Infant red rash on arms and legs
Sploot
2015.03.27 02:21 oom23 Sploot
Welcome to /Sploot! We are a community dedicated to animals posing with their arms/legs stretched out, which is also referred to as "frogging" by some people.
2015.03.30 06:19 Socialist Rifle Association
Never disarm the working class! Welcome to the unofficial subreddit of the Socialist Rifle Association. Visit the SRA website for membership information.
2014.01.14 19:28 Information and support for those affected by Restless Legs Syndrome
Welcome to the community of Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS), also known as Willis-Ekbom Disease. PLEASE VISIT OUR FAQ: https://www.reddit.com/RestlessLegs/comments/tnphkq/faq/ This is a place to connect with others, discuss treatment options, and kick around ideas. There is help and hope for RLS!
2024.05.19 16:41 Cultural_Sleep9678 Fulgrim's little Muse (2/?)
"Explain your past, Musa" the gov'ness walks at my right, shielding my from the piercing sun as we walks with the caravan. After the trench was dismantled, we are walking by foot to reach the capital, as the trench-line have been pushed far into our homeland.
"I was a cook when the war started, gov'ness" and now I am left wondering why did she chose me from anyone else in the caravan, there's the sergeant, the whom she asked to see earlier today.
"You have been trusted to cook rations for your company, as early as the war?" her baroque companion, similarly donned in her armor, walks close by ours, but never overtook us.
"No, gov'ness, I was a 10 years old when the war started, the war went for seven years and I fought for the last two" before she came, with weapons of the stars that could've decimate my trench instead of theirs
"Such a young man you are, seven years ago, the Emperor grants me audience, revealing that I was his progenitor"
This talk about an "imperium" across the stars and the deified emperor has gotten me worried. Is that her reason for talking to me, to ease my pain before sending me to the stars far from here? Or simply an act of pity?
The meager town came into view, and was it not for the ancient structure, we would've thought this was anywhere but the capital. Gray skies and beaten earth have become the synonym for the heart of Nagorow.
"I must say, this was not our expectation when your leader came into contact with my ship, begging for salvation" the gov'ness depart from me, and my instinct was to follow her, but who am I to her? And so I stay put and follow the rest of the caravan back to the main camp.
"You're lucky to have an audience with the Lady, runt" one of gov'ness' companion knocked me to the dirt, assuming that he's doing it out of spite and jealousy. I can see him walking to gov'ness
"I apologize for my companion's doing" another of gov'ness', as he extends his fingers that allowed me to stand to my feet "Lucius was indeed jealous, he was our best melee combatant and our Primarch haven't even bat an eye for him"
"Is that a rare thing?" Lucius and the gov'ness seems to enter the structure, doing their business there. I quickly glance at my watch, the gray sky seems to be forever, and it shows 1641. And I quickly look back at the gov'ness companion
"It is, perhaps Mother saw something within you, perhaps yours was interesting at the moment" the giant release his helmet, letting his bronze hair free from the confine "I am Rylanor, pleasure to meet you, Musa"
"As is mine, gov'nor"
The Sejm was delightful in seeing Fulgrim and her companions, as well as the news of the apparent victory on the frontlines. Such delight warrants them to spent their moneys on a grand feast right at the capital, inviting everyone within range to attend, with the guest of honor being the gov'ness herself.
"I would have thought you are with Mother, Musa" Rylanor brought two plates in his palm, the plate whom was enough for me was made miniscule by his hands, each contained meager food they could thrown
"Thanks, gov'nor" the feast gives us chair to sit, yet here I stand with him, outside of the building. Somehow the gov'nor chose to make a companion out of me, whilst gov'ness over there busy herself with her empire in the suns.
"I almost forgot what a food taste, Musa, back in the campaign, we would be served liquid ration with occasional starch" I took a look at him, and his plate was already cleaned
"You should try my cooking then, I cook better"
We let a simple laugh from the situation, from a soldier to another, from a human to another too. The door barges open and whom I thought to be Lucius emerge, escaping the feast.
"It's obnoxious inside, Rylanor, if you wish to see me, then don't, I'm heading to the nearest landing coordinate" and went he goes, somewhere place only he, gov'nor and gov'ness know. Something that I would not understand no matter how much gov'nor taught me.
"I have to agree with dear Lucius there" and speak of the gov'ness, and she shall came, looking at the horizon "they barely separate the nobility and the peasant"
I didn't mean to stare, but gov'ness wore something fine, something you'd see from paintings high in temple's ceiling, an ascendant of man. Looking carefully, it seems she wore old Nagorovian dress and modify it to suit her stature, or rather, her figure. She need not a corset, it seems.
"The food is delectable, Mother" Rylanor already took my plate without my knowing, something that I relent
"Every food is delectable when you are starved of them, dear Rylanor"
We all watched as a star suddenly rose at the horizon, perhaps something to do with Lucius and his departure. I suppose this is our future, being shackled by another uncaring emperor to fight the dangers of mankind.
"Say, Rylanor, but does that star seems approaching us?" and behind Lucius' ascend, a second star indeed looks as if its getting nearer. Just before I respond, nor gov'nor did for that matter, the air raid sirens blare and screech
"It is too late to dodge the missile, Mother, and I am the only one still wearing my armor, I would suggest taking a shield behind me" Rylanor easily stood and tower over us. I didn't even wait as I quickly take cover.
"Don't be ridiculous, Rylanor, these brutes couldn't even muster the technology to weaponize simple nuclear reaction" Rylanor didn't wait and cover me with his entire figure, and I just prayed that whatever nuclear is nor what reaction it cause would not be as devastating as I'd fear.
The moment of impact was blurry, but there was an apparent pain riddled to it, as the temperature rose akin to a sun blasting us with the heat. Like what was drilled into my head, I quickly wrap my entire face with anything, covering up the assuredly loud aftermath and the shrapnel flying around. I couldn't hear
And I wish I wouldn't hear
By the time the air around began to cool, my throat was hoarse, as if I have been shouting the entire time. It wasn't until I noticed the spasmic movement on my mouth that I realized, I have been barking around.
"At ease, gov'nor, at ease lads" I chanted
"It seems it was a nuclear explosion, Mother, albeit a primitive version of it" Rylanor seems to ignore my rant, addressing the gov'ness instead. He then release me, before coughing up liquids right at my face "apologies" he mumbles
"Be damned your humor, Rylanor" I hear the gov'ness, rasping in breath as I slowly gather my senses "Musa, you lived it seems" my eyes were blinking rapidly, due to the heat and the dust it caused "oh Rylanor, I apologized for your condition".
When my eyes fully recovered, I saw only desolation. No Man's Land was gentler than this, water and mud found refuge within them after all. But what I saw was beyond it, ruins and dry earth, trees and building charred, and people would likely evaporate. Peoples, on whom I was fighting with and fighting for, for two damned years. I couldn't take it anymore, first Maria and now this? Fate was far too cruel
Liquid barge through my mouth, followed close by every air in my lungs and waters in my eyes. There was no rythym, only that I was doing it in instinct, lying on all fours at the stairs near the gov'nor and gov'ness.
Only then did I brave to stand up, looking at them and the impact it caused. Gov'nor seems to be stuck in his place, unable to move as his hair rotted away and flesh melts to his armor. Now I understand why did he puke. The gov'ness was way less impacted, as her clothing burnt with the flesh on her skins, with her lying on her back.
"Cease your staring, Musa" she quickly commanded
"Yes ma'am" I quickly slap my cheek, a soldier need to finish his duties until the bitter end, and the enemy was no better after all "orders, gov'ness?"
"You're waiting for my orders?" she slowly sat herself, throwing out blood from her mouth while her arms sizzle and creates smoke "so it seems, help me get to one of landing coordinates" when she did sat, she saw her own legs, crushed from the debris of the railings and burnt to crisp "it seems I would have to relegate the matter of combat to you"
"Private Musa at the ready, gov'ness" so soon to serve this faraway empire, and my first duty is to escape the chaos that will ensue. And first, I need to find a cart or I will be carrying the giant on my back
"Musa, before you go" Rylanor rasp and wheeze as he reach for something, before he carved it with letters and numbers "you are familiar with latitudes and longitudes of your planet, I assume, and if not then you can ask Mother for direction" he gave me the knife, on which he have engraved numbers.
"And what will happen to you, gov'nor?" I took the knife and pocket it, then looking back at the gov'ness
"I will be fine, Musa, all I ask is that you deliver Mother there to the place, and rest assured that you will be awarded"
I ignore the last part, something about the futility in wealth and glory that I realized, living as a cook my entire life before becoming a soldier taught me that. I quickly strip my clothing, and though I have to face the cold soon, finding the gov'ness means of transportation is more valuable. I quickly wrapped the gov'ness legs with a shirt, then I cut another of my shirt into pieces before I wrapped it at her so I can carry her off, my suspender helped in holding her together too
"Something tells me I won't enjoy the journey" Fulgrim murmurs as she rest on my shoulder
"Be safe Mother, I pray that Musa will be sufficient to you"
submitted by Cultural_Sleep9678 to PrimarchGFs [link] [comments]
"I was a cook when the war started, gov'ness" and now I am left wondering why did she chose me from anyone else in the caravan, there's the sergeant, the whom she asked to see earlier today.
"You have been trusted to cook rations for your company, as early as the war?" her baroque companion, similarly donned in her armor, walks close by ours, but never overtook us.
"No, gov'ness, I was a 10 years old when the war started, the war went for seven years and I fought for the last two" before she came, with weapons of the stars that could've decimate my trench instead of theirs
"Such a young man you are, seven years ago, the Emperor grants me audience, revealing that I was his progenitor"
This talk about an "imperium" across the stars and the deified emperor has gotten me worried. Is that her reason for talking to me, to ease my pain before sending me to the stars far from here? Or simply an act of pity?
The meager town came into view, and was it not for the ancient structure, we would've thought this was anywhere but the capital. Gray skies and beaten earth have become the synonym for the heart of Nagorow.
"I must say, this was not our expectation when your leader came into contact with my ship, begging for salvation" the gov'ness depart from me, and my instinct was to follow her, but who am I to her? And so I stay put and follow the rest of the caravan back to the main camp.
"You're lucky to have an audience with the Lady, runt" one of gov'ness' companion knocked me to the dirt, assuming that he's doing it out of spite and jealousy. I can see him walking to gov'ness
"I apologize for my companion's doing" another of gov'ness', as he extends his fingers that allowed me to stand to my feet "Lucius was indeed jealous, he was our best melee combatant and our Primarch haven't even bat an eye for him"
"Is that a rare thing?" Lucius and the gov'ness seems to enter the structure, doing their business there. I quickly glance at my watch, the gray sky seems to be forever, and it shows 1641. And I quickly look back at the gov'ness companion
"It is, perhaps Mother saw something within you, perhaps yours was interesting at the moment" the giant release his helmet, letting his bronze hair free from the confine "I am Rylanor, pleasure to meet you, Musa"
"As is mine, gov'nor"
"I would have thought you are with Mother, Musa" Rylanor brought two plates in his palm, the plate whom was enough for me was made miniscule by his hands, each contained meager food they could thrown
"Thanks, gov'nor" the feast gives us chair to sit, yet here I stand with him, outside of the building. Somehow the gov'nor chose to make a companion out of me, whilst gov'ness over there busy herself with her empire in the suns.
"I almost forgot what a food taste, Musa, back in the campaign, we would be served liquid ration with occasional starch" I took a look at him, and his plate was already cleaned
"You should try my cooking then, I cook better"
We let a simple laugh from the situation, from a soldier to another, from a human to another too. The door barges open and whom I thought to be Lucius emerge, escaping the feast.
"It's obnoxious inside, Rylanor, if you wish to see me, then don't, I'm heading to the nearest landing coordinate" and went he goes, somewhere place only he, gov'nor and gov'ness know. Something that I would not understand no matter how much gov'nor taught me.
"I have to agree with dear Lucius there" and speak of the gov'ness, and she shall came, looking at the horizon "they barely separate the nobility and the peasant"
I didn't mean to stare, but gov'ness wore something fine, something you'd see from paintings high in temple's ceiling, an ascendant of man. Looking carefully, it seems she wore old Nagorovian dress and modify it to suit her stature, or rather, her figure. She need not a corset, it seems.
"The food is delectable, Mother" Rylanor already took my plate without my knowing, something that I relent
"Every food is delectable when you are starved of them, dear Rylanor"
We all watched as a star suddenly rose at the horizon, perhaps something to do with Lucius and his departure. I suppose this is our future, being shackled by another uncaring emperor to fight the dangers of mankind.
"Say, Rylanor, but does that star seems approaching us?" and behind Lucius' ascend, a second star indeed looks as if its getting nearer. Just before I respond, nor gov'nor did for that matter, the air raid sirens blare and screech
"It is too late to dodge the missile, Mother, and I am the only one still wearing my armor, I would suggest taking a shield behind me" Rylanor easily stood and tower over us. I didn't even wait as I quickly take cover.
"Don't be ridiculous, Rylanor, these brutes couldn't even muster the technology to weaponize simple nuclear reaction" Rylanor didn't wait and cover me with his entire figure, and I just prayed that whatever nuclear is nor what reaction it cause would not be as devastating as I'd fear.
The moment of impact was blurry, but there was an apparent pain riddled to it, as the temperature rose akin to a sun blasting us with the heat. Like what was drilled into my head, I quickly wrap my entire face with anything, covering up the assuredly loud aftermath and the shrapnel flying around. I couldn't hear
And I wish I wouldn't hear
By the time the air around began to cool, my throat was hoarse, as if I have been shouting the entire time. It wasn't until I noticed the spasmic movement on my mouth that I realized, I have been barking around.
"At ease, gov'nor, at ease lads" I chanted
"It seems it was a nuclear explosion, Mother, albeit a primitive version of it" Rylanor seems to ignore my rant, addressing the gov'ness instead. He then release me, before coughing up liquids right at my face "apologies" he mumbles
"Be damned your humor, Rylanor" I hear the gov'ness, rasping in breath as I slowly gather my senses "Musa, you lived it seems" my eyes were blinking rapidly, due to the heat and the dust it caused "oh Rylanor, I apologized for your condition".
When my eyes fully recovered, I saw only desolation. No Man's Land was gentler than this, water and mud found refuge within them after all. But what I saw was beyond it, ruins and dry earth, trees and building charred, and people would likely evaporate. Peoples, on whom I was fighting with and fighting for, for two damned years. I couldn't take it anymore, first Maria and now this? Fate was far too cruel
Liquid barge through my mouth, followed close by every air in my lungs and waters in my eyes. There was no rythym, only that I was doing it in instinct, lying on all fours at the stairs near the gov'nor and gov'ness.
Only then did I brave to stand up, looking at them and the impact it caused. Gov'nor seems to be stuck in his place, unable to move as his hair rotted away and flesh melts to his armor. Now I understand why did he puke. The gov'ness was way less impacted, as her clothing burnt with the flesh on her skins, with her lying on her back.
"Cease your staring, Musa" she quickly commanded
"Yes ma'am" I quickly slap my cheek, a soldier need to finish his duties until the bitter end, and the enemy was no better after all "orders, gov'ness?"
"You're waiting for my orders?" she slowly sat herself, throwing out blood from her mouth while her arms sizzle and creates smoke "so it seems, help me get to one of landing coordinates" when she did sat, she saw her own legs, crushed from the debris of the railings and burnt to crisp "it seems I would have to relegate the matter of combat to you"
"Private Musa at the ready, gov'ness" so soon to serve this faraway empire, and my first duty is to escape the chaos that will ensue. And first, I need to find a cart or I will be carrying the giant on my back
"Musa, before you go" Rylanor rasp and wheeze as he reach for something, before he carved it with letters and numbers "you are familiar with latitudes and longitudes of your planet, I assume, and if not then you can ask Mother for direction" he gave me the knife, on which he have engraved numbers.
"And what will happen to you, gov'nor?" I took the knife and pocket it, then looking back at the gov'ness
"I will be fine, Musa, all I ask is that you deliver Mother there to the place, and rest assured that you will be awarded"
I ignore the last part, something about the futility in wealth and glory that I realized, living as a cook my entire life before becoming a soldier taught me that. I quickly strip my clothing, and though I have to face the cold soon, finding the gov'ness means of transportation is more valuable. I quickly wrapped the gov'ness legs with a shirt, then I cut another of my shirt into pieces before I wrapped it at her so I can carry her off, my suspender helped in holding her together too
"Something tells me I won't enjoy the journey" Fulgrim murmurs as she rest on my shoulder
"Be safe Mother, I pray that Musa will be sufficient to you"
2024.05.19 16:40 FutureQuirky1427 Seeing an ex's hotter new girlfriend
I was seeing this guy who was a bit out of my league last year for 3ish months. I'm pretty, but I'm not white. I'm funny, smart, educated, stylish, interesting. He is very well educated and well dressed and successful - we're both top 3 college, top finance job, etc. He's very tall and handsome too. He had mentioned to me many times while seeing each other hes very picky, hes into thinner women, and likes blue eyes.
I felt sort of honored because he chose to keep seeing me with all these criteria. (he had more). He complimented me a lot on physical and other attributes so I felt very confident with him.
However, I was also on medication those couple months that made me gain maybe 10lbs of water weight so my shoulders, arms, waist, legs were all noticeably puffier than normal. He never saw my normal. I got off the meds after we broke up.
He was always happy to see me about once a week for 3-4 months - he'd plan us a date and dress up all fancy and have me help him choose an outfit to match mine, he'd hold me so close wherever we went, couldn't let go of me in public. We'd stare into each other's eyes with love and I'd never felt so close to someone. He'd call me intimidatingly beautiful and he'd say he liked me.
He'd only take me out for 1 drink every time though, in his neighborhood, and we'd return back to his to sleep over, and he'd leave in the morning for work and not text for 3 days after. We'd text a lot of volume, but he'd only reply to my chunk of texts once every 24h or so saying he was a bad texter. I tried to get him to hang out on weekends or meet my friends once, and he was a bit dodgy.
Our last date we returned home - he carried me up his building's stairs and we almost went inside but he made it a point to avoid his friends b/c they were downstairs. So we entered to avoid his friends. I felt a bit off. I finally asked him what we are, b/c I was anxious, and he seemed so stressed and was like, "ah thats been on my mind recently too...what are we doing....I'm just truly not ready for a serious relationship since my ex, I can't even THINK about them right now" and I basically ran out crying and I've been broken over it every day since because I really loved and wanted him.
Well fast forward to now, I realize that 2 months after we broke up he had a new girlfriend hard launch him.
It shocked me to my core because 1. she looked like an IG model - gorgeous, blonde, blue eyes, stick skinny. And 2. Just the fact that he told me to my face he wasn't ready and then suddenly was someone's boyfriend, taking her home to his parents, I really trusted him with everything, and this broke me deeply. She posts them all the time together all over each other - on his lap everywhere, I would've died to spend time with him at their family home. I have been crying and panicking nonstop since finding out. I feel so ugly.
1. Do you have any advice to help me with this situation? I know he doesn't think of me or care, so I shouldn't, but I can't stop myself from wanting to scream and ask him why the hell he lied to me and if it was all fake between us.
2. How can I feel better about my weight? I normally am almost as skinny as his new girl, but I was really just super bloated and chubby when I was with him. I really want him to have seen the "normal real" me, with thin waist, abs, etc. I know that's so stupid, but I wake up every day upset about it. And I've been losing a lot of weight, and instead of being happy about it I just have a panic attack about him not having seen it.
submitted by FutureQuirky1427 to BreakUps [link] [comments]
I felt sort of honored because he chose to keep seeing me with all these criteria. (he had more). He complimented me a lot on physical and other attributes so I felt very confident with him.
However, I was also on medication those couple months that made me gain maybe 10lbs of water weight so my shoulders, arms, waist, legs were all noticeably puffier than normal. He never saw my normal. I got off the meds after we broke up.
He was always happy to see me about once a week for 3-4 months - he'd plan us a date and dress up all fancy and have me help him choose an outfit to match mine, he'd hold me so close wherever we went, couldn't let go of me in public. We'd stare into each other's eyes with love and I'd never felt so close to someone. He'd call me intimidatingly beautiful and he'd say he liked me.
He'd only take me out for 1 drink every time though, in his neighborhood, and we'd return back to his to sleep over, and he'd leave in the morning for work and not text for 3 days after. We'd text a lot of volume, but he'd only reply to my chunk of texts once every 24h or so saying he was a bad texter. I tried to get him to hang out on weekends or meet my friends once, and he was a bit dodgy.
Our last date we returned home - he carried me up his building's stairs and we almost went inside but he made it a point to avoid his friends b/c they were downstairs. So we entered to avoid his friends. I felt a bit off. I finally asked him what we are, b/c I was anxious, and he seemed so stressed and was like, "ah thats been on my mind recently too...what are we doing....I'm just truly not ready for a serious relationship since my ex, I can't even THINK about them right now" and I basically ran out crying and I've been broken over it every day since because I really loved and wanted him.
Well fast forward to now, I realize that 2 months after we broke up he had a new girlfriend hard launch him.
It shocked me to my core because 1. she looked like an IG model - gorgeous, blonde, blue eyes, stick skinny. And 2. Just the fact that he told me to my face he wasn't ready and then suddenly was someone's boyfriend, taking her home to his parents, I really trusted him with everything, and this broke me deeply. She posts them all the time together all over each other - on his lap everywhere, I would've died to spend time with him at their family home. I have been crying and panicking nonstop since finding out. I feel so ugly.
1. Do you have any advice to help me with this situation? I know he doesn't think of me or care, so I shouldn't, but I can't stop myself from wanting to scream and ask him why the hell he lied to me and if it was all fake between us.
2. How can I feel better about my weight? I normally am almost as skinny as his new girl, but I was really just super bloated and chubby when I was with him. I really want him to have seen the "normal real" me, with thin waist, abs, etc. I know that's so stupid, but I wake up every day upset about it. And I've been losing a lot of weight, and instead of being happy about it I just have a panic attack about him not having seen it.
2024.05.19 16:38 Successful_Log_8743 Face eczema?
 | I’ve had eczema on the creases of my arms and legs for the past two years yet the past couple of months i’ve been getting this rash on my face. The rash comes and goes every week or so and i’ve had numerous eye swelling problems along this. Any ideas if this is facial eczema, allergies or rosacea. I started birth control and a week after this rash appeared and has been coming and going since, wondering if this is a coincidence? The doctor just wants to prescribe steroid creams, I have used them once in my life on my legs but refuse to use them on my face. submitted by Successful_Log_8743 to EczemaUK [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 16:38 FutureQuirky1427 Seeing an ex-situationship's hotter girlfriend
I was seeing this guy who was a bit out of my league last year for 3ish months. I'm pretty, but I'm not white. I'm funny, smart, educated, stylish, interesting. He is very well educated and well dressed and successful - we're both top 3 college, top finance job, etc. He's very tall and handsome too. He had mentioned to me many times while seeing each other hes very picky, hes into thinner women, and likes blue eyes.
I felt sort of honored because he chose to keep seeing me with all these criteria. (he had more). He complimented me a lot on physical and other attributes so I felt very confident with him.
However, I was also on medication those couple months that made me gain maybe 10lbs of water weight so my shoulders, arms, waist, legs were all noticeably puffier than normal. He never saw my normal. I got off the meds after we broke up.
He was always happy to see me about once a week for 3-4 months - he'd plan us a date and dress up all fancy and have me help him choose an outfit to match mine, he'd hold me so close wherever we went, couldn't let go of me in public. We'd stare into each other's eyes with love and I'd never felt so close to someone. He'd call me intimidatingly beautiful and he'd say he liked me.
He'd only take me out for 1 drink every time though, in his neighborhood, and we'd return back to his to sleep over, and he'd leave in the morning for work and not text for 3 days after. We'd text a lot of volume, but he'd only reply to my chunk of texts once every 24h or so saying he was a bad texter. I tried to get him to hang out on weekends or meet my friends once, and he was a bit dodgy.
Our last date we returned home - he carried me up his building's stairs and we almost went inside but he made it a point to avoid his friends b/c they were downstairs. So we entered to avoid his friends. I felt a bit off. I finally asked him what we are, b/c I was anxious, and he seemed so stressed and was like, "ah thats been on my mind recently too...what are we doing....I'm just truly not ready for a serious relationship since my ex, I can't even THINK about them right now" and I basically ran out crying and I've been broken over it every day since because I really loved and wanted him.
Well fast forward to now, I realize that 2 months after we broke up he had a new girlfriend hard launch him.
It shocked me to my core because 1. she looked like an IG model - gorgeous, blonde, blue eyes, stick skinny. And 2. Just the fact that he told me to my face he wasn't ready and then suddenly was someone's boyfriend, taking her home to his parents, I really trusted him with everything, and this broke me deeply. She posts them all the time together all over each other - on his lap everywhere, I would've died to spend time with him at their family home.
I have been crying and panicking nonstop since finding out. I feel so ugly.
1. Do you have any advice to help me with this situation? I know he doesn't think of me or care, so I shouldn't, but I can't stop myself from wanting to scream and ask him why the hell he lied to me and if it was all fake between us.
2. How can I feel better about my weight? I normally am almost as skinny as his new girl, but I was really just super bloated and chubby when I was with him. I really want him to have seen the "normal real" me, with thin waist, abs, etc. I know that's so stupid, but I wake up every day upset about it. And I've been losing a lot of weight, and instead of being happy about it I just have a panic attack about him not having seen it.
submitted by FutureQuirky1427 to dating_advice [link] [comments]
I felt sort of honored because he chose to keep seeing me with all these criteria. (he had more). He complimented me a lot on physical and other attributes so I felt very confident with him.
However, I was also on medication those couple months that made me gain maybe 10lbs of water weight so my shoulders, arms, waist, legs were all noticeably puffier than normal. He never saw my normal. I got off the meds after we broke up.
He was always happy to see me about once a week for 3-4 months - he'd plan us a date and dress up all fancy and have me help him choose an outfit to match mine, he'd hold me so close wherever we went, couldn't let go of me in public. We'd stare into each other's eyes with love and I'd never felt so close to someone. He'd call me intimidatingly beautiful and he'd say he liked me.
He'd only take me out for 1 drink every time though, in his neighborhood, and we'd return back to his to sleep over, and he'd leave in the morning for work and not text for 3 days after. We'd text a lot of volume, but he'd only reply to my chunk of texts once every 24h or so saying he was a bad texter. I tried to get him to hang out on weekends or meet my friends once, and he was a bit dodgy.
Our last date we returned home - he carried me up his building's stairs and we almost went inside but he made it a point to avoid his friends b/c they were downstairs. So we entered to avoid his friends. I felt a bit off. I finally asked him what we are, b/c I was anxious, and he seemed so stressed and was like, "ah thats been on my mind recently too...what are we doing....I'm just truly not ready for a serious relationship since my ex, I can't even THINK about them right now" and I basically ran out crying and I've been broken over it every day since because I really loved and wanted him.
Well fast forward to now, I realize that 2 months after we broke up he had a new girlfriend hard launch him.
It shocked me to my core because 1. she looked like an IG model - gorgeous, blonde, blue eyes, stick skinny. And 2. Just the fact that he told me to my face he wasn't ready and then suddenly was someone's boyfriend, taking her home to his parents, I really trusted him with everything, and this broke me deeply. She posts them all the time together all over each other - on his lap everywhere, I would've died to spend time with him at their family home.
I have been crying and panicking nonstop since finding out. I feel so ugly.
1. Do you have any advice to help me with this situation? I know he doesn't think of me or care, so I shouldn't, but I can't stop myself from wanting to scream and ask him why the hell he lied to me and if it was all fake between us.
2. How can I feel better about my weight? I normally am almost as skinny as his new girl, but I was really just super bloated and chubby when I was with him. I really want him to have seen the "normal real" me, with thin waist, abs, etc. I know that's so stupid, but I wake up every day upset about it. And I've been losing a lot of weight, and instead of being happy about it I just have a panic attack about him not having seen it.
2024.05.19 16:37 No_-Idea_-For_-Name Warum verschärft Frankreich seinen kolonialen Griff auf Neukaledonien?
submitted by No_-Idea_-For_-Name to Kommunismus [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 16:30 No_Competition7327 Human or not? (Part 2)
Part 1
"Now what is that?" I asked Jason
Jason turned around and looked at it too. It was made of muscles, had 2 hollow eye sockets and had a huge red and black eye in the middle , It looked just like the thing we were running from but smaller.
"Well this wasn't in the pendrive" Jason said
He then started walking towards it but suddenly the phone I gave him lit up making static noises. He looked at it for a second before tossing it towards me.
"Hold on to it while I check this thing out" he said to me.
kill it
KILL IT
I could hear it clearly, My arm was telling me to kill that thing. Jason didn't even look back though, It seems like I'm the only one who can hear it.
Jason got closer to it and its eye started looking towards him , He ignored that and continued walking towards it.
"Care to explain what that thing..... Dave is?" I asked him without getting closer.
"It's an unnatural-human hybrid." He replied
"You mean an unnatural and a human......did the deed?" I asked him confused.
"Well they did , But it didn't work. That thing is the result of injecting unnatural DNA into a human named Dave." He replied.
"Why would they inject unnatural DNA into a human?" I asked.
He ignored me and continued to walk towards it.
"This thing.....Is Dave protecting it?" He asked as he looked towards the door.
"Why would it be protecting that thing?" I asked.
"It does look like an egg , Perhaps it's Dave's egg." He said.
"Do unnaturals even lay eggs? Cause humans definitely don-"
BANG
I was cut off by a banging noise on the door.
"Seems like Dave is trying to get in , We must get rid of this 'egg' as soon as possible" said Jason as he picked up a knife.
BANG
The door broke down , Dave was finally in.
"I'LL TAKE CARE OF DAVE, YOU KILL THAT 'EGG' " I yelled.
"IT GROWS BY IMPACT , SO CUT IT USING SOMETHING SHARP" He yelled back.
"GOT I-"
Dave lunged at me and pinned me to the ground before I could finish speaking.
Cut off its head
Dave jumped back. Seems like other unnaturals can hear my arm too huh.
Dave started getting into a position to charge at me again , But this time I will be the one striking first.
I started running towards it , It started running towards me. Then it jumped at me.
I turned my left arm into a blade and slid below it , Then I used my arm to slice off both its legs.
It screamed in pain.
"No more running for you big boy" I said.
I ran towards it and jumped on it , Ready to cut off its head. It caught my leg and threw me into a wall.
It then lunged at me using the force of its arms , It was much stronger than me in terms of raw strength. Then it grabbed my legs and arms with each of its arms , It....was ripping me apart.
But its attention was diverted before it could completely rip me apart. Jason had stabbed the egg's eye using the knife.
submitted by No_Competition7327 to nosleep [link] [comments]
"Now what is that?" I asked Jason
Jason turned around and looked at it too. It was made of muscles, had 2 hollow eye sockets and had a huge red and black eye in the middle , It looked just like the thing we were running from but smaller.
"Well this wasn't in the pendrive" Jason said
He then started walking towards it but suddenly the phone I gave him lit up making static noises. He looked at it for a second before tossing it towards me.
"Hold on to it while I check this thing out" he said to me.
kill it
KILL IT
I could hear it clearly, My arm was telling me to kill that thing. Jason didn't even look back though, It seems like I'm the only one who can hear it.
Jason got closer to it and its eye started looking towards him , He ignored that and continued walking towards it.
"Care to explain what that thing..... Dave is?" I asked him without getting closer.
"It's an unnatural-human hybrid." He replied
"You mean an unnatural and a human......did the deed?" I asked him confused.
"Well they did , But it didn't work. That thing is the result of injecting unnatural DNA into a human named Dave." He replied.
"Why would they inject unnatural DNA into a human?" I asked.
He ignored me and continued to walk towards it.
"This thing.....Is Dave protecting it?" He asked as he looked towards the door.
"Why would it be protecting that thing?" I asked.
"It does look like an egg , Perhaps it's Dave's egg." He said.
"Do unnaturals even lay eggs? Cause humans definitely don-"
BANG
I was cut off by a banging noise on the door.
"Seems like Dave is trying to get in , We must get rid of this 'egg' as soon as possible" said Jason as he picked up a knife.
BANG
The door broke down , Dave was finally in.
"I'LL TAKE CARE OF DAVE, YOU KILL THAT 'EGG' " I yelled.
"IT GROWS BY IMPACT , SO CUT IT USING SOMETHING SHARP" He yelled back.
"GOT I-"
Dave lunged at me and pinned me to the ground before I could finish speaking.
Cut off its head
Dave jumped back. Seems like other unnaturals can hear my arm too huh.
Dave started getting into a position to charge at me again , But this time I will be the one striking first.
I started running towards it , It started running towards me. Then it jumped at me.
I turned my left arm into a blade and slid below it , Then I used my arm to slice off both its legs.
It screamed in pain.
"No more running for you big boy" I said.
I ran towards it and jumped on it , Ready to cut off its head. It caught my leg and threw me into a wall.
It then lunged at me using the force of its arms , It was much stronger than me in terms of raw strength. Then it grabbed my legs and arms with each of its arms , It....was ripping me apart.
But its attention was diverted before it could completely rip me apart. Jason had stabbed the egg's eye using the knife.
2024.05.19 16:25 cotard_corpse If you ever see a pitch black semi rolling down the highway, consider flagging it down. You might get just the kinda ride you've been dying to take.
Heartbreak.
That’s what got me, well, out of my funk. In a sense, at least. I was in a rut. Knew it. She did too. Guess we were in a rut, really. Ran its course. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell, but, well, sometimes stories end, you know?
So I did my piece. Curled up into the fetal position and fucking bawled. Days went by. Go to work. Go home. A zombie. Drank a lot more. But time wore down the edges eventually. And one day, I said “fuck it.” Packed my car, quit my job, and fucked off across the country. That was the plan anyway. Heading home. Maybe with my tail between my legs. I wasn’t sure.
It was a long drive. From the West Coast to the depths of the Midwest. From the shimmering, golden shores to undulating, aureate waves of grain. Radio stations fading in and out. Long stretches of static. Data dropping fucking everywhere. Sometimes I twisted through the AM band. Hellfire and brimstone. Vast conspiracies that always lacked imagination. What happened the fun stuff? Lizard people. Time travelers. Area 51. Not anymore. Everything’s a fucking angle. Propaganda. Switch it off.
I took a long way. Choosing county routes over the interstate. I had time to kill, so why not? Might as well see some of this country. The back parts. Dark parts. Quiet parts. Flyover parts. The “you don’t see anyone other than the locals and lost” and kinda parts. And I guess I was lost, right? In a sense. Though, I was hoping I wouldn’t become physically so. God knows I didn’t need to slip through the cracks of the Earth somewhere out near Kearney, Nebraska.
But things did get strange–shouldn’t that be expected out in these less-traveled places, though?--somewhere around Sheldon, South Dakota. I was at a rest stop, pulled over for a break, trying to get the last Clif bar to break free of the piece of shit vending machine, when I saw a black semi roll up.
Now, when I saw black, I mean completely. Utterly. Entirely. A pitch black cab with tinted black windows pulling a matching black trailer. Even the rims were black. It stood out like a oozing sludge against the golden, baked landscape. I stood there, by the vending machine, waiting for a while to see who would emerge. Of course I was curious. BUt…no one did. It just sat there–this beast of a vehicle–idling. I figured the driver must have been pulling over to take a nap or to call it quits from his shift–they can only drive so long, right? But you’d think they’d want to step out and stretch their legs.
Eventually, I managed to hit the plastic of the machine just right to free my Clif bar. I tore it open, took a bite, and returned to my car. Back on the road. I had places to be.
It was strange, though. I kept seeing the black truck after that. It passed me–somehow–on the highway a few dozen miles from the rest stop. But I caught up, a few miles outside of Sioux City. I passed right alongside it, my eyes straining to see who was driving. Naturally, the windows were tinted too and I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just couldn’t put it out of my mind. Such an odd sight. This big, beastly, pitch black truck barreling across the dull Midwest. It didn’t even have any markings. No company logo. No indication of what it was delivering, who it belonged to, or where it might be going. Well, it did have plates. Washington. But there was no way to know where it originated from.
After passing by it and getting through Blue Earth, I saw it again at a rundown motel. The Cozy Inn. I had pulled off a few hours earlier, deciding to spend the night. I was exhausted, had pulled a 10 hour day and could barely keep my eyes open. The clerk put me up in some grimy room that looked like the set of more than one true crime series. Stained sheets. Peeling wallpaper. A bathroom sink more inclined to spit out brown gunk than drinkable water.
My window faced the parking lot. I sat up for a while, curtains drawn, vaguely watching the television–playing one of those trashy true crime shows I feared I might end up on–and the parking lot. Cars occasionally came and went. I saw some of my neighbors, who looked mostly like travelers or perhaps vagrants. While a police officer was detailing a particularly gruesome scene on Murder Comes Home, I saw the black semi roll into the parking lot.
Once again, it sat there idling, headlights blazing through my window. I grew irritated. I almost got up to go outside. As I was contemplating the possible dangers of such a decision, a woman approached the monstrous truck. She looked beautiful in a miserable way, with a short fluorescent pink skirt and heels too high for the pock-marked parking lot.
She opened the passenger side door and climbed in, disappearing into the tinted darkness. The headlights went off and for a while I watched, silence save for the exploitative program murmuring in the background:
Her limbs were buried in separate spots along the roadside ditch…
My heart–broken though it was–thumped in my throat.
Her head was never recovered…
I walked outside, suddenly very concerned. I stood on the pavement in my shorts and t-shirt, facing the truck, no idea what I might do.
The door opened.
The woman stepped out.
Blood was running down her neck.
I ran up to her, “Miss, hey, Miss, are you okay?! You’re bleeding. Should I call an ambulance?” I was frantic, my eyes darting between the blood on her neck, trying to ascertain the source and the thumping truck.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just swell. Fucking grand.” Her voice was dreamy. Her eyes were glazed over as though she was in a daze.
I grabbed her arm, “I really don’t think you’re–”
She suddenly became more cogent, grasping my hand, “You don’t wanna get fucking involve in this, kid.”
I thought that was an odd thing to say–she was younger than me.
“I’m just trying to–” The headlights went on, illuminating us like a spotlight on a stage. The woman darted off, swaying as she did.
I stood there–stupid–not moving. All the lights in the parking lot went out and all I could hear was the engine idling. The driver’s side window rolled down. For a while–what seemed like an eternity, really–nothing happened. But then a hand emerged, casually, finger curling backwards, calling me over. And so I walked. What was I going to do? Be rude?
I couldn’t see inside the cab, but a voice emerged. It was deep, bone-shaking. It didn’t feel like it traveled through the air. More like it vibrated my eardrums, bouncing around my skull.
“You’re hurt.”
It took me a moment to gather myself, “Hurt?”
“Deeply. Wounded. Lost. Like a stray dog.”
I squeezed my hands together and could feel tears welling up in my eyes, “I’m just–”
“I can help.” The voice pushed inside me.
“You can?”
“Get in. Come take a little ride. You’ll feel better. Free. Happy. Complete.”
I stood in hesitation, my eyes on the hand, which was a deathly pale. It was almost translucent, but seemed so soft, gentle. I wanted to feel it on my cheek.
“Okay.”
I walked to the other side of the cab, pulled open the heavy metal door, and climbed into the plush, black seat. As soon as I pulled it shut I felt hands all over me. In my hair. On my neck. Roaming along my collarbones. Grasping my shoulders. I couldn’tj tell how many. Four? Six? Eight? Soft and gentle and cold.
I closed my eyes. I sank into the darkness. The headlights went out as the cab rumbled, pulling back onto the deserted county route.
And I felt good. So good.
Now, I don’t feel anything at all. Not scared or sad or hurt or lost. I’m found. Just like you could be found. So if you ever see a pitch black semi rolling along the highway, think about flagging it down.
And then, like me, you’ll never have to die
submitted by cotard_corpse to scarystories [link] [comments]
That’s what got me, well, out of my funk. In a sense, at least. I was in a rut. Knew it. She did too. Guess we were in a rut, really. Ran its course. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell, but, well, sometimes stories end, you know?
So I did my piece. Curled up into the fetal position and fucking bawled. Days went by. Go to work. Go home. A zombie. Drank a lot more. But time wore down the edges eventually. And one day, I said “fuck it.” Packed my car, quit my job, and fucked off across the country. That was the plan anyway. Heading home. Maybe with my tail between my legs. I wasn’t sure.
It was a long drive. From the West Coast to the depths of the Midwest. From the shimmering, golden shores to undulating, aureate waves of grain. Radio stations fading in and out. Long stretches of static. Data dropping fucking everywhere. Sometimes I twisted through the AM band. Hellfire and brimstone. Vast conspiracies that always lacked imagination. What happened the fun stuff? Lizard people. Time travelers. Area 51. Not anymore. Everything’s a fucking angle. Propaganda. Switch it off.
I took a long way. Choosing county routes over the interstate. I had time to kill, so why not? Might as well see some of this country. The back parts. Dark parts. Quiet parts. Flyover parts. The “you don’t see anyone other than the locals and lost” and kinda parts. And I guess I was lost, right? In a sense. Though, I was hoping I wouldn’t become physically so. God knows I didn’t need to slip through the cracks of the Earth somewhere out near Kearney, Nebraska.
But things did get strange–shouldn’t that be expected out in these less-traveled places, though?--somewhere around Sheldon, South Dakota. I was at a rest stop, pulled over for a break, trying to get the last Clif bar to break free of the piece of shit vending machine, when I saw a black semi roll up.
Now, when I saw black, I mean completely. Utterly. Entirely. A pitch black cab with tinted black windows pulling a matching black trailer. Even the rims were black. It stood out like a oozing sludge against the golden, baked landscape. I stood there, by the vending machine, waiting for a while to see who would emerge. Of course I was curious. BUt…no one did. It just sat there–this beast of a vehicle–idling. I figured the driver must have been pulling over to take a nap or to call it quits from his shift–they can only drive so long, right? But you’d think they’d want to step out and stretch their legs.
Eventually, I managed to hit the plastic of the machine just right to free my Clif bar. I tore it open, took a bite, and returned to my car. Back on the road. I had places to be.
It was strange, though. I kept seeing the black truck after that. It passed me–somehow–on the highway a few dozen miles from the rest stop. But I caught up, a few miles outside of Sioux City. I passed right alongside it, my eyes straining to see who was driving. Naturally, the windows were tinted too and I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just couldn’t put it out of my mind. Such an odd sight. This big, beastly, pitch black truck barreling across the dull Midwest. It didn’t even have any markings. No company logo. No indication of what it was delivering, who it belonged to, or where it might be going. Well, it did have plates. Washington. But there was no way to know where it originated from.
After passing by it and getting through Blue Earth, I saw it again at a rundown motel. The Cozy Inn. I had pulled off a few hours earlier, deciding to spend the night. I was exhausted, had pulled a 10 hour day and could barely keep my eyes open. The clerk put me up in some grimy room that looked like the set of more than one true crime series. Stained sheets. Peeling wallpaper. A bathroom sink more inclined to spit out brown gunk than drinkable water.
My window faced the parking lot. I sat up for a while, curtains drawn, vaguely watching the television–playing one of those trashy true crime shows I feared I might end up on–and the parking lot. Cars occasionally came and went. I saw some of my neighbors, who looked mostly like travelers or perhaps vagrants. While a police officer was detailing a particularly gruesome scene on Murder Comes Home, I saw the black semi roll into the parking lot.
Once again, it sat there idling, headlights blazing through my window. I grew irritated. I almost got up to go outside. As I was contemplating the possible dangers of such a decision, a woman approached the monstrous truck. She looked beautiful in a miserable way, with a short fluorescent pink skirt and heels too high for the pock-marked parking lot.
She opened the passenger side door and climbed in, disappearing into the tinted darkness. The headlights went off and for a while I watched, silence save for the exploitative program murmuring in the background:
Her limbs were buried in separate spots along the roadside ditch…
My heart–broken though it was–thumped in my throat.
Her head was never recovered…
I walked outside, suddenly very concerned. I stood on the pavement in my shorts and t-shirt, facing the truck, no idea what I might do.
The door opened.
The woman stepped out.
Blood was running down her neck.
I ran up to her, “Miss, hey, Miss, are you okay?! You’re bleeding. Should I call an ambulance?” I was frantic, my eyes darting between the blood on her neck, trying to ascertain the source and the thumping truck.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just swell. Fucking grand.” Her voice was dreamy. Her eyes were glazed over as though she was in a daze.
I grabbed her arm, “I really don’t think you’re–”
She suddenly became more cogent, grasping my hand, “You don’t wanna get fucking involve in this, kid.”
I thought that was an odd thing to say–she was younger than me.
“I’m just trying to–” The headlights went on, illuminating us like a spotlight on a stage. The woman darted off, swaying as she did.
I stood there–stupid–not moving. All the lights in the parking lot went out and all I could hear was the engine idling. The driver’s side window rolled down. For a while–what seemed like an eternity, really–nothing happened. But then a hand emerged, casually, finger curling backwards, calling me over. And so I walked. What was I going to do? Be rude?
I couldn’t see inside the cab, but a voice emerged. It was deep, bone-shaking. It didn’t feel like it traveled through the air. More like it vibrated my eardrums, bouncing around my skull.
“You’re hurt.”
It took me a moment to gather myself, “Hurt?”
“Deeply. Wounded. Lost. Like a stray dog.”
I squeezed my hands together and could feel tears welling up in my eyes, “I’m just–”
“I can help.” The voice pushed inside me.
“You can?”
“Get in. Come take a little ride. You’ll feel better. Free. Happy. Complete.”
I stood in hesitation, my eyes on the hand, which was a deathly pale. It was almost translucent, but seemed so soft, gentle. I wanted to feel it on my cheek.
“Okay.”
I walked to the other side of the cab, pulled open the heavy metal door, and climbed into the plush, black seat. As soon as I pulled it shut I felt hands all over me. In my hair. On my neck. Roaming along my collarbones. Grasping my shoulders. I couldn’tj tell how many. Four? Six? Eight? Soft and gentle and cold.
I closed my eyes. I sank into the darkness. The headlights went out as the cab rumbled, pulling back onto the deserted county route.
And I felt good. So good.
Now, I don’t feel anything at all. Not scared or sad or hurt or lost. I’m found. Just like you could be found. So if you ever see a pitch black semi rolling along the highway, think about flagging it down.
And then, like me, you’ll never have to die
2024.05.19 16:23 StuckHereFor3Years Which of these 2 scenes is more impactful and why?
I am trying to bring horror elements to my story. 1st seen seems more impactful to me than 2nd even though both use the same technique. I don't know why.
submitted by StuckHereFor3Years to writing [link] [comments]
- She stepped into the basement, reaching out a hand to turn on the light. She asked, "Where is the-" Then she was screaming. She stumbled backward. A spider as big as a human head had stabbed its legs in her arm. Blood welled up. She smashed her arm against a wall, again and again, until she crushed the spider's head.
- New prisoners arrived. One of them was a 19 years old boy. Pale and delicate. Pink lips. Men immediately surrounded him, making lewd comments and pushing him around. The boy began to whimper in fear. Until KD came and guided him to his cell. KD asked the boy's name and offered him some cheap liquor. He told the boy that everyone was scared of him. Then told the boy looked like his dead wife. He renamed the boy Rosie and made him wear skirts and dance for him. The boy looks at MC for help.
2024.05.19 16:20 Ok-Ingenuity9833 Family should be able to grind for "Glory Executions" *Gorier kills*
So, the idea is that when a player maxes their family member, they get to unlock a special "prestige execution", prestige executions are much less abundant than normal killing animations and there'd only be 1 per family which makes them that more satisfying to earn and it'd also make the kill more shocking since they are more grotesque than the normal executions.
Leatherface: Leatherface saws off the victim's leg and they try to hop away on one foot but Leatherface saws off their other leg, so they try to crawl away, then Leatherface cuts off both their arms turning them into a wiggling stump and grabs them by the top of their head with 1 hand before sawing their head off with the chainsaw, the decapitated victim blinks one more time as Leatherface raises their head in the air and releases a war cry.
Hitchhiker: Hitchhiker stomps the victims kneecap causing them to fall to their knees, he then gets behind them and uses his razor to scalp them revealing their skull, he then cuts their neck open and pulls their tongue through the opening to create a Colombian necktie, he ends the execution off by pulling out his flash camera and taking a selfie with the victim.
Cook: The Cook shoves his thumbs into the victim's eyes tearing them out of their sockets before wiggling the eye in front of his and saying "I can see you, but you can't see me HEHE" he grabs his stick and jams it into their ear before pushing it out of the other end and making the victim braindead, he finishes the execution by saying "Poor fella, maybe I went too far this time".
Johnny: Johnny guts the victim cutting their stomach open causing their innards to pool out and he grabs their intestines and wraps it around the victim's neck pulling it tightly, the victim struggles but becomes more exhausted from lack of oxygen until they pass out but Johnny continues and we hear the victim release the last bit of air from their lungs until their neck snaps, Johnny pulls a little longer and the intestines snaps.
Sissy: Sissy blows her fumes into the victims face seductively and helps them softly lay on the ground as they drift into a high incoherency, she then brushes her hand on the victims face as she cuts into their chest while simultaneously reassuring them if they show signs of pain till she can reach her hand in and tear their heart out, still beating in her hand she begins sucking on one of the tubes drinking the blood out of the heart causing it to abruptly stop beating and become a deflated sack, she wipes a bit of blood off her lip and kisses the head of the dead victim closing their eyelids.
Nancy: Nancy swings into the victim's crotch leaving a hole as she pulls it out, the victim lets out a disgusted screech of shock before Nancy swings at their face vertically tearing their jaw clean off, she inspects the jaw before flailing it off her weapon, she then proceeds to hit their temple causing them to lose all cognitive skills and basically become disabled and she leaves them on the ground to cry in confusion while suffocating on their own blood.
Hands: Hands beats the victim over the head with his hammer causing blood to trickle down, then he swings a second time causing their eye to pop right out of its socket like Glenn from TWD, the victim gasps for air pleading for Hands to stop but he wants to get handsy. Hands proceeds to crack down onto the top of their head splitting their skull open, the victim is still awake but increasingly incoherent, so Hands proceeds to get a good grip of both sides of the split skull and tear it open revealing their brain, Hands then rips the brain out of there head and stares at it with pride before throwing it to the ground and stomping on it.
submitted by Ok-Ingenuity9833 to TXChainSawGame [link] [comments]
Leatherface: Leatherface saws off the victim's leg and they try to hop away on one foot but Leatherface saws off their other leg, so they try to crawl away, then Leatherface cuts off both their arms turning them into a wiggling stump and grabs them by the top of their head with 1 hand before sawing their head off with the chainsaw, the decapitated victim blinks one more time as Leatherface raises their head in the air and releases a war cry.
Hitchhiker: Hitchhiker stomps the victims kneecap causing them to fall to their knees, he then gets behind them and uses his razor to scalp them revealing their skull, he then cuts their neck open and pulls their tongue through the opening to create a Colombian necktie, he ends the execution off by pulling out his flash camera and taking a selfie with the victim.
Cook: The Cook shoves his thumbs into the victim's eyes tearing them out of their sockets before wiggling the eye in front of his and saying "I can see you, but you can't see me HEHE" he grabs his stick and jams it into their ear before pushing it out of the other end and making the victim braindead, he finishes the execution by saying "Poor fella, maybe I went too far this time".
Johnny: Johnny guts the victim cutting their stomach open causing their innards to pool out and he grabs their intestines and wraps it around the victim's neck pulling it tightly, the victim struggles but becomes more exhausted from lack of oxygen until they pass out but Johnny continues and we hear the victim release the last bit of air from their lungs until their neck snaps, Johnny pulls a little longer and the intestines snaps.
Sissy: Sissy blows her fumes into the victims face seductively and helps them softly lay on the ground as they drift into a high incoherency, she then brushes her hand on the victims face as she cuts into their chest while simultaneously reassuring them if they show signs of pain till she can reach her hand in and tear their heart out, still beating in her hand she begins sucking on one of the tubes drinking the blood out of the heart causing it to abruptly stop beating and become a deflated sack, she wipes a bit of blood off her lip and kisses the head of the dead victim closing their eyelids.
Nancy: Nancy swings into the victim's crotch leaving a hole as she pulls it out, the victim lets out a disgusted screech of shock before Nancy swings at their face vertically tearing their jaw clean off, she inspects the jaw before flailing it off her weapon, she then proceeds to hit their temple causing them to lose all cognitive skills and basically become disabled and she leaves them on the ground to cry in confusion while suffocating on their own blood.
Hands: Hands beats the victim over the head with his hammer causing blood to trickle down, then he swings a second time causing their eye to pop right out of its socket like Glenn from TWD, the victim gasps for air pleading for Hands to stop but he wants to get handsy. Hands proceeds to crack down onto the top of their head splitting their skull open, the victim is still awake but increasingly incoherent, so Hands proceeds to get a good grip of both sides of the split skull and tear it open revealing their brain, Hands then rips the brain out of there head and stares at it with pride before throwing it to the ground and stomping on it.
2024.05.19 16:20 NixyeNox [Poll] If you have had the nerve conduction tests (NCV & EMG) did they hurt?
The NCV (Nerve Conduction Velocity test, sometimes called NCS or Nerve Conduction Speed test) and EMG (electromyography) are tests of the peripheral nerves' ability to conduct electrical impulses properly. These tests were used for CMT diagnosis before genetic tests were available and are still routinely used to check nerves before a doctor will consider a genetic test warranted. If you remember a doctor poking your legs and/or arms with needles and recording values, that was these tests.
From what I know of these tests, they are quite good at catching many cases of CMT, though they can be ambiguous in some cases. Originally (before genetic tests were available) CMT type 1 was diagnosed if your reading on the NCV test was below a certain value (38 m/s). CMT type 2 does not typically show that degree of slowing, but shows a disruption in the expected waveform on the EMG. A classic hallmark of CMT is uniform disruption on both sides of the body, so a doctor would typically check both legs looking for the same reading.
Oddly, from the papers I have seen, there is not a correlation between how slow the nerve impulses are and symptoms. In other words, someone with 32 m/s nerve conduction velocity is not necessarily any worse than someone with 37 m/s velocity. (This is for CMT 1; I have done less reading on CMT 2)
I don't know if there is any correlation between how much the test hurts and either nerve conduction speed or symptom severity. Unfortunately, I only have 6 poll response slots available, but if people are curious I can run another poll looking for a correlation.
View Poll
submitted by NixyeNox to CMT [link] [comments]
From what I know of these tests, they are quite good at catching many cases of CMT, though they can be ambiguous in some cases. Originally (before genetic tests were available) CMT type 1 was diagnosed if your reading on the NCV test was below a certain value (38 m/s). CMT type 2 does not typically show that degree of slowing, but shows a disruption in the expected waveform on the EMG. A classic hallmark of CMT is uniform disruption on both sides of the body, so a doctor would typically check both legs looking for the same reading.
Oddly, from the papers I have seen, there is not a correlation between how slow the nerve impulses are and symptoms. In other words, someone with 32 m/s nerve conduction velocity is not necessarily any worse than someone with 37 m/s velocity. (This is for CMT 1; I have done less reading on CMT 2)
I don't know if there is any correlation between how much the test hurts and either nerve conduction speed or symptom severity. Unfortunately, I only have 6 poll response slots available, but if people are curious I can run another poll looking for a correlation.
View Poll
2024.05.19 16:19 Successful_Log_8743 Face Eczema?
 | I’ve had eczema on the creases of my arms and legs for the past two years yet the past couple of months i’ve been getting this rash on my face. The rash comes and goes every week or so and i’ve had numerous eye swelling problems along this. Any ideas if this is facial eczema, allergies or rosacea. I started birth control and a week after this rash appeared and has been coming and going since, wondering if this is a coincidence? The doctor just wants to prescribe steroid creams, I have used them once in my life on my legs but refuse to use them on my face. submitted by Successful_Log_8743 to SkincareAddicts [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 16:19 rainbow--penguin [SF]
Link to serial master post for other chapters
It was difficult to find the right moment to ask Marcus about any past escape attempts. Madeline was very conscious of how much she’d already asked of him — something that Billie’s constant teasing definitely wasn’t helping with. She was also nervous about being overheard. If the wrong person noticed her asking questions, she could only imagine the trouble it might get her in — and the trouble it might get Marcus in. That was if Marcus wasn’t the wrong person himself.
So she kept putting it off. After all, it wasn’t like they were in a huge hurry. There were still so many people to ask after in here — so much more to learn and pass on to their allies outside.
But all practical excuses Madeline could come up with couldn’t silence the voice whispering at the back of her mind. She was being selfish. She didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise her upcoming visit with Liam.
It was getting close now, and she was counting down the days.
Every second she spent working in the fields — mindlessly harvesting potatoes by muscle memory alone — her thoughts were full of imagined meetings. What would it be like to see him again? Would he have grown? Would he be as pleased to see her as she was to see him? Would he blame her for him being captured? Would he blame her for leaving him behind — even if it had been at his own request?
When Marcus finally came to tell her that the day had come — her free day tomorrow — she thought that she might explode with all the nervous excitement.
She hardly slept that night, keeping Billie up with all her wriggling and shifting, and she was up and out of bed as soon as the morning light blared on.
Breakfast was barely touched as her mind raced with more important things. Whenever Billie tried to talk to her, the words were muted and garbled to her ears, as if underwater. After the first couple of attempts to start up a conversation, they stopped trying. Her leg bounced up and down as she sat, waiting on the bottom bunk.
The wait was agonising. It was as if, the closer she got, the more each second dragged on and on and on.
Her eyes remained fixed on the door, heart jolting every time it opened. Soon, she was cursing the comings and goings of her roommates.
Until, finally, it opened onto Marcus’s familiar face.
Madeline leapt up and ran towards him. “Is it time?”
She felt a presence at her shoulder as Billie caught up.
Marcus beamed. “It’s time.” He looked between the pair of them. “Are you both ready?”
“Yes!” Madeline knew she sounded impatient, but she didn’t care.
“We’re ready,” Billie confirmed. “As I think you can tell, this one,” they gestured their head towards her, “has been ready for a loooong time.”
The young guard chuckled. “Yeah. It’s good to have someone so happy to see me for once — even if it isn’t actually for me.” He beckoned. “Come on then. I’ll take you to the visiting room.”
As they walked down the corridor, Madeline silently willed Marcus to speed up. Soon, she was glaring daggers at the back of his head, wondering if he’d always been this slow. Then, she was not so silently sighing and tapping her fingers together to let out her frustration, but it didn’t nothing to speed up the journey. The walk dragged on and on and on. Down endless corridors. Through endless buildings. Waiting for Marcus to unlock endless doors.
By the time they reached the visiting room — one final door for the guard to unlock — Madeline was ready to burst, a scream boiling up inside of her as Marcus fumbled with his keys.
But all that melted away when the door swung open, revealing a familiar pair of large blue eyes staring at her. Liam.
All the anger and frustration couldn’t survive that wide-eyed stare. All the circling thoughts and worries and woes. All the questions and regrets. Gone.
All that was left was a warmth swelling in her chest, yanking her towards the small figure waiting in the room.
She barged past Marcus, stumbling on trembling legs as she hurried forward and dropped to her knees to embrace the boy. As Liam’s arms closed around her too, it was like a piece of her that had been missing was finally found. The hollow in her chest had been filled. She was whole once again.
Somewhere, far from her concerns, she heard shuffling footsteps, followed by the door clicking shut.
She and Liam held each other like that for Lord knows how long, without a word passing between them. Words weren’t needed now. What they needed to communicate went much deeper than words.
It was only when the weight of a familiar hand settled on her shoulder that she finally drew back from the embrace — and even then, only enough to glance up at the only other person in the world who held such a strong claim on her heart as the boy in her arms.
Liam shifted too, feeling her movement. His eyes widened as he took in the unfamiliar face, pulling back further to glance at Madeline.
She gave him her best, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “This is someone I’d like you to meet. Do you think you could manage that?”
He nodded.
Taking care to never lose contact with him fully, Madeline let her arms drop from where she held Liam, grazing down an arm to his hand before she turned around to face her friend — her love.
“Liam, this is Billie. I look forward to telling you all about them and how wonderful they are.” She smiled up at them. “And Billie, this is Liam. I—”
“I’ve already heard how wonderful you are!” they said, crouching down to be on the same level as Madeline and him. “And any friend of Madeline’s is a friend of mine. Now I just can’t wait to get to know you for myself!”
Madeline looked back at Liam, hoping that this wasn’t all too much at once for him.
“Nice to meet you, B-Billie.”
Her heart soared.
Author's Note: Next chapter due on 26th May
submitted by rainbow--penguin to shortstories [link] [comments]
It was difficult to find the right moment to ask Marcus about any past escape attempts. Madeline was very conscious of how much she’d already asked of him — something that Billie’s constant teasing definitely wasn’t helping with. She was also nervous about being overheard. If the wrong person noticed her asking questions, she could only imagine the trouble it might get her in — and the trouble it might get Marcus in. That was if Marcus wasn’t the wrong person himself.
So she kept putting it off. After all, it wasn’t like they were in a huge hurry. There were still so many people to ask after in here — so much more to learn and pass on to their allies outside.
But all practical excuses Madeline could come up with couldn’t silence the voice whispering at the back of her mind. She was being selfish. She didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise her upcoming visit with Liam.
It was getting close now, and she was counting down the days.
Every second she spent working in the fields — mindlessly harvesting potatoes by muscle memory alone — her thoughts were full of imagined meetings. What would it be like to see him again? Would he have grown? Would he be as pleased to see her as she was to see him? Would he blame her for him being captured? Would he blame her for leaving him behind — even if it had been at his own request?
When Marcus finally came to tell her that the day had come — her free day tomorrow — she thought that she might explode with all the nervous excitement.
She hardly slept that night, keeping Billie up with all her wriggling and shifting, and she was up and out of bed as soon as the morning light blared on.
Breakfast was barely touched as her mind raced with more important things. Whenever Billie tried to talk to her, the words were muted and garbled to her ears, as if underwater. After the first couple of attempts to start up a conversation, they stopped trying. Her leg bounced up and down as she sat, waiting on the bottom bunk.
The wait was agonising. It was as if, the closer she got, the more each second dragged on and on and on.
Her eyes remained fixed on the door, heart jolting every time it opened. Soon, she was cursing the comings and goings of her roommates.
Until, finally, it opened onto Marcus’s familiar face.
Madeline leapt up and ran towards him. “Is it time?”
She felt a presence at her shoulder as Billie caught up.
Marcus beamed. “It’s time.” He looked between the pair of them. “Are you both ready?”
“Yes!” Madeline knew she sounded impatient, but she didn’t care.
“We’re ready,” Billie confirmed. “As I think you can tell, this one,” they gestured their head towards her, “has been ready for a loooong time.”
The young guard chuckled. “Yeah. It’s good to have someone so happy to see me for once — even if it isn’t actually for me.” He beckoned. “Come on then. I’ll take you to the visiting room.”
As they walked down the corridor, Madeline silently willed Marcus to speed up. Soon, she was glaring daggers at the back of his head, wondering if he’d always been this slow. Then, she was not so silently sighing and tapping her fingers together to let out her frustration, but it didn’t nothing to speed up the journey. The walk dragged on and on and on. Down endless corridors. Through endless buildings. Waiting for Marcus to unlock endless doors.
By the time they reached the visiting room — one final door for the guard to unlock — Madeline was ready to burst, a scream boiling up inside of her as Marcus fumbled with his keys.
But all that melted away when the door swung open, revealing a familiar pair of large blue eyes staring at her. Liam.
All the anger and frustration couldn’t survive that wide-eyed stare. All the circling thoughts and worries and woes. All the questions and regrets. Gone.
All that was left was a warmth swelling in her chest, yanking her towards the small figure waiting in the room.
She barged past Marcus, stumbling on trembling legs as she hurried forward and dropped to her knees to embrace the boy. As Liam’s arms closed around her too, it was like a piece of her that had been missing was finally found. The hollow in her chest had been filled. She was whole once again.
Somewhere, far from her concerns, she heard shuffling footsteps, followed by the door clicking shut.
She and Liam held each other like that for Lord knows how long, without a word passing between them. Words weren’t needed now. What they needed to communicate went much deeper than words.
It was only when the weight of a familiar hand settled on her shoulder that she finally drew back from the embrace — and even then, only enough to glance up at the only other person in the world who held such a strong claim on her heart as the boy in her arms.
Liam shifted too, feeling her movement. His eyes widened as he took in the unfamiliar face, pulling back further to glance at Madeline.
She gave him her best, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “This is someone I’d like you to meet. Do you think you could manage that?”
He nodded.
Taking care to never lose contact with him fully, Madeline let her arms drop from where she held Liam, grazing down an arm to his hand before she turned around to face her friend — her love.
“Liam, this is Billie. I look forward to telling you all about them and how wonderful they are.” She smiled up at them. “And Billie, this is Liam. I—”
“I’ve already heard how wonderful you are!” they said, crouching down to be on the same level as Madeline and him. “And any friend of Madeline’s is a friend of mine. Now I just can’t wait to get to know you for myself!”
Madeline looked back at Liam, hoping that this wasn’t all too much at once for him.
“Nice to meet you, B-Billie.”
Her heart soared.
2024.05.19 16:18 rainbow--penguin [The Weight of Words] - Chapter 78 - The Reward of an Agonising Wait
<< First Chapter
< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >
It was difficult to find the right moment to ask Marcus about any past escape attempts. Madeline was very conscious of how much she’d already asked of him — something that Billie’s constant teasing definitely wasn’t helping with. She was also nervous about being overheard. If the wrong person noticed her asking questions, she could only imagine the trouble it might get her in — and the trouble it might get Marcus in. That was if Marcus wasn’t the wrong person himself.
So she kept putting it off. After all, it wasn’t like they were in a huge hurry. There were still so many people to ask after in here — so much more to learn and pass on to their allies outside.
But all practical excuses Madeline could come up with couldn’t silence the voice whispering at the back of her mind. She was being selfish. She didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise her upcoming visit with Liam.
It was getting close now, and she was counting down the days.
Every second she spent working in the fields — mindlessly harvesting potatoes by muscle memory alone — her thoughts were full of imagined meetings. What would it be like to see him again? Would he have grown? Would he be as pleased to see her as she was to see him? Would he blame her for him being captured? Would he blame her for leaving him behind — even if it had been at his own request?
When Marcus finally came to tell her that the day had come — her free day tomorrow — she thought that she might explode with all the nervous excitement.
She hardly slept that night, keeping Billie up with all her wriggling and shifting, and she was up and out of bed as soon as the morning light blared on.
Breakfast was barely touched as her mind raced with more important things. Whenever Billie tried to talk to her, the words were muted and garbled to her ears, as if underwater. After the first couple of attempts to start up a conversation, they stopped trying. Her leg bounced up and down as she sat, waiting on the bottom bunk.
The wait was agonising. It was as if, the closer she got, the more each second dragged on and on and on.
Her eyes remained fixed on the door, heart jolting every time it opened. Soon, she was cursing the comings and goings of her roommates.
Until, finally, it opened onto Marcus’s familiar face.
Madeline leapt up and ran towards him. “Is it time?”
She felt a presence at her shoulder as Billie caught up.
Marcus beamed. “It’s time.” He looked between the pair of them. “Are you both ready?”
“Yes!” Madeline knew she sounded impatient, but she didn’t care.
“We’re ready,” Billie confirmed. “As I think you can tell, this one,” they gestured their head towards her, “has been ready for a loooong time.”
The young guard chuckled. “Yeah. It’s good to have someone so happy to see me for once — even if it isn’t actually for me.” He beckoned. “Come on then. I’ll take you to the visiting room.”
As they walked down the corridor, Madeline silently willed Marcus to speed up. Soon, she was glaring daggers at the back of his head, wondering if he’d always been this slow. Then, she was not so silently sighing and tapping her fingers together to let out her frustration, but it didn’t nothing to speed up the journey. The walk dragged on and on and on. Down endless corridors. Through endless buildings. Waiting for Marcus to unlock endless doors.
By the time they reached the visiting room — one final door for the guard to unlock — Madeline was ready to burst, a scream boiling up inside of her as Marcus fumbled with his keys.
But all that melted away when the door swung open, revealing a familiar pair of large blue eyes staring at her. Liam.
All the anger and frustration couldn’t survive that wide-eyed stare. All the circling thoughts and worries and woes. All the questions and regrets. Gone.
All that was left was a warmth swelling in her chest, yanking her towards the small figure waiting in the room.
She barged past Marcus, stumbling on trembling legs as she hurried forward and dropped to her knees to embrace the boy. As Liam’s arms closed around her too, it was like a piece of her that had been missing was finally found. The hollow in her chest had been filled. She was whole once again.
Somewhere, far from her concerns, she heard shuffling footsteps, followed by the door clicking shut.
She and Liam held each other like that for Lord knows how long, without a word passing between them. Words weren’t needed now. What they needed to communicate went much deeper than words.
It was only when the weight of a familiar hand settled on her shoulder that she finally drew back from the embrace — and even then, only enough to glance up at the only other person in the world who held such a strong claim on her heart as the boy in her arms.
Liam shifted too, feeling her movement. His eyes widened as he took in the unfamiliar face, pulling back further to glance at Madeline.
She gave him her best, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “This is someone I’d like you to meet. Do you think you could manage that?”
He nodded.
Taking care to never lose contact with him fully, Madeline let her arms drop from where she held Liam, grazing down an arm to his hand before she turned around to face her friend — her love.
“Liam, this is Billie. I look forward to telling you all about them and how wonderful they are.” She smiled up at them. “And Billie, this is Liam. I—”
“I’ve already heard how wonderful you are!” they said, crouching down to be on the same level as Madeline and him. “And any friend of Madeline’s is a friend of mine. Now I just can’t wait to get to know you for myself!”
Madeline looked back at Liam, hoping that this wasn’t all too much at once for him.
“Nice to meet you, B-Billie.”
Her heart soared.
Author's Note: Next chapter due on 26th May
submitted by rainbow--penguin to redditserials [link] [comments]
< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >
It was difficult to find the right moment to ask Marcus about any past escape attempts. Madeline was very conscious of how much she’d already asked of him — something that Billie’s constant teasing definitely wasn’t helping with. She was also nervous about being overheard. If the wrong person noticed her asking questions, she could only imagine the trouble it might get her in — and the trouble it might get Marcus in. That was if Marcus wasn’t the wrong person himself.
So she kept putting it off. After all, it wasn’t like they were in a huge hurry. There were still so many people to ask after in here — so much more to learn and pass on to their allies outside.
But all practical excuses Madeline could come up with couldn’t silence the voice whispering at the back of her mind. She was being selfish. She didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise her upcoming visit with Liam.
It was getting close now, and she was counting down the days.
Every second she spent working in the fields — mindlessly harvesting potatoes by muscle memory alone — her thoughts were full of imagined meetings. What would it be like to see him again? Would he have grown? Would he be as pleased to see her as she was to see him? Would he blame her for him being captured? Would he blame her for leaving him behind — even if it had been at his own request?
When Marcus finally came to tell her that the day had come — her free day tomorrow — she thought that she might explode with all the nervous excitement.
She hardly slept that night, keeping Billie up with all her wriggling and shifting, and she was up and out of bed as soon as the morning light blared on.
Breakfast was barely touched as her mind raced with more important things. Whenever Billie tried to talk to her, the words were muted and garbled to her ears, as if underwater. After the first couple of attempts to start up a conversation, they stopped trying. Her leg bounced up and down as she sat, waiting on the bottom bunk.
The wait was agonising. It was as if, the closer she got, the more each second dragged on and on and on.
Her eyes remained fixed on the door, heart jolting every time it opened. Soon, she was cursing the comings and goings of her roommates.
Until, finally, it opened onto Marcus’s familiar face.
Madeline leapt up and ran towards him. “Is it time?”
She felt a presence at her shoulder as Billie caught up.
Marcus beamed. “It’s time.” He looked between the pair of them. “Are you both ready?”
“Yes!” Madeline knew she sounded impatient, but she didn’t care.
“We’re ready,” Billie confirmed. “As I think you can tell, this one,” they gestured their head towards her, “has been ready for a loooong time.”
The young guard chuckled. “Yeah. It’s good to have someone so happy to see me for once — even if it isn’t actually for me.” He beckoned. “Come on then. I’ll take you to the visiting room.”
As they walked down the corridor, Madeline silently willed Marcus to speed up. Soon, she was glaring daggers at the back of his head, wondering if he’d always been this slow. Then, she was not so silently sighing and tapping her fingers together to let out her frustration, but it didn’t nothing to speed up the journey. The walk dragged on and on and on. Down endless corridors. Through endless buildings. Waiting for Marcus to unlock endless doors.
By the time they reached the visiting room — one final door for the guard to unlock — Madeline was ready to burst, a scream boiling up inside of her as Marcus fumbled with his keys.
But all that melted away when the door swung open, revealing a familiar pair of large blue eyes staring at her. Liam.
All the anger and frustration couldn’t survive that wide-eyed stare. All the circling thoughts and worries and woes. All the questions and regrets. Gone.
All that was left was a warmth swelling in her chest, yanking her towards the small figure waiting in the room.
She barged past Marcus, stumbling on trembling legs as she hurried forward and dropped to her knees to embrace the boy. As Liam’s arms closed around her too, it was like a piece of her that had been missing was finally found. The hollow in her chest had been filled. She was whole once again.
Somewhere, far from her concerns, she heard shuffling footsteps, followed by the door clicking shut.
She and Liam held each other like that for Lord knows how long, without a word passing between them. Words weren’t needed now. What they needed to communicate went much deeper than words.
It was only when the weight of a familiar hand settled on her shoulder that she finally drew back from the embrace — and even then, only enough to glance up at the only other person in the world who held such a strong claim on her heart as the boy in her arms.
Liam shifted too, feeling her movement. His eyes widened as he took in the unfamiliar face, pulling back further to glance at Madeline.
She gave him her best, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “This is someone I’d like you to meet. Do you think you could manage that?”
He nodded.
Taking care to never lose contact with him fully, Madeline let her arms drop from where she held Liam, grazing down an arm to his hand before she turned around to face her friend — her love.
“Liam, this is Billie. I look forward to telling you all about them and how wonderful they are.” She smiled up at them. “And Billie, this is Liam. I—”
“I’ve already heard how wonderful you are!” they said, crouching down to be on the same level as Madeline and him. “And any friend of Madeline’s is a friend of mine. Now I just can’t wait to get to know you for myself!”
Madeline looked back at Liam, hoping that this wasn’t all too much at once for him.
“Nice to meet you, B-Billie.”
Her heart soared.
2024.05.19 16:17 rainbow--penguin The Weight of Words: Chapter 78 - The Reward of an Agonising Wait
It was difficult to find the right moment to ask Marcus about any past escape attempts. Madeline was very conscious of how much she’d already asked of him — something that Billie’s constant teasing definitely wasn’t helping with. She was also nervous about being overheard. If the wrong person noticed her asking questions, she could only imagine the trouble it might get her in — and the trouble it might get Marcus in. That was if Marcus wasn’t the wrong person himself.
So she kept putting it off. After all, it wasn’t like they were in a huge hurry. There were still so many people to ask after in here — so much more to learn and pass on to their allies outside.
But all practical excuses Madeline could come up with couldn’t silence the voice whispering at the back of her mind. She was being selfish. She didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise her upcoming visit with Liam.
It was getting close now, and she was counting down the days.
Every second she spent working in the fields — mindlessly harvesting potatoes by muscle memory alone — her thoughts were full of imagined meetings. What would it be like to see him again? Would he have grown? Would he be as pleased to see her as she was to see him? Would he blame her for him being captured? Would he blame her for leaving him behind — even if it had been at his own request?
When Marcus finally came to tell her that the day had come — her free day tomorrow — she thought that she might explode with all the nervous excitement.
She hardly slept that night, keeping Billie up with all her wriggling and shifting, and she was up and out of bed as soon as the morning light blared on.
Breakfast was barely touched as her mind raced with more important things. Whenever Billie tried to talk to her, the words were muted and garbled to her ears, as if underwater. After the first couple of attempts to start up a conversation, they stopped trying. Her leg bounced up and down as she sat, waiting on the bottom bunk.
The wait was agonising. It was as if, the closer she got, the more each second dragged on and on and on.
Her eyes remained fixed on the door, heart jolting every time it opened. Soon, she was cursing the comings and goings of her roommates.
Until, finally, it opened onto Marcus’s familiar face.
Madeline leapt up and ran towards him. “Is it time?”
She felt a presence at her shoulder as Billie caught up.
Marcus beamed. “It’s time.” He looked between the pair of them. “Are you both ready?”
“Yes!” Madeline knew she sounded impatient, but she didn’t care.
“We’re ready,” Billie confirmed. “As I think you can tell, this one,” they gestured their head towards her, “has been ready for a loooong time.”
The young guard chuckled. “Yeah. It’s good to have someone so happy to see me for once — even if it isn’t actually for me.” He beckoned. “Come on then. I’ll take you to the visiting room.”
As they walked down the corridor, Madeline silently willed Marcus to speed up. Soon, she was glaring daggers at the back of his head, wondering if he’d always been this slow. Then, she was not so silently sighing and tapping her fingers together to let out her frustration, but it didn’t nothing to speed up the journey. The walk dragged on and on and on. Down endless corridors. Through endless buildings. Waiting for Marcus to unlock endless doors.
By the time they reached the visiting room — one final door for the guard to unlock — Madeline was ready to burst, a scream boiling up inside of her as Marcus fumbled with his keys.
But all that melted away when the door swung open, revealing a familiar pair of large blue eyes staring at her. Liam.
All the anger and frustration couldn’t survive that wide-eyed stare. All the circling thoughts and worries and woes. All the questions and regrets. Gone.
All that was left was a warmth swelling in her chest, yanking her towards the small figure waiting in the room.
She barged past Marcus, stumbling on trembling legs as she hurried forward and dropped to her knees to embrace the boy. As Liam’s arms closed around her too, it was like a piece of her that had been missing was finally found. The hollow in her chest had been filled. She was whole once again.
Somewhere, far from her concerns, she heard shuffling footsteps, followed by the door clicking shut.
She and Liam held each other like that for Lord knows how long, without a word passing between them. Words weren’t needed now. What they needed to communicate went much deeper than words.
It was only when the weight of a familiar hand settled on her shoulder that she finally drew back from the embrace — and even then, only enough to glance up at the only other person in the world who held such a strong claim on her heart as the boy in her arms.
Liam shifted too, feeling her movement. His eyes widened as he took in the unfamiliar face, pulling back further to glance at Madeline.
She gave him her best, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “This is someone I’d like you to meet. Do you think you could manage that?”
He nodded.
Taking care to never lose contact with him fully, Madeline let her arms drop from where she held Liam, grazing down an arm to his hand before she turned around to face her friend — her love.
“Liam, this is Billie. I look forward to telling you all about them and how wonderful they are.” She smiled up at them. “And Billie, this is Liam. I—”
“I’ve already heard how wonderful you are!” they said, crouching down to be on the same level as Madeline and him. “And any friend of Madeline’s is a friend of mine. Now I just can’t wait to get to know you for myself!”
Madeline looked back at Liam, hoping that this wasn’t all too much at once for him.
“Nice to meet you, B-Billie.”
Her heart soared.
submitted by rainbow--penguin to RainbowWrites [link] [comments]
So she kept putting it off. After all, it wasn’t like they were in a huge hurry. There were still so many people to ask after in here — so much more to learn and pass on to their allies outside.
But all practical excuses Madeline could come up with couldn’t silence the voice whispering at the back of her mind. She was being selfish. She didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise her upcoming visit with Liam.
It was getting close now, and she was counting down the days.
Every second she spent working in the fields — mindlessly harvesting potatoes by muscle memory alone — her thoughts were full of imagined meetings. What would it be like to see him again? Would he have grown? Would he be as pleased to see her as she was to see him? Would he blame her for him being captured? Would he blame her for leaving him behind — even if it had been at his own request?
When Marcus finally came to tell her that the day had come — her free day tomorrow — she thought that she might explode with all the nervous excitement.
She hardly slept that night, keeping Billie up with all her wriggling and shifting, and she was up and out of bed as soon as the morning light blared on.
Breakfast was barely touched as her mind raced with more important things. Whenever Billie tried to talk to her, the words were muted and garbled to her ears, as if underwater. After the first couple of attempts to start up a conversation, they stopped trying. Her leg bounced up and down as she sat, waiting on the bottom bunk.
The wait was agonising. It was as if, the closer she got, the more each second dragged on and on and on.
Her eyes remained fixed on the door, heart jolting every time it opened. Soon, she was cursing the comings and goings of her roommates.
Until, finally, it opened onto Marcus’s familiar face.
Madeline leapt up and ran towards him. “Is it time?”
She felt a presence at her shoulder as Billie caught up.
Marcus beamed. “It’s time.” He looked between the pair of them. “Are you both ready?”
“Yes!” Madeline knew she sounded impatient, but she didn’t care.
“We’re ready,” Billie confirmed. “As I think you can tell, this one,” they gestured their head towards her, “has been ready for a loooong time.”
The young guard chuckled. “Yeah. It’s good to have someone so happy to see me for once — even if it isn’t actually for me.” He beckoned. “Come on then. I’ll take you to the visiting room.”
As they walked down the corridor, Madeline silently willed Marcus to speed up. Soon, she was glaring daggers at the back of his head, wondering if he’d always been this slow. Then, she was not so silently sighing and tapping her fingers together to let out her frustration, but it didn’t nothing to speed up the journey. The walk dragged on and on and on. Down endless corridors. Through endless buildings. Waiting for Marcus to unlock endless doors.
By the time they reached the visiting room — one final door for the guard to unlock — Madeline was ready to burst, a scream boiling up inside of her as Marcus fumbled with his keys.
But all that melted away when the door swung open, revealing a familiar pair of large blue eyes staring at her. Liam.
All the anger and frustration couldn’t survive that wide-eyed stare. All the circling thoughts and worries and woes. All the questions and regrets. Gone.
All that was left was a warmth swelling in her chest, yanking her towards the small figure waiting in the room.
She barged past Marcus, stumbling on trembling legs as she hurried forward and dropped to her knees to embrace the boy. As Liam’s arms closed around her too, it was like a piece of her that had been missing was finally found. The hollow in her chest had been filled. She was whole once again.
Somewhere, far from her concerns, she heard shuffling footsteps, followed by the door clicking shut.
She and Liam held each other like that for Lord knows how long, without a word passing between them. Words weren’t needed now. What they needed to communicate went much deeper than words.
It was only when the weight of a familiar hand settled on her shoulder that she finally drew back from the embrace — and even then, only enough to glance up at the only other person in the world who held such a strong claim on her heart as the boy in her arms.
Liam shifted too, feeling her movement. His eyes widened as he took in the unfamiliar face, pulling back further to glance at Madeline.
She gave him her best, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “This is someone I’d like you to meet. Do you think you could manage that?”
He nodded.
Taking care to never lose contact with him fully, Madeline let her arms drop from where she held Liam, grazing down an arm to his hand before she turned around to face her friend — her love.
“Liam, this is Billie. I look forward to telling you all about them and how wonderful they are.” She smiled up at them. “And Billie, this is Liam. I—”
“I’ve already heard how wonderful you are!” they said, crouching down to be on the same level as Madeline and him. “And any friend of Madeline’s is a friend of mine. Now I just can’t wait to get to know you for myself!”
Madeline looked back at Liam, hoping that this wasn’t all too much at once for him.
“Nice to meet you, B-Billie.”
Her heart soared.
2024.05.19 16:17 Rusted-1 ARK 8 Chapter 20-Old gods, new hope
 | \"What's a cult? It just means not enough people to make a minority.\"- Robert Altman submitted by Rusted-1 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments] HELLO EVERYONE! I'M BAAAACCKKKKK! Sorry, it's been a while, college and all. Now that I'm Back from college, I should post more regularly. The story shall continue! I might be a bit rusty, but I'm definitely getting back into the swing of things. Hope you all enjoy it. This fanfic is based on the fanfic The Isolationists, by Seeyouon_otherside, and a continuation of the stronger_together series. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Time Since First Contact: Y:0 M:1 W:0 D:0 Memory transcript: Commander Fango Feral, Tiwond of the Enforcers. “Again,” I told Sunclick. He nodded as the security feed from the incident at the mall played once more in front of us. My niece Canilia Lieutenant Feral, Sunclick, along with the commander lieutenants of each district, all observed what was happening on the screen in front of us, from the human known as Sixer interacting peacefully with a couple, then that brat, who came out of nowhere, who was chasing some poor Zeyzell, then Ashina, who came out of the bathroom and slammed the brat on the ground. Then he and his friends left only for the brat, who disappeared before he left the door. “And his friends have no idea where he went?” I asked one of the commander lieutenants. “No, sir. My husband was one of the people on that recovery team, and after heavy interrogation of the kids' friends, he simply disappeared. He left his friends completely abandoned and confused. They don’t know where he went. It was like he just vanished.” One of the commander lieutenants spoke up. “Thank you for the confirmation,” I told him. He swished his tail in acknowledgment and then started talking to the others as they bounced theories and questions off one another. Leaving me and my niece to ourselves, my niece stepped forward. “Sir, I understand this is personal for you, especially since it involved Ashina.” my niece told me. “Thank you for understanding that. You don’t have to call me sir. You are my niece.” “I know, it's just a professional courtesy.” She responded flatly. I nodded. “Thank you. I know you and her didn’t always get along, especially after her parents died, but I’m glad you, too, have become such close friends after we let her in under our roof,” I whispered to my niece. Looking at my niece's face, I wished I could take off that gas mask to see her smile. However, I knew what was under it, and any real chance of her being truly happy was most likely long, long gone. Ever since she lost her gift, she has been bitter and angry, focusing solely on protecting others from the same fate that befell her. Wait a minute, isn’t the staying human Dominic staying with her? “Canilia, how are things with that human? You don’t talk about him much.” She was silent. Then I heard a weird, cracking sound. It was very faint, but I could hear it as she was right next to me. It was coming from her mouth. I know that cracking sound. It’s what’s left of her cheek, curling into a smile. A Small one, but a smile nonetheless. “He is very kind to me. He likes hugs, he likes to talk, and he likes to listen. I like that he likes to help me, although I have yet to show him this.” She gestured to her stomach, where her gift once was. I nodded. She was...happy... I nodded to Sunclick, who then took over the conversation so I could talk to my niece. He drew the attention away from us, allowing us to speak. “Do you think the aliens will be able to help you reclaim your gift?” I asked. She shrugged. “I sure hope so, another thing, however.” She spoke much more quietly. “ I’ve been staring at the neighbors' kids again. I don’t know how long I’ve been doing it, but Dominic’s caught me doing it twice. He knows something, and he will think less of me when he finds out.” She hung her head with despair. With all my heart, I wish I could reach out, grab her by the head, and yell at her that losing your gift isn’t a sign of dishonor. She was wounded in combat. None of it was her fault, and that she should forgive herself. But I know that wouldn’t work, she’s too stubborn like me, one of the few traits. I wish she had never gotten it from me. If my sister was here now, she would kill me. “What has he done about it?” I asked. “When he saw you looking at the little ones.” She moved a little bit, causing her power armor to creek, then looked back up at me with the sort of, well, I don’t know, I've never seen that look in her eyes. It was like Hope and joy, but more. “He knows something is wrong. It’s his medical training that tells him it and his instincts, he’s actually baked a few meats for me, and sometimes when I snap out of it, there’s a blanket over me and a hot cup of…coco, I believe he calls it next to me. He is an excellent caretaker.” I couldn’t help but smile. She finally found someone who isn’t intimidated by her, who is willing to care for her that isn’t me. I felt an odd pride at that, but I’ll take that pride. “Is the great Canilia Feral Smiling? Oh, I never thought I would see the da-.” My niece and I turned at the same exact time. Our combined staring rivals that of any sun's power, with how intense our staring was at the damned soul who dared make a comment like that at her. The moment our eyes landed on the poor soul, he shriveled faster than a drumling that was absorbed into a flesh pit. He quickly hung his head and scurried out of the room to the laughter of the other lieutenant commanders. I turned back to Sunclick, who was having a bit of a chuckle of his own, he looked up at me and gave him the thumbs up, and I returned the gesture. “Have the scanners picked anything up? The cameras, have they picked anything up about this person?” I asked him, the laughter quickly leaving the room as we returned to full seriousness mode. “Sorry, commander, nothing, we’ve picked up absolutely nothing about this guy. We’ve run background checks, and we believe a few leads and we have some units out there checking out all the leads, however, will take some time as there are quite a few, and we don’t really know much about this kid. There are almost no files on him. The only thing we have turned up is a birth certificate and seventeen residences, which cannot be right. However, we did find something rather interesting. After talking to some of the people on the scene, we were able to discern a possible motive, which gave us a very good lead. Then, looking into that motive, we found a few of these.” Sunclick pointed to a stack of extremely old newspapers, the ones the type that came right after the third unification war, when hyperpaper was very rare, and the plants that needed to be used in hyperpaper production were almost all wiped out during the war, and these are made on type of cloth to save hyper paper. I walked over and picked one up, looking at the article that was circled. It read, “Boy's mother, abducted by aliens? Fact? Or postwar terrorist?” I looked at Sunclick. “I remember the post-war terrorist, and I put a few down myself.” My niece spoke out loud as she looked over my shoulder. One of the lieutenant commanders came up, picked up the newspaper stacks, and started handing them out to the others. “Sunclick, I trust your judgment, but can you explain…this?” I asked him. His eyes lit up like a Titan bug after it had ingested a bunch of parasites that were making their way out of its body. “I would love to! You see, this kid, for whatever reason, believes that aliens abducted his mother. Now, post-war terrorists were common, and they are running around, and it might even be true that a post-war terrorist kidnapper killed his mother. However, the body was never actually found like most terrorist killings. After the war, there was so much confusion because people didn’t know what to do, and many were still bitter that we had won. For whatever reason, this kid got this idea into his head that aliens had kidnapped his mother, which everyone was kind of obsessed about, even more so that there are some literally living among us. Much to everyone’s delight, I must say. However, with that single statement, that single line, and what witnesses told us at the scene. We have a much more narrow view of who this kid is, the only problem is, that the kid was never properly documented. He’s a ghost in the system. The good news is his friends have been more than helpful, as they didn’t realize he would go that far. They've been telling us everything about him, but after some digging, it turns out they know just as much as we do, next to nothing. Either this kid is extremely paranoid or…” Sunclick went silent. “Please, Sunclick, tell us.” my niece asked. He took a deep breath. He shifted nervously in his seat. “He’s a part of the cult of the old God.” The emotion and general vibe of the room immediately shifted when the cult of the old god was mentioned: those rat bastards. “Do you think they moved up this far north?” I asked him. “Honestly, I think so, I’ve been working with some of the lesser district managers since all of you guys have been busy with the aliens, which I don’t blame you for. They’re pretty freaking awesome. However, since their arrival, the cult of the old God activity has practically tripled twenty-fold. It’s insane what they’ve been pulling off, from stealing military equipment to assassinating low-level political members-" "WHY IN THE OLD VOID WAS I NOT MADE AWARE OF THIS!?!" I screamed. Everyone in the room winced except my neice. Sunclick, who had received the full force of my explosive outbursts, had his ears pinned on his head and looked somewhat afraid of me now. I sighed and motioned him to continue. "Please continue." "....uh sorry...I was going to tell you eventually, as things are out of hand, which is probably about right now. However, you were busy with the aliens and...never mind, it's not important now. If this kid is a part of the cult of the old God, they’ve gotten extremely bold, and they will become a major problem for the aliens. Their whole goal is to purify the planet and kill the great protector so that their own God, the old God, the one who came before the great protector, can reign again, and we can expand past the red lightning veil and enter the greater galaxy. These aliens represent a massive threat to that ideology. Now they know there’s another life out there, other empires, they will see the aliens as a huge threat. This means they’ll be number one on their bucket list to take out, and if they do that, the aliens could turn against us, seeing us as all hostile, which is not happening at all, considering just how nice they’ve been, they’re also extremely cuddly, I mean, have you seen the way they-.” “Sunclick, I understand you enjoy discussing advanced science with humans, but we need you to focus.” One of the commander lieutenants said. Sunclick stopped and nodded. “Right, right, sorry. As I was saying, the aliens represent a massive threat to their organization. However, this attack could’ve been a totally one-off situation where some random member decided to prove themselves. However, it also could have been something to test the alien's reaction to one of their own getting attacked. The aliens were mad, sure, but they trusted us to keep them safe. The aliens themselves didn’t do much other than send down more equipment for us and some of their own people to monitor the situation.” Sunclick finished. I nodded my head. “Thank you, good work as always.” he smiled and nodded as his ears returned to normal, then returned to his computer. I looked back at the lieutenant command, who had the Zeyzell and citizen who were assaulted under her watch. “How are the two that were assaulted?” She grimaced. “Not great, I'm afraid. The Zeyzell has been having regular panic attacks, and the citizen has refused to come out of their house in the past two days. They’re too scared for their Zeyzell counterpart. The two have become great friends, which is good for AR, though.” She said, “AR?” I asked. “Sorry. Many of the grunts have been using it, and it’s very catchy. It’s called alien relations, AR.” I nodded and turned back to the screen as the scene played again. It was the kid, limping off out of the door, who would then disappear from his friend's arms. I glanced up at the screen a little higher, and that’s when I noticed it. A camera is not connected to the system, barely a pixel on the screen. It’s a private camera. How did we not see that? “Sunclick, look up top of the ceiling on the screen,” I told him. He looked up, and his eyes went wide. “It's a private camera! How could we miss that?” he said out loud. “Not important right now. Can you get access to it?” I asked him. This is the chance I've been waiting for to get this person who would dare assault the alien who's making my daughter so happy. “Yes, sir, I can do that!” he proudly exclaimed. After a few quick taps on his computer, multiple connections, errors, and unknown errors, he punched the computer and got a connection. The tape played this time from the front. The angle was a bit weird, so we couldn’t get a good look at the kid's face, But it was what was around his neck that mattered. “I’ll be damned, a pendant of the cult of the old God.” my niece said as we all looked at it in surprised silence. “ I’m gonna have fun tearing that kid apart.” She said as she flexed her power armor claws. I looked at the pendent in silent anger. "Bold of the kid to wear it around in the open like that." She said aloud, and we all agreed. I turned around to the face of other lieutenant commanders. “This is what we’ve been preparing for. You know the drill: get your districts, alert every enforcement office if possible, and get the enforcers on the streets. Get everyone on higher alert. I want more patrols, and I want everything more. Not enough to alert the population that something is happening yet, just more than usual.” They all nodded and streamed out of the room. I turned to leave. However, an open door caught my eye. I turned and walked through it to see my niece standing on the balcony overlooking the city. I wandered out myself, power armor slightly clanking the entire time, the metal hitting the cold, polished concrete of the floor. I also looked at the sprawling metropolis we had built from this hell hole of a planet, its towering walls lined with guns and cannons to keep out the beasties. I walked up beside her and saw that something was in her hands. “What do you have there?” I asked her. I looked at it closely, and it seemed to be some sort of scarf. I didn’t recognize the design or patterns. “Dominic made this for me. I don’t exactly know why. He just kind of did. He didn’t ask for anything in return. He just gave it to me. He said he didn’t want me to get a cold.” She brought the scarf to her neck, which was a perfect fit. She tied it around just underneath her mask, and when she was finished, she let out a puff of steam from her mask. “It's a perfect fit,” I replied, smiled, and looked back out over the city. Looking over it, I thought about our history, the feral's bloodline, and how we have served as the world’s protectors for so long. Now, it was threatened because only two ferals were left: me and my niece. Now, we have aliens to deal with. They seemed nice so far… I leaned a little farther over the railing. A glint of metal in the sky caught my eye and I looked up to see one of the Zeyzell transports coming down, most likely More Humans. I tracked it with my eyes as it landed in one of the newer landing pads with a loud clang, the landing gear hissing as it landed, and saw a large number of my people standing around there waving signs that said “Welcome!” and “Hello new friends!” and other signs that said similar welcoming messages. I smiled and looked over at my niece. “How has the city’s morale been since the aliens have come here?” She quickly opened her wrist computer and typed minor keys on the tiny keypad. I still don't understand how she can use that, the screen is so tiny. “From last time, when it was already an eighty percent increase, an additional twenty-three point four percent.” I smiled even brighter and looked back down. The Zeyzell transport landed, and everybody cheered, and then the door opened as the Humans and a few Zeyzell came off the transport. My people began shouting names. Most likely for exchange partners. Immediately, the aliens again answered the calls and ran to their new friends. Many embraced in tight hugs and made what I assumed were happy noises based on how their mouths moved, as I could hear very little from up here. A few of the humans even started crying as soon as they embraced the larger frames of my species, practically melting into the "floofy fur" as the humans called it, of our fur. I even saw a pup leap from its mom and “run,” although it was more of a quick waddle over to a human and embrace them, making happy beeping sounds the entire time. The human held them so gently as if they were afraid to break. Then, he immediately started to cry uncontrollably. However, with all of the joy and happiness down there that I so loved, I was a bit disturbed by the crying. What in the world could they have gone through that would make something like a simple hug so unique? No, it wasn't the hug itself. I thought about my time on board the ARK ship and what I had seen. I have seen many humans embracing each other and hugs, giving each other kisses or their equivalent of it, I've also seen them embracing and hugging Zeyzell. I was also aware of a lot of inter-species couples and marriages on board the ARK ship. I thought about it very hard, deciphering everything that I had learned on board the ARK ship, in addition to the information that was sent to us very early on, and-... then it clicked. “They aren't crying because they're being shown love…” “What?” My niece asked. I turned fully to her. “They are not crying because they're being shown love. They are crying because another species is showing them love. They're being shown that someone cares about them other than their own species and the Zeyzell.” I turned back to the landing pad and the ship was leaving as all the aliens had found the people they were looking for and were being carried back to cars, walking alongside them, or simply sitting and talking and sharing a meal. As I stood there, it was as if I could feel the emotions coming from the humans: the joy, the happiness, and the sheer love of being accepted. I couldn't explain it, but I felt as though we shared a deeper connection with humans than we initially thought. “Do you feel it?” my niece asked. I looked at her and nodded. “I can feel the joy, happiness, and love they are feeling right now from all the way over here.” I nodded my head. “I think whoever or whatever they were running from was another alien species, based on the information I gathered from the ark ship, the reactions and emotions of the humans down there, and the information I sent to us early on. I had theories before that it was another species they were running from; I know many other people thought that, too, But I think this almost confirms it: they are definitely running from someone. Or were, but now they feel safe here.” I told her as I gestured to all the people below us. My niece nodded. “When I get home, I'm going to give Dominic a big hug.” We remained silent for a time. Just watching the beautiful scene before us as the snow fell slowly and lightly, the trees swayed in the breeze, ever so slightly bending. The wind made a howling noise as it whipped through the tight streets and architecture of our building. I breathed in and let it out, letting my breath turn to steam. I reached out and let the snow fall onto my hand. I brought my hand close, but the snowflake had already melted. My gaze returned to the Humans and Zeyzell, enjoying the snow alongside my people. I turned to my niece. “Our planet may be trying to kill us in over a thousand different ways, but it’s beautiful, huh?” My niece sighed and looked at me. “Yeah, and it’s going to get a lot better now that we have friends, or lovers for some, from beyond the veil.” I nodded and looked back at the snow that now danced in my vision as the Humans and Zeyzell departed with my people. I sighed, and we both returned inside to see Sunclick waiting for us. “You can go nerd out with the humans now,” I told him. ‘“Thank you, sir!” He shot out of the room and down the hall. I smiled and turned back to my niece. “Do you want to grab something to eat? The snow is great right now.” I asked “Sure. However, before that, we should warn the aliens about the cult, huh?” “Oh, definitely,” I told her. I smiled and we walked over to the communication system connecting us to the Aliens. First/Previous/Next |
2024.05.19 16:17 Successful_Log_8743 Face eczema?
 | I’ve had eczema on the creases of my arms and legs for the past two years yet the past couple of months i’ve been getting this rash on my face. The rash comes and goes every week or so and i’ve had numerous eye swelling problems along this. Any ideas if this is facial eczema, allergies or rosacea. I started birth control and a week after this rash appeared and has been coming and going since, wondering if this is a coincidence? The doctor just wants to prescribe steroid creams, I have used them once in my life on my legs but refuse to use them on my face. submitted by Successful_Log_8743 to DermatologyQuestions [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 16:17 thelittlesttea Difficulty with allergies. Has anyone found a solution?
We have a male springer spaniel (field) who is turning 3 years old tomorrow and for the last two years he has been suffering from horrible allergies.
His symptoms include ear infections, hot spots, red swollen anus (infected from licking once), skin tags, scabbing, goopy eyes, hair falling off of his eyes, and full body rashes (worse on his chest).
We have done EVERYTHING and I am desperate for something that could possibly help him suffer less. He currently eats a hydrolized allergy diet with NO treats and/or scraps, we bath him in an allergy shampoo weekly, he gets medicated powder on his belly, ears cleaned with preventative solution weekly, and he has tried pills (which we stopped because they weakened his immune system and he got kennel cough 3x) and the allergy shots.
I feel horrible and hate that he suffers like this. It seems as though once we have it under control, a new symptom starts. We have been under the care of a vet who is lovely, but isn’t sure what’s causing his allergies and we have an appointment booked with a dog dermatologist in 3 months (waiting list was insane).
Has anyone else had these problems? How do you help your dogs? If it’s helpful, we are located in the southeastern USA.
submitted by thelittlesttea to springerspaniel [link] [comments]
His symptoms include ear infections, hot spots, red swollen anus (infected from licking once), skin tags, scabbing, goopy eyes, hair falling off of his eyes, and full body rashes (worse on his chest).
We have done EVERYTHING and I am desperate for something that could possibly help him suffer less. He currently eats a hydrolized allergy diet with NO treats and/or scraps, we bath him in an allergy shampoo weekly, he gets medicated powder on his belly, ears cleaned with preventative solution weekly, and he has tried pills (which we stopped because they weakened his immune system and he got kennel cough 3x) and the allergy shots.
I feel horrible and hate that he suffers like this. It seems as though once we have it under control, a new symptom starts. We have been under the care of a vet who is lovely, but isn’t sure what’s causing his allergies and we have an appointment booked with a dog dermatologist in 3 months (waiting list was insane).
Has anyone else had these problems? How do you help your dogs? If it’s helpful, we are located in the southeastern USA.
2024.05.19 16:15 ActRevolutionary1708 Month 4 need help (skin biopsy)
You’ve heard it here before, intense itching, red bumps, sleepless nights and terrible mental exhaustion. All these things have been going on since February 2024 and took a break though April after I was prescribed the topical anti scabies ointment. Something unique about my case which makes it difficult to handle is that I’m having raised red rashes all up and down my arms. Blotchy, faded boarders etc. this sort of stumped the doctors but they still went with the scabies diagnosis. They didn’t find a mite. Is finding mites common? I swear I’ve seen some of those little crusty looking tunnels on my hands but I can’t be sure it’s scabies.
The ointment didn’t work so I went with ivermectin. And they gave my triamcinolone cream and I couldn’t tell if this was what relieved the rash or if the ivermectin did? Anyways it’s back and worse, rash all over my body. They did a skin biopsy and said “no scabies, contact dermatitis” but I don’t know how they can tell that I don’t have scabies from that tiny hole punch they did in my arm and chest. If anyone has info on if this is a sure diagnosis of no systematic scabies then please share.
submitted by ActRevolutionary1708 to scabies [link] [comments]
The ointment didn’t work so I went with ivermectin. And they gave my triamcinolone cream and I couldn’t tell if this was what relieved the rash or if the ivermectin did? Anyways it’s back and worse, rash all over my body. They did a skin biopsy and said “no scabies, contact dermatitis” but I don’t know how they can tell that I don’t have scabies from that tiny hole punch they did in my arm and chest. If anyone has info on if this is a sure diagnosis of no systematic scabies then please share.
2024.05.19 16:09 KiddRm Fears of moving out/going NC
I've been planning my escape but there are some fears that I'm a bit hung up on in my planning. So this is a mini rant/me looking for advice.
Then there's my sisters "old cat"/"my moms cat" Firstly, the cat is disabled. She's missing a front leg which makes her an easy target for my cat who is aggressive when he's upset/jealous. My sister would spend all day and night after uni with her essentially creating separation anxiety and then moved out and abandoned her to take her current cat and get another cat that her old roommate, thank god, stole. My mom doesn't pet her, she could be sitting on her lap meowing for attention and she'll be too busy watching sports or texting all her enabler friends online.
I am so scared that when I leave these poor cats will be even more emotionally/physically neglected, my cat has long hair and I am the only one who has ever brushed him, they dont get hit or anything like that. (That I know of)
When it comes to moving out I don't have a lot of options, as of right now its join the CAF (Canadian Armed Forces for my American readers) which means no cats can come with me, or I can move out on a minimum wage salary and not be able to afford cat food/find affordable housing that allows cats.
Any advice is much appreciated, thank you for reading my mini essay lolol
submitted by KiddRm to raisedbynarcissists [link] [comments]
- When I leave my dad will become the new scapegoat. He's currently a mix between Enabler and Scapegoat, my N mom and Golden child older sister often blame him for any financial or hygienic woes they have. (My mom is a hoarder and often puts down my dads ability to keep the place tidy... but doesn't let me or him clean. As well as openly mocks him with my sister calling him a loser and other things like that) My dad is not a bad guy, he used to be the one parent I actually did stuff with and could talk to about issues as a child growing up. He's getting close to 60 and he has a lot of physical issues as well as mental (recently he looks like the walking dead, it's visibly obvious he's depressed. He's also is starting to forget a lot of things, Alzheimer's runs on his side of the family.) I don't like knowing that when I leave his life will be even worse than it is now.
- My cat, my sisters cat and my "moms cat". My cat is also similar to my dad lol, getting old and very disliked by my mom and sister. He only receives affection from me/gives affection to me. My cat is 13, losing his eyesight and has issues with the other cats in the household (he's a very big Norwegian forest cat and quite aggressive). The other two cats were not at all introduced to him properly and the blame was put on me although at the time I was around 13-14 and still grieving the loss of our last cat. I am currently 19 and the only one who gives the cats in my house any attention/affection.
Then there's my sisters "old cat"/"my moms cat" Firstly, the cat is disabled. She's missing a front leg which makes her an easy target for my cat who is aggressive when he's upset/jealous. My sister would spend all day and night after uni with her essentially creating separation anxiety and then moved out and abandoned her to take her current cat and get another cat that her old roommate, thank god, stole. My mom doesn't pet her, she could be sitting on her lap meowing for attention and she'll be too busy watching sports or texting all her enabler friends online.
I am so scared that when I leave these poor cats will be even more emotionally/physically neglected, my cat has long hair and I am the only one who has ever brushed him, they dont get hit or anything like that. (That I know of)
When it comes to moving out I don't have a lot of options, as of right now its join the CAF (Canadian Armed Forces for my American readers) which means no cats can come with me, or I can move out on a minimum wage salary and not be able to afford cat food/find affordable housing that allows cats.
Any advice is much appreciated, thank you for reading my mini essay lolol
2024.05.19 16:04 APCleriot My Family Isn't In The Family Photos
What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.
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He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.
2024.05.19 16:00 BrodogIsMyName Frontier Fantasy - Chap 39
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Edited by WaveOfWire
- - - - -
Two days… It had been two days that Tracy had gone to sleep while Harrison was working, only to come back in the morning to see him still in the workshop. She knew he was damn productive, sure, but that really couldn’t be healthy. Apparently, it had something to do with the weird bowl of orange… soup… that Cera gave him. No way was it just caffeine; any amount of the stuff would have been filtered out of his system by now. He mentioned a tingling feeling too…
Damn, she did not know enough about drugs to even start assuming what that massive alien had Harrison fucked up on. At least the scanner said he was ‘fine’—if you ignore the other glaring issues the machine brought up. Plus, he said he didn’t mind it. Either way, he managed to complete the weaving component and a few other electrical backbones of the fabricator last night, so the project was practically done, and after seeing the engineer work himself half to death, she was dead-set on finishing it.
She was currently tits-deep into the upper manufacturing portion of the towering machine. It took a tall step-stool—on top of the nearby desk—for her to push her small shoulders through the even smaller access panels high on the everything-printer. It was difficult to fit her torso in, but she managed, holding a flashlight between her teeth as she fiddled with a stubborn series of mechanical ‘hands.’ Nothing new. The situation reminded her of the ‘shop back on Mars; it had the same ever-present scent of copper and industrial sealant. All that was missing was her dad’s ancient tunes blasting through some shitty speakers… Hold on…
The modular component in her grip was successfully attached with a resonating thock. Tracy squirmed out of the dim wire-filled crevice, trying her best to not rip her only tank-top on any bolts or corners, and getting a face-full of the bright flood-lights illuminating the workshop. She scowled and blocked out the searing light with a hand, but she was a bit too late to avoid going half-blind.
“Are the mechanical manipulators in?” Harrison grunted, poking his head out underneath the printer’s floor-adjacent maintenance hatch. She looked down at him as she tried to blink off the spots in her vision. His hair was messy, barely kept in line by his habit of combing through it with his fingers. The areas around his eyes were dark and sunken… Guess that’s what two all-nighters did to a man. He’d be seeing the hat man or start hallucinating if he didn’t get any sleep soon… but then again, the two of them were so close to finishing the fabricator…
“You bet.” She gave him a thumbs up, slamming the panel cover closed. “Feel free to test it.”
He nodded and slid back underneath the machine. “Gotcha”
She gently stepped off the stool and slid off the side of the desk, stretching herself out. If her piss-poor sitting posture or her tank-top puppies hadn’t already fucked her spine up, bending over backward to build this fabricator sure as hell would. She sat down next to the panel where Harrison resided, resting her back against the fabrication tower. Her excited voice broke the muffled noises of the engineer’s work. “So… Harrison?”
“Hmm—”
“—Mind if I play some music?”
The sounds from the hatch stopped, followed by his muffled, shocked tone echoing from beneath the fabricator. “You have music!?”
She smirked at seeing the expression on his face when his head popped out again. “I sure do… Did you seriously not download any to your data pad?”
He slipped out from beneath the fabricator fully, huffing as he took a knee beside her. The scent of melded rubber, wire, and his liquid labor reached her nose not-so-unpleasantly. “You would not believe how much of a pain it is to repair an entire barracks without it… So, yeah, I didn’t.”
“Sooooooooo, whatcha wanna listen to? I’ve got almost everything on here—besides the super niche, of course.” She pulled her data pad out, swiping to the massive music folder
“You wouldn’t like the kinda music I listen to; It’s ancient.”
She gave him a lighthearted, annoyed glare. “Welcome to the club… Now what’ll it be?”
“It’s Old Earth kind of ancient… but alright” He looked up at the ceiling in thought, lips pursed. “Do you have anything from Styx or Sweet?”
She stared at him incredulously, her smirk turning into a fully-fledged smile. “Oh my God. You are an absolute dork! You actually listen to Golden Age music?”
His brows raised, accusatory. “And you somehow know exactly who those bands were and what age of Old Earth music they came from?”
She smugly leaned in closer. “That’s because I’m just as much of a nerd with that kinda music as you apparently are.” She quickly looked upward, addressing the workshop AI. “Sebas, connect nearby speakers to my data pad’s audio.” Tracy elbowed the engineer lightly as the PA system chirped its affirmation. “Now, Mr. Golden Age music, which albums do ya want me to queue up?”
- - - - -
The two of them listened to music for hours, tossing on songs they liked as they came to mind while they worked. Harrison had a ton of recommendations that spanned all over the Golden Ages and some twenty-first century classics. She didn’t even know half of them, but she was vibing either way, adding on her own taste by intermingling some older rock tracks and newer electronic beats. The playlist was steadily built up as the day went on. Thank God her dad showed her a vast array of tunes; she might not have been able to keep up with the engineer if her old man hadn't.
It made the work go by so fast, their conversations blurring as they jumped from topic to topic. They discussed whatever came to mind—old hobbies, old jobs, and old interests. A lot was left behind in Sol… At least she knew that the only other human on the planet was more interesting than a soulless workaholic. It turned out that he was a pretty big history buff, and he apparently read a lot about the colonization of the Sol system and the various wars of independence thereafter. Curious, she asked where the interest stemmed from, and he explained that his grandfather was an admiral in the Slavic-Europan deep-ice submarine fleet, which explained how Harrison’s mother was able to afford to immigrate to Mars from Europa.
He could also play an acoustic guitar, and, unfortunately for Tracy, he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in printing one out, citing that it was a waste of time and material that would be better used elsewhere. That didn’t stop her from writing a note on her data pad to do so later, though. She hadn’t seen someone play one of those in years—the last time was probably in some old music video from the early twenty-second century. What a shame. She would have liked to hear some of the Europan songs his grandmother taught him.
On the bright side, the man seemed to take an interest in her odd hobbies. He brought up the folder of 3D models that she accidentally uploaded to the inter-module system and asked where she got the inspiration for what was in it. Boy, was he not ready for her ‘WarHalberd40k’ lore dump. Props to the guy for not standing up and leaving the workshop throughout her rambling. He even asked questions about the different factions and their weapons, which she was more than happy to talk about.
She also ended up going over the other franchises and hobbies she was interested in, such as robotics and the like. The only interruptions to their chat were the occasional Akula or Craftsman asking for insight regarding the various tasks he had allotted to them, or Shar coming in to check up on Harrison between guard shifts.
The new dynamic of the group was pretty interesting, to say the least. Tracy hadn’t been out to interact with the whole lot of Malkrin, but she definitely noticed how they treated the engineer. They’d started to look up to him in a way ever since he started showing off technology. In a little over two days, the man had shown them that he could provide the materials for a brick house, fine clothing—especially by the alien’s standards—armor, and delicious food. That wasn’t even mentioning the other benefits the technician heard a few of the ‘banished’ talking about over their meals: heating, electric lights, and other assorted machines.
She’d be feeling pretty happy about herself if she was in his position, having so many look up to him and be grateful at the same time. He seemed to view it a lot more robotically, however, only striving to get the basics done. Luckily for him, his basics were their luxury.
That wasn’t all there was to the topic; the engineer lamented about how the colony was going through food just as quickly as materials. The meals weren’t the direct issue he had, more that he had to start focusing on long-term resource harvesting rather than directly preparing for a literal horde of monsters—which wasn’t exactly ideal. It was a good thing that they just so happened to take on an influx of Malkrin then…
Either way, they finally finished the ‘totally legal modification’ for the fabricator, meaning they could at least partially address the latter half of his worries. The whole process of ripping out an old printer and replacing the parts for a new one felt a lot easier than she imagined… even if it took her at least forty-eight hours to complete it… with help from Harrison. Maybe that was why it felt so easy… She supposed the colony overseers didn’t choose the man for no reason, so his skills made sense.
“So… what do we want to print out first?” Tracy questioned, having finished testing the last major component.
The engineer stretched his arms up into the air and rotated his shoulders, then pulled back the desk’s chair and took a seat. “I’ve had just one thing in mind since the start of this whole project.”
Her brows raised in a mix of excitement and curiosity. She leaned forward, looking at the computer monitor from over his shoulder. “Oh? What’s that, then?”
A smirk formed along his cheek, the computer mouse rapidly clicking through the blueprint folder. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what kind of firearm we need since I started dabbling in belt-fed weapon systems.” He opened one final file, a short loading bar preceding the exploded assembly view of… “An M2 Browning machine gun. It’s more than powerful enough to kill in one shot, while also being capable of fully-automatic fire, with a capacity of however many rounds we want in a belt-box.”
“Uh…huh…” She gave a skeptical nod and took a step back, not exactly sold on the idea. “It looks ancient. It’s kinetic, right? Why aren’t we using energy-based weapons? Don’t we have a gunpowder shortage coming up?”
He moved his chair off to the side to look back at her. “We just can’t; Simple as. We’ll need who knows how many more AI cores before we can get started on that level of equipment, Trace,” he huffed, returning his gaze to the specifications of the firearm. “This isn’t the most ‘modern’ weapon we can make, but its twenty-first century counterpart helps with an improved design… somewhat. And, as I said before, it should be more than capable of killing a bug in one shot, so Shar can just tap-fire it to save ammunition.”
Her head tilted quizzically. “Shar?”
“Yup,” he returned confidently. “It’s the perfect weapon for her.”
She raised a brow. “How so?”
He held his hand up, counting his reasons on his fingers. “She’s always on the front line with a shield, she can absolutely handle the weight and recoil, her four arms make reloading it simple, plus she’ll need something with range and power that isn’t a spear. So, why not? And, if for some reason, she doesn’t want to use it, we can just convert it into a turret—which is something I was planning on doing anyways with however more M2s we print out later.”
“I doubt she’ll say no to any gun you give her,” Tracy chuckled while shaking her head, inadvertently causing her bangs to cover her eyes.
“Fair enough,” he conceded with a bob of his head. “What do you think, then? What kinda weapons do you have in mind?”
She reapplied her goggles into an impromptu hairband, feeling a smirk cross her face. “Thought you’d never ask. What purpose do we need these guns to fulfill? Hordes I’m guessing?”
“That’s the idea, yeah. That doesn’t mean they all need to be machine guns, though.” He tapped the belt-fed shotgun beside him.
“Well, lemme see what we’re working with first.” She suddenly stepped forward, leaning over Harrison’s seat to access the keyboard and mouse. Her arms briefly rubbed against him, forcing him to roll his chair backward. She suppressed a giggle at seeing his incredulous frown.
Her eyes quickly traced the hundreds of individual files, clicking through all sorts of folders, each arranged from pre-twenty-first century ‘antiques,’ to more modern iterations of kinetics and particle weaponry. There was… a lot on there—almost too much to reasonably comb through. Why? Did the colony overseers just say ‘fuck it’ and put whatever they could find on here? Were they expecting the pioneers to make a museum of everything?
She sighed, standing up straight and facing Harrison. “Y’know, I’m actually impressed you managed to find that M2-whatever in there…”
He shifted in his seat, resting an elbow on the desk. “Yup, there’s a lot. I’m almost tempted to just make several of those machine guns and just call it a day, but I feel like that’d be too much of a strain on resources, no?”
“I don’t really know enough about how you fight those spider-crab things, or how to get more gunpowder, so… maybe?” She shrugged, biting her cheek in contemplation. “You might just wanna make a few smaller caliber weapons… like, uh… those old kinetic service rifles. If your pump-action shotgun works fine, I’m sure some normal guns would work just fine for now, right?”
He hardily gripped his firearm, hauling it up to his lap. “Depends on what you mean by ‘smaller caliber.’ The whole reason why the KS-23 here works—” he pulled out a massive shell from the ammo belt, displaying it on his palm. “—is because the twenty-three-millimeter round has enough energy transfer to mess up any bug's shell and insides. I’d say the smallest rounds we could use would be point-two-forty-three caliber to get any similar results.”
Brief flickers of grungy orange shells and gnashing teeth marred Tracy’s sight. She forcibly suppressed them, distracting herself with dry humor and a strained laugh. “Guess those fuckers can really take a punch, huh?”
He shook his head somberly. “I couldn’t imagine going up against them without a gun… Anyway, I like your idea of a standard rifle for now. Then, when we have some product lines up, we can go a little more in depth into personal weapons.”
“So are you gonna take one?” She hopped up on the desk, letting her legs swing off the side.
“Don’t think so, no. I’ll stick with my shotty.” The internals of the heavily modified weapon rattled as he held it up and inspected it. “Doesn’t mean I’ll keep it as is. I’m thinking of printing a laser aiming module so I can point-fire it accurately, and maybe a melee-oriented muzzle brake or a lighter chassis to reduce weight… Not sure though.”
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her cheeks in her palms. “Melee-oriented? Oooooh, like a chain-sword or something?”
His short chuckle coerced a smirk to her face. “No, not like that. More something to use as a bludgeoning tool. Right before the blood-moon, I ended up getting just as much use out of this shotgun as a hammer than as a… well, a shotgun.”
“That’s pretty fuckin’ metal. So are you just gonna make the barrel into a giant bayonet?”
He nodded. “Not exactly a bayonet, but something more like a door-breaching break.”
A short silence settled on their conversation, the faint sounds of the fabricator’s hum and distant woodwork coming to light. Right, there was an outside world… She’d been too caught up talking to Harrison for however many hours it had been. She wondered how successful the fisherwomen were in collecting, and how things had been for the others working on the wood storage shack. Maybe it was already completed? The sun peered through the cargo bay door, proving that it was only about midday. What else would they work on today?
“Hey,” she ventured.
“Hm?” the engineer hummed, his eyes focused on the monitor beside the technician.
She scooted closer to his keyboard. “What’re we doing after this?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned backward, propping herself up on two hands. “Project wise; what’s the next big thing?”
“Uhmmm…” he muttered, interacting with the computer for a few more seconds before finally meeting her gaze. “Well, I’ve just allocated the fabricator to print out the M2, three FALs—wood furniture, of course—then there’s the magazines and ammunition, so we’ve got a lot of time to kill. The next big thing is definitely going to be metal procurement, and— Oh, right!” Harrison stopped mid-sentence, reaching into his backpack and pulling out several finger-sized metallic cubes, a sudden fire in his eyes. “Okay, so a while ago, during an encounter with three colossi, Shar and Akula found a cave with some ‘surface’ metal deposits. I took a piece off to analyze, but never got the chance to until last night. Anyway, we don’t have any machines to examine the ore, so I made use of the recycler and broke it down to its baser components.”
She nodded along, seeing where he was going with his explanation. “I’m guessing those shiny cubes are the metals from the ore?”
“Sure is. So, as it turns out, we have a pretty damn close supply of not only iron, but also, zinc, sulfur, and a small amount of cadmium. I talked with Sebas about it and did a little research. We believe it’s something akin to sphalerite, given its composition and looks, which implies it’s a sedimentary exhalative deposit. That means there must have been some volcanic…”
Harrison continued talking about underwater deposits and ancient rock formations, bringing up some theories brought forward by the now 4-AI-core-powered Sebas, delving into the current land mass’ history and possible ore output. A lot of it went over the tradewoman’s head, but she still listened intently… Honestly, she could have listened to the man talk about finding metals for hours. It was sort of like the podcasts she used to listen to while completing colonist training, but even more personal and somehow easier to get lost in…
“…find some other minerals further down like silver, but it also might be an active lava zone. Again, these are all theories and this world could just throw the fundamentals of geology away as it does for physics. Anyway, sorry for going on for so long about that, just thought it’d be important for getting some metals in the future.”
“No, no,” Tracy assured, alleviating him of concern with a wave of her hand. “If there’s anything the colony overseers emphasized, it was farming and mineral acquisition. Don’t worry.” She smiled, pointing a thumb to herself. “I just wanna know how I can help.”
“Actually, I’ve a few things only you can do. I’d like to make use of your impressive drone-making expertise for a few applications, if you don’t mind.”
The task of keeping eye contact slipped into an impossible feat in the span of a singular second, planting a pang of embarrassment on her reddened face, forcing her to inspect her fidgeting hands. “I-I wouldn’t say ‘impressive’… b-but what do you have in mind?”
She could see him raise a brow out of the corner of her vision. “Well, after what you’ve shown me with the reconnaissance flyers, I’d like your help in setting up a more permanent ‘net’ of them to scour the meadow and parts of the nearby forest to look out for any approaching hordes. I don’t want to be snuck up on… again…”
‘Again.’
She noted his small frown and sunken eyes, both a little more exaggerated than they already were. It wasn’t like she’d deny his request, but the pangs of empathy over their shared situation all but solidified her resolve. It was the least she could do. She could help him. She would help him.
The technician exhaled slowly, taking on a more serious and understanding tone than before. “I… can do that. For sure. What else?”
“I appreciate it.” He gave a wane smile. “I’ll help you with whatever you need for the project. For the other drones, I’m thinking about a small exploration vehicle to map out caves around us and mark any minerals, as well as a submersible to look for potassium deposits in the ocean.”
“So… search bots?” She crossed her arms, confidence growing; those were her specialty. “Depending on how long the fabricators take and what kind of base drones are in the blueprint folders, I should be able to get those done in no time. All I need to know are the search cues for potassium and how many drones you want.”
He quickly shuffled a few folders on the computer, turning the monitor for her to see some scientific documents with various images and walls upon walls of text. “There’re plenty of resources for that on here for what to look for, and there’s always Sebas, so feel free to ask him since he can just sort through the data for you anyway. If you can, I’d like it if you could focus on the submersible after the reconnaissance drones.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be right on it, then.” She gave him a thumbs up, slipping off his desk and toward her own.
“I’ll bring you lunch in a bit. Imma go check on the others,” he called.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention, her head turning to give him an appreciative smile. “Oh! Thanks!”
\= = = = =
Avian creatures chirped from their perches in the trees nearby. The wind softly rustled red leaves as grass gently gave way to calculated footfalls. A warm sun laid its light on Shar’khee’s neck. It was surprisingly pleasant, were one to take the time to notice. The mainland was a confusing place for the paladin, with its disparate representations of nature contrasting so heavily. Some days were filled with blood and ravenous beasts, while others were left within the domain of simplicity and beauty. She was content to have the latter, yet it felt like a facade veiling the former—a soft exterior covering the maliciously spiked interior. Never could she leave herself to carelessness, no matter how welcoming it might be.
Hence why she worked to ensure the safety of the star-sent’s castles and their inhabitants, her days largely spent patrolling for any roaming swarms that may wish to cause them harm. She typically used the routine to think, but today offered little in the way of solitude. This time, she was accompanied by the previously banished guardswoman, and was tasked with instructing the new one, though the specifics of what such lessons should entail were vague. Still, Shar’khee did all that she could so as not to disappoint Harrison, so she could only attempt to meet his expectations of her.
She told the yellow-skinned female of the threats that the settlement faced, how one was to defeat them, and what to expect from the beasts. The guardswoman was directed to practice her form with the spear in both thrusts and throwing for some time afterward, proving herself to be well-built. Such was expected of her profession after all.
It was pleasing to have another capable of patrolling the settlement’s outskirts for swarms, as it would greatly impact how effectively the colony could react to such a threat. If her routine was to suffer for the colony’s well-being, she was happy to show the new one her patrol route and note what to look out for.
The guardswoman was not a perfect student, however. Shar’khee never addressed it directly, but the yellow-skinned female obviously discredited the danger posed by the abhorrent, not-so-subtly shrugging off any warnings.
…That was until they stumbled upon the ‘hyena-boars,’ as Harrison called them.
The beasts resided in a clearing not too far from the castles, carelessly meandering across the sea of tall grass. Shar’khee quickly crouched, dragging the guardswoman down with her. Once she assessed that the creatures were not an imminent danger, she decided it would be an excellent opportunity to show the new one how to properly engage a threat. She was about to propose the idea, yet her speech was silenced just as swiftly.
Orange flashes darted through the trees around the glade. Taloned feet and gnashing teeth tore across the ground toward the unsuspecting beasts at the center. It was much too late for them. They were slow. Surrounded. Unaware. It was as quick as it was vicious, the forest’s reds turning a deeper crimson hue in a moment's notice underneath the abhorrent’s brutality.
Gangly monstrosities gnawed and ripped at the dead creatures, brief glimpses of raw flesh and white bone protruding from the small spaces between the clumped-up beasts. Repulsive wet splatters of blood and gore overlapped the calm noises of the forest, the grisly scene serenaded by the softest of nature’s symphonies. It was a sickening juxtaposition.
Shar’khee bit back the unease and steeled herself. They were within twenty paces—close enough to smell the abhorrent’s vile stench of rot and bile, yet far enough so as not to be noticed. She briefly considered backing away and retreating, her focus bouncing between the different avenues of escape, or how to cover her footst—
Crack.
Several sets of feral, eyeless maws snapped in their direction, the blood dripping off freshly dampened teeth. The guardswoman gasped, Shar’khee’s gaze following to see the mistake: a singular broken branch crinkled as a yellow-colored foot raised off the splintering twig.
The paladin exhaled sharply and smoothly stood up, brandishing two spears and her shield. Her glare settled on the still crouching guardswoman. “You are to stay behind my shield and let them appr—ch. Rem—ber what I have told you. Aim for their maws when you thrust y—r lance.”
The other female nodded, shakily pulling out her own weapons with unsteady placement hampering her grip. There was an obvious nervousness to her gaze. Hesitance. That would not do.
Shar’khee faced the prowling abhorrent her knuckles shifting hue as she prepared for their advance, for there was no chance that they wouldn’t. True to her experience, the stalking turned to a gallop with several clicks of grotesque tongues, the swarm bolting toward her as one. She snarled and slammed her bulwark into the ground, letting the approaching beasts skewer themselves amongst its spikes.
There were only ten—a paltry amount. She had defended against magnitudes more, and yet she still stood. What is more, they were mindless. Uncoordinated. They would be but stains in the cloth she used to clean her armor. Perhaps, if they were fortunate, they might leave a furrow in her shield to remember them by. Her arms tensed as the first leapt.
One by one, the abhorrent fell, their repulsive green blood splattering under her thrusts. Each awaiting corpse tore across the grove’s grass, lunging to their deaths with gaping maws and unfeeling hunger, yet she did not yield. Their shells were crushed by her shield and impaled by her Goddess-blessed spears, becoming but one more smear across their surface. Ten motionless lumps lay before her, seeping their ichor into the soil, none having passed the barrier she became. Dead, just as the Creator intended. She remained vigilant for a few moments longer, watching for any more of the disgusting creatures.
None showed themselves, finally allowing blood to flow to her fingers once again. The shield’s heavy presence weighed down her back, the blood flicked off of her spears before she returned them to their place.
“Are y–u well?” Shar’khee addressed the frozen Malkrin, wiping away the splatter on her bracers. The guardswoman stared at the small pile of deceased creatures, her heavy breaths and widened eyes moving from the spear from her singular kill. The paladin huffed. “We are fort—ate that there were so few.”
“F-Few? God help us…” Her horrified, stunned gaze slowly met the paladin’s. “Y-You said there were hundreds on the crimson nights? H-How do you… They were s-so fast.”*
”As I h–ve warned,” Shar’khee affirmed.
“You are a paladin! You all exaggerate your feats… I thought it was just a facade!”
“I have no r—son to lie,” she returned tersely, shrugging off the insult to her station and shaking her head. “The mainl—d is far more dangerous than ten gnash—g beasts; more so than that of your island hamlet. Pick yourself up. We m—t inform the others of this incursion.”
The yellow-skinned female snarled, furrowing her brows at the ground in frustration. At whom…? Shar’khee? Herself? Regardless, the female promptly gathered her composure, pushing air through clenched jaws. A step forward had her feet splash in the small pool of blood, the Malkrin nodding toward the paladin to continue back to the castles.
“…for the village.”
Shar’khee paused in her stride and faced her, frowning at the determination and anger leaking through the intent. “W—t was that?”
Her question was returned with honesty, a huffed voice marred by vexation. “Paladin, how am I to defend my village-mates as I am now?”
“‘As you are now?’ What do you m—n?”
The guardswoman stared down at her spear, wood creaking under her grip. “I have faltered before what you deem a paltry threat, and the thought of an even greater one sows dread deep within my bones. I wish… I wish to be better prepared to defend those of my village. I cannot help but see their faces on those of the furred creature in the clearing, and yet, even if I am so close, I am just as unable to protect them.”
Shar’khee stared down the yellow female, a long gaze taking in a rare showing of sincerity. “Y—r fears are one we all share, new one. Do not be ashamed of them. All t—t matters is that you do not let them rem—n mere fear, but make them your strength. So tell me, do you wish to impr—e? To ensure they do not fall while you are support—g them?”
The yellow-skinned female released a shuddering breath that bled off the worst of her indecision, a newly invoked flame flaring within her visage. “I do, paladin. I seek to protect and to be of use.”
“Then, if you wish to make y—rself resilient in the face of all that opposes us, it would be my undertak—g to forge you anew. Fortunately, Harrison has ordered such already, and his guidance shall prove ever useful, should you pursue it.”
The guardswoman shuffled in place at the star-sent’s mention, her eyes slipping downwards. “He is of a great many resources, but I would rather receive your teachings than those of a craftsman… or that of a male, deity-sent he might be.”
She placed a palm on the female’s shoulder. “He is far more than you might ever k—w. Regardless of if you ac—pt his guidance, I commend your conviction. However—” Her hand gripped tighter, though not enough to instill hostility. “—understand that you are protecting more than just your vi—age-mates.”
The new one nodded, staring up at the paladin with stallwart resolve. “Of course. I shall be in your tutelage, then.”
Shar’khee smiled. “T—n let us begin.”
\= = = = =
Akula was becoming increasingly certain that she knew how her parents once felt. The green-skinned fisherwoman was currently rotating between the many tasks placed upon her, guiding the newcomers through the minutia of their tasks so they might live up to the potential Harrison saw within them. She was gratified to have her own talents recognized by the Creator, but it also placed a great many responsibilities in her talons. Of course, she handled each new addition with finesse befitting her heritage, never once balking from the increasing demands. If anything, she felt validated; it was required of her as a female anyway, was it not? The more feminine-appropriate labor and management one undertakes, the higher authority they were granted.
It began with a simple assignment to oversee the chef’s introduction to the star-sent’s provided cooking appliances. As fascinating and convenient as utilities were, she held no interest in preparing any more food than she already had, but teaching another to operate the machines would alleviate such requirements of her. She reluctantly accepted the task when it was proposed, especially considering the fact that Harrison was much too busy with his other projects to bother with something as benign as cooking. His work was more valuable elsewhere.
The task itself went well, and the pink-skinned chef was quick to pick up on the use of the various kitchen devices, as well as the smoker. A grin had grown when she considered the possibility of all males understanding such domestic things readily, yet her mirth at removing the masculine job required of her was short-lived. Despite the newly initiated Malkrin’s success, Harrison had Akula frequently return to oversee the numerous cooking operations being conducted. That was in tandem with the back-to-back fishing trips made by both herself and the newly acquired females.
…Which was something else the green-skinned cycle-worshipper was ordered to oversee.
She had left the chef to his devices after producing another batch of partially seasoned meals, returning to the Creator with hopes of a break. He applauded her efforts with a nod and tersely spoken appreciation, then quickly pushed two spearguns into her hand and directed her to the ocean, where the twins were ‘working with jack shit,’ as the busy male said. She was to give the fisherwomen the tools and make sure they were used properly, and offer additional assistance in acquiring ‘enough fish to have us fed for a little bit.’
So, she left to complete the given task, feeling somewhat appreciative that her speargun was of superior quality to those she would be delivering—the newcomers were only afforded the lesser, roped-bolt version. It was only natural that she was in possession of their greatest assets, of course; the star-sent saw her as the only one capable of wielding such fantastic ammunition, showing trust that was rightfully placed in her. That did not mean the gray-skinned females were unsatisfied with their own gifts, however. The twins were swiftly caught up on the ‘manual of arms’ and sent to work, somehow managing to keep up with Akula in spite of their land-based origins. The two were fast enough to outpace the cycle-worshipper in sheer speed, but their lack of numerous winters spent traversing deeper waters meant they required frequent rests, breaking the ocean’s surface after every third captured fish or so.
Still, she had to appreciate their dedication to their task. They never complained about Akula pushing them further to reach the star-sent’s vague objective. Such a task was entrusted to her—and by proxy, the other two—and thus it would be completed, no matter how much her comfortable bed… couch called her tiring muscles.
The group of three hauled net after full net of fresh meat to the chef—and sewist, who later joined him—forcing him to relegate much of the catch to long-term storage as the kitchen simply could not deal with the surplus. At least three-quarters of the fish were put to slow cook in the now Malkrin-sized smoker. The craftsman had upgraded it with a kit provided by Harrison, who had recycled much of the dining room and workshop furniture to accommodate it. The Creator’s showcased urgency to gather materials was clearly not unfounded… It was admirable how he used what little he had left to ensure food would not be scarce. Additionally, the apparatus exuded an excellent scent for all the survivors to enjoy, the earthy aroma drawing in some of the other Malkrin for their breaks or meals.
Those were not the end of the cycle-worshiper’s tasks, however. She was also required to report on Shar’khee’s progress in training the guardswoman—helping to recycle the small swarm of abhorrent they cleared earlier—as well as the wood storage building’s progress. Indeed, she was advising and assisting however and wherever applicable. To say she was seen all around the settlement would be an understatement.
Nevertheless, she was appreciative to see her efforts bearing fruit by sundown. The processing of their meals from sea to plate was quite efficient, and those that Akula taught were now well-practiced in their duties. The twin fisherwomen dove from wave to wave, bringing fish back to the barracks, where the cook and sewist swiftly worked to transfer the meat to pans and smoker hooks alike. Then, the remnants of the Sea Goddess’ aquatic gifts would be subsequently recycled and given purpose anew as biofuel or perhaps future fertilizer.
The endless onslaught of duties and responsibilities had enlightened her, in a way. She could see where Harrison came from now; having a working project go from one point to another without input nor difficulty was a sight to behold, and it made her swell with pride. It was a surmountable feat to teach the barbaric ground-worshippers to do something properly.
…Well, they were not horrible Malkrin, so perhaps simply calling them ‘uninitiated’ was a more apt descriptor…
No matter the tribulations faced, and no matter how draining her new authority might be, her rest at the end of the day would be one that was well-earned, and it would be had with a sense of satisfaction. She deserved it, and perhaps that extended to the rest of the settlement as well.
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Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Mine! Mine! Mine!
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Two days… It had been two days that Tracy had gone to sleep while Harrison was working, only to come back in the morning to see him still in the workshop. She knew he was damn productive, sure, but that really couldn’t be healthy. Apparently, it had something to do with the weird bowl of orange… soup… that Cera gave him. No way was it just caffeine; any amount of the stuff would have been filtered out of his system by now. He mentioned a tingling feeling too…
Damn, she did not know enough about drugs to even start assuming what that massive alien had Harrison fucked up on. At least the scanner said he was ‘fine’—if you ignore the other glaring issues the machine brought up. Plus, he said he didn’t mind it. Either way, he managed to complete the weaving component and a few other electrical backbones of the fabricator last night, so the project was practically done, and after seeing the engineer work himself half to death, she was dead-set on finishing it.
She was currently tits-deep into the upper manufacturing portion of the towering machine. It took a tall step-stool—on top of the nearby desk—for her to push her small shoulders through the even smaller access panels high on the everything-printer. It was difficult to fit her torso in, but she managed, holding a flashlight between her teeth as she fiddled with a stubborn series of mechanical ‘hands.’ Nothing new. The situation reminded her of the ‘shop back on Mars; it had the same ever-present scent of copper and industrial sealant. All that was missing was her dad’s ancient tunes blasting through some shitty speakers… Hold on…
The modular component in her grip was successfully attached with a resonating thock. Tracy squirmed out of the dim wire-filled crevice, trying her best to not rip her only tank-top on any bolts or corners, and getting a face-full of the bright flood-lights illuminating the workshop. She scowled and blocked out the searing light with a hand, but she was a bit too late to avoid going half-blind.
“Are the mechanical manipulators in?” Harrison grunted, poking his head out underneath the printer’s floor-adjacent maintenance hatch. She looked down at him as she tried to blink off the spots in her vision. His hair was messy, barely kept in line by his habit of combing through it with his fingers. The areas around his eyes were dark and sunken… Guess that’s what two all-nighters did to a man. He’d be seeing the hat man or start hallucinating if he didn’t get any sleep soon… but then again, the two of them were so close to finishing the fabricator…
“You bet.” She gave him a thumbs up, slamming the panel cover closed. “Feel free to test it.”
He nodded and slid back underneath the machine. “Gotcha”
She gently stepped off the stool and slid off the side of the desk, stretching herself out. If her piss-poor sitting posture or her tank-top puppies hadn’t already fucked her spine up, bending over backward to build this fabricator sure as hell would. She sat down next to the panel where Harrison resided, resting her back against the fabrication tower. Her excited voice broke the muffled noises of the engineer’s work. “So… Harrison?”
“Hmm—”
“—Mind if I play some music?”
The sounds from the hatch stopped, followed by his muffled, shocked tone echoing from beneath the fabricator. “You have music!?”
She smirked at seeing the expression on his face when his head popped out again. “I sure do… Did you seriously not download any to your data pad?”
He slipped out from beneath the fabricator fully, huffing as he took a knee beside her. The scent of melded rubber, wire, and his liquid labor reached her nose not-so-unpleasantly. “You would not believe how much of a pain it is to repair an entire barracks without it… So, yeah, I didn’t.”
“Sooooooooo, whatcha wanna listen to? I’ve got almost everything on here—besides the super niche, of course.” She pulled her data pad out, swiping to the massive music folder
“You wouldn’t like the kinda music I listen to; It’s ancient.”
She gave him a lighthearted, annoyed glare. “Welcome to the club… Now what’ll it be?”
“It’s Old Earth kind of ancient… but alright” He looked up at the ceiling in thought, lips pursed. “Do you have anything from Styx or Sweet?”
She stared at him incredulously, her smirk turning into a fully-fledged smile. “Oh my God. You are an absolute dork! You actually listen to Golden Age music?”
His brows raised, accusatory. “And you somehow know exactly who those bands were and what age of Old Earth music they came from?”
She smugly leaned in closer. “That’s because I’m just as much of a nerd with that kinda music as you apparently are.” She quickly looked upward, addressing the workshop AI. “Sebas, connect nearby speakers to my data pad’s audio.” Tracy elbowed the engineer lightly as the PA system chirped its affirmation. “Now, Mr. Golden Age music, which albums do ya want me to queue up?”
- - - - -
The two of them listened to music for hours, tossing on songs they liked as they came to mind while they worked. Harrison had a ton of recommendations that spanned all over the Golden Ages and some twenty-first century classics. She didn’t even know half of them, but she was vibing either way, adding on her own taste by intermingling some older rock tracks and newer electronic beats. The playlist was steadily built up as the day went on. Thank God her dad showed her a vast array of tunes; she might not have been able to keep up with the engineer if her old man hadn't.
It made the work go by so fast, their conversations blurring as they jumped from topic to topic. They discussed whatever came to mind—old hobbies, old jobs, and old interests. A lot was left behind in Sol… At least she knew that the only other human on the planet was more interesting than a soulless workaholic. It turned out that he was a pretty big history buff, and he apparently read a lot about the colonization of the Sol system and the various wars of independence thereafter. Curious, she asked where the interest stemmed from, and he explained that his grandfather was an admiral in the Slavic-Europan deep-ice submarine fleet, which explained how Harrison’s mother was able to afford to immigrate to Mars from Europa.
He could also play an acoustic guitar, and, unfortunately for Tracy, he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in printing one out, citing that it was a waste of time and material that would be better used elsewhere. That didn’t stop her from writing a note on her data pad to do so later, though. She hadn’t seen someone play one of those in years—the last time was probably in some old music video from the early twenty-second century. What a shame. She would have liked to hear some of the Europan songs his grandmother taught him.
On the bright side, the man seemed to take an interest in her odd hobbies. He brought up the folder of 3D models that she accidentally uploaded to the inter-module system and asked where she got the inspiration for what was in it. Boy, was he not ready for her ‘WarHalberd40k’ lore dump. Props to the guy for not standing up and leaving the workshop throughout her rambling. He even asked questions about the different factions and their weapons, which she was more than happy to talk about.
She also ended up going over the other franchises and hobbies she was interested in, such as robotics and the like. The only interruptions to their chat were the occasional Akula or Craftsman asking for insight regarding the various tasks he had allotted to them, or Shar coming in to check up on Harrison between guard shifts.
The new dynamic of the group was pretty interesting, to say the least. Tracy hadn’t been out to interact with the whole lot of Malkrin, but she definitely noticed how they treated the engineer. They’d started to look up to him in a way ever since he started showing off technology. In a little over two days, the man had shown them that he could provide the materials for a brick house, fine clothing—especially by the alien’s standards—armor, and delicious food. That wasn’t even mentioning the other benefits the technician heard a few of the ‘banished’ talking about over their meals: heating, electric lights, and other assorted machines.
She’d be feeling pretty happy about herself if she was in his position, having so many look up to him and be grateful at the same time. He seemed to view it a lot more robotically, however, only striving to get the basics done. Luckily for him, his basics were their luxury.
That wasn’t all there was to the topic; the engineer lamented about how the colony was going through food just as quickly as materials. The meals weren’t the direct issue he had, more that he had to start focusing on long-term resource harvesting rather than directly preparing for a literal horde of monsters—which wasn’t exactly ideal. It was a good thing that they just so happened to take on an influx of Malkrin then…
Either way, they finally finished the ‘totally legal modification’ for the fabricator, meaning they could at least partially address the latter half of his worries. The whole process of ripping out an old printer and replacing the parts for a new one felt a lot easier than she imagined… even if it took her at least forty-eight hours to complete it… with help from Harrison. Maybe that was why it felt so easy… She supposed the colony overseers didn’t choose the man for no reason, so his skills made sense.
“So… what do we want to print out first?” Tracy questioned, having finished testing the last major component.
The engineer stretched his arms up into the air and rotated his shoulders, then pulled back the desk’s chair and took a seat. “I’ve had just one thing in mind since the start of this whole project.”
Her brows raised in a mix of excitement and curiosity. She leaned forward, looking at the computer monitor from over his shoulder. “Oh? What’s that, then?”
A smirk formed along his cheek, the computer mouse rapidly clicking through the blueprint folder. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what kind of firearm we need since I started dabbling in belt-fed weapon systems.” He opened one final file, a short loading bar preceding the exploded assembly view of… “An M2 Browning machine gun. It’s more than powerful enough to kill in one shot, while also being capable of fully-automatic fire, with a capacity of however many rounds we want in a belt-box.”
“Uh…huh…” She gave a skeptical nod and took a step back, not exactly sold on the idea. “It looks ancient. It’s kinetic, right? Why aren’t we using energy-based weapons? Don’t we have a gunpowder shortage coming up?”
He moved his chair off to the side to look back at her. “We just can’t; Simple as. We’ll need who knows how many more AI cores before we can get started on that level of equipment, Trace,” he huffed, returning his gaze to the specifications of the firearm. “This isn’t the most ‘modern’ weapon we can make, but its twenty-first century counterpart helps with an improved design… somewhat. And, as I said before, it should be more than capable of killing a bug in one shot, so Shar can just tap-fire it to save ammunition.”
Her head tilted quizzically. “Shar?”
“Yup,” he returned confidently. “It’s the perfect weapon for her.”
She raised a brow. “How so?”
He held his hand up, counting his reasons on his fingers. “She’s always on the front line with a shield, she can absolutely handle the weight and recoil, her four arms make reloading it simple, plus she’ll need something with range and power that isn’t a spear. So, why not? And, if for some reason, she doesn’t want to use it, we can just convert it into a turret—which is something I was planning on doing anyways with however more M2s we print out later.”
“I doubt she’ll say no to any gun you give her,” Tracy chuckled while shaking her head, inadvertently causing her bangs to cover her eyes.
“Fair enough,” he conceded with a bob of his head. “What do you think, then? What kinda weapons do you have in mind?”
She reapplied her goggles into an impromptu hairband, feeling a smirk cross her face. “Thought you’d never ask. What purpose do we need these guns to fulfill? Hordes I’m guessing?”
“That’s the idea, yeah. That doesn’t mean they all need to be machine guns, though.” He tapped the belt-fed shotgun beside him.
“Well, lemme see what we’re working with first.” She suddenly stepped forward, leaning over Harrison’s seat to access the keyboard and mouse. Her arms briefly rubbed against him, forcing him to roll his chair backward. She suppressed a giggle at seeing his incredulous frown.
Her eyes quickly traced the hundreds of individual files, clicking through all sorts of folders, each arranged from pre-twenty-first century ‘antiques,’ to more modern iterations of kinetics and particle weaponry. There was… a lot on there—almost too much to reasonably comb through. Why? Did the colony overseers just say ‘fuck it’ and put whatever they could find on here? Were they expecting the pioneers to make a museum of everything?
She sighed, standing up straight and facing Harrison. “Y’know, I’m actually impressed you managed to find that M2-whatever in there…”
He shifted in his seat, resting an elbow on the desk. “Yup, there’s a lot. I’m almost tempted to just make several of those machine guns and just call it a day, but I feel like that’d be too much of a strain on resources, no?”
“I don’t really know enough about how you fight those spider-crab things, or how to get more gunpowder, so… maybe?” She shrugged, biting her cheek in contemplation. “You might just wanna make a few smaller caliber weapons… like, uh… those old kinetic service rifles. If your pump-action shotgun works fine, I’m sure some normal guns would work just fine for now, right?”
He hardily gripped his firearm, hauling it up to his lap. “Depends on what you mean by ‘smaller caliber.’ The whole reason why the KS-23 here works—” he pulled out a massive shell from the ammo belt, displaying it on his palm. “—is because the twenty-three-millimeter round has enough energy transfer to mess up any bug's shell and insides. I’d say the smallest rounds we could use would be point-two-forty-three caliber to get any similar results.”
Brief flickers of grungy orange shells and gnashing teeth marred Tracy’s sight. She forcibly suppressed them, distracting herself with dry humor and a strained laugh. “Guess those fuckers can really take a punch, huh?”
He shook his head somberly. “I couldn’t imagine going up against them without a gun… Anyway, I like your idea of a standard rifle for now. Then, when we have some product lines up, we can go a little more in depth into personal weapons.”
“So are you gonna take one?” She hopped up on the desk, letting her legs swing off the side.
“Don’t think so, no. I’ll stick with my shotty.” The internals of the heavily modified weapon rattled as he held it up and inspected it. “Doesn’t mean I’ll keep it as is. I’m thinking of printing a laser aiming module so I can point-fire it accurately, and maybe a melee-oriented muzzle brake or a lighter chassis to reduce weight… Not sure though.”
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her cheeks in her palms. “Melee-oriented? Oooooh, like a chain-sword or something?”
His short chuckle coerced a smirk to her face. “No, not like that. More something to use as a bludgeoning tool. Right before the blood-moon, I ended up getting just as much use out of this shotgun as a hammer than as a… well, a shotgun.”
“That’s pretty fuckin’ metal. So are you just gonna make the barrel into a giant bayonet?”
He nodded. “Not exactly a bayonet, but something more like a door-breaching break.”
A short silence settled on their conversation, the faint sounds of the fabricator’s hum and distant woodwork coming to light. Right, there was an outside world… She’d been too caught up talking to Harrison for however many hours it had been. She wondered how successful the fisherwomen were in collecting, and how things had been for the others working on the wood storage shack. Maybe it was already completed? The sun peered through the cargo bay door, proving that it was only about midday. What else would they work on today?
“Hey,” she ventured.
“Hm?” the engineer hummed, his eyes focused on the monitor beside the technician.
She scooted closer to his keyboard. “What’re we doing after this?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned backward, propping herself up on two hands. “Project wise; what’s the next big thing?”
“Uhmmm…” he muttered, interacting with the computer for a few more seconds before finally meeting her gaze. “Well, I’ve just allocated the fabricator to print out the M2, three FALs—wood furniture, of course—then there’s the magazines and ammunition, so we’ve got a lot of time to kill. The next big thing is definitely going to be metal procurement, and— Oh, right!” Harrison stopped mid-sentence, reaching into his backpack and pulling out several finger-sized metallic cubes, a sudden fire in his eyes. “Okay, so a while ago, during an encounter with three colossi, Shar and Akula found a cave with some ‘surface’ metal deposits. I took a piece off to analyze, but never got the chance to until last night. Anyway, we don’t have any machines to examine the ore, so I made use of the recycler and broke it down to its baser components.”
She nodded along, seeing where he was going with his explanation. “I’m guessing those shiny cubes are the metals from the ore?”
“Sure is. So, as it turns out, we have a pretty damn close supply of not only iron, but also, zinc, sulfur, and a small amount of cadmium. I talked with Sebas about it and did a little research. We believe it’s something akin to sphalerite, given its composition and looks, which implies it’s a sedimentary exhalative deposit. That means there must have been some volcanic…”
Harrison continued talking about underwater deposits and ancient rock formations, bringing up some theories brought forward by the now 4-AI-core-powered Sebas, delving into the current land mass’ history and possible ore output. A lot of it went over the tradewoman’s head, but she still listened intently… Honestly, she could have listened to the man talk about finding metals for hours. It was sort of like the podcasts she used to listen to while completing colonist training, but even more personal and somehow easier to get lost in…
“…find some other minerals further down like silver, but it also might be an active lava zone. Again, these are all theories and this world could just throw the fundamentals of geology away as it does for physics. Anyway, sorry for going on for so long about that, just thought it’d be important for getting some metals in the future.”
“No, no,” Tracy assured, alleviating him of concern with a wave of her hand. “If there’s anything the colony overseers emphasized, it was farming and mineral acquisition. Don’t worry.” She smiled, pointing a thumb to herself. “I just wanna know how I can help.”
“Actually, I’ve a few things only you can do. I’d like to make use of your impressive drone-making expertise for a few applications, if you don’t mind.”
The task of keeping eye contact slipped into an impossible feat in the span of a singular second, planting a pang of embarrassment on her reddened face, forcing her to inspect her fidgeting hands. “I-I wouldn’t say ‘impressive’… b-but what do you have in mind?”
She could see him raise a brow out of the corner of her vision. “Well, after what you’ve shown me with the reconnaissance flyers, I’d like your help in setting up a more permanent ‘net’ of them to scour the meadow and parts of the nearby forest to look out for any approaching hordes. I don’t want to be snuck up on… again…”
‘Again.’
She noted his small frown and sunken eyes, both a little more exaggerated than they already were. It wasn’t like she’d deny his request, but the pangs of empathy over their shared situation all but solidified her resolve. It was the least she could do. She could help him. She would help him.
The technician exhaled slowly, taking on a more serious and understanding tone than before. “I… can do that. For sure. What else?”
“I appreciate it.” He gave a wane smile. “I’ll help you with whatever you need for the project. For the other drones, I’m thinking about a small exploration vehicle to map out caves around us and mark any minerals, as well as a submersible to look for potassium deposits in the ocean.”
“So… search bots?” She crossed her arms, confidence growing; those were her specialty. “Depending on how long the fabricators take and what kind of base drones are in the blueprint folders, I should be able to get those done in no time. All I need to know are the search cues for potassium and how many drones you want.”
He quickly shuffled a few folders on the computer, turning the monitor for her to see some scientific documents with various images and walls upon walls of text. “There’re plenty of resources for that on here for what to look for, and there’s always Sebas, so feel free to ask him since he can just sort through the data for you anyway. If you can, I’d like it if you could focus on the submersible after the reconnaissance drones.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be right on it, then.” She gave him a thumbs up, slipping off his desk and toward her own.
“I’ll bring you lunch in a bit. Imma go check on the others,” he called.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention, her head turning to give him an appreciative smile. “Oh! Thanks!”
\= = = = =
Avian creatures chirped from their perches in the trees nearby. The wind softly rustled red leaves as grass gently gave way to calculated footfalls. A warm sun laid its light on Shar’khee’s neck. It was surprisingly pleasant, were one to take the time to notice. The mainland was a confusing place for the paladin, with its disparate representations of nature contrasting so heavily. Some days were filled with blood and ravenous beasts, while others were left within the domain of simplicity and beauty. She was content to have the latter, yet it felt like a facade veiling the former—a soft exterior covering the maliciously spiked interior. Never could she leave herself to carelessness, no matter how welcoming it might be.
Hence why she worked to ensure the safety of the star-sent’s castles and their inhabitants, her days largely spent patrolling for any roaming swarms that may wish to cause them harm. She typically used the routine to think, but today offered little in the way of solitude. This time, she was accompanied by the previously banished guardswoman, and was tasked with instructing the new one, though the specifics of what such lessons should entail were vague. Still, Shar’khee did all that she could so as not to disappoint Harrison, so she could only attempt to meet his expectations of her.
She told the yellow-skinned female of the threats that the settlement faced, how one was to defeat them, and what to expect from the beasts. The guardswoman was directed to practice her form with the spear in both thrusts and throwing for some time afterward, proving herself to be well-built. Such was expected of her profession after all.
It was pleasing to have another capable of patrolling the settlement’s outskirts for swarms, as it would greatly impact how effectively the colony could react to such a threat. If her routine was to suffer for the colony’s well-being, she was happy to show the new one her patrol route and note what to look out for.
The guardswoman was not a perfect student, however. Shar’khee never addressed it directly, but the yellow-skinned female obviously discredited the danger posed by the abhorrent, not-so-subtly shrugging off any warnings.
…That was until they stumbled upon the ‘hyena-boars,’ as Harrison called them.
The beasts resided in a clearing not too far from the castles, carelessly meandering across the sea of tall grass. Shar’khee quickly crouched, dragging the guardswoman down with her. Once she assessed that the creatures were not an imminent danger, she decided it would be an excellent opportunity to show the new one how to properly engage a threat. She was about to propose the idea, yet her speech was silenced just as swiftly.
Orange flashes darted through the trees around the glade. Taloned feet and gnashing teeth tore across the ground toward the unsuspecting beasts at the center. It was much too late for them. They were slow. Surrounded. Unaware. It was as quick as it was vicious, the forest’s reds turning a deeper crimson hue in a moment's notice underneath the abhorrent’s brutality.
Gangly monstrosities gnawed and ripped at the dead creatures, brief glimpses of raw flesh and white bone protruding from the small spaces between the clumped-up beasts. Repulsive wet splatters of blood and gore overlapped the calm noises of the forest, the grisly scene serenaded by the softest of nature’s symphonies. It was a sickening juxtaposition.
Shar’khee bit back the unease and steeled herself. They were within twenty paces—close enough to smell the abhorrent’s vile stench of rot and bile, yet far enough so as not to be noticed. She briefly considered backing away and retreating, her focus bouncing between the different avenues of escape, or how to cover her footst—
Crack.
Several sets of feral, eyeless maws snapped in their direction, the blood dripping off freshly dampened teeth. The guardswoman gasped, Shar’khee’s gaze following to see the mistake: a singular broken branch crinkled as a yellow-colored foot raised off the splintering twig.
The paladin exhaled sharply and smoothly stood up, brandishing two spears and her shield. Her glare settled on the still crouching guardswoman. “You are to stay behind my shield and let them appr—ch. Rem—ber what I have told you. Aim for their maws when you thrust y—r lance.”
The other female nodded, shakily pulling out her own weapons with unsteady placement hampering her grip. There was an obvious nervousness to her gaze. Hesitance. That would not do.
Shar’khee faced the prowling abhorrent her knuckles shifting hue as she prepared for their advance, for there was no chance that they wouldn’t. True to her experience, the stalking turned to a gallop with several clicks of grotesque tongues, the swarm bolting toward her as one. She snarled and slammed her bulwark into the ground, letting the approaching beasts skewer themselves amongst its spikes.
There were only ten—a paltry amount. She had defended against magnitudes more, and yet she still stood. What is more, they were mindless. Uncoordinated. They would be but stains in the cloth she used to clean her armor. Perhaps, if they were fortunate, they might leave a furrow in her shield to remember them by. Her arms tensed as the first leapt.
One by one, the abhorrent fell, their repulsive green blood splattering under her thrusts. Each awaiting corpse tore across the grove’s grass, lunging to their deaths with gaping maws and unfeeling hunger, yet she did not yield. Their shells were crushed by her shield and impaled by her Goddess-blessed spears, becoming but one more smear across their surface. Ten motionless lumps lay before her, seeping their ichor into the soil, none having passed the barrier she became. Dead, just as the Creator intended. She remained vigilant for a few moments longer, watching for any more of the disgusting creatures.
None showed themselves, finally allowing blood to flow to her fingers once again. The shield’s heavy presence weighed down her back, the blood flicked off of her spears before she returned them to their place.
“Are y–u well?” Shar’khee addressed the frozen Malkrin, wiping away the splatter on her bracers. The guardswoman stared at the small pile of deceased creatures, her heavy breaths and widened eyes moving from the spear from her singular kill. The paladin huffed. “We are fort—ate that there were so few.”
“F-Few? God help us…” Her horrified, stunned gaze slowly met the paladin’s. “Y-You said there were hundreds on the crimson nights? H-How do you… They were s-so fast.”*
”As I h–ve warned,” Shar’khee affirmed.
“You are a paladin! You all exaggerate your feats… I thought it was just a facade!”
“I have no r—son to lie,” she returned tersely, shrugging off the insult to her station and shaking her head. “The mainl—d is far more dangerous than ten gnash—g beasts; more so than that of your island hamlet. Pick yourself up. We m—t inform the others of this incursion.”
The yellow-skinned female snarled, furrowing her brows at the ground in frustration. At whom…? Shar’khee? Herself? Regardless, the female promptly gathered her composure, pushing air through clenched jaws. A step forward had her feet splash in the small pool of blood, the Malkrin nodding toward the paladin to continue back to the castles.
“…for the village.”
Shar’khee paused in her stride and faced her, frowning at the determination and anger leaking through the intent. “W—t was that?”
Her question was returned with honesty, a huffed voice marred by vexation. “Paladin, how am I to defend my village-mates as I am now?”
“‘As you are now?’ What do you m—n?”
The guardswoman stared down at her spear, wood creaking under her grip. “I have faltered before what you deem a paltry threat, and the thought of an even greater one sows dread deep within my bones. I wish… I wish to be better prepared to defend those of my village. I cannot help but see their faces on those of the furred creature in the clearing, and yet, even if I am so close, I am just as unable to protect them.”
Shar’khee stared down the yellow female, a long gaze taking in a rare showing of sincerity. “Y—r fears are one we all share, new one. Do not be ashamed of them. All t—t matters is that you do not let them rem—n mere fear, but make them your strength. So tell me, do you wish to impr—e? To ensure they do not fall while you are support—g them?”
The yellow-skinned female released a shuddering breath that bled off the worst of her indecision, a newly invoked flame flaring within her visage. “I do, paladin. I seek to protect and to be of use.”
“Then, if you wish to make y—rself resilient in the face of all that opposes us, it would be my undertak—g to forge you anew. Fortunately, Harrison has ordered such already, and his guidance shall prove ever useful, should you pursue it.”
The guardswoman shuffled in place at the star-sent’s mention, her eyes slipping downwards. “He is of a great many resources, but I would rather receive your teachings than those of a craftsman… or that of a male, deity-sent he might be.”
She placed a palm on the female’s shoulder. “He is far more than you might ever k—w. Regardless of if you ac—pt his guidance, I commend your conviction. However—” Her hand gripped tighter, though not enough to instill hostility. “—understand that you are protecting more than just your vi—age-mates.”
The new one nodded, staring up at the paladin with stallwart resolve. “Of course. I shall be in your tutelage, then.”
Shar’khee smiled. “T—n let us begin.”
\= = = = =
Akula was becoming increasingly certain that she knew how her parents once felt. The green-skinned fisherwoman was currently rotating between the many tasks placed upon her, guiding the newcomers through the minutia of their tasks so they might live up to the potential Harrison saw within them. She was gratified to have her own talents recognized by the Creator, but it also placed a great many responsibilities in her talons. Of course, she handled each new addition with finesse befitting her heritage, never once balking from the increasing demands. If anything, she felt validated; it was required of her as a female anyway, was it not? The more feminine-appropriate labor and management one undertakes, the higher authority they were granted.
It began with a simple assignment to oversee the chef’s introduction to the star-sent’s provided cooking appliances. As fascinating and convenient as utilities were, she held no interest in preparing any more food than she already had, but teaching another to operate the machines would alleviate such requirements of her. She reluctantly accepted the task when it was proposed, especially considering the fact that Harrison was much too busy with his other projects to bother with something as benign as cooking. His work was more valuable elsewhere.
The task itself went well, and the pink-skinned chef was quick to pick up on the use of the various kitchen devices, as well as the smoker. A grin had grown when she considered the possibility of all males understanding such domestic things readily, yet her mirth at removing the masculine job required of her was short-lived. Despite the newly initiated Malkrin’s success, Harrison had Akula frequently return to oversee the numerous cooking operations being conducted. That was in tandem with the back-to-back fishing trips made by both herself and the newly acquired females.
…Which was something else the green-skinned cycle-worshipper was ordered to oversee.
She had left the chef to his devices after producing another batch of partially seasoned meals, returning to the Creator with hopes of a break. He applauded her efforts with a nod and tersely spoken appreciation, then quickly pushed two spearguns into her hand and directed her to the ocean, where the twins were ‘working with jack shit,’ as the busy male said. She was to give the fisherwomen the tools and make sure they were used properly, and offer additional assistance in acquiring ‘enough fish to have us fed for a little bit.’
So, she left to complete the given task, feeling somewhat appreciative that her speargun was of superior quality to those she would be delivering—the newcomers were only afforded the lesser, roped-bolt version. It was only natural that she was in possession of their greatest assets, of course; the star-sent saw her as the only one capable of wielding such fantastic ammunition, showing trust that was rightfully placed in her. That did not mean the gray-skinned females were unsatisfied with their own gifts, however. The twins were swiftly caught up on the ‘manual of arms’ and sent to work, somehow managing to keep up with Akula in spite of their land-based origins. The two were fast enough to outpace the cycle-worshipper in sheer speed, but their lack of numerous winters spent traversing deeper waters meant they required frequent rests, breaking the ocean’s surface after every third captured fish or so.
Still, she had to appreciate their dedication to their task. They never complained about Akula pushing them further to reach the star-sent’s vague objective. Such a task was entrusted to her—and by proxy, the other two—and thus it would be completed, no matter how much her comfortable bed… couch called her tiring muscles.
The group of three hauled net after full net of fresh meat to the chef—and sewist, who later joined him—forcing him to relegate much of the catch to long-term storage as the kitchen simply could not deal with the surplus. At least three-quarters of the fish were put to slow cook in the now Malkrin-sized smoker. The craftsman had upgraded it with a kit provided by Harrison, who had recycled much of the dining room and workshop furniture to accommodate it. The Creator’s showcased urgency to gather materials was clearly not unfounded… It was admirable how he used what little he had left to ensure food would not be scarce. Additionally, the apparatus exuded an excellent scent for all the survivors to enjoy, the earthy aroma drawing in some of the other Malkrin for their breaks or meals.
Those were not the end of the cycle-worshiper’s tasks, however. She was also required to report on Shar’khee’s progress in training the guardswoman—helping to recycle the small swarm of abhorrent they cleared earlier—as well as the wood storage building’s progress. Indeed, she was advising and assisting however and wherever applicable. To say she was seen all around the settlement would be an understatement.
Nevertheless, she was appreciative to see her efforts bearing fruit by sundown. The processing of their meals from sea to plate was quite efficient, and those that Akula taught were now well-practiced in their duties. The twin fisherwomen dove from wave to wave, bringing fish back to the barracks, where the cook and sewist swiftly worked to transfer the meat to pans and smoker hooks alike. Then, the remnants of the Sea Goddess’ aquatic gifts would be subsequently recycled and given purpose anew as biofuel or perhaps future fertilizer.
The endless onslaught of duties and responsibilities had enlightened her, in a way. She could see where Harrison came from now; having a working project go from one point to another without input nor difficulty was a sight to behold, and it made her swell with pride. It was a surmountable feat to teach the barbaric ground-worshippers to do something properly.
…Well, they were not horrible Malkrin, so perhaps simply calling them ‘uninitiated’ was a more apt descriptor…
No matter the tribulations faced, and no matter how draining her new authority might be, her rest at the end of the day would be one that was well-earned, and it would be had with a sense of satisfaction. She deserved it, and perhaps that extended to the rest of the settlement as well.
- - - - -
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Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Mine! Mine! Mine!
2024.05.19 16:00 TrueTale0 Have you seen this about afterlife and Mrak Conte?
He is begin accused of rape and Afterlife of more things. The woman post, who is accusing is very long but interesting. Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/C7EylYDgjSX/?igsh=eXF1MTY5aGpndGV4
I translate here:
"What happened, CARMINE MRAK CONTE? Have you already forgotten how you drugged and raped a woman? Have you already forgotten how you touched someone without their consent? I know I’m not the first woman to go through something like this and I wish I were the last. It was so painful when I woke up and saw blood between my legs when I walked. Have you already forgotten how you begged for forgiveness through messages when I sent you the medical prescriptions for the tears you caused me? You won’t get away with what you did to me. Today, I decided not to stay silent anymore! I have all the necessary evidence of my rape. Real-time locations, photos with your team, medical prescriptions from the doctor who attended me and who is a witness to my sexual abuse, photos from the hotel where we all stayed. Today, everyone will know the sexual abuser you are! To give a little context on how I met you all. I had some doubts about the party you held, "AFTERLIFE". I wanted to know the real meaning behind the visuals you used and the message behind them... that was and was my only intention. So I was contacting you for a while on Instagram until on February 26, 2023, you played at a party in CDMX, and that's where I met "TALE OF US". They were staying at the Four Seasons, and I happened to be in CDMX, so we met for dinner and then went to that party. I never imagined what I was getting into...
They were in Argentina for a few days, to be precise from April 4 to April 8, 2023 and they invited me on those days.
On April 7, at the end of the AFTERLIFE party, Carmine Mrak's animal, because I can't find any other way to call that person, drugged me and sexually abused me.
I had lost consciousness and didn't even drink alcohol.
I woke up and I was torn, it hurt a lot when I walked, I couldn't sit down.
I asked him what had happened and he told me "why" I told him what I felt and he told me "ahh it's just that you wanted more, that's how you asked for it."
Without remembering anything, in pain I just thought and said: I can't believe the sinism of this monster.
I told him that I wanted to return to Mexico that I couldn't stand the pain, he told me "it's okay, sorry."
I couldn't even rest on the plane, I was crying without understanding why that had happened to me.
Arriving in Guadalajara I had to go to the emergency room and they told me that I had to sue whoever had done that to me because I was not alone.
What I experienced I wouldn't wish on anyone else...
Returning to the topic of when I met them in CDMX and the doubts I had, finishing the party in CDMX I asked Carmine Mrak about his doubts about Afterlife.
I asked him if it was about TRANSHUMANISM and he just opened his eyes, looked at me and said:
"TRANSHUMANISM, YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT, OF COURSE IT'S ALL ABOUT TRANSHUMANISM THAT IS THE NEXT STEP OF HUMAN EVOLUTION"
For those who don't know what it is, it's about
(improve humanity through technology by questioning humanity's own limits such as the prolongation of life).
That's what you're led to believe... that you can change, master, and override natural events like old age, guilt, suffering, and even death.
They believe they can leave the human body aside by transferring all the information each individual contains into a computer! That is why in its visuals there are cables connecting to the human, robots carrying humans on their legs and they dying while the robot opens its face and a smoke that comes out of the human is passed to the robot.
That is not something that is very far from reality... there are already people who call themselves
"Cyborgs" and you can find videos and documentaries of them where they have already implanted chips in their bodies to control some things in their environment.
Here comes the worst part, this can cause inequalities between countries and continents, increasing the digital divide and the possibility of social conflicts. On the other hand, the debate regarding moral, judicial and ethical laws arises, generating social confusion.
Organ cloning, nanotechnology, prosthetic implants with AI in some cases seem good for humans But surprise! It also has its disadvantages. First of all, and that is more than enough to worry me, is: Man can lose all of his human identity.
One day I noticed a tattoo of a cross on his hand to which I asked: Do you believe in Jesus? And he answered: "No, that was before when I was young, now I like the devil more."
He asked me: do you like the little devil? He immediately showed me his tattoos on both arms with demons and horns, he told me that those little devils had already given him everything he wanted, fame, money, power, I told him that since I was little I watched beings that tormented me and my bad episodes, He said that this was a gift, and to master it.
I constantly repeated the word "Incubus" for those who don't know this means "yaser"
'lie down' engender a demon' inside a woman the victims live the experience like a dream without being able to wake up from it.
This Being can also take the form of a handsome man, sometimes even making its victims fall in love with it. While all this happens, it consumes the energy of the seduced woman.
When it is the incubus who tries to extend the life of his lover, she enjoys health, physical and emotional well-being; An incubus in love can be equally beneficial and dangerous.
Well, I already knew a little about their intention and I was more alert... little by little they began to introduce me to people from their personal circle: managers, producers, backup singers, musicians, even audio engineers, and what I saw and heard was not true. they would believe.
One day Carmine tells me "I want to see what's in your mind"
Tell me some words and I will put them into the artificial intelligence software.
I start to tell him to see "a path, a sun, lines, a sky." Mrak tells me how basic it is to look at what I'm creating... "it's literally the doors to the underworld" and starts laughing.
People here tell me they are crazy "Look at the codes, what they talk about" And they were just words like
"armageddon" "demon" "darkness" "evil" "death" etc.
I was just observing, that had been my intention from the beginning. Little by little I discovered more things that made me sick not only of them, but of everything they do, their work team, the real intention of their parties, how they made fun of other artists... they are not good people .
I imagine many remember one of his last visuals at Afterlife in Tulum about a guy parting the sea with a cane.
(That's the part in the Bible where Moses extends his arm over the sea for everyone to walk)
Exodus 14:21-22
All of these things are against religion and well, I am also very fighting against fanaticism. I will not be the most devout but I believe in repentance and I have faith in God.
I also remembered something with your visuals that I had read in the Bible and this is the verse:
"As you saw, iron mixed with clay will be mixed through human alliances, but they will not be united with each other as iron is not mixed with clay" Daniel 2:43
(We are the mud) that's why the visuals of the trees flooding with metal.
The giant doors representing the portals, everything has a meaning, I understood everything.
I knew what their message was, their objective and the evil rituals of these puppets.
Their afterlife logo represents the upturned cross.
Have you seen the actors' strikes in Hollywood? It's incredible how this is affecting everyone and if you are a musician and you are reading this you should think about questioning who you are supporting, what you want to do with your project and what you can do to achieve change because they are going to replace you in couple of minutes.
When I discovered this I felt disgusted inside! All those parties that I attended years ago in Tulum and in some parts of Mexico believing that everything was good vibes, ecstatic, happy together with my friends without knowing what we were dancing to and what we were contributing to.
Now I feel sorry for all those people I see giving their energy and soul to these satanic parties.
They think that everything is light, love and peace but they don't have the slightest idea of everything these puppets represent. How sad to see all those artists wanting to be part of this label.
I ask for support from the music industry, from all the women who have experienced something similar to all the people who support the women's movement, share so that everyone knows how shitty these people are and what they did to me, how they manipulate and use their festivals as rituals.
Let's raise awareness, I know that many of you see the subliminal messages that they publish, it is not really your imagination if something is happening.
Stop supporting so much evil, the world doesn't need any more of that.
Stop supporting A RAPIST like him.
If I don't raise my voice it could be another woman who ends up suffering like I did."
What do you think?
submitted by TrueTale0 to Tomorrowland [link] [comments]
I translate here:
"What happened, CARMINE MRAK CONTE? Have you already forgotten how you drugged and raped a woman? Have you already forgotten how you touched someone without their consent? I know I’m not the first woman to go through something like this and I wish I were the last. It was so painful when I woke up and saw blood between my legs when I walked. Have you already forgotten how you begged for forgiveness through messages when I sent you the medical prescriptions for the tears you caused me? You won’t get away with what you did to me. Today, I decided not to stay silent anymore! I have all the necessary evidence of my rape. Real-time locations, photos with your team, medical prescriptions from the doctor who attended me and who is a witness to my sexual abuse, photos from the hotel where we all stayed. Today, everyone will know the sexual abuser you are! To give a little context on how I met you all. I had some doubts about the party you held, "AFTERLIFE". I wanted to know the real meaning behind the visuals you used and the message behind them... that was and was my only intention. So I was contacting you for a while on Instagram until on February 26, 2023, you played at a party in CDMX, and that's where I met "TALE OF US". They were staying at the Four Seasons, and I happened to be in CDMX, so we met for dinner and then went to that party. I never imagined what I was getting into...
They were in Argentina for a few days, to be precise from April 4 to April 8, 2023 and they invited me on those days.
On April 7, at the end of the AFTERLIFE party, Carmine Mrak's animal, because I can't find any other way to call that person, drugged me and sexually abused me.
I had lost consciousness and didn't even drink alcohol.
I woke up and I was torn, it hurt a lot when I walked, I couldn't sit down.
I asked him what had happened and he told me "why" I told him what I felt and he told me "ahh it's just that you wanted more, that's how you asked for it."
Without remembering anything, in pain I just thought and said: I can't believe the sinism of this monster.
I told him that I wanted to return to Mexico that I couldn't stand the pain, he told me "it's okay, sorry."
I couldn't even rest on the plane, I was crying without understanding why that had happened to me.
Arriving in Guadalajara I had to go to the emergency room and they told me that I had to sue whoever had done that to me because I was not alone.
What I experienced I wouldn't wish on anyone else...
Returning to the topic of when I met them in CDMX and the doubts I had, finishing the party in CDMX I asked Carmine Mrak about his doubts about Afterlife.
I asked him if it was about TRANSHUMANISM and he just opened his eyes, looked at me and said:
"TRANSHUMANISM, YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT, OF COURSE IT'S ALL ABOUT TRANSHUMANISM THAT IS THE NEXT STEP OF HUMAN EVOLUTION"
For those who don't know what it is, it's about
(improve humanity through technology by questioning humanity's own limits such as the prolongation of life).
That's what you're led to believe... that you can change, master, and override natural events like old age, guilt, suffering, and even death.
They believe they can leave the human body aside by transferring all the information each individual contains into a computer! That is why in its visuals there are cables connecting to the human, robots carrying humans on their legs and they dying while the robot opens its face and a smoke that comes out of the human is passed to the robot.
That is not something that is very far from reality... there are already people who call themselves
"Cyborgs" and you can find videos and documentaries of them where they have already implanted chips in their bodies to control some things in their environment.
Here comes the worst part, this can cause inequalities between countries and continents, increasing the digital divide and the possibility of social conflicts. On the other hand, the debate regarding moral, judicial and ethical laws arises, generating social confusion.
Organ cloning, nanotechnology, prosthetic implants with AI in some cases seem good for humans But surprise! It also has its disadvantages. First of all, and that is more than enough to worry me, is: Man can lose all of his human identity.
One day I noticed a tattoo of a cross on his hand to which I asked: Do you believe in Jesus? And he answered: "No, that was before when I was young, now I like the devil more."
He asked me: do you like the little devil? He immediately showed me his tattoos on both arms with demons and horns, he told me that those little devils had already given him everything he wanted, fame, money, power, I told him that since I was little I watched beings that tormented me and my bad episodes, He said that this was a gift, and to master it.
I constantly repeated the word "Incubus" for those who don't know this means "yaser"
'lie down' engender a demon' inside a woman the victims live the experience like a dream without being able to wake up from it.
This Being can also take the form of a handsome man, sometimes even making its victims fall in love with it. While all this happens, it consumes the energy of the seduced woman.
When it is the incubus who tries to extend the life of his lover, she enjoys health, physical and emotional well-being; An incubus in love can be equally beneficial and dangerous.
Well, I already knew a little about their intention and I was more alert... little by little they began to introduce me to people from their personal circle: managers, producers, backup singers, musicians, even audio engineers, and what I saw and heard was not true. they would believe.
One day Carmine tells me "I want to see what's in your mind"
Tell me some words and I will put them into the artificial intelligence software.
I start to tell him to see "a path, a sun, lines, a sky." Mrak tells me how basic it is to look at what I'm creating... "it's literally the doors to the underworld" and starts laughing.
People here tell me they are crazy "Look at the codes, what they talk about" And they were just words like
"armageddon" "demon" "darkness" "evil" "death" etc.
I was just observing, that had been my intention from the beginning. Little by little I discovered more things that made me sick not only of them, but of everything they do, their work team, the real intention of their parties, how they made fun of other artists... they are not good people .
I imagine many remember one of his last visuals at Afterlife in Tulum about a guy parting the sea with a cane.
(That's the part in the Bible where Moses extends his arm over the sea for everyone to walk)
Exodus 14:21-22
All of these things are against religion and well, I am also very fighting against fanaticism. I will not be the most devout but I believe in repentance and I have faith in God.
I also remembered something with your visuals that I had read in the Bible and this is the verse:
"As you saw, iron mixed with clay will be mixed through human alliances, but they will not be united with each other as iron is not mixed with clay" Daniel 2:43
(We are the mud) that's why the visuals of the trees flooding with metal.
The giant doors representing the portals, everything has a meaning, I understood everything.
I knew what their message was, their objective and the evil rituals of these puppets.
Their afterlife logo represents the upturned cross.
Have you seen the actors' strikes in Hollywood? It's incredible how this is affecting everyone and if you are a musician and you are reading this you should think about questioning who you are supporting, what you want to do with your project and what you can do to achieve change because they are going to replace you in couple of minutes.
When I discovered this I felt disgusted inside! All those parties that I attended years ago in Tulum and in some parts of Mexico believing that everything was good vibes, ecstatic, happy together with my friends without knowing what we were dancing to and what we were contributing to.
Now I feel sorry for all those people I see giving their energy and soul to these satanic parties.
They think that everything is light, love and peace but they don't have the slightest idea of everything these puppets represent. How sad to see all those artists wanting to be part of this label.
I ask for support from the music industry, from all the women who have experienced something similar to all the people who support the women's movement, share so that everyone knows how shitty these people are and what they did to me, how they manipulate and use their festivals as rituals.
Let's raise awareness, I know that many of you see the subliminal messages that they publish, it is not really your imagination if something is happening.
Stop supporting so much evil, the world doesn't need any more of that.
Stop supporting A RAPIST like him.
If I don't raise my voice it could be another woman who ends up suffering like I did."
What do you think?