accurate representation of the item you'll receive, specific to your pair. Please include the specific size and pair letter desired (i.e. Size 11, Pair B, Basketball 1 Black Toebox) and I'll ensure that will be the exact pair ordered.
- Size 11 - PAIR A (green) - $125
- Size 9.5 - PAIR A - $90
- Size 9 - PAIR A - $100 , PAIR B - $100 , PAIR C - $100
- Size 9.5 - PAIR B - $100 , PAIR C - $100
- Size 8.5 - PAIR A (no box) - $110
- Size 9 - PAIR A - $120
- Size 9.5 - PAIR B (no box) - $110 , PAIR C (no box) - $110
- Size 10 - PAIR A (no box, b-grade) - $80 , PAIR B (no box) - $110 , PAIR C (no box) - $110
- Size 10.5 - PAIR C (no box, b-grade) - $70
- Size 11 - PAIR B - $120
- Size 12 - PAIR A - $110
- Size 10 - PAIR F - $115
- Size 10 - PAIR A - $115 , PAIR B - $115 , PAIR C - $115
- Size 9.5 - PAIR A - $125 , PAIR C - $125
- Size 13 - PAIR A - $115
- Size 9 - PAIR B - $125 , PAIR C - $125
- Size 9.5 - PAIR B - $125
- Size 10 - PAIR A - $125 , PAIR B - $125
- Size 9 - PAIR A - $125
- Size 9 - PAIR C - $115 , PAIR D - $115
SOLD ITEMS
- Size 11 -
PAIR A (Used) - $50
Hoodie Small Essentials Print Matcha Green Size S - $55Hoodie Small Essentials Print Apricot Size S - $55Hoodie Small Essentials Print Apricot Size M - $55
- Size 45 (Fits US11) -
PAIR A - $115
- Size 10.5 -
PAIR A - $100
- Size 10 -
PAIR A - $100
- Size 10.5 -
PAIR B (no box) - $110,PAIR A (no box) - $110, - Size 11 -
PAIR A - $120,PAIR C - $120
- Size 12 -
PAIR A - $125
- Size 8.5 -
PAIR C - $115,PAIR D - $115,PAIR B - $115,PAIR A - $115 - Size 9.5 -
PAIR A - $115 - Size 10 - ,
PAIR B - $115,PAIR C - $115,PAIR A - $115,PAIR E - $115, - Size 10.5 -
PAIR B - $115,PAIR A - $115 - Size 11 -
PAIR A - $115 - Size 14 -
PAIR A - $115
- Size 8.5 -
PAIR A (no box) - $70
- Size 9.5 -
PAIR B - $125, - Size 10 -
PAIR A - $125,PAIR B - $125, * Size 10 -PAIR C - $125 - Size 10.5 -
PAIR A - $125,PAIR B - $125,PAIR C - $125 - Size 11 -
PAIR B - $125,PAIR C - $125,PAIR A - $125 - Size 12 -
PAIR A - $125,PAIR B - $125
- Size 12 -
PAIR A - $125,PAIR B - $125 - Size 10.5 -
PAIR C (no box) - $110
- Size 8.5 -
PAIR A - $125 - Size 9 -
PAIR A - $125 - Size 9.5 -
PAIR C - $125 - Size 10 -
PAIR D - $125, , PAIR C - $125
- Size 13 -
PAIR A (no box) - $90
- Size 9 -
PAIR A - $115,PAIR B - $115, - Size 10 -
PAIR C - $115,PAIR A - $115,PAIR D- $115,PAIR D - $115 - Size 10.5 -
PAIR A - $115,PAIR C - $115, ,PAIR E - $115) ,PAIR D - $115,PAIR B - $115 - Size 11 -
PAIR B - $115,PAIR C - $115, ,PAIR E (no box) - $105 - Size 13 -
PAIR B - $115,PAIR B - $115 - Size 14 -
PAIR A - $115
- Size 9 (wmns 10.5) -
PAIR A - $115,PAIR B - $115 - Size 9.5 (womens 11) -
PAIR A - $115 - Size 10.5 (wmns 12) -
PAIR A - $115,PAIR B - $115,PAIR C - $115 - Size 11 (wmns 12.5) -
PAIR A - $115
- Size 7.5 -
PAIR A (no box) - $105 - Size 8.5 -
PAIR B (no box) - $105,PAIR C (comes w/ box) - $115,PAIR A (no box) - $105 - Size 9 -
PAIR B - $115 - Size 9.5 -
PAIR A - $115,PAIR C - $115,PAIR B - $115 - Size 10.5 -
PAIR A - $115,PAIR B - $115 - Size 12 -
PAIR A (no box) - $105
- Size 10.5 -
PAIR A - $115,PAIR C- $115,PAIR D - $115
- Size 12 -
PAIR A - $60
- Size 9 -
PAIR B - $90,PAIR C - $90 - Size 9.5 -
PAIR A - $90 - Size 10.5 -
PAIR C - $90 - Size 11 -
PAIR A - $90
- Size 11 -
PAIR A - $90
- Size 8 (9.5 wmns) -
PAIR A (no box) - $40
- Size 13 -
PAIR A - $70
- Size 11 -
PAIR A - $100
- Size 11 -
PAIR A (no box) - $90
- Size 10.5 -
PAIR A - $55
- Size 11 -
PAIR A - $75
- Size 9 -
PAIR C - $90,PAIR A - $90 - Size 11 -
PAIR A - $120
- Size 10.5 -
PAIR A - $105,PAIR B - $105
- Size 9 -
PAIR A - $125
- Size 12 -
PAIR A - $65
If you ever encounter any issues, please don't hesitate to reach out to me via PM or chat. I'll do my best to resolve them for you. If anything falls short of your expectations, please send me a message, as I'm committed to ensuring your satisfaction with your purchase. However, please understand that certain factors like shipping delays are beyond my control, and I won't be able to provide refunds in those cases. Your satisfaction with your purchase is my top priority!
Thank you for your understanding, and thank you for taking the time to browse through my items. If you're interested, feel free to PM, chat, or comment!
2024.05.21 19:50 pandaleee333 5/21/24 DROP THREAD
Happy drop day! When posting links please post in this format and no affiliate links!
Align Assymmetrical Bra Light Support A/B Cup Pride (Swirl Yellow, Poolside) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-sports-bras/Align-Asymm-Bra-Light-A-B-Cup-Pride/_/prod11720257?color=65608
Energy Bra Medium Support B-D Cup (Sundance) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-sports-bras/Energy-Bra-32925/_/prod9360058?color=36324
Free to Be Bra Light Support A/B Cup (Sundance) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-sports-bras/Free-To-Be-Bra-Wild/_/prod2810229?color=36324
Run Times Bra High Support B-G Cup (Sundance) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-sports-bras/Run-Times-Bra/_/prod9520104?color=36324
TOPS:
Align Cropped Cami Tank Top A/B Cup (Sundance) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-tanks/Align-Cropped-Cami-Tank/_/prod11680178?color=36324
Align T strap Tank Top Light Support A/B Cup (Palm Court) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-tanks/lululemon-Align-T-Strap-Tank-Top/_/prod11710064?color=37125&sz=8
Align Waist Length Racerback Tank Top (Palm Court) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-tanks/Align-WaistLength-Racerback-Tank/_/prod10930183?color=37125
All Yours Cropped Tank Top Pride (White, Glaze Pink) https://shop.lululemon.com/p/women-tanks/All-Yours-Cropped-Tank-Top-Pride/_/prod11720071?color=0002
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2024.05.21 18:50 bowinger7 How much do I put on the Twolves?
 | Id like to let it ride, but my experience tells me not to. What would you guys do? submitted by bowinger7 to sportsbetting [link] [comments] |
2024.05.21 18:48 Juzabro Forge of Darkness Chapter 6 summary
Part Two: The Solitude of This Fire
Chapter 6
Location: Hust Forge. Hust Henarald's conference room
POV: Kellaras
After making Kellaras wait some days, Hust Henarald finally grants him an audience and says "One day, I will be a child again". These words seem to be nonsense to Kellaras. While waiting for his audience he noticed the Hust Forge never stops working. Henarald goes on to say we all war with two parts of ourselves and both make weapons from anything at hand. Henarald asks Kellaras if Anomander simply wants a sword or to join the Hust Legion. He doesn't think Urusander's Legion would like that very much. Kellaras says he knows the request of a sword is unusual at this time. Henarald responds by saying others will see it as political. Perhaps even a secret allegiance. Kellaras is put off balance by Henarald's pragmatic responses and then shifting into ending each with "One day I will be a child again." Henarald asks for specs and Kellaras says Anomander wants the sword to be silent. Henarald responds by asking if he would prefer a gagged weapon and if Anomander will hide it's origin. Kellaras tells Henarald that Anomander wants his swords spine to be quenched in the purity of Darkness itself. Henarald muses on power and says those with the most power have the greatest fear and that means power is meaningless and delusional. Kellaras counters that the Forulkan would have enslaved the Tiste with their power had they won, but they lost to the power of the Tiste. Henarald responds, "A triumph in solitude makes a hollow sound, and to every glory proclaimed the heavens make no answer".
Kellaras reiterates that his master requests a sword. Henarald responds "To take the blood of Darkness". Kellaras is surprised by this as Mother Dark is not Azathanai. Henarald asks how she feeds her power and if now that Anomander knows the secret of House Hust if he will use it for political gain. Kellaras says his Lord is the ultimate secret keeper. Henarald agrees to forge Anomander's sword, but requires that he be present at the quenching of it by darkness to witness if it is blood Mother Dark uses. Kellaras tells him he won't be able to see anything and leaves the chamber trembling mostly upset by Henarald's repeated assertions that he will return to childhood.
Kellaras goes to the main hall where there is feast taking place. He pushes aside his doubts and is proud that he got Henarald's agreement to make the sword. He searches out Galar Baras and finds him leaning against a pillar staring at a woman that had just entered. Kellaras sees her see Galar Baras and watches her stiffen. The woman is Toras Redone. Kellaras notes that even grimed from hard travel she is beautiful and makes his way to Galar. Galar asks if Henarald spoke to Kellaras of childhood. Kellaras says yes, but does not understand. Kellaras invites Galar to join a table and Galar accepts though he tells him he can't drink. Galar tells the captain that the childhood thing troubles them all. Kellaras asks him to call him by his name and not rank. Galar says that Henarald claims that he is losing his recent memories, but no one can see any evidence of this. Galar tells Kellaras of a sickness called Loss of Iron that afflicts smiths. Kellaras tells Galar that in his meeting Henarald was sharp and focused. No evidence of a crumbling mind. Galar asks if he will tell Anomander of this. Galar says it has no bearing on the creation of the sword and says his master would likely just say returning to childhood isn't a bad idea.
POV: Galar Baras
Kellaras gets drunk and stumbles off and now Galar has to be alone with his thoughts and heartache at the presence of Toras Redone. She was still holding court at one of the tables and after a while she shuffles over to him. She comments on her husband transferring as far away as he could. She tells Galar that he is a pariah in the citadel. That people think him arrogant and dismissive. She knows that's not him, so is puzzled. She says he should have sex with the priestesses. That celibacy is not for soldiers. He should feed his appetites. Galar responds by asking if she is well fed. The barb slides off of her and she says well enough. She says she is certain that her husband stays true to her and that leads her to infidelity. Galar does not understand this. She changes the subject and says she has missed him. She tells him to go to bed, but he knows he won't be alone for long. He compares himself to Toras Redone's husband, Calat Hustain, knowing that both spend their nights alone, "because it was in their nature to choose it: to remain alone in the absence of love"
Location: Neret Sorr
POV: Kadaspala
With Osserc and Hunn Raal gone, Kadaspala is having a more enjoyable time having dinners with Urusander. The painting however was still irritating to him. He doubts anyone will see below the surface of his painting. He is finished and will leave in the morning. "There is but one god, and its name is beauty. There is but one kind of worship, and that is love. There is for us but one world, and we have scarred it beyond recognition". Kadaspala now truly sees Urusander and is terrified. Urusander asks him why he chose to accept this request. Kadaspala says he's denied hundreds, but if anyone can prevent a civil war, it's the man in the portrait. Although his thoughts imply that that may not be the same man standing before him.
Location: House Enes lands
POV: Cryl Durav
On his short self-imposed exile from the wedding preparations, Kryl finds the antlers of a long dead Eckalla. A symbol of triumph. Cryl thinks the triumph is hollow. Hunting for food was once a necessity, but that necessity bred traditions that resulted in the extinction of this animal. Thinking back on his youth he dreamt of discovering a new world free of Tiste where he could become prey and know the thrill of fear. Enesdia was also present in these fantasies. He thinks, "He had been trained for war just as he had been taught how to hunt and how to slay, and these were deemed necessary skills in preparation for adulthood. How sad was that?".
His horse notices some movement and he sees a troop of Tiste riders approaching. This makes no sense as there is no reason for them to come here on there way to somewhere else. Cryl rides to meet them and sees that they lead a score of Jheleck children. There were no chains. The captain of the company asks why Cryl is out this far and Cryl tells him who he is. The captain breaks in and says Cryl is probably fleeing the frenzy of the coming marriage. The captain introduces himself as Scara Bandaris and says there are two reasons for him being here, one trying to figure out what to do with the Jheleck hostages and two to attend the wedding. Cryl agrees to escort them all to house Enes. Scara perceptively guesses that Cryl is out here because he is in love with Enesdia. He says he will say no more on the subject.
There are 25 Jheleck children. Scara says they will raise wolves in these children. Cryl says he's heard they are more like hounds. Scara says hostage taking may come back to bite them. Scara laughs at his own joke and forces a smile onto Cryl's face. Cryl feels a little better.
Location: House Enes
POV: Enesdia
Enesdia is upset that Cryl has been gone for a few days. She searches out her father and overdramatically asks him why they are shirking their responsibility to their hostage. She says, "For all you know he could be lying at the bottom of a well, legs shattered and dying of thirst" Jaen responds "Dying of thirst in a well?" he tells her he sent him on a search for Eckalla. She says that's a hopeless quest. Jaen says Cryl's familiar with those. Enesdia asks what he means. Jaen responds that his time with House Enes is ending. It has only now struck Enesdia that her companion will not be at her side much longer. Enesdia laments the fact that Cryl's family has only one occupation. He will be a soldier like his only living brother, Spinnock. She muses that she could ask Andarist to offer Cryl a commission in the citadel, far away from fighting. Cryl would never know, but he would be safe.
Location: House Drukorlas
POV: Orfantal
Orfantal is standing near the estate road with Wreneck, a stable boy that used to be his friend. They are also standing near an old nag horse. They have been standing for some time. They are being circled by 3 feral dogs that have smelled the food that Orfantal carries. Orfantal wished he knew why Wreneck stopped being his friend, but it seemed impossible to ask now. Orfantal has all of his possessions in a trunk. They are not much. Orfantal thinks he could fit in there too, ready to be discarded. Wreneck is 10, Orfantal is 5. His grandmother is sending him off somewhere to learn how to grow up. He knows there will be a time when unhappiness comes into his life as it does with every boy. A wagon pulls up. It will be his ride to wherever he is going. Wreneck makes sure they know that he is going to the citadel and that he is nobleborn. Wreneck tells Orfantal that the old horse is blind in her left eye, so don't let anything ride on that side of her. Orfantal says goodbye to Wreneck and Wreneck waves dismissively and leaves.
POV: Wreneck
Wreneck turns from some distance to watch them leave with tears running down his face. He resolves himself to return to the "evil hag" and now he doesn't even have Orfantal to make his life easier. Nerys Drukorlat had forbidden him from playing or even speaking to Orfantal. She would fire him if he did. His mother and father and sisters relied on his income. He wished he could have played with Orfantal this entire morning and hugged him goodbye, but he was afraid of the evil hag.
Location: Toras Keep. On the road to the Citadel
POV: Orfantal
The party makes camp and the scarred old man who loaded Orfantal's trunk says that this is likely his horse's last journey. Orfantal is sad to not even know the horses name and wonders what things she has seen in her life. He decided that she had been a warhorse and saved her rider many times, but not from the betrayal that finally killed him. The leader of the troop introduces himself to Orfantal as Haral and tells him not to call him sir. He tells him he guards merchants and that's all. Orfantal asks about bandits. Haral says there are some Deniers. Haral tells Orfantal that he will be sharing Gripp's tent. The man who took care of his horse. He says that Gripp can be trusted and not some of the other men in the party.
Haral says after this he will be joining House Dracon's houseblades. Orfantal asks if he was a soldier once. Haral says few weren't in his generation. Orfantal introduces himself. Haral asks why she named him that. His name is a Yedan dialect. The holy language of the monks, Shake. Narad, one of the guards, says it means unwanted and laughs. Haral tells him to keep his mouth shut on this journey and tells Orfantal his name doesn't mean unwanted, it means unexpected. Narad laughs again and Haral savagely kicks him in the face then punches him. He then walks away from the unconscious guard. Orfantal is trembling and his heart is beating fast. Gripp comes over and calms him down. He says it's discipline and Narad was pushing for weeks. Orfantal now has a face to put to all the faceless betrayers in his war games. Narad. Gripp shows Orfantal how to raise a tent.
Location: Within sight of Dracon's Hold
POV: Ivis
Ivis and Sandalath are riding towards the hold. Ivis tells her that Draconus will be gone for several weeks still. Her body tells him that she probably had a child, but that's none of his business. She is now a hostage at House Dracon's and she will be treated well. Sandalath asks where Draconus comes from. Ivis says even his servants do not know, but he proved his worth in the war. Ivis is upset at the discipline now presented by his houseblades and resolves to fix it. Sandalath is being led to a warm bath and thanks Ivis. He responds, "My pleasure, milady". Hilith the head of the house maids does not like him calling her a lady as she is only hostage now. She lets him know it. Ivis says, "Old woman, you are no queen to so command me. I will choose the honorific our guest deserves. She rode well and without complaint. If you have complaint, await the pleasure of our lord upon his return. In the meantime, spit out that sour grape you so love to suck on, and be dutiful." Hilith says this isn't over. Ivis responds with a command to leave his courtyard and if he hears of her being miserable to the hostage that it will in fact not be over.
Location: Dracon's Hold
POV: Sandalath
Hilith tells Sandalath to come with her to the bath. Sandalath asks if the water is hot. and asks her if there is wood ready just in case. Sandalath challenges Hilith and says she is to treat her as if she was the lady of the house. Hilith bristles but agrees. Sandalath remembers her first stint as a hostage and the horrible hag that made her life miserable until Andarist found out and got rid of her. If Hilith turns out to be the same, she will tell Draconus. A younger maid escorts her to the correct bath, not the one Hilith had prepared for her. Sandalath says if Hilith is her enemy, then Sandalath should have many allies. The maid smiles and says thousands. Sandalath asks the maid about Ivis and if she finds him handsome. She says he is old, but Sandalath doesn't think so. Sandalath tells the maid she feels welcomed by this house and feels born anew.
submitted by Juzabro to Malazan [link] [comments]
Chapter 6
Location: Hust Forge. Hust Henarald's conference room
POV: Kellaras
After making Kellaras wait some days, Hust Henarald finally grants him an audience and says "One day, I will be a child again". These words seem to be nonsense to Kellaras. While waiting for his audience he noticed the Hust Forge never stops working. Henarald goes on to say we all war with two parts of ourselves and both make weapons from anything at hand. Henarald asks Kellaras if Anomander simply wants a sword or to join the Hust Legion. He doesn't think Urusander's Legion would like that very much. Kellaras says he knows the request of a sword is unusual at this time. Henarald responds by saying others will see it as political. Perhaps even a secret allegiance. Kellaras is put off balance by Henarald's pragmatic responses and then shifting into ending each with "One day I will be a child again." Henarald asks for specs and Kellaras says Anomander wants the sword to be silent. Henarald responds by asking if he would prefer a gagged weapon and if Anomander will hide it's origin. Kellaras tells Henarald that Anomander wants his swords spine to be quenched in the purity of Darkness itself. Henarald muses on power and says those with the most power have the greatest fear and that means power is meaningless and delusional. Kellaras counters that the Forulkan would have enslaved the Tiste with their power had they won, but they lost to the power of the Tiste. Henarald responds, "A triumph in solitude makes a hollow sound, and to every glory proclaimed the heavens make no answer".
Kellaras reiterates that his master requests a sword. Henarald responds "To take the blood of Darkness". Kellaras is surprised by this as Mother Dark is not Azathanai. Henarald asks how she feeds her power and if now that Anomander knows the secret of House Hust if he will use it for political gain. Kellaras says his Lord is the ultimate secret keeper. Henarald agrees to forge Anomander's sword, but requires that he be present at the quenching of it by darkness to witness if it is blood Mother Dark uses. Kellaras tells him he won't be able to see anything and leaves the chamber trembling mostly upset by Henarald's repeated assertions that he will return to childhood.
Kellaras goes to the main hall where there is feast taking place. He pushes aside his doubts and is proud that he got Henarald's agreement to make the sword. He searches out Galar Baras and finds him leaning against a pillar staring at a woman that had just entered. Kellaras sees her see Galar Baras and watches her stiffen. The woman is Toras Redone. Kellaras notes that even grimed from hard travel she is beautiful and makes his way to Galar. Galar asks if Henarald spoke to Kellaras of childhood. Kellaras says yes, but does not understand. Kellaras invites Galar to join a table and Galar accepts though he tells him he can't drink. Galar tells the captain that the childhood thing troubles them all. Kellaras asks him to call him by his name and not rank. Galar says that Henarald claims that he is losing his recent memories, but no one can see any evidence of this. Galar tells Kellaras of a sickness called Loss of Iron that afflicts smiths. Kellaras tells Galar that in his meeting Henarald was sharp and focused. No evidence of a crumbling mind. Galar asks if he will tell Anomander of this. Galar says it has no bearing on the creation of the sword and says his master would likely just say returning to childhood isn't a bad idea.
POV: Galar Baras
Kellaras gets drunk and stumbles off and now Galar has to be alone with his thoughts and heartache at the presence of Toras Redone. She was still holding court at one of the tables and after a while she shuffles over to him. She comments on her husband transferring as far away as he could. She tells Galar that he is a pariah in the citadel. That people think him arrogant and dismissive. She knows that's not him, so is puzzled. She says he should have sex with the priestesses. That celibacy is not for soldiers. He should feed his appetites. Galar responds by asking if she is well fed. The barb slides off of her and she says well enough. She says she is certain that her husband stays true to her and that leads her to infidelity. Galar does not understand this. She changes the subject and says she has missed him. She tells him to go to bed, but he knows he won't be alone for long. He compares himself to Toras Redone's husband, Calat Hustain, knowing that both spend their nights alone, "because it was in their nature to choose it: to remain alone in the absence of love"
Location: Neret Sorr
POV: Kadaspala
With Osserc and Hunn Raal gone, Kadaspala is having a more enjoyable time having dinners with Urusander. The painting however was still irritating to him. He doubts anyone will see below the surface of his painting. He is finished and will leave in the morning. "There is but one god, and its name is beauty. There is but one kind of worship, and that is love. There is for us but one world, and we have scarred it beyond recognition". Kadaspala now truly sees Urusander and is terrified. Urusander asks him why he chose to accept this request. Kadaspala says he's denied hundreds, but if anyone can prevent a civil war, it's the man in the portrait. Although his thoughts imply that that may not be the same man standing before him.
Location: House Enes lands
POV: Cryl Durav
On his short self-imposed exile from the wedding preparations, Kryl finds the antlers of a long dead Eckalla. A symbol of triumph. Cryl thinks the triumph is hollow. Hunting for food was once a necessity, but that necessity bred traditions that resulted in the extinction of this animal. Thinking back on his youth he dreamt of discovering a new world free of Tiste where he could become prey and know the thrill of fear. Enesdia was also present in these fantasies. He thinks, "He had been trained for war just as he had been taught how to hunt and how to slay, and these were deemed necessary skills in preparation for adulthood. How sad was that?".
His horse notices some movement and he sees a troop of Tiste riders approaching. This makes no sense as there is no reason for them to come here on there way to somewhere else. Cryl rides to meet them and sees that they lead a score of Jheleck children. There were no chains. The captain of the company asks why Cryl is out this far and Cryl tells him who he is. The captain breaks in and says Cryl is probably fleeing the frenzy of the coming marriage. The captain introduces himself as Scara Bandaris and says there are two reasons for him being here, one trying to figure out what to do with the Jheleck hostages and two to attend the wedding. Cryl agrees to escort them all to house Enes. Scara perceptively guesses that Cryl is out here because he is in love with Enesdia. He says he will say no more on the subject.
There are 25 Jheleck children. Scara says they will raise wolves in these children. Cryl says he's heard they are more like hounds. Scara says hostage taking may come back to bite them. Scara laughs at his own joke and forces a smile onto Cryl's face. Cryl feels a little better.
Location: House Enes
POV: Enesdia
Enesdia is upset that Cryl has been gone for a few days. She searches out her father and overdramatically asks him why they are shirking their responsibility to their hostage. She says, "For all you know he could be lying at the bottom of a well, legs shattered and dying of thirst" Jaen responds "Dying of thirst in a well?" he tells her he sent him on a search for Eckalla. She says that's a hopeless quest. Jaen says Cryl's familiar with those. Enesdia asks what he means. Jaen responds that his time with House Enes is ending. It has only now struck Enesdia that her companion will not be at her side much longer. Enesdia laments the fact that Cryl's family has only one occupation. He will be a soldier like his only living brother, Spinnock. She muses that she could ask Andarist to offer Cryl a commission in the citadel, far away from fighting. Cryl would never know, but he would be safe.
Location: House Drukorlas
POV: Orfantal
Orfantal is standing near the estate road with Wreneck, a stable boy that used to be his friend. They are also standing near an old nag horse. They have been standing for some time. They are being circled by 3 feral dogs that have smelled the food that Orfantal carries. Orfantal wished he knew why Wreneck stopped being his friend, but it seemed impossible to ask now. Orfantal has all of his possessions in a trunk. They are not much. Orfantal thinks he could fit in there too, ready to be discarded. Wreneck is 10, Orfantal is 5. His grandmother is sending him off somewhere to learn how to grow up. He knows there will be a time when unhappiness comes into his life as it does with every boy. A wagon pulls up. It will be his ride to wherever he is going. Wreneck makes sure they know that he is going to the citadel and that he is nobleborn. Wreneck tells Orfantal that the old horse is blind in her left eye, so don't let anything ride on that side of her. Orfantal says goodbye to Wreneck and Wreneck waves dismissively and leaves.
POV: Wreneck
Wreneck turns from some distance to watch them leave with tears running down his face. He resolves himself to return to the "evil hag" and now he doesn't even have Orfantal to make his life easier. Nerys Drukorlat had forbidden him from playing or even speaking to Orfantal. She would fire him if he did. His mother and father and sisters relied on his income. He wished he could have played with Orfantal this entire morning and hugged him goodbye, but he was afraid of the evil hag.
Location: Toras Keep. On the road to the Citadel
POV: Orfantal
The party makes camp and the scarred old man who loaded Orfantal's trunk says that this is likely his horse's last journey. Orfantal is sad to not even know the horses name and wonders what things she has seen in her life. He decided that she had been a warhorse and saved her rider many times, but not from the betrayal that finally killed him. The leader of the troop introduces himself to Orfantal as Haral and tells him not to call him sir. He tells him he guards merchants and that's all. Orfantal asks about bandits. Haral says there are some Deniers. Haral tells Orfantal that he will be sharing Gripp's tent. The man who took care of his horse. He says that Gripp can be trusted and not some of the other men in the party.
Haral says after this he will be joining House Dracon's houseblades. Orfantal asks if he was a soldier once. Haral says few weren't in his generation. Orfantal introduces himself. Haral asks why she named him that. His name is a Yedan dialect. The holy language of the monks, Shake. Narad, one of the guards, says it means unwanted and laughs. Haral tells him to keep his mouth shut on this journey and tells Orfantal his name doesn't mean unwanted, it means unexpected. Narad laughs again and Haral savagely kicks him in the face then punches him. He then walks away from the unconscious guard. Orfantal is trembling and his heart is beating fast. Gripp comes over and calms him down. He says it's discipline and Narad was pushing for weeks. Orfantal now has a face to put to all the faceless betrayers in his war games. Narad. Gripp shows Orfantal how to raise a tent.
Location: Within sight of Dracon's Hold
POV: Ivis
Ivis and Sandalath are riding towards the hold. Ivis tells her that Draconus will be gone for several weeks still. Her body tells him that she probably had a child, but that's none of his business. She is now a hostage at House Dracon's and she will be treated well. Sandalath asks where Draconus comes from. Ivis says even his servants do not know, but he proved his worth in the war. Ivis is upset at the discipline now presented by his houseblades and resolves to fix it. Sandalath is being led to a warm bath and thanks Ivis. He responds, "My pleasure, milady". Hilith the head of the house maids does not like him calling her a lady as she is only hostage now. She lets him know it. Ivis says, "Old woman, you are no queen to so command me. I will choose the honorific our guest deserves. She rode well and without complaint. If you have complaint, await the pleasure of our lord upon his return. In the meantime, spit out that sour grape you so love to suck on, and be dutiful." Hilith says this isn't over. Ivis responds with a command to leave his courtyard and if he hears of her being miserable to the hostage that it will in fact not be over.
Location: Dracon's Hold
POV: Sandalath
Hilith tells Sandalath to come with her to the bath. Sandalath asks if the water is hot. and asks her if there is wood ready just in case. Sandalath challenges Hilith and says she is to treat her as if she was the lady of the house. Hilith bristles but agrees. Sandalath remembers her first stint as a hostage and the horrible hag that made her life miserable until Andarist found out and got rid of her. If Hilith turns out to be the same, she will tell Draconus. A younger maid escorts her to the correct bath, not the one Hilith had prepared for her. Sandalath says if Hilith is her enemy, then Sandalath should have many allies. The maid smiles and says thousands. Sandalath asks the maid about Ivis and if she finds him handsome. She says he is old, but Sandalath doesn't think so. Sandalath tells the maid she feels welcomed by this house and feels born anew.