Skeletal muscles fill in the blank

QR codes are ______ (fill in the blank)

2018.11.15 04:21 QR_codes_are_cute QR codes are ______ (fill in the blank)

/QRCodesAre____ is a place to post interesting implementations of QR codes.
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2019.11.16 02:42 doofusllama boneachingjuice

Welcome to BAJ! This sub is for humor in the spirit of the original “bone hurting juice” meme. If confused on how to make "good juice", refer to our about section. May All Your Bones Ache Today.
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2021.08.01 21:00 Jackpot09 FillintheBlank

Post any text; a joke, an opinion, a quote, etc. Leave a blank or two, and let the community fill it in for you! Let’s see how people around the world would complete the same sentence!
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2024.05.29 06:30 Embarrassed-Data5216 help with answer please

Fill in the blank
…………………………… is the term used to measure wavelength in IPL and Laser Therapy.
Fill in the blank
Treatment risks associated to the client can be broken into two categories. The first type of risk is the underperformance of the treatment in relation to the client and operator expectations. This means that the client has an incomplete hair removal at the selected site or that they experience significant ………………
Fill in the blank
………………. hair is a general term used to describe any unwanted hair and is what clients seek to have removed through temporary or permanent hair reduction treatments.
submitted by Embarrassed-Data5216 to LaserHairRemoval [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 05:53 nursing88019 I plan to meet with the dean

So this may be a bit long (sorry) but I’m gonna try and condense it as much as possible. So I was in an associates program (med surg 2nd semester) and I actually just failed the class. I was genuinely shocked that I failed but also not entirely BECAUSE we had a new professor this semester. She was just hired in January, claims to have previous experience yadayada whatever. Well she didn’t finish a lecture, which so happened to be her first lecture and as a result almost everyone in the class failed that test. We move on and the lectures get better as in she finishes them but she’s reading them verbatim. Which we all can agree is a terrible teaching method, but again we move on. The final comes around and almost half of the class fails which means almost half fail the semester. So you have like 18 people fail out and have to retake (with the exception of those that have failed twice which they must wait 5 years! Insane I know) anyways I see that I failed and I’m furious so I am going through this whole process. My argument is that this new professor never finished that one lecture, final is cumulative hence the reason for my failure. Oh and to add context after everyone failed that first test new professor taught, a new rule was implemented that says if lecture isn’t finished a video recording must be uploaded within 24 hrs… well guess what! This never happened for that missed material, and like I said the final is cumulative… so yeah you can argue we had the slides, the book, we could’ve taught ourselves. Which I mean yeah sure, you basically already do that anyways with all nursing concepts, however I’m not paying good money to teach myself AND if auditory learning has been the standard thus far, it’s not fair. Every single lecture has been auditory, everyone at least learns auditory… Anyways I come to reddit to ask, I am a few days away from meeting with the director of my program which will likely not readmit me, however the dean may be kind enough to consider. Is my argument valid? You can be honest I genuinely think I would have passed if not for that one professor, they should’ve stuck with what they knew and had the OG’s teach. And if anyone needs more context let me know, and I would appreciate honesty!
Edit: I would like to add that YES I attended tutoring, sought out supplemental material, cut my work hours, studied alone and in groups etc. I would also like to add that I am aware I must read the book and partially teach myself the material however the way MY program works is by having the professors teach the important key concepts which we are to be tested on. We fill in the blanks, what I am saying and referring to is the fact that the professor did not finish a 117 slide powerpoint lecture in 6 hours… why is this? 6 hours is plenty of time to teach, this was 1 week before our exam. 1 week in which myself and the rest of my classmates had to not only brush up on what WAS taught but also teach ourselves the remainder. This particular exam had a 34% pass rate…
submitted by nursing88019 to StudentNurse [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 05:34 lothsulothmo (22 AFAB) aching pains in legs?

I have had terribly aching legs since I was a child which have only recently gotten more frequent and intense. They don't feel like pulled muscles, cramps, or soreness from exercise, but aches that have been attributed to "growing pains" back when I was a child. They don't flare up with any sort of exercise or overuse, and it's typically in the evenings and into the night about once or twice a week. Could it be a chronic pain condition? What could have caused it? Is it muscular or skeletal? Help!
submitted by lothsulothmo to AskDocs [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 05:16 Relative-Wallaby2476 would you go back to a doctor that lied to you?

hello all,
my plastic surgeon etched muscle definition onto my stomach during lipo360. she said she didn’t etch lines, but that they “naturally came out after lipo”
i can clearly see the canula scar underneath my skin in the middle of my stomach
this dr is offering me a revision lipo session at no cost to smooth out the stomach area although i’m not sure it’s a good idea. perhaps filling the area in with fat would be a better idea than carving out more fat in hopes of evening things out.
the etching that worries me the most is the line going straight down my stomach. it’s really deep and really crooked and if i look closely i can see an internal scar throughout it like the shape of a canula.
i’m not sure if any one has had this particular experience but any thoughts you care to share are appreciated.
submitted by Relative-Wallaby2476 to PlasticSurgery [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 05:14 SheilaTrisler [Get] The Smart Blogger – Email Marketing Certification Program Download

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Depending on the situation, you may need to make a few additional changes so the copy fits your needs. But even then, 90% of the work is already done for you.

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Think of the Circle space as the central hub where you can go for inspiration, motivation, clarification, and feedback. This is a great place to network with other writers you can learn from and share secrets with.
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The certification exam for this program is no joke. After all, you need to live up to the high bar that’s been set by the Smart Blogger brand.
But I promise that if you do the work throughout the course, you’ll have what it takes to pass.
I also promise that your work will be read and graded by real instructors who are expert email marketers in their own right. This is something that almost no other programs offer…which is sad, because it’s by far one of the most important elements in learning to write email campaigns clients are willing to pay for.

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When you pass the certification exam, we’ll set you up with a free profile on writer.me so that companies looking for email marketers will have a way to find and contact you. From that point forward, it will be your source of free email marketing and copywriting leads.
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As you can see, you’re getting a LOT from this program. It’s natural that you’re probably wondering…
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submitted by SheilaTrisler to u/SheilaTrisler [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 04:43 Kattius_Botattyus Recent live letter on the FF Dawntrail benchmark??

Hello,
After searching through this subreddit, I saw a post from 5 days ago asking about the newest release of the FF benchmark for Dawntrail, which apparently promised to do out with the old lighting in the character creator and inject the new Dawntrail ones. The original letter said that the updated benchmark was due to release on May 23rd. A comment beneath that thread said that a recent live letter pushed its release to May 30th instead, allegedly, which is 2 days from now. However, I have been unable to locate or find that letter - would anyone have a link to it, so that I may read through its comments?
I'm very nervous about the upcoming changes. I play a Viera character, and only just installed the benchmark today. And, like the borderline-hundreds of other players on this 38-page long thread basically begging Square Enix not to go through with these """graphical improvements""" for Viera, my Veena Viera got absolutely evicerated by these changes visually. I know the new benchmark was promised to fill in the blanks with some of the high-texture resolution's, but I need to know if any other changes to the characters actual physical appearances were promised.
Honestly, It's probably just copium on my end, at this point. Going into the benchmark itself, outside of the character creator, my Viera still looks terrible in what I presume is the actual new lighting in all of the scenes. I may be cooked already. Not to mention, a view I see on this subreddit fairly frequently is that SE takes a grand total of zero feedback from the English forums when it comes to their game. If that actually is the case, then I just have to pray the thread of Viera changes in Japan is even longer than the one here.
Anyway, thanks for tolerating my rant. Here's to hoping this benchmark shows us an improvement to... Literally any race besides Hrothgar.
submitted by Kattius_Botattyus to ffxiv [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 04:38 AnswerOtherwise9776 Family burial plot on previous private property was sold. What are my rights?

Scroll to the bottom for the tldr
We (husband and I) had given birth to our stillborn daughter in 2015. We had chosen her resting place to be on my family’s old apple orchard in a quiet little corner where the sunsets and sunrises are incredible. It is there that I had always dreamed to eventually go back to, to restore the old apple orchard. Our retirement plan.
Some pertinent info: In 2020, we had lost my great grandmother who had lived there for all of her adult life (~85 years) and everything she had was deeded over, just before her passing to my father and uncle; her closest living relatives. My uncle lived with her for the last couple years of her life and took care of the basic management of the farm while my father had moved a town over, but visited frequently (at least once a week). He helped out when he could.
It had been stated to me by my dad the eldest brother, on several occasions that we (my husband and I) would own the plat of land and surrounding area on which our daughter is buried but I never pushed the suggestion further to have the plat deeded over into our names. This land has been in my family since 1847 so I just assumed (silly me!) that we (my family) would forever be owners of the acreage that was the farm.
I had found out today that my uncle and my father sold the entire farm off three months ago. My uncle was ready to flush it as they were struggling with the tax bill and also wanted to move closer to his grand kids. I am trying to fill in the blanks of what actually transpired between uncle and dad but at a certain point, what’s done is done and that I need to focus on protecting what I can, surrounding my daughter.
I was given the seller’s agent info and I got a call back, late this afternoon. The realtor’s office had no idea that there was anyone buried on the property and I was told that nothing had come up on the title search, prior to closing. The realtor was going to call up the title company, first thing tomorrow morning, I guess to confirm that nothing came up on the property search? I am not entirely sure but I’m fully aware that he has already been paid in this sale and isn’t representing me in any way.
I have also reached out to the county’s auditor office and after explaining my situation, the clerk told me that she would need to bring in the county engineer to see if the parcel was ever registered as a family cemetery. I am hoping to get that call back tomorrow but by a quick search on the online docs, I am not seeing any deed restrictions or notes on any of the parcels in the area. Again, my fault for not pushing to have her resting place put in our name to protect her.
I do have the buyer’s agent contact info but at this point, I am worried that if I travel too far down researching myself that I will respond or communicate in a way that I could lose my girl. (I am for sure, not a professional! Just a mama bear, doing all that I can to protect my baby) Is now the time to tap in an attorney who specializes in real estate to have someone on my team to defend us?
Also, I feel that this needs to be said: I am no longer comfortable having her resting in a place where family is no longer present. While it is an absolute incredible place, I don’t feel like I could be truly at peace with the turmoil that has transpired from the sale of the property. I am fully prepared to have to exhume her and place her elsewhere.
TLDR: what rights do I have to be able to access my daughter who was buried on family land that has been sold? Is it time to lawyer up?
submitted by AnswerOtherwise9776 to legaladvice [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 04:34 st4rdust-crusad3r old live where aj asked for painkillers??

i’m not sure if anyone has talked about this yet or even remembers, but i vaguely recall a live where aj was discussing his chronic pain and his need for severe painkillers. i’m not entirely sure of the context, as i was not in the live for the entire discussion, but to me, it genuinely seemed like he was requesting people to send their pain medication to him. he made it into some joke, saying “have any of you had any surgery lately? message me so i can check on you”, but was obviously insinuating he wanted their medication based on his tone. i very well could be misremembering this event, so please correct me, fill in the blanks, or let me know if this was even an event that actually occurred. i just think that if that was something that happened, it’s an odd and more importantly, an illegal thing for him to do
submitted by st4rdust-crusad3r to babybop_snark [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 04:27 InspectorLD WIP: Fill in the blank. I promise the actual here line isn't nearly as funny. [OC]

WIP: Fill in the blank. I promise the actual here line isn't nearly as funny. [OC] submitted by InspectorLD to hazbin [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 04:19 DCEUTourist DeScribe [Time Loop LitRPG]

Chapter 1
“Huff, huff”
Zhong Lin inhaled the heavy gray mist surrounding him, sizzling his already sore lungs. The rancid, musty air did little to soften his scowl aimed at the colossal slab of gravestone. The waning blue moon above casted eerie shadows on the ground, seemingly mocking his desperation.
A reckless punch born out of rage landed on the hard granite. But the carvings of incomprehensible beings responded with little other than broken nerves and muscles.
“HAHAHAHHAHA”
With a loud laugh of self-derision, he roughly fell on the cold, cobbled floor. The chest injury he had forgotten about flared up with the fall. He stared at the blood that flowed from his chest, akin to a river slithering down a mountain, dyeing the floor crimson.
He moved his right hand towards his chest, holding down on the wound. Physical pain was still more bearable than the heart. He had been long used to the pain. Both of heart and body.
“All that for nothing.”
A dispirited mutter left his parched lips as blood and sweat melded together. Divine sense showed his nascent soul in a similar state to his body. As the Qi and Blood competed to leave him, a strong dizziness assaulted his senses, spinning even the azure moon above.
He pulled out a jar with only one red pill left inside.
*Crunch*
Brisk chewing gave life to the hollow, misty temple of death as he gnawed on his final pill. He knew it was futile. When the slab showed no response, he already had a hunch that all his efforts were for naught. Yet, if living a mere moment would increase his non-existent odds, he would seize that moment with everything. He lost too much to stop here.
“You were wrong, father. Trying is never enough.”
Reminiscing about his lives, he couldn’t help but wonder how everything had gone so awry. When he transmigrated to this world, he thought he could redo everything.
A second, no, his first, proper chance at life.
And he had to admit, he had gotten lucky. A loving family. A shed above his head. A heart full of warmth. Brought by the simple act of his mother brushing his hair. By stern reprimands of his father as his sister laughed from behind. But that gave away to the question, had he been a bit too lucky?
“I am sorry, Rin. Your big brother is a coward.”
They say that your life flashes past your eyes before you meet your end. He could not confirm it in his last life, perhaps because he did not have a life worth remembering, but now he could see it clearly.
A scene that frequented him in his nightmares.
It was midnight when the mournful shrieks broke him out of dreams. He sat up to muffled screams, fizzling out, one after another. Even the unending darkness of night was eclipsed by an emerald hue, bleeding into his room from the small crevices of the windows.
From an interstice he watched the man in black robe. With a glowing blade, the dark figure painted the snow in crimson. He saw his father among them, kneeling. A warning in his eyes met his own. And he raced like hell itself chased him, away from the nauseating scent of blood.
And quickly hid inside the house, going away from his room. As fear grasped his soul, the realization hit, his sister was still sleeping, unaware of the carnage outside. Before he could reach out, a footstep froze him, burning him with a primal fear. Only a small, sleepy “Big brother?” reached him, before his heartbeats taking over once again.
But fear whispered at him, to not breathe, to not move, to not go. And he caved in to it, paralyzed, until the screams stopped and the morning sun shone. Only then did he go out, finding her there, lying peacefully.
Only, a bit of perplexity in her azure eyes, which had long lost all semblance of life. Her eyes would continue to stare at him, every night.
Like they did right now as his vision blurred.
“I am sorry, Rin. It should have been me.”
He croaked. There is no pill for regret. Like a gut punch it hit. Often, he wondered why he had been left alive. Before, he thought it was due to him hiding well, but only later did he know that he was spared. After all, there was nowhere to hide from a divine sense.
Sound sleep became a thing of luxury from then on as nightmares took over. Thus, a ten-year-old made revenge his life goal.
But it did not take him long to realize that smarts could not overpower those with the strength to break mountains. Hence, he ran after power, meticulously scheming. Ten years a valet of nobles. Hundreds a slave to immortals. Thousands of years of cultivation. Only to find an answer to one question.
Why was he spared on the night of snowfall?
But efforts matter less where talent is venerated. What took him years took the man of his nightmares a day to accomplish. And by the time Zhong Lin reached nascent soul, his figure of vengeance had long surpassed him by an impossible margin. And he despaired, for as long as he remembered.
Until Requiem landed on his hand, that is. A book of a God long forgotten. A different path to power, beyond what immortals could ever hope to accomplish. And he did whatever the book told him. For that was his only hope.
He found the missing pieces, assembled them, piece by piece. Hiding, running, stealing, slaughtering. Funnily enough. all his efforts only led to him creating his own burial. Perhaps it was karma. Slowly, He felt impending death crawling on his skin as the smell of blood got thicker and thicker.
Faintly, a sound of footsteps could be heard from afar. The firm noise of boots steadily made its way, like death. Inevitable.
Zhong mustered all his remaining strength to stand up, amplifying the dizziness. He had a faint idea of what approached him.
He who led him to the pit of hell.
A black silhouette wearing a gray overcoat slowly emerged from the haze of mist, holding a yellow lantern in his hand. Yet, all the light avoided his visage, scattering before reaching the inky blackness.
“To be honest, I never imagined that you would actually manage to find it yourself.” Zhong Lin’s face crumbled as he listened to the deep, gruff voice mocking him, but he had little to return to the derision reaching his ears. “I must thank you for saving me the trouble.”
Zhong Lin numbly gazed at the figure that went beyond his understanding. A being made of the vast cosmos. Hands made of stars, a face that resembled eternal darkness.
“Sorry. Kid. There was never any inheritance.” Zhong Lin listened to the voice that sounded like a death sentence. In his journey, he had considered many times a question, What if he does not get the inheritance? But he never considered that there was no inheritance to begin with. But all the despair only left as the haze cleared, and a profound numbness filled all that was hollow in his heart.
“Kid” A soft voice reached the ears of the listless Zhong Lin. He watched the inky black around the cosmic figure leave as he brought the lantern up. But more than that familiar voice and face, what brought him more despair is the one single line. “Do you remember the night of snowfall?”
No. It could not have been that early!
His face scrunched up, forming an expression of madness again, his knuckles cracking as they turned white. “Old hermit.” He whispered. He finally connected all the dots. It was not just after he got Requiem. For his entire life, he was but a simple pawn. Chess piece right from the very start of his journey. A mantis unaware of the oriole behind.
No wonder. The only reason why he managed to survive the impossible odds so far was because a higher being was aiding him. He attributed the random burst of luck and lucky encounters to destiny, thinking the world itself wanted him to succeed. How foolish of him when fate has done nothing but mock him.
He stared at the peaceful face of an old hermit; someone he had known for ages. His benefactor, a lifesaver many times,. “Kid, don’t misunderstand. It was never personal.”
“Why?” A quivering voice escaped Zhong Lin’s lips as all of his expression left his face, leaving numbness occupying it once again.
“Why was I spared?” He stared at the being that seemed eternal by now once again, with a black face, hands like the cosmos holding onto a lantern.
Old hermit laughed at the question. “Would you believe me if I said everything was merely a coincidence?”
Zhong Lin watched the burning golden eyes on his eternal black visage peek at his soul. Unfeeling, cold, relishing in his nightmare, refusing to fulfill even his final wish.
And he decided, right there.
The runic seals around his soul unchained as he quickly compressed the Qi on the bead, something he had been keeping inside his soul for a long while. The thunder and fire souls mixed together, creating a mad frenzy of Qi inside him. Soon, all seven souls were burning madly, before destroying themselves within seconds, like an avalanche of Qi.
*BOOOOOOMMMMMM*
The nascent soul destruction created a feint as he propelled the bead forward, to the middle of the gravestone, to the piece he had forged himself. He watched with his dimming divine sense as the bead slowly made its way with a bit of hope, to destroy one of the stones, to stop whatever his plan was.
But right before the bead could reach it. Hermit waved his hand, stopping all the chaotic movement of Qi and soul. Zhong Lin’s final bit of hope died out as he reached his eternal end.
“Almost succeeded. But you were too desperate.” The hermit laughed as he watched the desperate Zhong Lin’s final attempt. Walking towards the frozen bead, he stared at the brewing Qi that would have certainly taken down the entire temple if it hit. .
“And even if you damaged it, it would have only brought me a mild inconvenience.” He ran his fingers on the gravestone, muttering softly. A laughter of elation resounded in the empty hall as he brought out a key from his overcoat. As soon as the key reached the stone, a small hole opened up, like it was made for it. With a clink, the rectangular slab of granite transformed, into a small, unassuming olden black book.
A single ancient word was written on the black cover.
Requiem
“Right? Requiem.”
He stared at the bloody mess caused by the splattered organs and blood on the stone walls. Although he protected himself and Requiem, he shared not that feeling about the old temple of death. He gazed at the detonated Qi that intermixed with the soul energy, all seven souls had been unchained and intermixed.
“Did not even leave yourself a path out for reincarnation. But, kid, you may have chosen well.”
A sigh escaped his lips as he walked off into the dark maws of the door. As he left the temple, it broke down, piece by piece. The large pillars slowly slid underground like it were submerging in water, along with the rest of the temple, disappearing like it never existed, taking with it Zhong Lin's remains. From now on, the old temple of death will have never existed, alongside Zhong Lin.
Or that’s what was supposed to happen.
But an anomalous corruption in time and space was brewing,
submitted by DCEUTourist to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 04:13 Arthur-Engviksson How I filed an OCI minor application (USA)

I'd filed for an OCI three years ago for my older kid. Now it was time to do it for my younger child. And of course I came to learn that the process had changed just a tad bit.
As always, VFS makes things so super complicated that it makes one want to pull their hair out. I felt like a bird flying amidst clouds of confusion and ambiguity. When I came to this sub to seek clarification on multiple things, I only found fragmented pieces of information scattered across many posts. So I decided to share my most recent experience here as to what I did with my minor OCI application. Here it goes.
STEP 1 - Fill out the government form online.
Here, you upload the photograph and the thumbprint to the portal. For the thumbprint, you can order any non-toxic inkpad from Amazon. Both the photo and thumbprint images have to conform to a specific size ratio. I just put my child's thumbprint on a blank piece of paper in multiple places. Then I scanned that piece of paper, and cropped in the thumbprint I wanted. Once these two files were uploaded, I proceeded to fill out the form.
After the form had been completed, it was time to upload the supporting documents. All files need to be under 1000Kb. They're very strict about this. I used Preview (Macbook) to reduce the PDF file size. Not always did this work the first time, so it took a bit of trial and error with the compression quality to get the desired size. Now, the only form that needed a notary at this point is the Parental Auth form. Both mom and dad need to sign this with the notary as witness. Once you upload all forms, you can submit the applicatiom and download the government form.
STEP 2 - Prepare the VFS package
First, register on the VFS portal by using the File Reference Number from the government form. Next, pay the fees. Beware, VFS auto-selects additional services like photo and what not, but you really don't need that. Just take the bare minimum service which is the cost to send the application in. Do take the courier label service as it takes away the pain of you having to send in return labels.
Now, assemble your package. At this point, you need to make another trip to the notary for the Affidavit (in lieu of originals) form.
In your entire package, there are only two forms that need notary. The parental auth form (which you notarized during Step 1), and the Affidavit form which you notarized during Step 2.
Now the government form needs wet signatures on page 3. I put my child's thumbprint in the applicant signature space (this is in addition to having uploaded a scanned copy of the thumbprint during Step 1). Next, I signed the minor section of the form as the parent.
Then I generated copies of all relevant documents. I self attested it by writing on it what the copy is for, signing it, and then dating it.
I also signed the Undertaking and the Consent letters.
I also printed the VFS fee receipt document to he included in the package.
Finally, I enclosed two photographs of my child. I just put them in a small envelope (did not staple or paste them to the government form).
This is pretty much what I did. Now the waiting game has begun. Let's hope the OCI card comes through after all 🤞
submitted by Arthur-Engviksson to nri [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 04:07 apehasreturned Booking the AEW World Title in 2024 - Part Two: The Master

Booking the AEW World Title in 2024 - Part Two: The Master
Part One Here!
We pick up following Blood and Guts, where AEW Champion Swerve Strickland led his team to victory over the Elite. It’s been an insanely brutal and bloody reign for Swerve so far, and with enemies and allies alike climbing the ladder towards a shot at the gold, he’s starting to grow slightly paranoid. With a second trip to Wembley approaching, the talk of the town is who’s going to win the Owen and go for AEW’s top title at Wembley - if Swerve even makes it there, the fans knowing that his wars of attrition are leaving him worse for wear with each passing defence.
Road to All In London
The lineup for the Owen is being narrowed down coming out of Blood and Guts, with MJF, Jay White, Bryan Danielson, Will Ospreay, Darby Allin, Hangman Page, Konosuke Takeshita and Katsuyori Shibata all in the running. With blockbuster match after blockbuster match being fought to determine the finalists for Calgary, we eventually come down to two: MJF and Will Ospreay, set on a collision course for the ages.
Swerve’s troubles don’t end there, though - after leaving the Mogul Embassy, his old allies smell blood in the water, and the EVPs are all too happy to make Strickland’s life more miserable by announcing a title match with Brian Cage for the Dynamite opener in Alberta’s largest city.
AEW World Title: Swerve Strickland (c) vs. Brian Cage
Cage gets a good showing in here, using his remarkable athleticism to nearly put the champion away early, but once Swerve gets rolling, it’s clear that there are levels to this game. The Machine goes for a Liger Bomb, Swerve reversing into a hurricanrana to leave him prone for a HOUSE CALL, FOLLOWED BY A SWERVE STOMP! ONE! TWO! THREE!
Swerve Strickland def. Brian Cage (11:51) to retain the AEW World Title
After the bout, Swerve’s handed his title, and he keeps it hugged tight to his chest as he grabs a microphone. He says everyone’s been working their asses off around him to try and take this from him, but the champion promises he’s not afraid. He welcomes the challenge, because there ain’t nobody like Swerve Strickland in SWERVE’S HOUSE. He says he’s looking forward to seeing who comes out on top in the main event, and heads off backstage to watch it with Prince Nana.
Owen Hart Foundation Tournament Final: MJF vs. Will Ospreay
This gets a lot of time, with no limit on a tournament final. Let them cook. MJF is in worse shape than Ospreay, having been flung straight into a tournament after a series of surgeries left him held together with duct tape, but Ospreay’s in a worse headspace, his typical unending confidence hampered by a few narrow wins en route to the final. However, it’s two spectacular in-ring talents, and they go ham in pursuit of victory, MJF wanting to headline Wembley for the second straight year and Ospreay looking to win the AEW World Title in a stadium in his home country. The back-and-forth gives way to MJF getting control, working the arm extensively to warm Ospreay up for the Salt of the Earth. However, an appearance by Adam Cole gives an unknowing Ospreay the opportunity to turn the tables with a handstand reversal to a Heatseeker, following it with a Hidden Blade for two. Ospreay considers working on the shoulder, MJF crying out in agony with each blow to the surgically repaired joint, and eventually, Will has him in perfect position for the Storm Driver 93. He knows MJF’s neck and shoulder are in such a state that this would be an automatic victory, but he hesitates just long enough for MJF to roll him up… ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT! MJF grabs the arm to go for a Salt of the Earth, Ospreay rolling him back into a pin of his own, followed by another HIDDEN BLADE! STORMBREAKER! ONE! TWO! THREE! OSPREAY’S GOING TO WEMBLEY!
Will Ospreay def. MJF (31:02) to win the Owen Hart Foundation Tournament
Out comes Swerve, standing toe to toe with his challenger as confetti falls around them. Ospreay leans on his trophy, grabbing a microphone as it becomes rapidly apparent his confidence is back. He says that All In is on the horizon, and last time AEW was at Wembley Stadium, he won as an outsider… yet Swerve lost. Now, Ospreay’s in AEW full time, mowing through all the competition, and now it’s time that the Kingpin get a shot at the crown. Swerve chuckles before his smile turns into a sneer, growling under his breath that Ospreay will have to kill him to take the AEW Title away - and he’s seen that despite being called the Assassin, he can’t do that.
The next week on Dynamite, Ospreay and Swerve are scheduled for a face to face promo in the ring, the title match official for All In. It’s electric as they stand opposite one another in the squared circle, trading some quick verbal barbs that they both brush off before getting down to brass tacks, Swerve holding the microphone and beginning to speak.
“Will, you’re impressive, man. You can be as athletic as the day is long, but it’s not ‘heavy is the body that wears the crown,’ it’s ‘heavy is the head,’ and there ain’t nobody like me. This is a mental game, and you don’t have what it takes there. You blew yourself up and broke your own neck when you went for the IWGP Title. You were betrayed by the Don Callis Family and somehow didn’t see it coming. You were beaten on your home turf by your sworn enemy because you got in your own head. You had the win of a lifetime against Bryan, and then you felt so bad about it that you neutered your arsenal. You don’t have what it takes… in your head or in your guts. There’s only one head fit for this crown, and it’s mine.”
Ospreay scoffs, trying to keep his cool, but he doesn’t wait long before grabbing the microphone out of Swerve’s hand to an “oooh,” from the crowd.
“Ain’t nobody like you, bruv? How dare you talk down to me. How dare you condescend me, belittle me, you arrogant bastard? I came here to AEW and started taking heads, just like I did in Japan, and there were people there just like you. People who said ‘ah, he’s not got it in him to be the next big gaijin. He’ll never be the champion,’ and now there’s you, saying I don’t have what it takes because I don’t have the mentality. YOU don’t have the mentality to do what I do. To fly from the UK to here twice a week, to raise a family, to spend a whole career an ocean away from home, to wear the crown on your head that says you’re the greatest wrestler on Earth. Nobody’s done that but ME, and when that championship’s fastened around my waist, mate, it’s going to prove what everyone already knows - that Will Ospreay’s on another level, and Swerve Strickland… he’s punching up.”
Now it’s Strickland’s turn to try and keep a lid on his anger, stepping toe to toe with his challenger and holding the title inches from his face. He tells Ospreay to listen close, before saying that the years of hard work Ospreay put in everywhere but home aren’t gonna be enough to help. He’s gonna be in front of his family, he’s gonna be in front of his friends, he’s gonna be in front of his people, and he’s going to let them all down, because he’s an impressive athlete, but he’s not the guy. Finally, Ospreay snaps, throwing a SHORT HEADBUTT, AND NOW BOTH MEN ARE THROWING FISTS! IT’S UTTER BEDLAM! The bell starts ringing to try and encourage them to break it up, but neither man is stepping down now, furiously exchanging blows as security rushes to the ring to divide them. Swerve grabs the championship, hoisting it high as he spits venom at Ospreay, the challenger spewing a string of words that probably won’t make air. They keep trying to break free and take another swing, commentary asking what on Earth they’ll do when they’re finally let loose at Wembley Stadium, pride and the promotion’s top prize on the line.
Swerve Strickland (c) vs. Will Ospreay
All In London
Wembley Stadium is packed to the gills as All In goes on the air, and they’re fit to burst as the first theme they hear is that of the Commonwealth Kingpin. Justin Roberts announces that our opening match is for the AEW World Title, and Ospreay receives plenty of fanfare and fireworks as he makes his way to the ring, looking more motivated than ever. He’s clearly jonesing in the ring, eagerly awaiting Swerve’s arrival as his compatriots cheer him on… and then Chaka Khan hits. Strickland may be in enemy territory, but the crowd can't help but sing. Oozing charisma as he enters the squared circle, the AEW Champion seems more than ready to put the Assassin down, the electric crowd letting both men soak in the moment as the bell rings. HERE WE GO! SWERVE VS. OSPREAY, LIVE FROM WEMBLEY, AEW TITLE ON THE LINE!
AEW World Title: Swerve Strickland (c) vs. Will Ospreay
From the bell, Strickland and Ospreay are exchanging words as they gravitate towards one another, Ospreay calling for a lockup. They settle into a collar and elbow, Ospreay using his size to his advantage to try and muscle Swerve into the ropes, but Strickland reversing the momentum to cinch in a side headlock. Will still drives Swerve into the ropes, eventually breaking free and whipping Strickland across the ring, the champion building up speed as he ducks a clothesline attempt from the challenger and nails a Tijeras to send Ospreay flying. Ospreay’s quickly back up to his feet, Swerve attempting a slip behind for a German Suplex, but Will countering with a headlock takeover, kipping up and throwing a superkick that’s narrowly avoided by Swerve, who drops flat to his back, picking Ospreay’s leg and floating into a handstand to bring Ospreay down with a headscissors. Will kips up once more to break free, Swerve scrambling to stand up before OSPREAY THROWS A HIDDEN BLADE, SWERVE DIVING OUT OF THE WAY AT THE LAST MOMENT BEFORE CATASTROPHE! Strickland quickly pivots as Will looks to get to his feet, attempting a HOUSE CALL, BUT NOW IT’S OSPREAY’S TURN TO DODGE AS BOTH MEN END UP STANDING!
Gritting his teeth, Swerve goes for another lockup with Ospreay, this time quickly kicking him in the gut for a snapmare, cinching in a chinlock to talk some smack. The Aerial Assassin lands a few elbows to the body as he strives to get back to his feet, finally breaking free before being grounded again by a Tijeras from Swerve. Strickland grabs hold of his challenger again, Ospreay furiously backpedaling into the corner to avoid a lifting inverted DDT, only for Swerve to send him through the ropes for a HANGING NECKBREAKER! Ospreay rolls out to the apron instinctively, Swerve kicking out one of his legs and stepping through the middle rope to SLINGSHOT INTO A DDT ON THE APRON, BUT OSPREAY HANDSPRINGS STRAIGHT TO HIS FEET ON THE FLOOR! Strickland gets cocky, thinking he landed the shot, and turns around to see Ospreay charging at his legs. Swerve leaps up, still on the apron as Will overshoots, the champion pivoting for an APRON PUMP KICK, OSPREAY DUCKING IT AND LEAPING BACK ONTO THE APRON! SWERVE TURNS AROUND ONCE AGAIN… AND OSPREAY FLIES IN WITH AN APRON OSCUTTER! Tumbling to the floor, Swerve tries to get to his senses and figure out how he came out on the rough end of the sequence on the apron, but Ospreay gives him no time to think with a ROBINSON SPECIAL OFF THE APRON, STRAIGHT THROUGH THE BACK OF HIS HEAD! He props Swerve against the barricade, chopping him across the chest before scrambling to the top rope for a SKY TWISTER PRESS TO THE OUTSIDE - ONLY FOR SWERVE TO AVOID IT, NAILING OSPREAY WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX ONTO THE FLOOR!
With Ospreay stunned, Strickland slides back in to break the count, measuring his man before effortlessly delivering a FOSBURY FLOP OUT TO RINGSIDE, WIPING OUT THE CHALLENGER! Turning the tables on Ospreay, now it’s Swerve’s turn to lay in some chops against the barricade, only for Will to dump him over the barrier and into the crowd. He follows it up with a hook kick over the guardrail to stagger the champion, running the length of ringside and LAUNCHING HIMSELF STRAIGHT INTO A PUMP KICK FROM THE CHAMPION! Swerve hops up onto the barricade, grabbing hold of Ospreay in a front facelock before MUSCLING HIM UP AND OVER WITH A BRAINBUSTER, OFF OF THE BARRICADE AND RIGHT DOWN ONTO THE FLOOR AT RINGSIDE! He rushes to roll Will back between the ropes, hooking both legs… ONE! TWO! TH-NOOO! Swerve jumps to the middle rope to deliver a diving European Uppercut to the back of the head before Ospreay can quite get to his feet, following it up with a DISCUS LARIAT! The assault on the head is relentless, Swerve looking for a DDT before being driven into the ropes, Will trying to earn a momentary reprieve. Instead, Strickland pummels him with Muay Thai knees to the body, heaving him up for a LIGER BOMB! ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT ONCE MORE! Swerve lets out a frustrated roar, deadlift Ospreay up to attempt another powerbomb, but Ospreay manages to drop to the apron for a gamengiri, followed by a PIP PIP CHEERIO! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Desperate to keep momentum on his side, Ospreay quickly delivers a rolling elbow, following it up with a SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX, BUT SWERVE RIGHT BACK UP TO HIS FEET, NAILING A GERMAN! He swivels around, only to see Ospreay landed on his feet, BOTH MEN THROWING HIGH KICKS BEFORE COLLAPSING TO THE CANVAS!
Wembley rallies behind Ospreay as both men struggle to get to their feet, barely stirring before the challenger begins pounding the mat, leaning back onto his hands for a kip-up before Swerve simply spins to punt him in the face and bring him back to the mat. Strickland rises to his feet, looking for the House Call, but OSPREAY HAS NONE OF IT, CATCHING THE LEG FOR A STYLES CLASH! ONE! TWO! THR-NOO! Following through, Ospreay attempts a Hidden Blade, Swerve ducking it before rushing towards his opponent and INTO A SPANISH FLY FOR A NEARFALL! Ospreay grabs the back of Swerve’s head, paying him back for the focused assault with a flurry of Kawada Kicks to the face, followed by an attempt at a delayed vertical suplex, Strickland floating over and landing on his feet. The champion runs the ropes, Ospreay stopping him in his tracks with a dropsault and an enziguri, continuously building momentum with a STUNDOG MILLIONAIRE TO FINALLY DROP SWERVE TO HIS BACK! Unleashing a war cry, Ospreay has a gleam in his eyes as he looks towards the top turnbuckle, dragging himself through the ropes to the apron before clambering up to the high rent district, turning his back to Swerve for another SKY TWISTER PRESS, SWERVE ONCE AGAIN ROLLING IN TOWARDS THE TURNBUCKLES… BUT OSPREAY ROLLS STRAIGHT THROUGH TO HIS FEET! Strickland flashes his grill to the camera in the corner with a smile, Ospreay looming behind him before BLASTING STRAIGHT THROUGH HIM WITH A HIDDEN BLADE! ONE! TWO! THRE-SWERVE POWERS OUT!
It’s been just over fifteen minutes of insanity as Ospreay smells blood in the water, knowing if he connects with a Stormbreaker, he can wrap this up. However, that certainty would only be cemented if he were to nail a Storm Driver 93, but he refuses to go to such lengths, hooking the arms… BUT SWERVE COUNTERS WITH A BACK BODY DROP, ONLY FOR OSPREAY TO LAND ON HIS FEET! HE BREAKS INTO A SPRINT, REBOUNDING OFF THE ROPES FOR A SPRINGBOARD OSCUTTER - STRAIGHT INTO A HOUSE CALL! SWERVE INTERCEPTED HIM! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOOO! Strickland can’t believe it, but he’s got Ospreay dead to rights, spinning him around into position for a Tombstone. Strickland looks to the hard cam, a smug sneer on his face as OSPREAY REVERSES WITH A SEGA MEGA DRIVER, SPIKING HIM DOWN ON HIS HEAD! ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOOO! Ospreay is in disbelief, even a tribute to Mad Kurt not being enough to put Swerve down, but he’s staying on the ball as he hooks Swerve’s arms to go for a STORMBREAKER, ONLY FOR SWERVE TO FLOAT OVER FOR A LIFTING INVERTED DDT! Will’s rally wasn’t enough to get him out of trouble, and STRICKLAND FOLLOWS IT UP WITH A SECOND HOUSE CALL! SWERVE IMMEDIATELY ON THE ATTACK ONCE MORE, POSITIONING OSPREAY FOR A JML DRIVER… BUT WILL CLEARS HIS HEAD, COUNTERING WITH A POISON RANA! SWERVE UP TO HIS KNEES, BUT OSPREAY FOLLOWS IT WITH A SPRINGBOARD OSCUTTER! HIDDEN BLADE TO THE BASE OF THE SKULL, AND NOW… STORMBREAKER! ONE! TWO! THREE! WILL OSPREAY IS THE AEW WORLD CHAMPION!
Will Ospreay def. Swerve Strickland (20:10) to win the AEW World Title
Later in the night, Kazuchika Okada defeats Kenny Omega to win their fifth encounter, establishing himself firmly as the Number One Contender to the AEW World Title, giving the new champion only two weeks to prepare to face off with one of his greatest foes - a foe he’s only managed to beat cleanly once, while falling to the Rainmaker eight times.
Road to All Out
Ospreay gets to celebrate on Dynamite, cutting a promo saying he’s geared up to finally put this to bed. He says he’s glad he’s starting his title reign like this, because he’s certain he can beat Okada, and he’ll not have to worry about the spectre looming over him anymore. Every time there was a title on the line, every time the stakes were high, he failed against the Rainmaker - but the stakes were high at Wembley, and he won. He proved Swerve Strickland wrong, and now it’s time to prove Kazuchika Okada wrong. Out steps the Rainmaker, taking the EVP Elevator up onto the stage to say that Ospreay has already proven him wrong; he thought, years ago, that Ospreay was a talent worthy of being in Okada’s stable of CHAOS, and Ospreay proved him wrong when he betrayed his leader, only for Okada to beat the brakes off him at the Tokyo Dome. Okada says that Ospreay should be all too familiar with Okada being the top champion, the Ace, and he plans to finally bring that vision to AEW by restoring the world to its natural order and beating the Aerial Assassin for a ninth time. The Rainmaker’s ego is peaking, having avenged his loss to Kenny Omega just a few days prior, and he says that Omega’s a taller mountain to climb than Ospreay. However, he says he’s sure there’ll be room in the Elite’s ranks for Ospreay, should he come to his senses and want to fall back in line behind the Rainmaker. Ospreay declares that at All Out, he’ll prove to Okada and the world that he’s eclipsed the onetime Ace, while Okada insists that Omega was just the beginning - in just a few days, it’ll be time for the Rainmaker Era to start back up.
All Out
With All In having just occurred recently, All Out is a package deal with the Wembley show, ensuring a huge audience for what’s certain to be an all-timer main event between the Rainmaker and the Assassin. Both men want to walk out with the gold more than anything in the world, making an already personal rivalry all the more exciting as the coin drops for the last match of the night. Okada appears in a new robe, debuted two weeks prior at Wembley, and as he rises from the Elite Elevator, he’s looking more daunting than ever. There’s only one feud the man had ever lost, and he’d just avenged it against Kenny Omega - this is the most dangerous he’s ever been, and as Will Ospreay makes his way to the ring, Okada doesn’t even turn to face him. The champion is furious, but the challenger sees him as a formality standing between him and another epic World Title reign, refusing to even acknowledge him as they’re both introduced by Justin Roberts. They head to their respective corners, and THE BELL RINGS! IT’S OKADA AND OSPREAY, WORLD TITLE ON THE LINE!
AEW World Title: Will Ospreay (c) vs. Kazuchika Okada
Both men are hesitant to open themselves up to a big counter in the early goings, especially given how well they know each other, so they try and psych each other out a different way - by waiting. The crowd greets them with a deafening reception as they slowly circle the centre of the ring, eventually meeting with a lockup that sees Okada immediately put his height to good use, bearing down on Ospreay with an attempt at a test of strength. He pushes Ospreay down to the mat, even getting his shoulders down for a moment, but the champion bridges up off the canvas. Okada jumps up and drives his legs down into Ospreay’s body, but Ospreay maintains the bridge with both men’s weight, Okada getting back up and shooting for a lateral press that gets a one count. Transitioning into a side headlock, Okada talks some smack, the Young Bucks supporting him at ringside while taunting the champion. However, Ospreay’s put on plenty of muscle mass over the years, making it all the easier for him to slowly make his way to his feet, twisting free and securing a side headlock of his own on the Rainmaker. Okada sends him into the ropes, Ospreay clinging to the top as Okada instinctively goes for a flapjack. Momentarily confused, Okada gives Will the opening to run in for a dropsault, attempting to follow it with an enziguri that’s ducked, Ospreay springing up… and into a flapjack, the inevitability of the Rainmaker’s plans coming to fruition putting the champion in a bad spot early.
Continuing with his somewhat lackadaisical pace, Okada keeps treating Ospreay like he’s not that big of a deal, shoving him into the corner for a double pat on the chest, followed by a stiff forearm across the jaw as the referee steps in. Ospreay lunges at him, Okada grabbing the arm for an Irish Whip into the opposite corner, rushing the champion with a big boot, but Ospreay SLINGSHOTS RIGHT OVER HIM, LANDING ON HIS FEET BEHIND THE RAINMAKER FOR A KICK TO THE HAMSTRING! Ospreay hones in with a swift roundhouse to Okada’s other leg, trying to take out his base, but Okada shrugs it off by catching the leg on a third kick attempt before driving his shoulder straight into the bridge of Ospreay’s nose, following it with a DDT that makes it look like Ospreay just died. The champion goes full scorpion, folding over himself like PAC as Okada grabs hold of the wrist to attempt an early Rainmaker. He gets Ospreay up to his feet, a smirk on his face as he winds him up, but Ospreay cuts through his grip with a sharp elbow before rolling Okada up with a victory roll reversal, straight into a DOUBLE STOMP TO THE GUT! Okada rolls right out of the ring and into the waiting arms of the Elite, Ospreay lining up to try and take him out with a dive before being halted by the Bucks, who leap into the way with their hands up. Ospreay shouts at them to move before going for it anyway, launching himself with a PESCADO, STRAIGHT INTO A BOOT TO THE STOMACH BY THE RAINMAKER! THE BUCKS GAVE HIM TIME TO RECOVER!
Taking advantage immediately, Okada sends Ospreay crashing into the barricade, Ospreay crying out before Okada sends him into the aisle on the crowd side of the barrier. He measures his man as he heads to the opposite end of ringside, the Bucks gassing him up as he takes a running start for a CROSSBODY OVER THE GUARDRAIL, LANDING ON HIS FEET AFTER TAKING OUT THE AERIAL ASSASSIN! Okada dusts himself off, his signature look of superiority clearer than ever as he drags Ospreay back to ringside, laying in a few boots to the body before spitefully laying in another DDT, this time on the floor. He breaks the count before continuing to pummel Ospreay at ringside, the Bucks taunting the champion with each consecutive shot he takes. Okada works over the champion’s neck, digging a knee into the back of it as he postures with his stablemates before securing a waistlock for a GERMAN SUPLEX ON THE FLOOR, BUT OSPREAY FLIPS OUT OF IT! He flings himself at Okada with a Hidden Blade attempt from behind, the seemingly omniscient Okada ducking at just the right moment before throwing a boot - but Ospreay’s just too quick, slipping under it and LAYING IN A HOOK KICK, FOLLOWED BY A BACK SUPLEX ON THE OUTSIDE TO THE RAINMAKER! Ospreay backs the Bucks away, threatening to put their faces through the back of their heads before sliding back into the ring and EFFORTLESSLY SOARING THROUGH THE AIR WITH A SKY TWISTER PRESS TO THE FLOOR! He sends Okada back between the ropes, following him with a PIP PIP CHEERIO, BUT OKADA CUTS HIM OFF AGAIN BY KICKING OUT THE ROPES! Ospreay is left hung up on the top, Okada turning him over for a DRAPING NECKBREAKER OFF THE TOP! ONE! TWO! THR-KICKOUT!
It’s been virtually all Okada thus far, and he continues to methodically wear Ospreay down with a targeted offensive on the neck of the AEW World Champion. Whenever Ospreay tries to get some momentum going, Okada’s able to reverse it, the style Ospreay honed in New Japan having paid dividends against plenty of other AEW talents, but not the man who defined the style for over a decade. Soon enough, Okada looks for the Rainmaker again, and Ospreay finds his opening by reversing it into a SPANISH FLY! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Ospreay looks like a bullet fired from a gun the second Okada’s constant pressure is taken off his shoulders, the champion bolting out to the apron to connect with a PIP PIP CHEERIO, NAILING IT BEFORE OKADA HAS TIME TO REALIZE WHAT HIT HIM! Okada tries to evacuate out the other side of the ring, but Ospreay’s having none of it, grabbing him by the trunks and pulling him back in for a SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX! ONE! TWO! TH-NOOO! Okada sits back up just in time for Ospreay to strike him with a standing round kick to the ear, filling the Rainmaker’s head with cobwebs before flattening him to the canvas with a superkick, finishing the sequence with a RUNNING SHOOTING STAR PRESS! ONE! TWO! THR-ANOTHER KICKOUT, BUT OSPREAY’S FINALLY GOTTEN CONTROL AWAY FROM THE CHALLENGER! With the Chicago crowd rallying behind him, Ospreay struggles to get to his feet, the twenty straight minutes of punishment taking a heavy toll on the champion. However, he’s certainly up before the stunned Okada, with the challenger still attempting to get his wits about him when Ospreay charges with a ROBINSON SPECIAL, STRAIGHT TO THE BASE OF THE SKULL! Okada gets to his feet on instinct alone, the Assassin positioning himself behind his prey and circling him before running the ropes for an OSCUTTER! ONE! TWO! THR-NOOO!
Ospreay unleashes some Kawada Kicks on the challenger, letting out his aggression before lighting him up with a flurry of chops, Okada attempting to stand on business and throw some of his own, only for Ospreay to obliterate him with a superkick. Okada is left leaning on the ropes, Ospreay beckoning him towards the centre of the ring before attempting a SHOTGUN DROPKICK, SENDING HIM STRAIGHT THROUGH TO THE APRON! With Okada prone, Ospreay looks for the OSCUTTER ON THE APRON, BUT OKADA CATCHES HIM IN A STRAITJACKET! He attempts a Straitjacket German Suplex on the apron, Ospreay avoiding catastrophe with a back headbutt to the bridge of the nose, followed by a stiff back elbow to send Okada tumbling to the floor. Ospreay vaults over the ropes to break the count, finding himself in the perfect spot for an old favourite as Okada gets to his feet at the base of the ramp. Measuring his man, Ospreay leaps into motion with a SASUKE SPECIAL, BUT OKADA CATCHES HIM! WHAT STRENGTH FROM THE RAINMAKER, AND NOW… OH MY GOD, A TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER ON THE FLOOR! Okada’s confidence is peaking, the Tombstone on the floor having been a hallmark of so many of his defining victories and none of his defeats. Knowing this, he rolls Ospreay straight back into the ring, the work on the neck having paid dividends as he immediately secures wrist control, hoisting Ospreay up into position for a RAIIIINMAKERRRRRR! HE GOT ALL OF IT! ONE! TWO! THRE-OSPREAY SOMEHOW LIFTS THE SHOULDER UP!
Frustrated, Okada hurls Ospreay’s lifeless corpse into the corner and simply starts stomping a mudhole in his face, grinding his boot into the champion’s features before the referee pulls him away. Okada bickers with the ref as the Bucks sneak up on each side of Ospreay, Will instinctively grabbing a hold of Matthew, who scrambles backwards. However, Will stays latched onto him, forming a fist around Matthew’s tie and being pulled through the ropes… ONLY FOR NICHOLAS TO SUPERKICK OSPREAY STRAIGHT INTO THE RING POST, SPARING HIS OLDER BROTHER! Blood begins to spill from the side of Ospreay’s head, dripping onto the ring post and ring skirt as it becomes clear he hit his head damn hard against the steel. Okada pushes past the referee and continues to beat Ospreay down, relishing each moment of offence as he sends the champion packing to the outside with a petulant boot to the side of the head. He rolls out to the floor, the Bucks handing him a bottle of water to cool himself off with after such a brutal match, and now Okada gets to admire the Elite’s handiwork as crimson teardrops start dotting ringside, a bloody mask obscuring Ospreay’s face. Okada keeps beating ass, commentary noting that this is now the longest we’ve seen these two duke it out for, nearly 40 minutes having elapsed. Excalibur notes Ospreay seems harder than ever to put down, but Okada’s showing the same sort of dominance he has in the past, with Schiavone sounding worried that it might just be a matter of time.
Looking to finally put an end to things, Okada starts raining closed fists on Ospreay’s head wound, hurling him into the timekeeper’s table. Eventually, he lays Ospreay out on it, clambering up with him before flipping off the camera and calling for another Tombstone. He flips Ospreay around… but Ospreay drops to the floor behind him, sweeping out Okada’s legs before nailing a CHEEKY NANDO’S AGAINST THE GUARDRAIL, LEAVING OKADA SPLAYED OUT ON THE TABLE! Ospreay scrambles towards the ring post, blood pouring down onto his chest as he makes the long climb up the turnbuckles for a FROG SPLASH THROUGH THE TABLE, AND THROUGH OKADA! The count was broken by him hitting the top rope, sparing both men the risk of being counted out as they lie their motionless. Chicago wills them to their feet, Ospreay sending Okada back into the ring before using the surge of energy and momentum to get the challenger up for a STORMBREAKER! HE GOT HIM! OSPREAY’S GONNA DO IT! Ospreay leaps atop Okada, grabbing the leg and leaning back into a deep cover, putting all his weight across the challenger’s shoulders… ONE! TWO! THRE-OKADA’S FOOT IS HOVERING OVER THE BOTTOM ROPE, OSPREAY TOO ENTHUSIASTIC WITH HIS PIN! The Bucks look like they’re about to have panic attacks as an exasperated, mentally battered Ospreay fights back tears, a fraction of an inch away from redemption. However, he knows he’s got control, so all he has to do is take this one home.
Both men are in deep waters now, and with both being renowned for their gas tanks, it’s clearly come down to a war of attrition, both men knowing that it’ll all come down to landing the one big move that’ll keep one of them down. They’ve both sustained plenty of damage, but as Ospreay staggers over to the downed Okada, he gets this look in his eyes - the look of a man who has the chance to do the funniest thing ever against a man he resents oh so much. Ospreay grabs Okada’s wrist, the crowd letting out an “oooh” as it becomes clear he’s going for his own parody of the Rainmaker, traditionally a ripcord Spanish Fly. Okada is on dream street as Ospreay positions him, pulling the wrist to whip Okada around… but the Rainmaker is still wise to Ospreay’s moveset, keeping an arm near his side to stop Ospreay from latching on for a Spanish Fly. However, he wasn’t wise enough, Ospreay digging into Kenny Omega’s toolkit with a RAIN TRIGGER, BLINDSIDING OKADA WITH A HUGE HIT HE DIDN’T SEE COMING! Okada falls into the ropes, trying to keep himself upright by keeping a firm grip on the top rope, only to be uprooted by a POISON RANA, OSPREAY SPIKING THE CHALLENGER RIGHT ON HIS HEAD! He stumbles to the corner, Okada looking to find his footing as he gets to his knees… AND EATS A HIDDEN BLADE STRAIGHT TO THE FACE, OSPREAY MOWING STRAIGHT THROUGH HIS CHALLENGER! ONE! TWO! THRE-OKADA GETS THE SHOULDER UP, AND THE GRUELLING BOUT CONTINUES!
Justin Roberts is starting to sound pretty nervous as he makes the 50 minute time call, informing both competitors that there’s only ten minutes left in their longest bout against one another to date. Ospreay crawls towards the ropes, driven by pure determination as he peels off his elbow pad, winding up for the Hidden Blade of a lifetime as Okada slowly starts to stir. Both men have taken each other’s biggest shots, but Okada’s in the champion’s sights now, Ospreay waiting until he’s in the perfect position before CHARGING AT FULL TILT INTO A DROPKICK FROM OKADA! Somehow, Okada’s still got pristine form this late into the match, but there’s no time to linger on his magnificence as he rises to his feet, dazed and confused, in desperate need of a dagger against Ospreay. He leans over to hook Ospreay’s wrist, calling for a second Rainmaker, and now he ripcords him in, ONLY FOR OSPREAY TO BLAST HIM WITH A HIDDEN BLADE TO THE FACE ONCE AGAIN ON THE REBOUND! Okada somehow keeps hold of Ospreay’s wrist, tumbling into the ropes and dragging the champion with him, gritting his teeth and letting out a primal roar before CLOBBERING OSPREAY WITH A SHORT ARM LARIAT, BRINGING THEM BOTH DOWN TO THE MAT! Ospreay gets the slightly better landing tactically, turned completely inside out and managing to drape an arm over… ONE! TWO! THRE-NOO! Okada’s kickout flips Ospreay onto his back, the Rainmaker now making an exhausted pinfall attempt… ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT! WHAT’S IT GOING TO TAKE FOR ONE OF THESE MEN TO STAY DOWN?
Puddles of Ospreay’s blood stain the canvas as both men lie there, the unimaginable exhaustion washing over both of them as they fight to be the first man to a vertical base. Commentary discusses the importance of securing the upper hand at this moment, and somehow, it’s Ospreay who’s up first, although only by a matter of seconds. Okada decks him with a forearm, the Rainmaker doubled over trying to catch his breath, but Ospreay clocks him with one of his own, followed by a ROLLING ELBOW TO DROP OKADA TO A KNEE! Ospreay ponders a moment, considering going for a Storm Driver 93, and as Justin Roberts says there’s five minutes remaining, he goes for it. He hooks Okada’s arms in a butterfly, muscling him up off his feet… but Okada drops down to his knees, Ospreay too exhausted to lift 250 pounds into position if that 250 pounds is still fighting back. The champion knees Okada in the face before going for it again, but this time, Okada shifts his weight back and SWINGS OSPREAY OVER HIS OWN SHOULDER FOR AN AIR RAID CRASH NECKBREAKER! Ospreay goes down like a sack of potatoes, clutching the back of his neck in pure agony, unable to function properly as Okada scrapes him off the canvas and positions him for an EMPHATIC COBRA FLOWSION, DRIVING OSPREAY’S NECK INTO THE MAT ONCE AGAIN WITH A RESOUNDING THUD! The challenger rises to his feet behind his foe… AND SPREADS HIS ARMS, THE CAMERA ZOOMING OUT TO ENCOMPASS THE CHICAGO CROWD! OKADA HITS THE RAINMAKER POSE, AND HE’S READY TO STUNT ON OSPREAY ONCE MORE!
Ospreay’s in the perfect position for the Rainmaker, only a few minutes left on the clock, but both men’s movements have become lethargic and feeble after all they’ve been through. Matthew and Nicholas pound the mat to encourage Okada as he painstakingly leans over to latch on to Ospreay’s wrist, the champion fighting as best he can with a few back elbows, all of which miss the mark. Okada drives a forearm into the back of Ospreay’s neck, dropping him to his knees again before finally heaving him up for the Rainmaker, winding up… AND WHIZZING RIGHT BY OSPREAY, WHO COLLAPSES FROM EXHAUSTION! Okada falls in a heap behind him, but he’s still in better shape than Ospreay with moments remaining. With the last of his adrenaline, Okada scrambles up and picks Ospreay up once more, positioning him for a Rainmaker… BUT OSPREAY DUCKS, THIS TIME BREAKING INTO A SPRINT TO GET OUT OF THE WRISTLOCK! HE BOUNCES OFF THE ROPES, OKADA TOO TIRED TO SPIN AROUND IN TIME, AND NOW OSPREAY NAILS AN UNPROTECTED HIDDEN BLADE TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! He’s got to roll him over, the seconds counting down as Ospreay simply digs his shoulder into the Rainmaker’s arm to slowly turn him onto his back, struggling to hook the leg… ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT! OKADA GOT THE SHOULDER UP! Ospreay can’t believe it, fighting to get his feet under him, frantically attempting to hook Okada’s arms to get him into position for a Storm… ding ding ding.
Will Ospreay and Kazuchika Okada fought to a draw (60:00), for Ospreay to retain the AEW World Title
Road to WrestleDream
With Ospreay having been unable to put away the Rainmaker within an hour, it’s pretty clear that a rematch has to be on the horizon, but the question is where. Both Grand Slam and WrestleDream are coming up, and on Dynamite, Okada lays down the gauntlet for the PPV, saying that he intends to win the AEW Title at a show paying tribute to one of his idols in Antonio Inoki. However, Ospreay’s not off the hook until October just yet - Grand Slam still stands in the way, and a battle between two of his fantastic previous opponents is set to determine his challenger for the event. Those opponents? Swerve Strickland and MJF. In the end, MJF manages to pull out the win, securing a title challenge right next door to his home at Grand Slam. Ospreay walks in insecure, just as he did in the Owen Finals, but this time with good reason - his first title defence was hardly a successful one, and he might not even have the chance to make up for it if he doesn’t manage to put away the longest-reigning AEW World Champion ever, in their home state. The pressure’s on for the Assassin, and with challengers hounding him, all he can do is try and build momentum with wins week over week. He doesn’t bother trying to match MJF on the stick, the next challenger eviscerating the champion with promo after promo until the go-home show, where a fed up Ospreay simply snipes him with a Hidden Blade to cut him off. Grabbing the microphone, Will promises to prove the title belongs around his waist, telling MJF that he wants the same Max who dominated the AEW main event scene for over a year.
(Cont'd in Comments)
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2024.05.29 03:20 UnmovableFeast Pitchforks

It happened. He didn't deny that. Not like he was a suspect or anything—not yet—but he never denied it to himself. At the same time, this all happened over a decade ago—twelve years to be exact.
He didn't think of it every day; in fact, sometimes an entire month would go by where it barely crossed his mind.
In a way, that whole experience—he thought of all the abductions and murders as a singular event—now felt as if it belonged to somebody else.
It was a time in his life when he was confused, mixed-up, searching; a dark time, you know, like a phase. Who didn't have one of those in their past?
Plus, he was married now. His wife, Dee, obviously didn't know about it and he felt no obligation to tell her. Did he ask about her former lovers?
Sometimes there are things in the past and you just let them be. Whether it was Dee losing her virginity to the quarterback of the football team in the backseat at a drive-in or him using multiple black garbage bags and masking tape on that thing he didn't have time to bury in rural Tennessee, everyone has things they would rather forget about. Sometimes you just leave things where they lie.
So that's what Ned Doyle did.
Until that Sunday morning, November 6th, 1988.
He was a having a glass of Dee's pulpy homemade orange juice, waiting for his coffee to percolate, when he opened his heavy weekend edition of the New York Times (probably Ned's greatest extravagance—he liked its heft; and how the Arts & Leisure section made him feel culturally superior to his Ohio townsfolk, “the Philistines of Findlay,” he called them) when he saw the article buried in the back.
The country was two days from heading to the polls for the General Election—Bush v. Dukakis—so most everything else that week had been relegated to the back.
He read the article twice before he could even begin to make sense of it. It seemed to be a story about something called "DNA fingerprinting" and a 27-year-old baker in Great Britain named Colin Pitchfork who had confessed to raping and murdering two 15-year-old girls, in separate incidents a few years apart, after a new scientific process had been used to extract information from semen which he, Colin Pitchfork, had left at the crime scenes (likely inside the victims) some five years earlier.
Now if they could do all that after five years, why not ten years—or maybe even… twelve?
"Interesting story here," he said to Dee. It wasn't uncommon for Ned to read a news story twice—once for himself and a second time aloud to Dee while she brewed his coffee and burnt her toast. But this was his third reading and Ned acted as if it were his first.
"What do you make of that?" he asked. It somehow got worse each time he read it. After the third time, he felt as if he had been sucker punched in the stomach.
"Science Fiction is what it sounds like," Dee said matter-of-factly, pouring Ned his coffee in a mug that bore the Marathon Oil insignia. Findlay, Ohio was Marathon’s headquarters although there had been rumors circulating about a move to Texas.
"And unconstitutional," he said. "Cops running a dragnet like that, taking blood samples from 5,000 townspeople. Thankfully, that would never pass the muster here."
"They did catch the killer so maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea," she said, buttering her burnt toast. "Otherwise, who knows? They could have convicted the wrong man.”
Ned had already gotten lucky once – astonishingly so. Griffin Gerald Jones, the famed “I-75 Corridor Child Killer,” had claimed responsibility for all but one of Ned’s victims before dying in Florida’s electric chair.
"You can't have police in this country running around, sticking everyone with needles, drawing blood for some sort of science experiment,” he said. “Nevermind the Constitution, what about AIDS?”
“What about it?” she asked.
“There's been hundreds, thousands of cases now where people have been infected by giving blood,” he said. “That's a medical fact. Get accused of a crime and AIDS too?"
"It doesn't sound like any of the townspeople there in England got AIDS, darling. Unless there's more to the story, besides what you read to me."
He watched her spread orange marmalade over her burnt toast and take a bite. She had a dead tooth and he saw it every time she opened her mouth. He loved Dee but had never been sexually attracted to her. Not in the way he had been attracted to others.
"It really is just a matter of time before that stuff makes it over here," she said with her mouth full. "To this side of the pond, as they say." She took a sip of his orange juice. "Isn’t that how it always works? Things start over there in England, or in California, and then phht, before you know it, it makes its way to Findlay."
He held his hand over his stomach. She saw him wince.
"Was it my orange juice again? Was it still pulpy? I squeezed it by hand and even strained it twice this time."
"It’s not your fault,” he said. “I think it’s me. Orange juice is getting too… acidic for me." He looked at the clock on the coffee maker. "I'm going to be late."
He turned the page.
He played the 8 o'clock Mass by rote as he had many a bleary-eyed Sunday morning. It was pure muscle memory at this point. He made a few mistakes here and there, missed a key or two, but it was nothing the organ's sustain pedal couldn't mask – not that anyone would complain (not at the 8 o'clock anyway).
On Sundays Ned had four Masses: the 8, the 9:30, the big one at 11, and the 12:30 for the dilettantes who couldn't get their acts together for the 11.
He turned the page.
Today he was using Glory and Praise, AKA "the blue hymnal" for songs he knew by heart.
Turning the pages of his sheet music, reading each note, he was able to keep his mind off it.
Ned abhorred cliches (especially those involving sports) but he made an exception for “Out of sight, out of mind.” For Ned, that wasn’t a cliché; it was a way of life. He was a man who preferred to be heard, not seen, which made St. Bartholomew (or St. Bart’s) the perfect home for him.
In a spectacular architectural oversight, the church's pipe organ was situated so the organist's back was to the altar and pews. The organist of course needs to see what's going on in the Mass to read certain non-verbal cues but the arrangement suited Ned just fine. The congregation was comprised of many young families who had many young children—boys in particular—and it wasn't so much that he couldn't control himself because he was now firmly in control of all that; it was more that he didn't need any reminders of that time when he couldn't.
Especially during church.
So to see the altar behind him, Ned had installed an actual rearview mirror, the type you'd find on an old Buick, and he used a special type of putty to affix it to the mantle of the pipe organ. Having been the church organist at St. Bart's for nine years, he seldom needed it anymore—he could do it in his sleep—but it came in handy today as he found his attention drifting and he nearly missed the oratory refrain at the 9:30 Mass.
His real problems didn't start until the 35-minute break between the 8 and 9:30.
He was reorganizing his sheet music after the first wave of churchgoers had cleared out, when he began thinking about Colin Pitchfork again. The article said he was a baker in England somewhere—did it say he baked cakes or was that Ned's invention?
Even though no picture was provided in the Times article, Ned spent the balance of the 9:30 service picturing the 27- year-old ex-rapist/murderer working in his small English bakery, quietly going about his business, baking his cakes, when the police (Bobbies?) came.
Was he expecting them?
He played the offertory hymn, "On Eagle's Wings," as the ushers began taking up the collections and a family of parishioners he’d never seen before brought the gifts up.
And what was going through Pitchfork's head when he saw the Bobbies there? When they began asking him about rapes and murders that happened almost five years ago? The article said that he had initially given investigators someone else's blood when “the enquiry” began. Had he somehow caught wind of this “DNA Fingerprinting?”
There was a new usher, Ned noticed, in his makeshift rearview mirror.
The Times article said that one of Pitchfork's co-workers at the bakery had taken the blood test masquerading as Pitchfork because Pitchfork had told the co-worker that ‘he could not give blood under his own name because he had already given blood while pretending to be a friend of his who had wanted to avoid being harassed by police because of a youthful conviction for burglary.’ This story was later overheard by a woman in a pub who immediately went to the police.
Ned realized he had missed the homily twice now. Not that it mattered. Heard one you've heard them all and Ned was pretty sure there would be no surprises. Plus, he'd have two more chances to catch it. He knew he would have to really focus for the 11 o'clock. That was always the main event. He was going to play "I Will Raise Him Up," a complex hymn, which required his full attention. He would scratch that one now if he hadn’t read that article and if the Sunday programs hadn't already been printed. People liked that one –it was a real barn burner, as they say—and if he skipped it, there might be questions.
The last thing Ned needed right now were fucking questions.
Who was this new usher, by the way?

By the start of the 11 o'clock Mass, Ned wondered whether anyone would even show for the 12:30, seeing that it was already standing room only. The 11 was always the most popular Mass, but today felt different; it was packed like Christmas Eve. What was the occasion? Was the predominantly conservative town that afraid of Dukakis winning the presidency? Ohio was a swing state after all and that image of the little Greek man in the tank was unnerving, sure, but was it enough to warrant this sort of turnout for the 11 AM Mass at St. Bart's in Findlay?
Or was something else going on?
Ned didn’t believe they had come to hear his rendition of "I Will Raise Him Up."
Or could there be another reason? Maybe they had all read the same Times article. Maybe there had long been simmering suspicion of Ned in the community and maybe the article finally prompted the townspeople to join together and take arms. With pitchforks.
On March 31, 1892, the only known lynching in the history of Hancock County occurred when a mob of 1,000 men, many "respectable citizens," broke into the county jail in Findlay. They lynched Mr. Lytle, a man who had killed his wife and two daughters with a hatchet the day before. The townsfolk hanged the man twice (first from the bridge, then a telegraph pole) and then, in a classic case of overkill, shot his body over a dozen times. The authorities had intended to transfer the prisoner out of town at 1 o'clock in secret, where a train was scheduled to transport him to Lima, but someone talked.
Ned had only confessed what he had done to one person – a priest eight years prior. The priest was set to retire as he was dying of pancreatic cancer and visiting from a nearby parish. For years Ned had heard this priest was “of the old school” – i.e., your word to God’s ear, and it went no further. He was as safe as they come. Still, even then, Ned used the screened side of the Confessional, lowered his voice a full octave, and spoke of what he had done obliquely and in generalities. They were mortal sins. His penance severe: to repent and refrain from repeating the act again. The priest was now long dead. There’s no way he could have tracked Ned down and told anyone. Was there?
The last one was named Derek. That was the only one left unsolved.
He would play "I Will Raise Him Up" during Communion. Because of the crowds, he knew the communion lines would be longer and would thus require him to stretch the already difficult song a few minutes longer. If he was going to supply the masses, he was going to need a bigger yield. In a way it was like baking a cake, wasn't it?
He met Derek at a Dairy Queen in Paducah, Kentucky. It was Labor Day 1976. It must have been 100 degrees out, but it felt even hotter with the humidity. It was a real scorcher.
Derek had a bicycle with an American flag banana seat. It was the summer of Bicentennial Fever. The Dairy Queen was in an area known as Noble Park. It had a tin canopy that kept cars cool in the shade.
Ned missed a note as he turned the page. He stepped on the sustain pedal and his mistake sounded deliberate and beautiful even.
It was early evening; fireflies were out in full force and Ned was blotto. He had been drinking beer—cans of Schlitz—all day at the picnic of a friend (technically, the friend of an acquaintance so basically a stranger). A born introvert who still lived alone (this was pre-Dee), Ned was very drunk and primed for small talk. You must also remember this was a very different time. This was back when you still opened cans with an opener; drunk driving was frowned upon but not the cardinal sin it is today; and a grown man could still park outside a Dairy Queen and strike up an innocent conversation with a prepubescent boy on a bike.
"What da ya' got there?" Ned asked.
"Butterscotch Sundae," the boy said. The boy was blonde with brown eyes.
"Butterscotch, eh?"
The boy licked his plastic spoon and stared somewhere beyond the pea-green 1974 Buick Riviera Ned had inherited from his old man after he had kicked the bucket.
"For the life of me, I can't remember if I like butterscotch or not," Ned said. "That probably sounds pretty screwy, I bet."
"Get a free sample at the window,” the kid said. “They're free."
"Looks awfully busy over there. Mind if I have a taste of yours? I don't have any cooties, I promise."
The kid dragged his spoon over his ice cream as he mulled it over. Maybe seeing that he was almost done with it anyway, he figured what's the harm. He handed Ned the Styrofoam cup.
Ned looked at the boy as he stirred it a little and then placed the curved side of the spoon on his tongue and kept it there.
"I do like butterscotch," Ned said, giving it back. "Thank you for sharing that with me, that was awfully kind of you—say, what is your name?"
"Derek," the boy said.
"Derek. What a nice boy you are. Do you like dogs, Derek?"
"Sure," Derek said.
"Do you have a dog?"
"Not anymore. Used to. We had a beagle named Eleanor but she went blind and then lame and then..."
"What kind of dog was she?" Ned asked.
"A beagle," the boy said.
"A beagle, yes you said that. You like Golden Retrievers?"
"Sure," the boy said.
"Cause I have a Golden Retriever. It's a girl too. A bitch."
Derek smiled.
"She's pregnant. I mean she was. But… she just gave birth."
"To puppies?"
"You betcha. It was just a few weeks ago. She had a whole litter of 'em. Boys, girls. Cutest little pups you've ever seen. The thing is, Derek, I don't know what to do with them all. You're a nice boy. You just shared your Butterscotch Sundae with me and I'd care to return the favor. Would you… like a puppy?"
"How much?"
"For nothing,” Ned said. “For free.”
"You'll give me a puppy for nothing? And I can pick the one I want?"
"Sure can. They're at my place just down the road. Thing is, it's probably too far to bike there. And you're going to need both hands to hold on to the puppy. Hop in, I’ll give you a lift."
"What about my bike?"
"We could put it in the trunk but we're not going to be long. We'll be right back. It'll be safe here. People don't take things that aren’t theirs around here – especially when there's a lot of people around."
He remembered waking up on the floor of his apartment disoriented. He was late for work. He was still working as a salesman at the piano store. There was a big Labor Day sale still going on. Labor Day was always a big day for retail. The owner was a nice man and Ned wanted to call him and apologize but he wasn't sure what to say yet.
He hadn't planned on sleeping in. Forgetting work on Labor Day. The irony.
He saw the boy's underwear on his floor. They were tighty-whities from Fruit of the Loom. He thought of that every time he saw an ad for that company afterward.
They weren’t bloody but they were torn.
He remembered the sound of the filter on the aquarium he used to keep in his apartment. It was noisy but sometimes that was a good thing. He was very into Japanese Fighting Fish for a while until it became too expensive as they always killed each other.
There were no puppies obviously.
His apartment did not allow dogs.
His sense of disorientation and the ensuing panic prevented him from experiencing any of the usual remorse he felt afterward.
There would be plenty of time for that later.
The boy's body was in the bathroom just off the bedroom and he needed to get rid of it. He needed to get out of town. Out of Paducah. Out of Kentucky.
He placed the boy in a hardshell Samsonite suitcase, carried it out of his apartment, walked down the one flight of steps. He saw no one and he was confident no one had seen him. The suitcase was lighter than it should have been—a detail he never forgot—and he walked out to the carport where he saw his Riviera parked sloppily between the lines. He felt a wave of nausea come over him but he suppressed it. He opened his trunk, placed the suitcase in the back, and then looked around the apartment complex before walking back inside. He cleaned up with bleach. Showered. Hit the road.
There were no police gathered outside the Dairy Queen. It wasn’t a crime scene. He didn't look to see if the boy’s bike was still there; he didn’t want to appear suspicious.
He needed to get out of Paducah so he headed toward the freeway.
For a moment he briefly considered the Shawnee National Forest, which was to the north, but he stuck to his gut and took the newly-constructed Interstate 24 East toward Tennessee. Aside from getting out of Kentucky, he didn't have a plan. The asphalt was brand new and at times he felt as though he were floating across the highway. It took about two hours to get to the state line and once he was over, he filled up at a 76 Station in Clarksville, Tennessee. Only when he was filling his tank and had a moment to reflect, did he think about what was in the trunk. He imagined he had Superman's X-Ray vision and pictured the suitcase in the back, the boy's tiny body folded like a pretzel inside.
He missed both the readings, the Gospel, and the homily again. Then came the Consecration which was over before he knew it. It was time. He began to play "I Will Raise Him Up." In his rearview, he saw the communion lines forming and he thought he caught a glimpse of the new usher staring at him, but he couldn't be sure. He needed to concentrate on the song. People knew this one; people wanted to hear it exactly as they remembered it, and it was a full house, so the sustain pedal wouldn't save him this time.
Once he made it through the chorus, he knew he could relax a little.
The "DNA fingerprinting" in Pitchfork's case came from semen that was left inside of the victims.
Ned had made it to the outskirts of Nashville faster than he expected. He still hadn't checked in with Mr. Cory, the owner of the piano store. He desperately needed an alibi. Old Mr. Cory could probably send Ned to the electric chair if he wasn't careful.
He got on Highway 386 and headed north. After 20 minutes, he exited in Gallatin and drove around until he found an area he thought was remote. There was a road called Cages Bend.
He liked the sound of that.
It sounded hopeful.
He took that until he came to a gravel road, which looked as if it led to an even more secluded wooded area.
In the rearview, he remembered the cloud of dust kicked up by the tires of the Riviera he had inherited from his father, the drunk, who had done to him what he had gone on to do to others.
In the rearview, the communion lines were still going strong. No sign of that new usher.
He came upon a bend in the road that looked totally secluded, as if no one had been there in years. He cut the engine and listened for a moment. The invisible cicadas high up in the trees made it sound as if a giant rattle snake was slithering around him, preparing to strike. He got out of the car.
He didn't know if it was the trees or the fields of tall grass, but something smelled like semen.
He opened the trunk with his keys and pulled out the hardshell suitcase. When he closed the trunk there was a rustling in the tall grass but when he looked, he saw only a herd of white tail deer scattering.
Initially he had planned on dumping the body and taking the suitcase home with him. He didn't think to bring a shovel. Then he heard the sound of a bush hog—a piece of farm equipment with spinning blades that cut vegetation and cleared the land. He couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. He checked to make sure his suitcase didn't have any labels on it or name tags. He then two black trash bags in his back seat and wrapped the suitcase – one bag around the top, the other on the bottom, and secured it with masking tape. Then he carried it into the woods and set it down in some brush. He began snapping tree branches off to make cover but as the bush hog got louder and closer he panicked, leaving it only partially covered.
The communion lines had dissipated. Everyone was sitting now, even the priest.
Everyone always knelt until the priest sat and Ned should never be playing if the priest was sitting but somehow, Ned had missed his cue.
He concluded "I Will Raise Him Up" softly, using the sustain to ease himself out.
He looked in the rearview and saw the priest staring at him.
As was the rest of the congregation.
They would all be coming for him soon enough.
Unless he could make it back down to Tennessee and get rid of that thing once and for all – assuming it hadn’t been found yet.
Somehow, deep down, Ned always knew it was going to happen.
He was raised up, alright.
Now it was just a matter of time.
submitted by UnmovableFeast to creepypasta [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 03:04 crunchykale1 2024-2025 Advice for the NCM

2023-2024 NCM Cycle Deadlines (Dates for this cycle may vary slightly)
👏 ADVICE: Start researching QB schools early! Consider factors like weather, Greek life, diversity, student body number, distance from home, and more. Remember, if you get matched, you must attend that school, so rank schools you genuinely want to attend for four years. However, be sure not to glamorize specific schools! Looking too narrowly will limit your chances to match at a school you might’ve loved if you remained a bit more open-minded. Also, don’t feel guilty if you have 1 school or 12 schools on your match list. Everyone’s NCM process will look different. If a free education is the goal, then try to maximize your chances by applying to many, lesser competitive schools. If you have a dream school you want to match at, then don’t be afraid to stay open to RD.
👏 ADVICE: The writing process is going to be EXTREMELY tedious. There will be times where you’re sitting at a blank document, waiting for an idea to suddenly hit you. Take it one step at a time! Make the process enjoyable and let your authentic personality come through. Consider using College Essay Guy's resources or pair up with a college mentor through Matriculate. Another important task you should get out of the way early is your letter of recommendations. Look for brag sheets online and give them to your teachers to help them write a strong letter.
👏 ADVICE: This paper requires your signature, your parent/guardian’s signature, and your counselor’s signature. If your counselor is busy, please reach out to them early so you can get this done! If you don't manage to get it done on time, then don't worry. Questbridge tends to be lenient with deadlines. But this, of course, isn't ideal. Don't add more stress to the process!
👏 ADVICE: Congratulations if you’re a finalist! If you weren’t selected, consider applying to schools through the Common App and through Questbridge Regular Decision. Notice how there’s about two weeks to write all of your supplements. Try to prevent this time crunch by preparing in advance. Check out this document for the supplementals of the past years! You can also look at your college’s website to see if they posted their supplementals in advance (this usually happens in the summer). Make sure to only look at the school’s supplemental essays for Questbridge people. Colleges will usually require NCM applicants to write less because the initial NCM application has a lot of writing already.
👏 ADVICE: Don’t wait until the last minute to do your financials (FAFSA and CSS Profile). There have been countless web maintenance delays for FAFSA this year, so try to do it as soon as possible. The FAFSA should open on October 1, 2024, and you will be using 2023 tax forms to fill out the information. Additionally, you will be filing for the 2025-2026 FAFSA Form because that’ll be when you’re in college. You and your parents will need to create individual accounts too. You will fill out the FAFSA for yourself even if you do or don’t file taxes, and your parents/guardians will file their own taxes (or you can do it for them). It will take a while for FAFSA information to be sent to schools, so don’t delay! The CSS Profile is a more thorough version of FAFSA. There’s also an extension of the CSS Profile called IDOC which is a website where you will upload your tax forms in the form of images. The CSS Profile and IDOC will take time to send your documents as well, so be sure to get it done early. 👏 ADVICE pt. 2: It's going to be hard to take your mind off of December 1, but try to fill up your schedule with the things and people you love! Avoid burning out by practicing healthy habits such as exercising, sleeping 8 hours a day, meditating, journaling, etc.
👏 ADVICE: You’ve made it through the process! Whether or not you matched, be proud of your hard work. It’s easy to tie your self-worth to QB and college admissions, but remember that your value isn’t defined by this. If you qualified for QB but didn't match, you’ll likely qualify for amazing aid or a full ride outside of the NCM. Consider using QB Regular Decision and/or the Common App to apply to more colleges you love. You’ll find success regardless of where you go, create great memories, and meet amazing people. Stay positive and keep persevering like you always have!
Post inspired by SpiralKim72's advice for the 23-24 cycle (Check out their profile! They clarify many aspects of the QB process and give great advice from interviews to the RD process).
Additional, but Maybe Slightly Outdated Resources:
submitted by crunchykale1 to QuestBridge [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 02:56 Due-Exit-8310 See highlighted. Day 14 and I have “twitching muscles” do I really need to “get medical help right away”?

See highlighted. Day 14 and I have “twitching muscles” do I really need to “get medical help right away”? submitted by Due-Exit-8310 to Wellbutrin_Bupropion [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 02:33 Glacialfury [WP] You we’re tasked with delivering a letter to an elf in a faraway land. When you finally find them and they read the letter, they immediately start breaking down.

The Letter With the Silver Seal
Hooves drummed on the hard-packed dirt of the road.
The rider’s cloak streamed back in the wind of his running, and dust rose in his wake.
After months of searching, riding town to town, dawn to dusk, Finn finally had a lead on the wayward elf. The letter rested in his satchel, slung diagonally from shoulder to waist under his travel cloak. It was wrapped in oilcloth and sealed with silver wax bearing the intricate sigil of House Fyndrael. The letter was urgent, make haste, Lord Brynwell had said. And Finn had rode like a madman ever since.
People flashed past in both directions, the occasional ox-drawn cart or a courier on horseback kicking up dust in their haste. Some cursed his breakneck speed, turning to shake fists. Finn just grinned and spurred his horse faster. The road curved ahead through a thicket of trees and wound off into the countryside like a dusty ribbon dotted intermittently with the dark shapes of carts, wagons, and riders.
In the distance, the faint, cloudy silhouette of Suncrest Hold beckoned him. Almost there. A few more hours, he would put the letter in the elf’s hand and be on his way. A smile split his dusty face, and he leaned low over Dett’s neck, urging the horse on, eager to be quit of this mission and on his way back to Kaelos and all the comforts the sprawling mountain city had to offer. Wine and dancing, dicing and women, taverns and inns and brothels enough to drown a man in pleasures, that’s what waited in Kaelos. But first, he had to deliver the letter.
“Alright, Dett, show us your heart,” Finn put his face against the horse’s neck and the wind snagged his hood away, streaming his long honey-kissed hair out behind. “A few more miles, and you can rest. All the oats and water you can stomach.”
Trees flashed past. Dogs barked sharp challenges, then fell away. Dett thought this was a race, strained to go faster, legs and neck stretched out, mane and tail whipping in the wind. A group of caravaners cursed him as he thundered past. Finn laughed, called back his apologies and raced on, laying about with his reins.
Hours passed, the road transitioned from hard-packed dirt to the dark gray of flagstones and traffic deepened. Suncrest Hold rose before him in all its gray glory; slate-roofed towers and spires reached for the sky behind the silver-gray teeth of battlements. People, carts, farmers with wagons, merchants, and caravans crowded the road. Finn slowed Dett to a trot, skillfully weaving through the crowd with the desperate urgency only a man months gone from home could muster. He was ready to see this mission done.
He passed under an arched portcullis and came abreast of the guard house on the other side.
Soldiers in steel ring mail worn under red tabards slashed with black and embroidered with the royal coat of arms waved him through when they saw the silver glint of a courier’s badge pinned on his leather tunic.
“Make way,” they growled at the crowd, shouldering into the people and shoving them aside so Finn could pass. “Make way for a courier. Move it, you country kelps!”
People grumbled and cast dark looks Finn’s way, but they moved. None wanted to be the one who delayed a royal courier.
A figure in polished platemail worn under her tabard, and the transverse crested helm of an officer, stepped out of the guard house. Finn brought Dett to a halt.
The officer approached.
“May the sun favor your roads,” she greeted. Finn noticed the four golden knots of a captain embroidered on her tabard’s left breast. “May I offer the courier an escort?”
Finn’s mind went blank. This lady wasn’t just pretty for a guardswoman; she was unbelievably striking by any standard across the land. Breathtaking. He wanted to get off his horse and propose marriage on the spot. Heat began to rise in his cheeks, and he covered it by bowing in his saddle and giving his cloak a little flourish. A thick layer of dust broke free and danced around him.
“Gracious of you, my lady,” he said, cuffing his brow. “I am looking for an elf named Aberiel. I was told I could find him here in Suncrest Hold. Heard of him?”
“Captain Aurelume,” she said, looking off down the main road at all the buildings and structures crowding up to the walks. “Not My Lady. I'm not noble blood. Aberiel, you say?”
Finn gave a nod and patted Dett’s neck to calm the restless horse.
“Can you describe this man?”
Finn dug into his saddle and drew out a piece of parchment enchanted with the elf’s likeness. He handed it to the captain. She studied the portrait.
One of the other guards came up and peered over her shoulder, his face crisscrossed with old scars inside his open-faced helmet. “Damn, looks like the one what got back-knifed over dice a few nights gone. Remember? Almost died and the Count was all in a fury. Had us knocking down doors and cracking heads for three nights til we got the ones what did it. Darkhand gang, it was.”
Captain Aurelume studied the picture, her lips pursed. Her eyes were cerulean jewels dancing with sparks of sunlight.
She drummed a gauntleted finger on her sword hilt, and the sun glinted off her pauldrons. “Yes,” she said after several moments. “I remember him. Young and reckless, fair hand with the ladies, I’m told.” She glanced at her guard. “Which I suspect is the true reason for the knife in the back. Men have killed for far less.”
The guard shrugged, and his ringmail made soft clinking sounds. “Only said what I was told, Captain. Dice, they said it was.”
The captain returned her attention to Finn.
She returned the picture. “Try the Medi toward the center of the city. Beside the Basilica.” She nodded at the guard beside her. “Harker will show you the way. Good luck.” She turned and disappeared back into the guardhouse.
Harker came up beside Finn. “Alright then,” he grumbled, obviously irritated with having to play babysitter. “This way.”
Finn followed him down long streets that turned and twisted through the city. Every few seconds, he would holler for the crowd to give way to a courier. After a time, they came to a sprawling structure of soaring turrets, tiled roofs, tall arches, and windows filled with ornate traceries and colorful glass. A central dome gleamed silver in the sun.
“The Medi,” he said, and without so much as a by your leave, turned sharply on his heel and waded back into the crowd.
Finn eased Dett over to a tie post on the side of the road and swung out of the saddle, his legs filled with a deep ache from months on the road. He took a moment to stretch and stamp his feet before climbing the marble steps to the fluted columns flanking a set of tall doors rounded at the top and standing open to the public.
Inside, it was dark and subdued; carpet in blue and silver with fancy tassels flowed down the corridors. Tapestries hung the walls and the air smelled of herbs and incense. After getting directions from one of the healers, he stood at the entrance to a private room.
The door stood open, and a gentle breeze whispered through tall, arched windows. The room was small, modestly appointed with bookshelves on the walls and a small brazier across from a four-post bed on which lounged a figure wrapped around the midsection with clean bandages.
Finn knocked on the door frame and stepped inside. The elf on the bed stirred from his reading and set the book aside, fastening his eyes on the visitor. “Who are you?”
Finn approached the bed and gave a slight bow. “Finnton, my lord,” he said, digging into his satchel. “You are Aberiel of House Fyndrael?”
The elf’s eyes hardened with suspicion. His hand slipped under the sheet covering him to the waist. “Who sent you? What is this?”
“I was dispatched from Kaelos five months ago, my lord,” Finn produced the letter. The elf’s eyes locked on the silver seal, and the coiled readiness in his posture melted away. “That is my house seal. Give it to me.” The elf snatched the letter from Finn’s hand, gave the seal a cursory inspection, and broke it off with his thumbnail. His eyes moved over the words. He stopped at one point, drew in a deep, ragged breath, and glanced at the ceiling before continuing.
A single tear broke free from one of Aberiel Fyndrael’s lavender eyes.
The hand holding the letter slowly sank into his lap. Another tear streaked his cheek. Redness gathered in his eyes, across his face. “They have found her,” he said. His voice was a quavering whisper. “She…” he broke off with a sob. “She…I can’t believe it…she…”
Whatever the elf was going to say, Finn would never know. The words were drowned in anguished cries.
Finn turned to go, but thought he caught a glimpse of a smile breaking through the elf’s tears. Was Aberiel smiling? Finn couldn’t tell and it would be rude to stay. Whether tears of sorrow or joy, he would never know. Nor did he care.
“Good day, my lord.”
He left the elf lordling to his letter and his tears and silently wished him all the best. It was time to see to Dett and lodging for the night. A hot bath to wash away the dust of the road and a hearty meal to fill his belly, that was what he required. Then sleep. Dawn came early this time of year and he wanted to be on the road with the first rays of sunlight.
He stepped out of the Medi and took Dett’s reins in his hand. Music drifted to his ear from a lively tavern down the street. The sounds of raucous laughter and a dozen conversations sang in the air.
A grin crept onto his face.
A bath, a meal and maybe just one game of dice before he found his bed. He turned toward the tavern.
A man had needs.
submitted by Glacialfury to Glacialwrites [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 02:22 ZergyBoii The deep, innate sense of identity of transness : what we are.

Text I wrote after hearing the question "what if trans people were in a vacuum" See context at bottom of the post
As a transwoman, I feel that if I was in an absolute vacuum, stranded on an island where i'd never seen another human being, never known what is society, never ever thinked, without social need, where I don't even know that there is something else than me or even another "sex" or "gender, a total blank state, I'd feel like I would absolutely live my life normally, seeking to do creative stuff cause all my needs are fulfilled, just living on life.
But I'd feel weird sometimes, feeling an invisible need, a sort of pressure on my chest, something missing. I'd also feel like that the weird organ between my legs, that is only a tool to empty my bladder and nothing else, feels somewhat foreign and I'd wonder why I have that nagging feeling that... it's just wrong ? I genuinely feel that if even no one was around I'd still feel like this. It's something deeper than just the social. Yes, most of the secondary characteristics are for me social. In a vacuum, I'd never have the idea of what are boobs, what's a vagina, how the hair of people with more oestrogen than me looks, how their body hair looks and how their fat, bones and skulls take their shape. I'd have no idea of any of that, I'd just know that I am and that's it. Yet, i'd still feel like my body is wrong somewhere, that something isn't right. A weird feeling of unease, of having something wrong. Sometimes I'd wonder why my penis would feel foreign, why sometimes I feel like my chest is heavier or why my chest feels weird.
But i'd have ultimately no answer, knowing only my testosterone fueled body and what it brings. If I ever saw, in the far ever distance, a body of a human with an oestrogen prevalence, just for the blink of an eye, not enough time to even think about the concept that someone else is alive and looks from my species, far before knowing what even is "social", the concept of bonding, the concept of the "other", I'd immediately understand why I felt this weird in my body for ages. It's just cause my oestrogen level is too low and my testosterone level is too high. ((Not to insinuate that it's what the actual cause of transidentitites, it's still pretty debated if transness has a biological factor. (and frankly I don't give a shit if it's biological or not, just let people do their thing we're social animals and constantly live in social relations) )
But in the vacuum, I'd certainly feel that way. That the nano second after seeing the body of another living being, with an oestrogen prevalence, I'd feel like that's what my body, my being, my entire entity and absolute pure soul of what I am inside of myself, should have been all along and that's why I always felt weird. After realizing that, knowing that there is more than my self, that there could be another form of my being, still without any concept of social relations, I'd know that this form, this form full of oestrogen, is me. It's what's deep, deep deep inside. It's what's inside my body, behind those meaty walls and organs. The soul within the brain. Then, I'd realize than my body, my corporeal form, the muscles and bones shaped by the specific hormonal cocktail that my brain ever did since I spawned in the vacuum, would be wrong, would be the absolute reason why i'd always feel weird in my life.
Since i'm in a vacuum and all my needs are filled, I assume. I could then have some oestrogen instantly in me to flip the hormonal balance, the testosterone dominance would lower and let the oestrogen be more present than testosterone.
Then I'd feel fine and myself, with a grown chest and suddenly with the feeling that when I touch my body, I look at it, I finally feel inside. My soul feels attached to it's body, I finally recognise the meat robot that i'd feel like having piloted for so long before having this question brought to me in the vacuum. I'd finally feel like my corporeal being, the cells in me, would feel right.I wouldn't have any problem with my penis since I still don't know what is a vagina and the tissues kinda rearranges themselves under oestrogen. I'd just know that this organ would feel better. That the weird times where it would fill itself with blood on its own, the times where it would weirdly give me a itch and a need to stroke it till it pukes out that weird liquid thing, would be gone.
I'd only feel that how that organ looks and feel right now is way better. It doesn't rise on its own, it doesn't got that animalistic need to reproduce, it doesn't need to spew out something out every so often due to those animalistic needs. Then, I'd also feel like my body itself would feel strange every month, having stomach aches for a few days and feel like my hormones are doing a bit of whatever. Due to those biological changes maybe i'd feel sadder or angrier or I dunno. Then those feels would dissapear, and come back every month.
Since I don't know anything more about the other form of my species in the vacuum, I won't know that's period symptoms, I wouldn't know what even is a vagina, how it works, that it spills blood each month to get rid of something called uterine lining. I wouldn't know what is an uterus or ovaries or anything about reproduction, not even how my sperm itself work, or what is a penis nor testicles etc. I'd just feel that my body would regulate itself in weird spikes of hormonal stuff each month since my biological form had an oestrogen fueled body. It would feel anoying since I knew what my past biological form had (no period symptoms or absolute variations in hormonal stuff, stable just like haves a testosterone fueled body.) But I'd feel like it would feel right, better than not having those weird feel bad moments each month.
It would feel like I am whole, like what I was since my first second appearing in the vacuum. That my biological body just simply needed an oestrogen dominance instead of a testosterone hormonal dominance to actual feel connected to it. My soul within my brain, my sense of identity, of what I am, the consciousness of what I am due to my ability to perform self actuation, would feel finally connected to the biological body, wouldn't feel that weird distance anymore, that it was a soul piloting a meat body. I would feel like myself and continue living in the bliss of the vacuum, spending my time in infinite time, all my needs met like I ever was and ever did before I have seen that biological dominant oestrogen body for a split second in that vacuum. I would finally be able to truly enjoy my surroundings, do what I want and that I want feel right.
I would feel like my entire being experiences the sensory inputs and feelings generated by the brain in my corporeal body. I wouldn't have the odd need to think about why my corporeal body always felt kinda weird, why I wasn't able to experience everything in my reach, why would I feel like a robot piloting my brain, a soul that is split from the body it controls. I'd understand that my self, all that i've ever experienced before having that question brought to me, is a singular entity. It not the brain and the body, it's both. The brain would have just only felt so distanced from the body, never getting that sense of self trigered by the sight of the meat enveloppe he would see only bits of while moving around sometimes. After that, i'd spend the rest of the eternity in the vacuum in absolute bliss, having finally all my absolute needs met. Since I'm in a vacuum, the concept of time itself would fall, and I'd keep doing whatever I was doing in the vacuum, having absolutely everything satisfied within me. I'd be able to feel nothing, not that weirdness in my body anymore. In the vacuum, i'd become just what the instincts tells the body to do to function and not die. I wouldn't feel like a fondamental need wasn't satisfied anymore.
I'd feel like what I ever was and should be : me
CONTEXT :
Hello folks,
I recently stumbled upon a video where a cis guy would ask : "If a human being was in a vacuum, without the societal needs but every other needs filled, would the human feel the need to transition, would it feel trans, something wrong about its body ?"
Thought it was a very good question and I wrote a text about it. What do you think about the question of the cisdude ? How do you feel about the text ?
submitted by ZergyBoii to trans [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 02:18 quizbowlanthony [WTS] Newp: AU 58 Korea (Joseon) Black Enamel 1 Chon, Old Kiangnan 20 Cents, Dragon Silver, Cast Korea 100 Mun, Sinkiang 5 Miscals (PCGS), MS 63 Chekiang 10 Cents, MS 64 PCGS Kwangtung Dragon 10 Cents, Scarce Korea 1/4 Yang, AU/UNC Manchurian 20 Cents, Scarce China Dragon 5 and 20 Cash + Bulk Lots!

Hello again to Anthony's post-college sale! I will also be travelling to Korea on the 31st of May, so figured, with today and the two days after, to get some of my last sales done. To be transparent, I have been trying to get some more Chinese and Annamnese (Vietnamnese) coins in the near future, so I have to offload some of my stuff to get towards my collecting goals. Got some cool coins lined up in my collection and wanted to offset the cost.
These are all NEW items, mostly from my personal collection of raw inventory, as this sale is mostly raw coins with four nicely graded and slabbed silver pieces of Joseon Korea and of course, Qing and Republican China. Some of the highlights include a NGC AU 58 rare Korean 1 Chon with black enamelling or cloisonne, the only type in the world that would constitute the Taedong series of 1882-83. Quite scarce and nicely toned and sharp for this cast silver issue! There is also a NGC MS 63 Chekiang 10 cent with a much above average strike! And in the realm of PCGS slabs, there is a nice MS 64 blast white Kwangtung 10 Cents, a more uncommon denomination compared to the 20 cents, from the Kuang Hsu era, also ex. personal collection. Lastly, we have a rather large 5 miscals, or half a tael/sar, Sinkiang ration silver xiang yin from the Tihwa Mint, graded XF details. Still a very sharp piece with a authentic LOL Sinkiang black staining on the reverse. Quite unique. I believe this would be hornsilver. Lastly, in terms of raw coinage, we have some nice mini lots of copper cash, including Sinkiang Red Cash and Empire/Provincial 5 cash--a more elusive denomination. We also have a good amount of silver, such as a 1899 Old Kiangnan 20 Cents, ex. Dan Ching, a rare date 1907 Kirin 5 Cents in silver, and three Manchurian Provinces silver 20 cents from my personal collection. There is also a 100 mun from Korea too! All in all, please take a look and let me know if these Asian numismatics and classics in the field interest you!
Thank you all! I hope you all can enjoy these coins from my personal collection! :D
Proof: https://imgur.com/a/BjGDiIA Please Private Message (and not DM) me to order. Also, be sure to put a comment on this post with a "PM" so that I can respond to it before and after the trade is verified.
INVENTORY - Guaranteed GENUINE and FOUR are Certified:
LOTS (in Letter Form):
Lot A: Two Rolls of UNC 1960 D Lincoln Memorial Cents
Lot B: 1924 (Year 13) Chekiang (republic) 10 Cents - SILVER - NGC MS 63 - white, nice strike and strong, without weakness as generally seen. Hangchow (Hangzhou) Mint - Lin and Ma 289
Lot C: MS 64 PCGS Kwangtung 10 Cents - Blast White, Very Sharp and Lustrous, Full Scales, near-Choice. An excellent addition to any collection! :D
Lot D: PCGS XF Details (97) - Excessive Corrosion / ED - Sinkiang Ration Silver 5 Mace - rare type and very nice, above average strike on the dragon's scales!
Lot E: RARE 1882-1883 Taedong Treasury Department - KOREA Silver (Cast) 1 Chon - Black Enamel**. NGC AU 58**
Lot F: 1907 Kirin Province (丁未) - Ting Wei 5 Cents - toned, small scratch on obverse. KEY DATE YEAR
Lot G: 1899 (己亥) - 20 Cents Old Kiangnan Lao Kiangnan - ex. Dan Ching (Kraft Envelope Included) - SCARCE!
Lot H: 1908 (dated 33rd Year of Kuang Hsu**) Manchurian Provinces 20 Cents - sharp XF**
Lot I: Manchurian 20 Cents - Choice AU/UNC - Lustrous, with sharp dragon scales, and CHERRY BLOSSOM CENTER type, and a later issue, circa 1914. A more uncommon type and harder to find in choice AU to UNC grade as this one. - Hsuan Tung Issue
Lot J: Manchurian 20 Cents - AU - old cleaning - RARE Variety with DOT in CENTER FLOWER, sharp scales and purchased in 2017 ex. Hong Kong auction - Hsuan Tung Issue
Lot K: 7 coin lot of struck chinese qing and republican copper and brass! rare denominations including 1 cash!
Lot L: KOREA (Joseon) 1866 Sang Pyong Tong Bo 100 Mun - Nice EF - as cast (Heungson Daewongeun Issue) - large size! Nice characters.
Lot M: Copper Nickel Nice AU Year 502 = 1893 1/4 Yang - Rarer Year compared to 1898 Kwangmu 2nd Year - Krause KM 110.
Lot N: Lot of THREE Sinkiang Red Cash - all MILLED 10 Cash from the Republican Era (x2 1912, x1 1914) - rare and hard to find compared to other provincial 10 cash!
Lot O: Lot of SIX - assorted and rather uncommon Chinese Dragon 10 Cash - assorted condition from VF to nice AU (brown)
submitted by quizbowlanthony to CoinSales [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 01:56 Ohhmyyummy Help with prepositions of movement

Fill in the blanks with : along, across, up, over, under.
To get to the center you walk 1. the river, 2. the bridge 3. the river, the go into the town then straight on until you get to the traffic lights. Finally go 4. the main road in the subway and 5. the other side and you’re in the town centre.
submitted by Ohhmyyummy to EnglishLearning [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 01:49 nivthefox Alyssa's Tale, Ch. 1 and 2 (2nd Draft, Critique Wanted)

Chapter 1

Alyssa awoke with saltwater in her mouth and nose. She hacked and sputtered, only to realize she was sinking deeper into a pitch dark pool. She closed her eyes against the water's sting, and as her panic rose she flailed with arms and legs. She was desperate to regain bouyancy, even as she choked out the brine from her burning lungs. Determined, she broke to the surface again, gulping in air between ragged coughs as she fought to stay afloat.
Treading water, she opened her eyes and nothing changed. The darkness in the echoing chamber was complete, and she had to fight down another surge of panic as she took in the precariousness of her situation. The cold water sapped her strength, and her heart raced as a sudden scream of terror welled up from within.
Alyssa winced as her own scream echoed in her ears. She choked out the last of the salty water, then took a deep breath, trying to force herself to calm. "Okay, okay," she soothed herself, voice trembling slightly despite her efforts, "we're okay."
After another steadying breath, Alyssa began building a mental catalog of her situation. Her clothes were soaked through, but she wasn't finding treading water to be too difficult, yet; a future problem. Other than her lungs, nothing hurt, and those were recovering. She could still feel her toes and fingers on both hands, meaning no paralysis, that she could find. Nothing seemed to be seriously wrong, except that she had no idea how she'd come to be in a pitch dark echoing chamber filled with water.
Calmer, now, Alyssa tried to recall what she had been doing. The last thing she remembered was walking along the shoreline, feeling immensely lonely. The sound of the waves coming in, closer and closer, was still vivid in her mind. She could still remember the coarse feeling of the sand between her toes. The saltwater air had filled her lungs as she wondered how she could be in such a beautiful place, and still feel so sorry for herself. With a bitter laugh, Alyssa lolled her head back in the water and stared into the endless void. Well she certainly had reason to feel sorry for herself, now. Still, the memory of how she came to be here was distressingly absent.
Drip … Drip … Drop.
As her adrenaline faded, Alyssa could hear the slow, steady fall of water into the pool. Was the water level rising? She couldn't tell without knowing more about the chamber she was in. Determined to push back against her growing despair, Alyssa decided to explore her environment more thoroughly. A shiver coursed through her spine as she felt out to either side as far as her arms would go and couldn't find a wall, nor did she find purchase beneath her feet. After a moment of hesitation, Alyssa expanded her search. She swam forward, keeping her hands ahead of herself.
She didn't have to go far before she bumped into an uneven stone surface. Alyssa wasn't sure in the dark, but judging by the smoothness of the rock she guessed it was some kind of river stone. She followed the stone wall around for a ways before deciding it was curved inward. Pushing off, Alyssa turned and reached for the other side, then followed along the wall and repeated the crossing a few more times. She decided that the cavern was roughly circular, perhaps half again as wide as her armspan at its widest stretch, though without light she couldn't be certain she had ever crossed it straight. She considered her options as she clung to the side of the chamber.
Drip … Drip … Drop.
The steady sound was maddening in its repetition, and Alyssa let out a huff of annoyance. Thinking on it, though, she was sure the water had been steadily falling into the chamber the entire time she was here, and she didn't think the water level had risen. Not that she had any way to really know for certain, but if she was right, it implied there was some way for the water to get back out. Could she get out the same way? Taking a deep breath, Alyssa ducked beneath the surface and swam down. Her kicks were hindered by her sodden skirt, but following along the cavern wall as she descended, Alyssa felt the cavern floor after a depth of maybe twice her height. Ten feet wasn't even as deep as most home swimming pools.
Alyssa gulped down air as she returned to the surface, thinking hard about what she'd found. Another shiver coursed through her veins just before she dove down to explore the bottom further. Like the walls, it was uneven but smooth. She could feel some small cracks, and feel the water rushing past her fingers near one or two of these. That, then, was where the water was escaping to. Frustrated, she resurfaced one more and banged her fist against the stone wall. "Damnit." She knew she wouldn't be swimming her way out of here.
For the third time, Alyssa shivered, and she realised that she was starting to lose feeling in her toes. The water temperature wasn't frigid, but she could feel it sapping her strength. Was it ninety-six degrees for hypothermia? Ninety-five? She couldn't recall, but it wasn't important, without a thermometer. She was going to die, here, if she didn't find a way out, and soon.
Drip … Drip … Drop.
Straining, she tried to focus on the sounds around her once more. The incessant dripping of the cave was her only remaining hope of finding a way out, and she had no idea how to reach the ceiling. Alyssa squeezed her toes in an attempt to restore some feeling, while she thought about the problem. After a moment, she began exploring the cavern walls again, this time searching for something to stand on rather than just learning about her environment. After a few turns about the chamber, she found a small shelf just a few feet beneath the surface, large enough for her to put a single foot on.
She pushed herself up, trying to go slowly as she felt along the wall for anything to grip onto. She couldn't find purchase before her momentum carried her too far from the wall, but she did feel roughly how high the ceiling was just before she splashed back into the pool. "Yes!" she celebrated the small victory as she surfaced, fueling her hopes of an escape with that realization that she could probably wedge herself between the ceiling and the shelf if she was purposeful about it.
Returning to the wall, she tamped down on the urge to shiver again, then surged straight up, putting her hands above her to try and catch the ceiling. Water cascaded around her in a torrent, her water-logged clothing threatening to drag her back to the depths, but she held on until she was steady. Alyssa allowed herself a small smile for her success, though some part of her thought it felt more like a grimace, before she began feeling along the cavern ceiling with her hands. Like the rest of the chamber, the stone was smooth and uneven, but it had sharper protrusions here and there that might serve as handholds. Alyssa was reminded of the wall climb at the local mall. She'd never been great at it, despite her friends dragging her to try it every other weekend during high school.
As she continued exploring the ceiling, another involuntary shiver wracked her body, and she set her teeth against the growing chill. "I'm going to get out," she promised herself, just as her hand found open air where she'd expected stone. She nearly fell, but she caught herself and explored the edges of the hole. She couldn't even reach the entire thing from her perch! The ledge was rugged and sharp, and just barely far enough from the wall that she had to strain to reach it. She explored as far around the hole as she could, certain it was large enough for her to fit through. Excited, Alyssa grabbed onto the ledge with both hands and tried to pull herself up, but her grip wasn't solid enough. She immediately slipped back into the water with another splash.
Alyssa surfaced with a growl, feeling a surge of determination and stubbornness. Reclaiming her perch on the shelf, she pushed up to the roof of the chamber once more. This time she knew her target, so rather than wasting time and grip with exploration, she just focused on steadying herself, there. After a few breaths, she reached up to grab the ledge again, trying to find solid hand-holds.
As she swung out from the wall, her sodden skirt trailed through the water, weighing her down. She held on for longer this time, uttering a harsh noise as she strained to pull herself up. She managed to get her chin to her fingers before her grip failed her again, and the feeling of freefall sent her heart thrilling before she splashed into the cool water once more.
When she surfaced, Alyssa let out a frustrated growl. "I had it!" she admonished herself, before finding the ledge once more. A third time, her efforts were fouled and she fell into the water. In frustration, she peeled her skirt off her legs and abandoned it to the murky brine. With the drag gone, she had an easier time holding onto the ledge, and on her fourth attempt she nearly managed to pull herself all the way up before her arms gave out and she slipped back into the water with yet another scream of frustration.
She knew she was close, but she obviously wasn't going to make progress while her muscles were burning with fatigue. Floating on her back, Alyssa glared up into the darkness as her emotions swirled around her, threatening to drag her into despair. Hope and frustration warred within her, each trying to gain the upper hand. She clung onto the determination that she had almost made it, but as she dwelled on the problem above her, doubts began to surface. What if she couldn’t pull herself out? What if there wasn’t a way out above?
Anger surged through her at that thought, hot and fierce. She refused to accept that fate. Closing her eyes, she focused on the anger and used it as fuel for her resolve. She just needed a moment to catch her breath, relax her muscles, and try again. She was going to get out.
When she swung out for the fifth time, Alyssa’s fingers gripped tightly to the rock above. She pulled herself up into the black with a roar of determination and frustration. She got her chest over the lip, then reached one arm forward hastily in search of a better hold. She found purchase, then pulled a leg up and got one foot on the ledge. With a scream of exultation, she pushed herself the rest of the way out of the chamber and into the tunnels above.
With a feral noise of triumph, Alyssa slid onto the cool, damp stone of the tunnel, then rolled onto her back and lay gasping for air. Her muscles were twitching, and she was still cold, but she was no longer in the water, and that was a massive improvement, even if the dark and damp of the unknown was around her.
Alyssa wasn’t sure how long she lay there on the stone, but as her panting and muscle spasms gave way to shivering and goosebumps, she admitted to herself, “I have to move.” But it was hard to keep going; her body felt heavy and drained from the exertion of just climbing out of the chamber below, and she wasn’t even sure where to go next. With a groan, she pushed herself up to a sitting position, fighting the exhaustion and mounting sense of dread that threatened to claim her.
Carefully, she crawled forward on hands and knees, every movement an effort. She could feel the edge of the hole she’d just emerged from, but that was obviously a deadend. Instead, she pressed on, hunting for an alternative. The rough stone scraped against her palms and knees as she inched along, her progress painfully slow.
The cavern descended, and Alyssa's heart sank when her hand plunged into another pool of water. She pulled back, relieved that the bank was shallow enough she could easily get back out of this pool. Nevertheless, she paused to consider her options, then turned to explore in the opposite direction. After several minutes of fruitless searching, she realized that the water-filled passage was her only way forward.
Alyssa let out a heavy sigh of frustration as she lowered herself into the tepid water. She gritted her teeth as the cold crept back into her bones, but willed herself to keep moving. The tunnel continued its descent, and soon the ceiling plunged into the pool, forcing her to submerge if she wanted to continue. Alyssa hesitated, barely holding back her desperate tears. Swimming blindly through the flooded passage seemed like madness, but what choice did she have?
Taking a deep, gasping breath, Alyssa plunged beneath the surface and swam forward with powerful kicks of her legs. She kept one hand on the stone above and the other stretched out in front of her, searching for obstacles. As her lungs began to burn with the need for oxygen, panic threatened to overwhelm her. What if the tunnel never resurfaced? If she went much further, she was certain she would not be able to make it back. Still, she had no alternatives; no other way to proceed. So she swam forward into the unknown, gambling her life on an exit while desperately ignoring the growing panic in the back of her mind.
A subtle glow in the murky water caught Alyssa’s attention, and the tunnel veered sharply upward. Desperate for air, she kicked towards the light, discarding caution as she propelled herself forward and up with both arms and legs. Hope surged through her as she swam towards the surface.
When she emerged from the water, gasping and sputtering for air, Alyssa let out a cry of relief. Mushrooms! Glowing mushrooms filled the room, their glow dim but omnipresent. She marveled, letting out a delighted laugh at the sight of the water’s reflection erupting into a cascade of colors on the cavern ceiling. Alyssa took a deep breath, and although the air was musty and stale, it had a sharpness and movement to it that the previous chamber hadn’t. Where there were mushrooms there was life, and where there was wind there was an exit. For the first time in hours, Alyssa smiled, as she pulled herself out of the pool onto the bank.

Chapter 2

For the second time in several hours, Alyssa lay on the ground catching her breath and allowing her muscles to relax. The swim through the watery airlock–she couldn’t think of any other way to describe that tunnel–had been far more mentally taxing than the physical exertion of pulling herself up out of the first chamber. Nevertheless, it required a great deal of effort and she was exhausted.
As she lay on her back, Alyssa tried again to remember how she got here. She remembered vividly her walk on the beach, and then … water. There was nothing in between. She wasn't even sure how much time had passed, but judging by the way her stomach was starting to groan in protest, and by the fullness of her bladder, she was fairly sure it had been several hours. On the other hand, she could account for at least two of those since she found herself in the chamber, unless her estimate of time was very off.
Her deliberations were cut short by a small squeaking noise, not far away. Alyssa eased herself up and turned towards the noise. There in the field of mushrooms was a small white and brown mouse, cast in an eerie glow by the mushroom's bioluminescence. Alyssa watched in awe as the mouse nibbled on the mushrooms, waiting to see what would happen. She didn't know enough about mushrooms to judge their safety for herself, but if the mouse could eat them, she figured they were probably safe for her to try, as well. After all, weren't mice used for drug testing all the time?
The mouse seemed oblivious to Alyssa’s presence, and she held her breath as best she could while she counted the seconds, trying to decide how long she should wait before trusting the results. Hours, probably, if she was honest with herself. Just when she was about to give up on the idea, a sudden movement caught her eye. Beyond the mouse, swift as could be, a slithering figure stole towards the unsuspecting rodent. “No!” she called, and her hand found a rock. Hastily, she threw it towards the onrushing creature. The rock went wide, but the serpent’s stealth was spoiled, and the mouse quickly darted away from its assailant, deeper into the mushrooms.
The snake let out a hiss of annoyance, and Alyssa was briefly overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of immense displeasure. She wasn’t surprised the snake was annoyed, but the sheer vehemence she felt was almost as if sensing her own emotions. Its lunch foiled, the serpent turned and slithered away, leaving Alyssa and the mouse alone in the chamber once again.
Alyssa waited, still and quiet, as the chamber settled back into silence. She wondered whether the little mouse had escaped the field of mushrooms entirely, or if it was still here. But something told her to wait; a sense of hesitance and uncertainty that felt sourceless and yet compelling.
Eventually, her patience paid off, and the little mouse poked its head back out of the mushrooms, staring after the snake. It emitted a soft, hesitant noise, then furtively darted out of the field into the open. There, it paused to stare up at Alyssa, studying her with a raw curiosity that nearly overwhelmed Alyssa as much as the snake’s displeasure had. She also sensed gratitude from the little mouse, though how she knew that’s what it was feeling she could not say.
“Are you hurt?” she hazarded, as she leaned in towards the mouse. The little creature took a quick step back, and the curiosity was immediately replaced by uncertainty.
Alyssa straightened up to give the mouse space. The feeling of uncertainty slowly faded, and she tilted her head in curiosity. “Why can I sense what you're feeling?” she asked the mouse, though of course she knew it would not reply.
The mouse watched her for several more moments before taking a single daring step forward. Alyssa sat very still, and after another moment it took a few more steps towards her. Soon, it was near to her knee, its little nose twitching incessantly as it sniffed at her dampened skin.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any food on me,” Alyssa said, still not moving but to talk. The mouse sat back and stood up on its hind legs to peer up at her. Alyssa could sense its curiosity turn to acceptance, and then, before she could protest, the little mouse leapt up onto her leg. She gasped in startlement, surprised at the feel of its soft fur and the tickle of its little claws brushing against her bare skin.
When it reached her hip, the mouse scurried under her tee shirt, and Alyssa made a choking noise of displeasure as it crawled, with quick movements, up her back and out of the tattered collar. When it came to rest on her shoulder, Alyssa held her breath, not daring to move. She watched the mouse out of the side of her eye, and a sense of appreciation flooded into her perception. Slowly, she turned her head to see the mouse staring at her. With a twitch of its whiskers, the little creature poked its nose against her cheek, cool and damp, before turning to look at the mushrooms.
“You think they will be safe for me?” she asked quietly, as she turned to follow the mouse’s gaze. “But raw mushrooms …” she complained, with some disdain. The mouse touched its nose to her cheek once more, and Alyssa sensed insistence. With a sigh, she mumbled, “Why am I trusting a mouse?” before ever so slowly–so as not to dislodge her guest–she leaned forward to collect a handful of the morsels.
Alyssa straightened and studied her collection of mushrooms thoughtfully. Arranging them by size, she selected the smallest and glanced at the mouse out of the corner of her eye once more. "You're sure about this?" she asked, her voice echoing in the damp cavern. The mouse couldn't speak, of course, but Alyssa felt a strong sense of certainty from her tiny companion. Or maybe that was just the discomfort of hypothermia, exhaustion and her painfully full bladder talking.
Hesitantly, Alyssa popped the smallest mushroom into her mouth. It had a surprisingly rich, earthy flavor, reminiscent of the forest after a rainstorm. As she chewed, the spongy texture yielded, releasing a burst of liquid that filled her mouth with a strange, electric tingle. The sensation was not unpleasant, but definitely unfamiliar. She swallowed, marveling at how easily it went down despite her reservations.
Emboldened by the lack of immediate ill effects, Alyssa quickly consumed the other mushrooms. With each one, the tingling sensation spread, until her whole body hummed with a kind of vibrant, restless energy.
Cupping her hands together, Alyssa scooped up some of the cool water and drank deeply. The liquid soothed her throat, but did nothing to quell the building sense of excitement and unease. She leaned back against the rock, trying to steady herself as the mushrooms’ effects took hold.
It wasn't hallucinations, but a profound shift in Alyssa's perception. The cave seemed to come alive around her; the rocks and water pulsed with a subtle, resonant energy. She felt a surge of confidence and clarity, as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes. With trembling hands, she tore a strip from the bottom of her t-shirt and fashioned it into a makeshift pouch. She wasn't sure what lay ahead, but having a source of food could prove useful. She filled the pouch to the brim with the glowing caps, marveling at their strangeness, before tying it securely to her hip.
"Okay," Alyssa whispered, her voice sounding strangely amplified to her own ears. "I guess we follow the snake." The thought of the serpent sent a ripple of fear through her companion, but she reassured him, "Don't worry, I won't let it get you." The little mouse was still afraid, but it seemed to understand her meaning, and nestled up against her neck, soft fur gentle on her skin.
With a deep breath, Alyssa rolled to her knees and stood, her legs trembling slightly. The mouse clung to her, its small heartbeat echoing her own. Alyssa could feel its mix of curiosity and trepidation, mirroring her own complex emotions. "Come on," she muttered, "let's go." She started forward into the gloom, following the serpent's path and the promise of fresh air. Using the glowing bundle on her hip as a makeshift light, Alyssa navigated the narrow tunnels with confidence. Her bare feet found easy purchase on the cool, damp stone. She progressed at a much more comfortable pace than the slow, exploratory crawl she'd been limited to in the submerged chamber. As she followed the winding tunnel, it sloped gradually upwards, and a light fog crept in, curling around her ankles. Alyssa's heart quickened. She dared to believe she was nearing open air, and a potential end to this nightmare.
Yet even as hope blossomed in her chest, each step brought a growing unease from the small, furry companion on Alyssa's shoulder. The mouse huddled closer to her neck, its nose twitching incessantly. As they rounded a corner, a new scent filled Alyssa's nostrils: earthy mud and a hint of ozone, in stark contrast to the mineral-rich dampness of the caverns. The tunnel widened sharply ahead, seeming to fall away into a murky expanse. Through the haze, the silhouette of a massive tree trunk promised an escape from what she had almost believed might be her tomb.
"We made it," Alyssa breathed, a swell of triumph surging through her. The mushrooms' influence still thrummed in her veins, confidence mingling with her own burgeoning anticipation. She quickened her pace, emerging from the cave mouth into the cool, damp air. Alyssa paused there, one hand on the stone wall, as she breathed in the scent of her freedom.
A twilit forest stretched out before her, dotted with towering trees that reached for an unfamiliar sky. Alyssa tilted her head back, marveling at the stars glimmering above. Their patterns were strange, yet mesmerizing; their strangeness only matched by the comfort they brought her. Alyssa knew the constellations were wrong; that they matched nothing she'd ever seen before, but right now all that mattered was the comfort in knowing that she would not die in that cave.
A squeak of pure terror from the mouse jolted Alyssa from her reverie. The force of her companion's fear nearly knocked the wind from her. Alyssa swiftly sought the source of the mouse's fear. There, beside the nearest tree, stood a tall, gaunt figure, a serpent slithering up its leg. The figure's cold blue eyes glared at Alyssa with a chilling intensity.
As the snake continued its ascent, the figure lifted a hand, guiding the snake to wrap about its too-long neck. Subtle, thorny protrusions emerged from the figure's chin, and the snake rubbed itself against them, hissing as it impressed its displeasure upon the figure, no doubt casting Alyssa as the villain in its tale.
"H-hello," Alyssa stammered, suddenly acutely aware of her vulnerability. She took a guarded step back and brought her hands up defensively. The figure's presence was oppressive, suffocating. Even in her desperation, Alyssa knew she wanted no part of any help they might offer. Still, she needed time to think. She had to find a way past them without provoking their ire, and an attempt at being polite was all she could come up with in the moment.
The figure spoke, its voice a grating rattle. "You have violated the ancient agreement, and trespassed beyond the barrier." Alyssa was sure she didn't know what any of that meant, but before she could say so, the figure continued, "There are consequences for your meddling, child, and I am come to deliver them."
submitted by nivthefox to writers [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 01:46 mikey_do_wikey Introducing… Survivor: Multiversus Edition! EPISODE 1! Team Warner goes to tribal council. *PLEASE READ THE DESCRIPTION BEFORE JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS I PROMISE THIS ISN’T JUST ANOTHER BASIC “elimination game” THING*

Introducing… Survivor: Multiversus Edition! EPISODE 1! Team Warner goes to tribal council. *PLEASE READ THE DESCRIPTION BEFORE JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS I PROMISE THIS ISN’T JUST ANOTHER BASIC “elimination game” THING*
Welcome to Survivor: Multiversus! In this series of posts, Redditors will comment plotline/character development ideas for a season of Survivor using the roster of Multiversus. Then, I will do my best to construct a good story using most/all the comments given, only giving my own input when there are blanks that need filled.
The only guide I will give you for the story is what team is going to Tribal Council at the end of the episode, which you should use to determine how the episode will go (ex. since the Warner Tribe is going to TC this episode, you should focus on giving whatever character you want to go a solid storyline ending). The teams were chosen by a randomizer, as is the losing team.
I want this community to have fun with this, the Smash Bros community was very harsh with this idea when I tried to do it over there, so I’m hoping this community will be nicer. So please take this seriously and try to stay in the realm of possibility with your suggestions use the characters’ source material as a guideline (ex. Steven shouldn’t be a supervillain out of nowhere, Joker shouldn’t be the nicest one in the cast, Morty shouldn’t be a super confident challenge beast who takes orders from no one). If you don’t want to participate then just don’t, there’s no reason to be a jerk in the comments.
With that being said, I encourage everyone to have fun and start commenting your ideas, including who you think would logically be voted off from the Warner tribe.
submitted by mikey_do_wikey to MultiVersusTheGame [link] [comments]


2024.05.29 01:39 Courwes My dentist is attempting to charge me for a procedure that my insurance says is illegal

Last May in 2023 I had a dental procedure done that resulted in a crown having to be put on my tooth. During the procedure the dentist said she did not believe I would need a root canal as they are generally unnecessary with a crown. The procedure was done and immediately I had sensitivity problems. I went back the next day and told her that anything cold on that side of my mouth was causing extreme pain. She put some numbing cream on and told me it may take a few days for the sensitivity to go away.
2 weeks later I went back because it had not improved. They then told me to start using sensodyne and to use a mouth guard because I was grinding my teeth and possibly causing sensitivity. I did as told and nothing improved. I went back a month later in July and they finally gave me a referral to an endodontist. Through a series of events I didn’t go to the endodontist until February of 2024.
What was supposed to only be a consultation ended up as a same day root canal because of how sensitive my tooth was. He put in a temp filling and told me I had to go back to the dentist for the permanent. I went back the next day and put in the permanent filling.
Well 2 months later they are attempting to charge me for the filling because they said my insurance will not pay for it. I call my insurance and they point blank tell me I cannot be charged for it because it’s not part of the agreed upon contract and the dentist is in violation if they try to charge me and it’s illegal. The issue is the insurance does not cover a filling after a crown. Which could have been avoided if I had gotten the root canal first. Three different people at the insurance company all used the word “illegal”. I contact my dentist and they say it doesn’t matter I still owe the money and they will try the insurance again.
They submit the appeal and insurance denies it again and again tells me that the dentist is acting illegally and not to pay them. The dentist contacts me again trying to get payment and the woman I spoke to mentioned that they had been having difficulty with my insurance provider with other patients and getting them to pay. I tell her when they are using words like “illegal” and the dentist is trying to charge me, I’m being left in the middle trying to figure everything out. I ask if I need to get an attorney for this and she changes tune and says she has to escalate it to someone higher up to review and for now don’t worry about the payment. It’s been a week and I’ve heard nothing back.
My question is do I have legal recourse here? It’s probably not worth my time fighting the charge but it’s shitty they are likely doing something that violates the legal contract they signed with the insurance provider. They insist they have to charge me and I’ve argued with them that they absolutely have the power to just not charge me anything since this all started with the procedure they did. I considered the filling an end of service procedure and already paid for when I got the initial crown and this was just the last step in that procedure.
If I were to get an attorney what kind would I look for? It’s only $250 so I’m probably going to pay but it feels so shitty that they are doing this and can ruin my credit for something I shouldn’t be charged for.
submitted by Courwes to legaladvice [link] [comments]


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