Wrist tattoos sayings
Wrist Tattoos
2008.12.04 05:28 Wrist Tattoos
2024.05.19 17:12 tylerthegenius Snapchat filters
 | I’m a big fan of her music don’t get me wrong! But this filter is insane 😭 in the next snap (not recorded), she says she just wanted to show off her tattoo but I can BARELY see it submitted by tylerthegenius to Instagramreality [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 17:06 PhysicalChickenXx Emma’s journal entry about the ravine
For those that don’t know, when the show was originally airing the characters had journals on the Degrassi web site where they would write about what was going on in the episodes.
I know there’s a lot of discussion about Emma and Jay in the ravine here, and I found a copy of her journal entry from the time that I thought was pretty interesting and sheds some light on how the writers were viewing it. Here it is:
“Now that I got my parental gatekeepers off my back I can update my journal in privacy. It must be almost 3 in the morning -- not the best time to get caught sneaking back into your bedroom through the basement window. We're supposed to have a "talk" tomorrow, but I'm trying to think...is there anything else I'd rather NOT do? Don't think so. I don't even want to hear their questions, because all I can do is lie.
As if I'm going to tell them I was in the ravine, in Jay's van, doing the thing you have to do to get wrist-enhancing accessories. As if... But it's not like I'm super happy about it either. I know that people will call me a sl*t or whatever if they find out what I did...oh gawd I can just imagine Manny's reaction...and it's not even like I really know why I did it, or why I went to the ravine with Jay to begin with. Maybe I just wanted to be somebody else for a change. Not the person my friends, parents, teachers and everyone thinks I am. I just wanted to be different. Not better or worse, just different. And the person I was would never have done what I did earlier tonight. I'm just not sure what that makes me right now. Probably worse. Or what that makes me and Jay -- and if there's something to that I'm not saying I wouldn't do it again. Definitely worse. I don't care.
Ugh! It's sooooo late! I wasn't lying when I told my mom I couldn't sleep since Rick shot Jimmy, then got shot and died in the hallway right in front of my eyes. But of course I knew it would make her back off, for a while at least. So what if that's not the whole story. Do I have to tell her everything that I'm doing, thinking and feeling all the time? I'm not sure myself. Good night. If I don't get some sleep tomorrow's school play will have Dracula seducing a sleep-deprived zombie instead of the fresh and innocent Mina I'm supposed to bring to life.”
submitted by PhysicalChickenXx to Degrassi [link] [comments]
I know there’s a lot of discussion about Emma and Jay in the ravine here, and I found a copy of her journal entry from the time that I thought was pretty interesting and sheds some light on how the writers were viewing it. Here it is:
“Now that I got my parental gatekeepers off my back I can update my journal in privacy. It must be almost 3 in the morning -- not the best time to get caught sneaking back into your bedroom through the basement window. We're supposed to have a "talk" tomorrow, but I'm trying to think...is there anything else I'd rather NOT do? Don't think so. I don't even want to hear their questions, because all I can do is lie.
As if I'm going to tell them I was in the ravine, in Jay's van, doing the thing you have to do to get wrist-enhancing accessories. As if... But it's not like I'm super happy about it either. I know that people will call me a sl*t or whatever if they find out what I did...oh gawd I can just imagine Manny's reaction...and it's not even like I really know why I did it, or why I went to the ravine with Jay to begin with. Maybe I just wanted to be somebody else for a change. Not the person my friends, parents, teachers and everyone thinks I am. I just wanted to be different. Not better or worse, just different. And the person I was would never have done what I did earlier tonight. I'm just not sure what that makes me right now. Probably worse. Or what that makes me and Jay -- and if there's something to that I'm not saying I wouldn't do it again. Definitely worse. I don't care.
Ugh! It's sooooo late! I wasn't lying when I told my mom I couldn't sleep since Rick shot Jimmy, then got shot and died in the hallway right in front of my eyes. But of course I knew it would make her back off, for a while at least. So what if that's not the whole story. Do I have to tell her everything that I'm doing, thinking and feeling all the time? I'm not sure myself. Good night. If I don't get some sleep tomorrow's school play will have Dracula seducing a sleep-deprived zombie instead of the fresh and innocent Mina I'm supposed to bring to life.”
2024.05.19 16:55 YorkieCheese My ex-employer (McMaster-Carr) is recruiting for consultants while fluffing job descriptions and manipulating Glassdoor Reviews. Be vigilante. Chicago, Cleveland, New Jersey, Los Angeles, Atlanta.
I'm sure most of Chicago/Booth/Kellogg have heard of this company by now, but they also started recruiting consultants/MBA for their other branches (T25) so I made a post.
TLDR: If you're toxic, there's more worthy places to climb. If you aren't toxic, you will either be disgusted or turn toxic. This place will tank your resume/career progression if you stay for more than 2-3 years.
Quick Intro: McMaster-Carr is the Amazon of Industrial Supplies. They ship to the US Miltary, manufacturers, engineers, technicians, etc... Their customers are the engineers but the bills are paid by the Finance Dept hence as long as McM do a consistent good job delivering to the engineers, they can charge exorbitant amount (e.g $30 screw and $50 shipping; real example.) Their margins on most items are between 50% to 250% and revenue is $5B+. This is how they can pay entry managements with 0yoe $170k (bonus included, deferred saving excluded; see more below) and middle managers (3-10YOE) up to $300k.
Path/Exit: You will get a random rotation every 6-18 months. The rotation can be literally anything from Warehouse Operations Management Role to HR to Finance/Fraud. Management Trainee (0-18m depending on your background/initial performance). Supervisor (no pay raise as MT are expected to become Sup eventually; can be skipped if you have pre-MBA exp and did well in your initial performance.) ManageSeniorM (3-5yoe/5-8yoe; most people languished here until they decided to go all in or all out with McMaster.) After this come Regional ManageDirectoVP. You can leave at M/SM and might still be able to transition to a new careeindustry afterward. Otherwise, it's a tough sale. Even before the mid-2023 general market downturn, I knew Regional/Directors who took 1+ year just to switch to another manufacturing/industrial/supplychain job. Not even an industry switch.
Their Targets: In the past, 95%+ of management came from straight out of Ivy/Top Liberal Arts undergrad. This breeds an incredibly toxic environment since many of them are not mature/don't have leadership experience (the cream of the crop don't consider McMaster) and it's a case of the blinds leading the blinds. McM had a purge of toxic leaders back in mid-2010s but this problem returned. Since then, they have tried to recruit a few more consultants rather than depending solely on fresh grads. This recruiting effort has and continued to go miserably. Despite mass reach-out effort every single year, they only got some ex-B4 (1 Parthenon but the rest is regular B4), but they couldn't get anyone from T2 or MBB.
Nature of the work: (Micro)managing individual contributors and troubleshooting outdated issues (that are only found in 40yo+ warehouses) if you get a warehouse rotation. McM tries to sell you on these, but from my post-McM interviews as well as McM managers' outcomes, these skills are worthless. For once, the ICs get paid quite well so they work very hard. Management, in an attempt to justify their outrageous salary, tries to micromanage all the time even when outclassed by 20+ years of knowledge. IC vs Management issue will be further discussed in the Cons section. Another issue is that managing blue-collar is no way the same as managing white-collar so most hiring managers don't really care for this exp. The company doesn't really do marketing, M&A, or new market (it took them 30+ years to just now opening a new branch in Texas because McM's tech couldn't handle having 6 warehouses instead of 5.) I'm not kidding. They passed on growth opportunity for 30+ years because they didn't want to change... Also because the company doesn't do marketing, they are not good at customer behavior analytics, resulting in their website redesign that took 2+ years to get scraped ater 1 week due to customer complaints.)
Pro:
• Their pay. McM has a 2.9 Glassdoor rating despite having a 4.6 rating in Compensation and Benefits. Pay include:
Cons: Glassdoor Reviews:
• There’s another purge/headcount reduction going on right now. A tidbit is that management above your level can see the performance review of everyone below them. This contributes to how much drama, backstabbing, and rumors float internally. Recently, an ex-Trainee even wrote a long post calling out his spineless manager and backstabbing coworkers in a GroupMe with 100+ members of management. The manager left soon after. The ex-Trainee even told McMaster to blacklist his undergrad for recruiting. Absolute legend.
• The operations and tech stack are very constrained and not replicable. The company uses 80s IBM Tech for CRM/ERP so unless you’re working on a Website-related project (which you can sometimes use Python/SQL), you will be writing outdated queries to pull data. McM also doesn’t use Powerpoint so you will have to learn Adobe Indesign. The company’s warehouses themselves have a ton of makeshifts and outdated stuff. If you get a warehouse assignment, you will be putting out fires arose from issues not addressed by the original warehouse design. If you think you will be value-add to a company like Amazon after your McMaster’s experience, you are wrong. Amazon warehouses are built in the early/mid 2010s and have about 30 years of new automation/technology integrated to them. McM is still tinkering with their first automated warehouse. Experience putting out fixed/nonexistent issues is worthless.
• This company hire fake review writers. You will notice the positive reviews are all generic and one line whereas the negative reviews (from both Managements and ICs) are all super long and super informative. You will also notice that there’s no longer a “Most Helpful” sort on Glassdoor. This is because all the negative reviews get liked so much. Now it’s just “Most Popular” which is just fake reviews with 0 like/dislike.
• Relationships between Management and Individual Contributors are more fraught than ever. The situation has always been incredibly tense because ICs were viewed with incredible disdain by Management (most of whom are rich Ivy/Top School graduates) but has only gotten worse with automation and market uncertainty.
• Management’s official policy is to never promote Individual Contributors. A fresh grad (0YOE) can instantly become a supervisor but somehow an IC needed 8+ years of consistent excellent performance to be considered. Management can become Manager in as little as 2yoe out of Undergrad, whereas IC -> Manager is so rare I can count the Chicago Branch on two hands. And no, it’s not because ICs are not qualified/hardworking. Just imagine how hard it is to work at Amazon-pace for EIGHT YEARS just to be equal to a college brown-nose.
• Management’s unofficial policy is to avoid eye contact or saying hello to ICs unless the ICs initiated it. ICs were afraid to take more than one food/souvenir item during an open house event even though we had so much leftover. A manager even complained that other managers were making fun of ICs for work-place injuries (think Amazon warehouse-like injuries such as overexertion, nerve damage, wrist/knees/back issues.) Absolutely devoid of humanity.
• The company had been automating part of the Atlanta and Chicago warehouses. Managements assigned to be tour guides of these automated warehouses were told to lie say that no IC headcount reduction will occur. Obviously, there were a rise in suspicious performance evaluation after these were built. Also, I was one of the tour guides and were asked by multiple ICs where the observation cameras will be in the ceiling. The fact that multiple raised this seemingly-joking-yet-alarming question tells you just how much Management has trained ICs to become paranoid over time. If you’re a new-hire consultant at McM and feels related to this meme, just know you will be holding the mop to clean up and not the lightsaber.
submitted by YorkieCheese to MBA [link] [comments]
TLDR: If you're toxic, there's more worthy places to climb. If you aren't toxic, you will either be disgusted or turn toxic. This place will tank your resume/career progression if you stay for more than 2-3 years.
Quick Intro: McMaster-Carr is the Amazon of Industrial Supplies. They ship to the US Miltary, manufacturers, engineers, technicians, etc... Their customers are the engineers but the bills are paid by the Finance Dept hence as long as McM do a consistent good job delivering to the engineers, they can charge exorbitant amount (e.g $30 screw and $50 shipping; real example.) Their margins on most items are between 50% to 250% and revenue is $5B+. This is how they can pay entry managements with 0yoe $170k (bonus included, deferred saving excluded; see more below) and middle managers (3-10YOE) up to $300k.
Path/Exit: You will get a random rotation every 6-18 months. The rotation can be literally anything from Warehouse Operations Management Role to HR to Finance/Fraud. Management Trainee (0-18m depending on your background/initial performance). Supervisor (no pay raise as MT are expected to become Sup eventually; can be skipped if you have pre-MBA exp and did well in your initial performance.) ManageSeniorM (3-5yoe/5-8yoe; most people languished here until they decided to go all in or all out with McMaster.) After this come Regional ManageDirectoVP. You can leave at M/SM and might still be able to transition to a new careeindustry afterward. Otherwise, it's a tough sale. Even before the mid-2023 general market downturn, I knew Regional/Directors who took 1+ year just to switch to another manufacturing/industrial/supplychain job. Not even an industry switch.
Their Targets: In the past, 95%+ of management came from straight out of Ivy/Top Liberal Arts undergrad. This breeds an incredibly toxic environment since many of them are not mature/don't have leadership experience (the cream of the crop don't consider McMaster) and it's a case of the blinds leading the blinds. McM had a purge of toxic leaders back in mid-2010s but this problem returned. Since then, they have tried to recruit a few more consultants rather than depending solely on fresh grads. This recruiting effort has and continued to go miserably. Despite mass reach-out effort every single year, they only got some ex-B4 (1 Parthenon but the rest is regular B4), but they couldn't get anyone from T2 or MBB.
Nature of the work: (Micro)managing individual contributors and troubleshooting outdated issues (that are only found in 40yo+ warehouses) if you get a warehouse rotation. McM tries to sell you on these, but from my post-McM interviews as well as McM managers' outcomes, these skills are worthless. For once, the ICs get paid quite well so they work very hard. Management, in an attempt to justify their outrageous salary, tries to micromanage all the time even when outclassed by 20+ years of knowledge. IC vs Management issue will be further discussed in the Cons section. Another issue is that managing blue-collar is no way the same as managing white-collar so most hiring managers don't really care for this exp. The company doesn't really do marketing, M&A, or new market (it took them 30+ years to just now opening a new branch in Texas because McM's tech couldn't handle having 6 warehouses instead of 5.) I'm not kidding. They passed on growth opportunity for 30+ years because they didn't want to change... Also because the company doesn't do marketing, they are not good at customer behavior analytics, resulting in their website redesign that took 2+ years to get scraped ater 1 week due to customer complaints.)
Pro:
• Their pay. McM has a 2.9 Glassdoor rating despite having a 4.6 rating in Compensation and Benefits. Pay include:
•Base (0yoe: ~115k; ~$10k for each add year; ~$160k for Manager) •Profit Sharing (average 50%+ of base; lowest was ~33% in 2008 & 45% in 2020; 2022 was ~50%+ and 2023 was ~60%) •Deferred Saving (25% of Base&PS. Vest schedule 0%/20%/40%/60%/80%/100% over 6 years.)• Their Education tuition policy: After the first 3 months, You can take any part-time program (e.g PT-MBA, PT-MS, PT-MA) or Certificate completely free, doesn’t have to be work-related, and no string attached. You can literally leave after they paid for your tuition and can still finish your course.
Cons: Glassdoor Reviews:
• There’s another purge/headcount reduction going on right now. A tidbit is that management above your level can see the performance review of everyone below them. This contributes to how much drama, backstabbing, and rumors float internally. Recently, an ex-Trainee even wrote a long post calling out his spineless manager and backstabbing coworkers in a GroupMe with 100+ members of management. The manager left soon after. The ex-Trainee even told McMaster to blacklist his undergrad for recruiting. Absolute legend.
• The operations and tech stack are very constrained and not replicable. The company uses 80s IBM Tech for CRM/ERP so unless you’re working on a Website-related project (which you can sometimes use Python/SQL), you will be writing outdated queries to pull data. McM also doesn’t use Powerpoint so you will have to learn Adobe Indesign. The company’s warehouses themselves have a ton of makeshifts and outdated stuff. If you get a warehouse assignment, you will be putting out fires arose from issues not addressed by the original warehouse design. If you think you will be value-add to a company like Amazon after your McMaster’s experience, you are wrong. Amazon warehouses are built in the early/mid 2010s and have about 30 years of new automation/technology integrated to them. McM is still tinkering with their first automated warehouse. Experience putting out fixed/nonexistent issues is worthless.
• This company hire fake review writers. You will notice the positive reviews are all generic and one line whereas the negative reviews (from both Managements and ICs) are all super long and super informative. You will also notice that there’s no longer a “Most Helpful” sort on Glassdoor. This is because all the negative reviews get liked so much. Now it’s just “Most Popular” which is just fake reviews with 0 like/dislike.
• Relationships between Management and Individual Contributors are more fraught than ever. The situation has always been incredibly tense because ICs were viewed with incredible disdain by Management (most of whom are rich Ivy/Top School graduates) but has only gotten worse with automation and market uncertainty.
• Management’s official policy is to never promote Individual Contributors. A fresh grad (0YOE) can instantly become a supervisor but somehow an IC needed 8+ years of consistent excellent performance to be considered. Management can become Manager in as little as 2yoe out of Undergrad, whereas IC -> Manager is so rare I can count the Chicago Branch on two hands. And no, it’s not because ICs are not qualified/hardworking. Just imagine how hard it is to work at Amazon-pace for EIGHT YEARS just to be equal to a college brown-nose.
• Management’s unofficial policy is to avoid eye contact or saying hello to ICs unless the ICs initiated it. ICs were afraid to take more than one food/souvenir item during an open house event even though we had so much leftover. A manager even complained that other managers were making fun of ICs for work-place injuries (think Amazon warehouse-like injuries such as overexertion, nerve damage, wrist/knees/back issues.) Absolutely devoid of humanity.
• The company had been automating part of the Atlanta and Chicago warehouses. Managements assigned to be tour guides of these automated warehouses were told to lie say that no IC headcount reduction will occur. Obviously, there were a rise in suspicious performance evaluation after these were built. Also, I was one of the tour guides and were asked by multiple ICs where the observation cameras will be in the ceiling. The fact that multiple raised this seemingly-joking-yet-alarming question tells you just how much Management has trained ICs to become paranoid over time. If you’re a new-hire consultant at McM and feels related to this meme, just know you will be holding the mop to clean up and not the lightsaber.
2024.05.19 16:55 Timeset_VC Quantum Leap: History of Vacheron Constantin Calendar Watches Part 9
 | Quantum Leap: History of Vacheron Constantin Calendar Watches Part 3.3 submitted by Timeset_VC to VACHERONISTAS [link] [comments] by Alex Ghotbi, 12th of December 2011, 11:03 - click on scans for larger view Malte Perpetual Calendar Minute Repeater In 2006 Cal 1755QP (as for Quantième Perpetuel – perpetual calendar in French) was used in the now defunct round shaped Malte (41mm case) in rose gold giving it a more modern and masculine look. In 2010 the last 8 Cal 1755QPs were cased in a round Malte case but this time in platinum. https://preview.redd.it/iybdrxc2ae1d1.jpg?width=895&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7b4c6a0701f7f91213de80f606f02a555220a8ba https://preview.redd.it/63g7qdncae1d1.jpg?width=1600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f74c8580ad38cf8d277922bf194c0628a1aba74f https://preview.redd.it/w2y0wqcfae1d1.jpg?width=1000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=42839f07fd683a72674cb7855bf5cf429de8adb7 Malte Perpetual Calendar Chronograph Collection Excellence Platine Normally, the Excellence Platine collection consists of platinum case and dial versions of existing models however this version launched in 2007 is a one shot as it did not exist as a regular production model making it even more rare and desirable! Made in only 50 pieces it houses the manual wind cal 1141QP. https://preview.redd.it/wfk1h6uxae1d1.jpg?width=1600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=1f0180121cfc465ca91d04232cc8618bdd98ed18 https://preview.redd.it/qi4db5uxae1d1.jpg?width=1600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6ec21eb085a568f63ee05a9df26f4def2759fb63 https://preview.redd.it/uktjn3uxae1d1.jpg?width=1321&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=26a2b9d3e065e3a349dd44f933850feedde26989 Patrimony Traditionnelle Calibre 2755 Presented in 2007 the Patrimony Traditionnelle Caliber 2755 (how’s that as a dry name for such an amazing watch?) is currently Vacheron Constantins most complicated timepiece (610 components). However, it’s just not “just” a perpetual calendar, tourbillon minute repeater but the greatest sounding repeater I have ever heard thanks to a centripetal speed-regulator in the striking-mechanism, an original device which eliminates the noise interference normally experienced with pallet systems (the bzzz often heard when the repeating mechanism is activated). As with the ref 30020 and 30040 the case has been carefully designed and manufactured to give the minute repeater a remarkable resonance, which is optimised by the ingenious use of a stud linking the case to the striking mechanism. And, thanks to its high copper content, which gives it its colour, the pink gold case adds to the quality of resonance. In 2010 the Cal 2755 was also launched in platinum with an opaline and a slate grey dial, the later having an even more contemporary look. Normally platinum is a metal which “absorbs” the chimes but the watchmakers at Vacheron Constantin have done a fantastic job and the chimes are almost as loud and pure as in the rose gold version. I have to admit that the Cal 2755 has the most amazing chime I have ever come across (a close second being the Patek Sky Moon tourbillon), the first time I heard it, it was in a room with people talking and music in the background and still the chimes could be perfectly heard. The Cal 2755 for me is a condensed representation of what Vacheron Constantin is: a beautiful design which is classical yet with a twist, perfect proportions, technical mastery and drop dead amazing movement finish. Techniques have not been sacrificed for design and there is no compromise in the design for the sake of techniques The cal 2755 is assembled from A to Z by the same watchmaker who also tunes the gongs (by filing away on the base of the gongs) to achieve the perfect chime. As Chrystian Lefrançois, master watchmaker at Vacheron Constantin says “achieving the perfect chime is extremely difficult as you need to adjust the gong by filing the metal and at one point you know that you have reached the best possible sound and one file too much and you go from the best chime to the dull sound of a spoon hitting a pot!” About less than one Patrimony Traditionnelle Cal 2755 come out of the ateliers of Vacheron Constantin per month, considering that it can take 3-4 months to fine tune and assemble. It exists in rose gold and platinum (with opaline or slate grey dials), a limited edition with a gorgeous chocolate dial was made for Parisian retailer Dubail as well as a pièce unique for the New York Boutique. https://preview.redd.it/6gategfabe1d1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5470cafa19d2ad2c97870312376143ac93a86bf9 https://preview.redd.it/a3ob6jfabe1d1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0fcc38356a9cef2609865bee14d7dc2b7deb4347 centrepetal regulator https://preview.redd.it/1h66583tbe1d1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8556826210034e6c841b23bf0164be26af44da35 https://preview.redd.it/wzk5c33tbe1d1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8b21b489e1f730a3ca8599b6863d5229b5b89622 Dubail New York Boutique https://preview.redd.it/pg11n1l3ce1d1.jpg?width=590&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a088c0f3f9d03cf242fa22788c24be79610769a4 click for video Metiers d'Art: Les Masques Rarely have the words art and masterpiece been used so correctly. My first reaction to this collection was the same as being thunderstruck: breathless, speechless, heart beating fast and wobbly knees! It’s hard to define the divine but you can recognize it when you see it and for me the hands of the gods guided the designers at Vacheron Constantin to create such original, bold and daring pieces. At an epoch where originality resides in the use of carbon fibber and black PVD or the most improbable partnership with cars, motor cycles and boats Vacheron Constantin opened a whole new untreaded path where art and horology met. The concept was to use an art form still little known to the general public: the so called primitive arts. Geneva has the chance of housing one of the most prestigious collections of primitive arts: the Barbie-Muller Museum and collaboration between the museum and Vacheron seemed therefore unavoidable. The museum lent a certain number of pieces to Vacheron for replication but the great difficulty resided maintaining the proportions in a miniature version. Different techniques were tried but the final results were unsatisfactory. Vacheron Constantin finally turned to the Geneva Engineering School for help in making a three-dimensional image of each mask. By putting the plans together on a computer, they were able to modify the volumes point by point and find the best angle for fitting the whole mask into the case while safeguarding the harmony of its forms. It was thanks to the magic of laser technology that the miniaturisation of the masks became possible. The time is read by means of four discs indicating the hours, minutes, days and date in windows. A clever technique using transparency and specially-treated glass creates the impression that the masks are floating. Each sapphire crystal has a different tint, obtained by a unique metallisation process, so that it sets off the colour of the mask. Michel Butor’s (a contemporary French poet) short poems dedicated to each mask circle the sapphire dial in letters of gold and can only be read when the light strikes it from a certain angle. This effect is achieved by vacuum metallisation, a sophisticated technological process in which the gold letters are sprayed onto a sapphire crystal. The effect is amazing and depending on the inclination of the wrist the sapphire crystals hues vary as well as the coloring of the letters. There is such subtility and depth in the dial that you can almost drown in it and spend hours just staring at it mesmerised by its sheer beauty. This series launched in 2007 consisted of 25 sets of 4 watches each. A new set was also launched in 2008 and 2009. Set 1: 2007 https://preview.redd.it/cwf3vmsgce1d1.jpg?width=800&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=dcff6981dbb5b413b28f10d0f8f17546b0a68696 Set 3: 2009 https://preview.redd.it/hnhygo4oce1d1.jpg?width=590&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e8ba35df4828ac7f33ae4abc7d03118e60259241 click for video part 10 to follow soon ... |
2024.05.19 16:54 Any_Administration17 A week on the wrist review (Pelagos 39)
 | As an owner of three different Omegas (Speedmaster 1861 with the 3861 tapered bracelet, rubber SMP 300, and a Railmaster) and now a Pelagos 39, I’ve gotta say this watch is pretty damn awesome. This will be fighting the SMP 300 for equal, if not greater wrist time. Overall, I am impressed by how light the watch is (titanium, obvi), that there are crown guards, and the lume is pretty bright and definitely overpowers the SMP 300s. Probably one of my favorite things is how discreet this watch is in comparison to ones similar like the Rolex Sub. submitted by Any_Administration17 to Tudor [link] [comments] If there’s one minor regret I have, it’s not having this come on my radar sooner otherwise I’d probably would never have purchased the Railmaster in the first place. But, the way I see it, all of these watches (and probably future ones if we’re being super honest here), are milestone markers that will have good stories associated with them. 10/10: would recommend. |
2024.05.19 16:53 CrowdedPianoBench Is this a shitty idea?
 | I got this matching cat tattoo with my mom about 2 years ago; I used to take a sharpie and ask to see her wrist where I’d then proceed to draw this little cat. submitted by CrowdedPianoBench to tattooadvice [link] [comments] Other than that, there isn’t a meaning behind it. However, I was thinking of getting the same thing but with green eyes and a pink nose to represent my childhood cat who recently passed away. If I were to do this, my mom suggested I get it under this one. The thought would be that it would create sort of a cat totem pole and each time my cat moves on, I’d draw up a little rendition of them in this style to add (No I don’t have a billion cats, just one at a time lmao) |
2024.05.19 16:50 judgementalkid Mom’s anxious to go for wrist fracture surgery.. is it necessary?
 | 20 F med student here(just finished 2nd year of med school so not with the best understanding of clinical areas) My mom slipped and fell on to an outstretched arm while walking and ended up with a wrist fracture at the distal end of radius along with slight dislocation as seen in the x-ray(colles fracture¿) Is plating required in this case? It is apparently a comminuted fracture. My mom never had a surgery before and she’s super anxious about this. She’s adamant on not getting it done. But the doctor says that there might be alteration in biomechanics if left untreated( not opting to go for surgery) submitted by judgementalkid to Orthopedics [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 16:39 leora_loves_creation AITA for blowing up at my friend twice in one day?
Ok, there is a lot of back story to this. This is also my first reddit post so have patience. My friend and I meet at work and we got along very well. When I was struggling to get out of a relationship she was there and offered me a place to live. I took it thinking this friendship was going to be amazing. Boy, was I wrong. I broke up with my bf and moved into the house she was living in. Her and I are the only girls in the house. She has her bf with her at the time. I thought she had broken up with him because she was constantly flirting with the landlord. Now I'm just plain confused. Sleeping with two different men? She eventually breaks up with her bf and he moves out. Instantly, she starts dating the landlord. Also, I forgot to mention, she had her bf pay most of her rent. Now rent is practically free for her cuz of dating the landlord. I'm even more boggled when she tells me she's been talking to another guy!!! She wants to move this new guy into the house as her roommate. She told her bf (the landlord) that they were just friends. Once she goes home for a mini vacation, she tells me that her and the landlord broke up and she's been dating the new guy for about 3 days. Thought out all the relationship drama, I was there for her. I got appointments for our nails and hair even tho I couldn't afford it very well. I scheduled for us to get tattoos. I let her borrow my only nice pair of pants and she takes them home with her for two weeks! When she come back from vacation, she comes into my room and tells me that the landlord wants her out. He had found out she was dating the new guy and decided to kick her out. She never signed a lease for May and didn't pay rent so he wanted her out. He also realized that she wasn't going to tell him about dating the new guy! He was pissed! The landlord even called the cops the night she had him try to come into the house. Things were getting crazy. The next day ahead asks me to ask the landlord something for her. At this point I'm done doing things for her. I tell her I'll stand next to her as she talks to the landlord. I kid you not, when I say she whined like a five year old not getting their way, I yelled at her. Screamed I was tired of being the middle man for her and she need to do things herself. She stormed off and so did I. That was the first blow up I had on her. Later that same day, she had the audacity to ask me when I ever did anything for her. And I gave her a huge paragraph in text. She had lied to me and made me do everything for her almost. She didn't do a thing for me. I was done. After leaving me on read for almost and hour, she told me I owed her alcohol. I had two small drinks while she was gone. The bottle was half empty. She said she didn't like it before she left. So I had some. Then she claims I drank the whole thing! I told her I owe her maybe five shots and blocked her. Am I the a hole in this situation? Was I wrong to be tired of being used by her? Also this all happened since April! It's only been a couple months of this crap. But seriously, am I the a hole?
submitted by leora_loves_creation to CharlotteDobreYouTube [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 16:38 OoTgoated This game is garbage
I'm uninstalling deadass. 75$ a month for fios $50 a year for expansion pack NSO and I DC from a 333x for no reason. I ran a diagnostic and my internet connection is perfectly fine. Game is just ass. It's also an overly time consuming monotonous grind for rank and chunks and forces you to play a certain way (motion) or stay bad and I don't like fucking twerking and getting wrist pains. Garbage shit game and I'm legit done with it. I like the concept of the squids and shit it's mad cute but nah the game is just beyond frustrating and not good.
2000 hours of this shit, so much practicing and for a bit things were looking up. Got S+/X and I won a 333x for Keyboard. But lately I was starting feeling like this game wasn't worth my time anymore because of how bad the netcode and matchmaking are not to mention the grind and absolutely fucking GARBAGE maps, but now I'm just convinced. This game has absolutely zero respect for my time and I've lost all respect it. It's an inaccessible dysfunctional and poorly designed fucking Fischer Price abortion and I'm not buying Splatoon 4 or playing next season.
Say whatever ya'll want idc skill issue or fix your internet or whatever you want idc I'm not replying to anything. I just needed to vent my anger and feel this game is is trash now and anyone who disagrees is just too addicted to see it or care but I acrually respect myself and my time so I ain't putting any more of myself or my time into it. I can just be playing a single player game with actual fucking content and not get punished for my prefererred control options or just because they game feels like disconnecting me for no damn reason.
GGs tho ig and I'm sorry to Adrian, bladeBlitZ, and ~Kraken☆~ for randomly DCing. That's honestly what's pissing me off the most. Homies probably got spawn camped in a 333x after winning the first minute in a half cuz they're teammate randomly vanished. Mad sorry brothers game is just so fucking garbage and doesn't work.
submitted by OoTgoated to Saltoon [link] [comments]
2000 hours of this shit, so much practicing and for a bit things were looking up. Got S+/X and I won a 333x for Keyboard. But lately I was starting feeling like this game wasn't worth my time anymore because of how bad the netcode and matchmaking are not to mention the grind and absolutely fucking GARBAGE maps, but now I'm just convinced. This game has absolutely zero respect for my time and I've lost all respect it. It's an inaccessible dysfunctional and poorly designed fucking Fischer Price abortion and I'm not buying Splatoon 4 or playing next season.
Say whatever ya'll want idc skill issue or fix your internet or whatever you want idc I'm not replying to anything. I just needed to vent my anger and feel this game is is trash now and anyone who disagrees is just too addicted to see it or care but I acrually respect myself and my time so I ain't putting any more of myself or my time into it. I can just be playing a single player game with actual fucking content and not get punished for my prefererred control options or just because they game feels like disconnecting me for no damn reason.
GGs tho ig and I'm sorry to Adrian, bladeBlitZ, and ~Kraken☆~ for randomly DCing. That's honestly what's pissing me off the most. Homies probably got spawn camped in a 333x after winning the first minute in a half cuz they're teammate randomly vanished. Mad sorry brothers game is just so fucking garbage and doesn't work.
2024.05.19 16:37 Hey_86thatnow Story-what one dBPD father is like and how I survive
 | Thank goodness for this community. Reading such common experiences helps me immensely, so I wanted to share mine and see if it resonates with you all. submitted by Hey_86thatnow to raisedbyborderlines [link] [comments] Dad was diagnosed about 20 years ago by a marriage counselor. She then “fired” him from her practice, saying his marriage was beyond help because of it. Apparently, this rejection is common among BPD patients…implying it's unfixable, Since then, the ICD-11 has added a category called “difficult personalities disorder” probably to umbrella in the people who don’t fit neatly into the “5 of 9 traits” required for complete BPD diagnosis. Interestingly, he’s not unfaithful or suicidal, he kept the same job for decades, he can be fun and loving. But he rants, he overeats, he splits and denies, he isolates, he ruminates and fears, he blames and attacks and projects his self-esteem issues onto others...mostly me. First, he was a very loving father when we were kids, attentive and supportive. And then a fantastic grandfather to my sons-loving, etc.. keeping his worst traits in check most of the time with all of us when we were young. (Not with Mom, however.) It’s as if because his childhood was tough, he sees all children as underdogs who need special care. I will always be thankful for my childhood, for it laid the ground work for my self-esteem. However, he was rougher on my brother as a kid than on me, pushing, verbally abusing, etc.. This swapped as we both reached puberty. I realize this has something to do with his view of women, his wife and his own mother. As I became a woman, I became threatening, which appears common among BPD fathers. He then let my brother off the hook, where I got the laser focused judgment and anger. This is not to say he never loses his temper with my brother, he just tends to wait until the situation is severe (like brother getting arrested for DUI.) whereas I got attacked because I had 4 framed pictures of one son and 5 of our other son displayed in my den. Dad went on a level ten verbal attack. “What kind of a mother…rantrantrant” jamming the extra picture in my face. Walking around counting them sounds irrational doesn’t it? I met a visiting high school friend at Chili’s for dinner, and asked Mom to babysit, and I hear, “What kind of a mother goes to a bar and leaves her kids, rantrantrant.” Chili’s? Meanwhile, my brother can brag about sexual conquests, even when married. I have three college degrees—Dad never says a word. My brother flunked out of college, but Dad lies to everyone bro won a free ride to a prestigious university in our state. He paints my brother with all the best traits of my mother, but projects all his worst traits onto me. The irony is, I am very like my mother; my brother is not. But I am the scapegoat now, and brother is the golden child. This behavior and thinking is called splitting, or black and white thinking. It is so bad, that my father bought my brother a house when bro struggled financially. He has not had rent or a mortgage or land tax for over ten years. Me? Different story; everything I have, I earned and paid for. Mom kept a list of money they gave my brother over the years for cars or lawyers, etc. Not counting the free house, his column equals $64k. My column? Zero. (And I’m the “good” kid, responsible, there for my parents.) It’s taken a very long time for me to grasp that no matter how illogical or unfair it is, it won’t change—it is part of the disorder. I tell myself to be proud that I can make my own way without help. Dad’s impulsive, hair trigger temper over things that wouldn’t bother anyone else is profound. I’m exhausted from walking on eggshells, though avoiding conflict is so much better than entering it. He never hit us, but throws things, breaks our valuables (like Mom’s great-great grandmother’s rocker), curses, yells, screams. As a kid, I watched him fracture his wrist punching the wall when angry at Mom. He has had security remove him 3 times from my hospital room (two surgeries, one illness.) once because I told my mother about Christmas present ideas for my brother (and apparently should have been discussing my niece instead.) Who cares I had just had an 8 level spinal surgery the day before; Dad jumped out of his chair, livid, “You are forgetting someone aren’t you! Aren’t you.” He lost his cool the time I’d had surgery after a bike wreck, screaming he’d never let me see my mother again, and he’d write me out of the will. All I had done was interrupt him while he was talking. Security escorted him out. It was so ugly, one son refused to talk to him for months, shocked after witnessing it. My father told him that it was no big deal—that was just how he and I related, it was just our dynamic. My son said, "My mother never behaves that way and did nothing wrong," and hung up on him. Dad begged me to call my son and take some of the blame. IOW Dad cannot see his part in things. He sees reactions as proof that his anger is justified. Who cares how he causes these reactions. (Who cares that I was lying disabled in a hospital bed.) He is angered by the oddest things, the most innocuous things. He once followed a woman around at a party and purposefully interrupted her everytime she opened her mouth, then bragged later that he did this. He felt she was always cutting him off at past functions. Being interrupted is his hottest button. He wants everyone to listen to every last detail of whatever he has to say. And if you listen, but look like you aren’t, that’s as bad as interrupting him. But does he interrupt you? Of course he does, all the time, bored with what you want to say. He loves to get people’s goats, saying or doing very calculated things that he knows will annoy Mom or me or whomever. He has never physically hurt anyone, but mock something embarrassing from your past? He’s all over that. You can watch his face when he says provocative things on purpose—he’s just hoping you will ignite. When I wrecked my bike, instead of helping me up, he literally took pictures of me on the ground. Then showed the pictures to my brother, saying “What kind of an idiot rides a bike when she’s had spinal surgery” (8 years before). BPDs triangulate, and often lack compassion. When it comes to me and Mom, his favorite hostile line is “What kind of a___________does__________” When I went to take my mother to see my aunt and uncle, Dad tried to tag along, and my relatives said, "Please, if he wants to come, we'll have to disinvite you. We can't take anymore." he had been so hostile the last time they say him and made my aunt cry. He has no idea his behavior has this effect on people. He talks all about himself, and if he asks you a rare question about you, it is so he can then talk about himself. It’s like he thinks the type of lunch the kid ate (whom he sat next to in the third grade) is talk-show-worthy chitchat. But will cut you off in a second if you have something more pressing or recent to discuss. He’s very emotional and affectionate verbally and physically, but if you try to share your deeper thoughts or concerns, he gets very awkward and uncomfortable, and dismissive. BPDs struggle with intimacy and bonds. His narcissism is so bad, that when Mom died last year, he wrote her obituary, but 60% of it was about himself. When the newspaper edited out all the stuff about Dad, Dad called me fuming, accusing me of calling the paper to edit it. He still believes that. He also refused to let anyone have a memorial service/funeral-her ashes are still in the box from the crematory-- but later that summer, he started telling me what he wants me to do for his funeral. (We did a small family dinner in honor of Mom without him.) He is mistrustful and suspicious. He tends to take the other person’s side in regards to me, never trusting my perspective. If someone is offensive to me (like a boss who was angry when I refused to work from home while I was taking FMLA/disability pay after childbirth, or my ex who wasn’t paying child support) Dad took their side. I had to be the problem. When my husband was sent to a job site out of town, Dad thinks he asked to be assigned there to get away from me. (But says, “I just worry, and want you to be happy.”) When I get a text sent by a male friend to both me and my hubby’s phone inviting us both to dinner, he thinks there’s something fishy going on there with me and the man (and funny enough, I am certain Dad never cheated on Mom.) He throws cash around as presents, especially to the grandchildren, but even to people the rest of us wouldn’t include (ie. my husband’s brother-in-law’s niece-whom we barely know, my mother’s distant relatives whom no one has met, or my ex who hasn’t talked to him in decades, etc) It seems like a way to get their admiration or attention. He is always writing me in and out of the will, as if he’s the czar of millions. People with personality disorders are very manipulative or odd with gifts. He has zero friends, but talks all the time about people he knew as a kid. Where are they now? I’ve never met anyone from his childhood other than family- no cards, no messages, nothing. And no one from his life as an adult is close to him. My parents’ friendships came through Mom. I can sadly say, in a crisis, if Dad really needed to call someone and talk, only family is there (and that is only because we are compassionate, forgiving people). But funny enough, when he is in a social setting, he is not shy but wants to talk and entertain and be the center of the party. He loves to take people to task, often loudly and cruelly. Waitresses, nurses, cashiers all get dressed down and confronted for any perceived mistake. More than one doctor or service provider has hung up on him or yelled back at him. I witnessed this again in just the past two weeks, for Dad had a minor heart procedure. He wanted to tell each doctor and nurse the most irrelevant stuff, starting from the beginning of time…and would get mad if they didn’t let him. His cardiologist snapped at one point, “I need you to just give me quick answers!” so Dad yelled, and the guy walked out. Interestingly, I found an article, advice for doctors and nurses on how to handle illnesses when the patient also suffers from BPD. The descriptions were my father, to a T. One of piece of advice said something like beware of compliments and ignore criticism. Dad has been tossing the compliments around like confetti, “OH, Nurse, so and so, YOU are my number one.” But when his demands are not met immediately, he acts like a baby. And he keeps insulting me infront of doctors or nurses, applying his faults to me; “She’s stubborn, she has nasty temper.” I can be just standing there silently, and he says this. He said, to one doctor, “Don’t mind her, she’s very overbearing and headstrong…but in a good way.” I’d had enough, so I said, “There’s no reason to insult me, Dad.” He argued, “Oh, you didn’t hear my compliment. That was a compliment!” The doctor said, “If that was a compliment, it was a backhanded compliment." I could have hugged her. The worst part of being raised by a BPD? If I report any of this back to him, he will swear none of it is true. Gaslighting is their favorite manipulation, suggesting my perceptions are wrong. Either that, or he is in some sort of fugue when he acts so badly. How do I deal with all this? Often I don’t. Mom used to be a good buffer, til she developed ALZ and then Dad forced me to go through him, never allowing me to be alone with her. This hurt. Mom and I were very close, and before she lost her mind, we had many discussions about whether she should live with me instead. But BPD men get fixated on their mates, and he saw her as only his, not important to me or my brother or her grandchildren. (He even resented their dogs, because Mom "loved them more.") Even much younger, if I called to talk to Mom, Dad would rush the phone so I would have to talk to him first. So often I’d wait til she called me first. And now that he is all alone and his son mostly ignores him, My husband and our sons are the only ones really watching out for him. I use as much compassionate thinking as I can and remember that he got this way because he had a rough childhood (and I think the disorder runs in families—I really do.) His father died when Dad was 7. His immigrant mother could not read or write and she was raising 4 young kids by herself. Neglect, food insecurity and possible social rejection made a deep scar. I know that at the bottom of all this, Dad cannot, because of BPS, really ever trust that anyone loves him. So I do what I can, take long breaks, bite my tongue as much as possible, set boundaries, and leave when need to. To help, I come here and read very similar experiences in order to remember, IT’s NOT ME. But still, with this hospitalizing where he's milking the attention for all it's worth, I want to explode. I'm going to have a stroke if I have to spend this much time with him for much longer. During his surgery I was totally torn, hoping he would die, but very sad that he might. That’s some sucky head space. It was easier when Mom was alive and sane... Right now, I’m finding him assisted living, but he keeps threatening to rip out his IVs and go home. He can’t. He used to say, whoever took him in when he was old, would get all the money, and I’d say, “Have fun living with my brother.” But of course, none of that is true. I’m so resentful that I’m the one solving his health crisis. But also, in honor of Mom and my childhood, I love him and won’t dump him. I won't let him live with me, but I won't dump him. Thank you all, for totally understanding this dichotomy. Can you relate? What would you do? https://preview.redd.it/5b7pb27vbe1d1.jpg?width=4128&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=134bd4bbdf57fb8f83e139b42feb6459b3af79aa |
2024.05.19 16:36 YorkieCheese My ex-employer (McMaster-Carr) is recruiting for consultants while fluffing job descriptions and manipulating Glassdoor Reviews. Be vigilante. Chicago, Cleveland, New Jersey, Los Angeles, Atlanta.
I'm sure most of Chicago/Booth/Kellogg have heard of this company by now, but they recently started recruiting consultants/MBA for their other branches (T25) so I make the post.
Quick Intro: McMaster-Carr is the Amazon of Industrial Supplies. They ship to the US Miltary, manufacturers, engineers, technicians, etc... Their customers are the engineers but the bills are paid by the Finance Dept hence as long as McM do a consistent good job delivering to the engineers, they can charge exorbitant amount (e.g $30 screw and $50 shipping; real example.)This is how they can pay entry managements with 0yoe $170k (bonus included, deferred saving excluded) and middle managers (3-10YOE) up to $300k.
Path/Exit: You will get a random rotation every 6-18 months. The rotation can be literally anything from Warehouse Operations Management Role to HR to Finance/Fraud. Management Trainee (0-18m depending on your background/initial performance). Supervisor (no pay raise as MT are expected to become Sup eventually; can be skipped if you have pre-MBA exp and did well in your initial performance.) ManageSeniorM (3-5yoe/5-8yoe; most people languished here until they decided to go all in or all out with McMaster.) After this come Regional ManageDirectoVP. You can leave at M/SM and might still be able to transition to a new careeindustry afterward. Otherwise, it's a tough sale. Even before the mid-2023 general market downturn, I knew Regional/Directors who took 1+ year just to switch to another industrial/industrial job. Not even an industry switch.
Their Targets: In the past, 95%+ of management came from straight out of Ivy/Top Liberal Arts undergrad. This breeds an incredibly toxic environment since many of them are not mature/don't have leadership experience (the cream of the crop don't consider McMaster) and it's a case of the blinds leading the blinds. McM had a purge of toxic leaders back in mid-2010s but this problem returned. Since then, they have tried to recruit a few more consultants rather than depending solely on fresh grads. This recruiting effort has and continued to go miserably. Despite mass reach-out effort every single year, they only got some ex-B4 (1 Parthenon but the rest is regular B4), but they couldn't get anyone from T2 or MBB.
Nature of the work: (Micro)managing individual contributors and troubleshooting outdated issues (that are only found in 40yo+ warehouses) if you get a warehouse rotation. McM tries to sell you on these, but from my post-McM job interviews as well as McM managers' outcomes, these skills are worthless. For once, the ICs get paid quite well so they work very hard. Management, in an attempt to justify their outrageous salary, tries to micromanage all the time even when outclassed by 20+ years of knowledge. IC vs Management issue will be further discussed in the Cons section. Another issue is that managing blue-collar is no way the same as managing white-collar so most hiring managers don't really care for this exp. The company doesn't really do marketing, M&A, or new market (it took them 30+ years to just now opening a new branch in Texas because McM's tech couldn't handle having 6 warehouses instead of 5.) I'm not kidding. They passed on growth opportunity for 30+ years because they didn't want to change... Also because the company doesn't do marketing, they are not good at customer behavior analytics, resulting in their website redesign that took 2+ years to get scraped ater 1 week due to customer complaints.)
Pro:
• Their pay. McM has a 2.9 Glassdoor rating despite having a 4.6 rating in Compensation and Benefits. Pay include:
Cons: Glassdoor Reviews:
• There’s another purge/headcount reduction going on right now. A tidbit is that management above your level can see the performance review of everyone below them. This contributes to how much drama, backstabbing, and rumors float internally. Recently, an ex-Trainee even wrote a long post calling out his spineless manager and backstabbing coworkers in a GroupMe with 100+ members of management. The manager left soon after. The ex-MT even told McMaster to blacklist his undergrad for recruiting. Absolute legend.
• The operations and tech stack are very constrained and not replicable. The company uses 80s IBM Tech for CRM/ERP so unless you’re working on a Website-related project (which you can sometimes use Python/SQL), you will be writing outdated queries to pull data. McM also doesn’t use Powerpoint so you will have to learn Adobe Indesign. The company’s warehouses themselves have a ton of makeshifts and outdated stuff. If you get a warehouse assignment, you will be putting out fires arose from issues not addressed by the original warehouse design. If you think you will be value-add to a company like Amazon after your McMaster’s experience, you are wrong. Amazon warehouses are built in the early/mid 2010s and have about 30 years of new automation/technology integrated to them. McM is still tinkering with their first automated warehouse. Experience putting out fixed/nonexistent issues is worthless.
• This company hire fake review writers. You will notice the positive reviews are all generic and one line whereas the negative reviews (from both Managements and ICs) are all super long and super informative. You will also notice that there’s no longer a “Most Helpful” sort on Glassdoor. This is because all the negative reviews get liked so much. Now it’s just “Most Popular” which is just fake reviews with 0 like/dislike.
• Relationships between Management and Individual Contributors are more fraught than ever. The situation has always been incredibly tense because ICs were viewed with incredible disdain by Management (most of whom are rich Ivy/Top School graduates) but has only gotten worse with automation and market uncertainty.
• Management’s official policy is to never promote Individual Contributors. A fresh grad (0YOE) can instantly become a supervisor but somehow an IC needed 8+ years of consistent excellent performance to be considered. Management can become Manager in as little as 2yoe out of Undergrad, whereas IC -> Manager is so rare I can count the Chicago Branch on two hands. And no, it’s not because ICs are not qualified/hardworking. Just imagine how hard it is to work at Amazon-pace for EIGHT YEARS just to be equal to a college brown-nose.
• Management’s unofficial policy is to avoid eye contact or saying hello to ICs unless the ICs initiated it. ICs were afraid to take more than one food/souvenir item during an open house event even though we had so much leftover. A manager even complained that other managers were making fun of ICs for work-place injuries (think Amazon warehouse-like injuries such as overexertion, nerve damage, wrist/knees/back issues.) Absolutely devoid of humanity.
• The company had been automating part of the Atlanta and Chicago warehouses. Managements assigned to be tour guides of these automated warehouses were told to lie say that no IC headcount reduction will occur. Obviously, there were a rise in suspicious performance evaluation after these were built. Also, I was one of the tour guides and were asked by multiple ICs where the observation cameras will be in the ceiling. The fact that multiple raised this seemingly-joking-yet-alarming question tells you just how much Management has trained ICs to become paranoid over time. If you’re a new-hire consultant and feels related to this meme, just know you will be holding the mop to clean up and not the lightsaber.
submitted by YorkieCheese to consulting [link] [comments]
Quick Intro: McMaster-Carr is the Amazon of Industrial Supplies. They ship to the US Miltary, manufacturers, engineers, technicians, etc... Their customers are the engineers but the bills are paid by the Finance Dept hence as long as McM do a consistent good job delivering to the engineers, they can charge exorbitant amount (e.g $30 screw and $50 shipping; real example.)This is how they can pay entry managements with 0yoe $170k (bonus included, deferred saving excluded) and middle managers (3-10YOE) up to $300k.
Path/Exit: You will get a random rotation every 6-18 months. The rotation can be literally anything from Warehouse Operations Management Role to HR to Finance/Fraud. Management Trainee (0-18m depending on your background/initial performance). Supervisor (no pay raise as MT are expected to become Sup eventually; can be skipped if you have pre-MBA exp and did well in your initial performance.) ManageSeniorM (3-5yoe/5-8yoe; most people languished here until they decided to go all in or all out with McMaster.) After this come Regional ManageDirectoVP. You can leave at M/SM and might still be able to transition to a new careeindustry afterward. Otherwise, it's a tough sale. Even before the mid-2023 general market downturn, I knew Regional/Directors who took 1+ year just to switch to another industrial/industrial job. Not even an industry switch.
Their Targets: In the past, 95%+ of management came from straight out of Ivy/Top Liberal Arts undergrad. This breeds an incredibly toxic environment since many of them are not mature/don't have leadership experience (the cream of the crop don't consider McMaster) and it's a case of the blinds leading the blinds. McM had a purge of toxic leaders back in mid-2010s but this problem returned. Since then, they have tried to recruit a few more consultants rather than depending solely on fresh grads. This recruiting effort has and continued to go miserably. Despite mass reach-out effort every single year, they only got some ex-B4 (1 Parthenon but the rest is regular B4), but they couldn't get anyone from T2 or MBB.
Nature of the work: (Micro)managing individual contributors and troubleshooting outdated issues (that are only found in 40yo+ warehouses) if you get a warehouse rotation. McM tries to sell you on these, but from my post-McM job interviews as well as McM managers' outcomes, these skills are worthless. For once, the ICs get paid quite well so they work very hard. Management, in an attempt to justify their outrageous salary, tries to micromanage all the time even when outclassed by 20+ years of knowledge. IC vs Management issue will be further discussed in the Cons section. Another issue is that managing blue-collar is no way the same as managing white-collar so most hiring managers don't really care for this exp. The company doesn't really do marketing, M&A, or new market (it took them 30+ years to just now opening a new branch in Texas because McM's tech couldn't handle having 6 warehouses instead of 5.) I'm not kidding. They passed on growth opportunity for 30+ years because they didn't want to change... Also because the company doesn't do marketing, they are not good at customer behavior analytics, resulting in their website redesign that took 2+ years to get scraped ater 1 week due to customer complaints.)
Pro:
• Their pay. McM has a 2.9 Glassdoor rating despite having a 4.6 rating in Compensation and Benefits. Pay include:
•Base (0yoe: ~115k; ~$10k for each add year; ~$160k for Manager) •Profit Sharing (average 50%+ of base; lowest was ~33% in 2008 & 45% in 2020; 2022 was ~50%+ and 2023 was ~60%) •Deferred Saving (25% of Base&PS. Vest schedule 0%/20%/40%/60%/80%/100% over 6 years.)• Their Education tuition policy: After the first 3 months, You can take any part-time program (e.g PT-MBA, PT-MS, PT-MA) or Certificate completely free, doesn’t have to be work-related, and no string attached. You can literally leave after they paid for your tuition and can still finish your course.
Cons: Glassdoor Reviews:
• There’s another purge/headcount reduction going on right now. A tidbit is that management above your level can see the performance review of everyone below them. This contributes to how much drama, backstabbing, and rumors float internally. Recently, an ex-Trainee even wrote a long post calling out his spineless manager and backstabbing coworkers in a GroupMe with 100+ members of management. The manager left soon after. The ex-MT even told McMaster to blacklist his undergrad for recruiting. Absolute legend.
• The operations and tech stack are very constrained and not replicable. The company uses 80s IBM Tech for CRM/ERP so unless you’re working on a Website-related project (which you can sometimes use Python/SQL), you will be writing outdated queries to pull data. McM also doesn’t use Powerpoint so you will have to learn Adobe Indesign. The company’s warehouses themselves have a ton of makeshifts and outdated stuff. If you get a warehouse assignment, you will be putting out fires arose from issues not addressed by the original warehouse design. If you think you will be value-add to a company like Amazon after your McMaster’s experience, you are wrong. Amazon warehouses are built in the early/mid 2010s and have about 30 years of new automation/technology integrated to them. McM is still tinkering with their first automated warehouse. Experience putting out fixed/nonexistent issues is worthless.
• This company hire fake review writers. You will notice the positive reviews are all generic and one line whereas the negative reviews (from both Managements and ICs) are all super long and super informative. You will also notice that there’s no longer a “Most Helpful” sort on Glassdoor. This is because all the negative reviews get liked so much. Now it’s just “Most Popular” which is just fake reviews with 0 like/dislike.
• Relationships between Management and Individual Contributors are more fraught than ever. The situation has always been incredibly tense because ICs were viewed with incredible disdain by Management (most of whom are rich Ivy/Top School graduates) but has only gotten worse with automation and market uncertainty.
• Management’s official policy is to never promote Individual Contributors. A fresh grad (0YOE) can instantly become a supervisor but somehow an IC needed 8+ years of consistent excellent performance to be considered. Management can become Manager in as little as 2yoe out of Undergrad, whereas IC -> Manager is so rare I can count the Chicago Branch on two hands. And no, it’s not because ICs are not qualified/hardworking. Just imagine how hard it is to work at Amazon-pace for EIGHT YEARS just to be equal to a college brown-nose.
• Management’s unofficial policy is to avoid eye contact or saying hello to ICs unless the ICs initiated it. ICs were afraid to take more than one food/souvenir item during an open house event even though we had so much leftover. A manager even complained that other managers were making fun of ICs for work-place injuries (think Amazon warehouse-like injuries such as overexertion, nerve damage, wrist/knees/back issues.) Absolutely devoid of humanity.
• The company had been automating part of the Atlanta and Chicago warehouses. Managements assigned to be tour guides of these automated warehouses were told to lie say that no IC headcount reduction will occur. Obviously, there were a rise in suspicious performance evaluation after these were built. Also, I was one of the tour guides and were asked by multiple ICs where the observation cameras will be in the ceiling. The fact that multiple raised this seemingly-joking-yet-alarming question tells you just how much Management has trained ICs to become paranoid over time. If you’re a new-hire consultant and feels related to this meme, just know you will be holding the mop to clean up and not the lightsaber.
2024.05.19 16:33 shiftwizard1 Laios English Voice Actor is Very Cool
 | https://preview.redd.it/ybt392bn8e1d1.jpg?width=972&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a3e00664a78702847b57370741dca26fccefcaf3 submitted by shiftwizard1 to DungeonMeshi [link] [comments] I just recently learn that Damien Haas from Smosh Channel is the english voice for Laios, and just want to say it make my day seeing and hearing he gushing and discussing about the show in this interview. He even got tattoo of Kensuke. What a cool guy. It also very fascinating how he view Laios because he also has neurodivergent. |
2024.05.19 16:17 Rusted-1 ARK 8 Chapter 20-Old gods, new hope
 | \"What's a cult? It just means not enough people to make a minority.\"- Robert Altman submitted by Rusted-1 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments] HELLO EVERYONE! I'M BAAAACCKKKKK! Sorry, it's been a while, college and all. Now that I'm Back from college, I should post more regularly. The story shall continue! I might be a bit rusty, but I'm definitely getting back into the swing of things. Hope you all enjoy it. This fanfic is based on the fanfic The Isolationists, by Seeyouon_otherside, and a continuation of the stronger_together series. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Time Since First Contact: Y:0 M:1 W:0 D:0 Memory transcript: Commander Fango Feral, Tiwond of the Enforcers. “Again,” I told Sunclick. He nodded as the security feed from the incident at the mall played once more in front of us. My niece Canilia Lieutenant Feral, Sunclick, along with the commander lieutenants of each district, all observed what was happening on the screen in front of us, from the human known as Sixer interacting peacefully with a couple, then that brat, who came out of nowhere, who was chasing some poor Zeyzell, then Ashina, who came out of the bathroom and slammed the brat on the ground. Then he and his friends left only for the brat, who disappeared before he left the door. “And his friends have no idea where he went?” I asked one of the commander lieutenants. “No, sir. My husband was one of the people on that recovery team, and after heavy interrogation of the kids' friends, he simply disappeared. He left his friends completely abandoned and confused. They don’t know where he went. It was like he just vanished.” One of the commander lieutenants spoke up. “Thank you for the confirmation,” I told him. He swished his tail in acknowledgment and then started talking to the others as they bounced theories and questions off one another. Leaving me and my niece to ourselves, my niece stepped forward. “Sir, I understand this is personal for you, especially since it involved Ashina.” my niece told me. “Thank you for understanding that. You don’t have to call me sir. You are my niece.” “I know, it's just a professional courtesy.” She responded flatly. I nodded. “Thank you. I know you and her didn’t always get along, especially after her parents died, but I’m glad you, too, have become such close friends after we let her in under our roof,” I whispered to my niece. Looking at my niece's face, I wished I could take off that gas mask to see her smile. However, I knew what was under it, and any real chance of her being truly happy was most likely long, long gone. Ever since she lost her gift, she has been bitter and angry, focusing solely on protecting others from the same fate that befell her. Wait a minute, isn’t the staying human Dominic staying with her? “Canilia, how are things with that human? You don’t talk about him much.” She was silent. Then I heard a weird, cracking sound. It was very faint, but I could hear it as she was right next to me. It was coming from her mouth. I know that cracking sound. It’s what’s left of her cheek, curling into a smile. A Small one, but a smile nonetheless. “He is very kind to me. He likes hugs, he likes to talk, and he likes to listen. I like that he likes to help me, although I have yet to show him this.” She gestured to her stomach, where her gift once was. I nodded. She was...happy... I nodded to Sunclick, who then took over the conversation so I could talk to my niece. He drew the attention away from us, allowing us to speak. “Do you think the aliens will be able to help you reclaim your gift?” I asked. She shrugged. “I sure hope so, another thing, however.” She spoke much more quietly. “ I’ve been staring at the neighbors' kids again. I don’t know how long I’ve been doing it, but Dominic’s caught me doing it twice. He knows something, and he will think less of me when he finds out.” She hung her head with despair. With all my heart, I wish I could reach out, grab her by the head, and yell at her that losing your gift isn’t a sign of dishonor. She was wounded in combat. None of it was her fault, and that she should forgive herself. But I know that wouldn’t work, she’s too stubborn like me, one of the few traits. I wish she had never gotten it from me. If my sister was here now, she would kill me. “What has he done about it?” I asked. “When he saw you looking at the little ones.” She moved a little bit, causing her power armor to creek, then looked back up at me with the sort of, well, I don’t know, I've never seen that look in her eyes. It was like Hope and joy, but more. “He knows something is wrong. It’s his medical training that tells him it and his instincts, he’s actually baked a few meats for me, and sometimes when I snap out of it, there’s a blanket over me and a hot cup of…coco, I believe he calls it next to me. He is an excellent caretaker.” I couldn’t help but smile. She finally found someone who isn’t intimidated by her, who is willing to care for her that isn’t me. I felt an odd pride at that, but I’ll take that pride. “Is the great Canilia Feral Smiling? Oh, I never thought I would see the da-.” My niece and I turned at the same exact time. Our combined staring rivals that of any sun's power, with how intense our staring was at the damned soul who dared make a comment like that at her. The moment our eyes landed on the poor soul, he shriveled faster than a drumling that was absorbed into a flesh pit. He quickly hung his head and scurried out of the room to the laughter of the other lieutenant commanders. I turned back to Sunclick, who was having a bit of a chuckle of his own, he looked up at me and gave him the thumbs up, and I returned the gesture. “Have the scanners picked anything up? The cameras, have they picked anything up about this person?” I asked him, the laughter quickly leaving the room as we returned to full seriousness mode. “Sorry, commander, nothing, we’ve picked up absolutely nothing about this guy. We’ve run background checks, and we believe a few leads and we have some units out there checking out all the leads, however, will take some time as there are quite a few, and we don’t really know much about this kid. There are almost no files on him. The only thing we have turned up is a birth certificate and seventeen residences, which cannot be right. However, we did find something rather interesting. After talking to some of the people on the scene, we were able to discern a possible motive, which gave us a very good lead. Then, looking into that motive, we found a few of these.” Sunclick pointed to a stack of extremely old newspapers, the ones the type that came right after the third unification war, when hyperpaper was very rare, and the plants that needed to be used in hyperpaper production were almost all wiped out during the war, and these are made on type of cloth to save hyper paper. I walked over and picked one up, looking at the article that was circled. It read, “Boy's mother, abducted by aliens? Fact? Or postwar terrorist?” I looked at Sunclick. “I remember the post-war terrorist, and I put a few down myself.” My niece spoke out loud as she looked over my shoulder. One of the lieutenant commanders came up, picked up the newspaper stacks, and started handing them out to the others. “Sunclick, I trust your judgment, but can you explain…this?” I asked him. His eyes lit up like a Titan bug after it had ingested a bunch of parasites that were making their way out of its body. “I would love to! You see, this kid, for whatever reason, believes that aliens abducted his mother. Now, post-war terrorists were common, and they are running around, and it might even be true that a post-war terrorist kidnapper killed his mother. However, the body was never actually found like most terrorist killings. After the war, there was so much confusion because people didn’t know what to do, and many were still bitter that we had won. For whatever reason, this kid got this idea into his head that aliens had kidnapped his mother, which everyone was kind of obsessed about, even more so that there are some literally living among us. Much to everyone’s delight, I must say. However, with that single statement, that single line, and what witnesses told us at the scene. We have a much more narrow view of who this kid is, the only problem is, that the kid was never properly documented. He’s a ghost in the system. The good news is his friends have been more than helpful, as they didn’t realize he would go that far. They've been telling us everything about him, but after some digging, it turns out they know just as much as we do, next to nothing. Either this kid is extremely paranoid or…” Sunclick went silent. “Please, Sunclick, tell us.” my niece asked. He took a deep breath. He shifted nervously in his seat. “He’s a part of the cult of the old God.” The emotion and general vibe of the room immediately shifted when the cult of the old god was mentioned: those rat bastards. “Do you think they moved up this far north?” I asked him. “Honestly, I think so, I’ve been working with some of the lesser district managers since all of you guys have been busy with the aliens, which I don’t blame you for. They’re pretty freaking awesome. However, since their arrival, the cult of the old God activity has practically tripled twenty-fold. It’s insane what they’ve been pulling off, from stealing military equipment to assassinating low-level political members-" "WHY IN THE OLD VOID WAS I NOT MADE AWARE OF THIS!?!" I screamed. Everyone in the room winced except my neice. Sunclick, who had received the full force of my explosive outbursts, had his ears pinned on his head and looked somewhat afraid of me now. I sighed and motioned him to continue. "Please continue." "....uh sorry...I was going to tell you eventually, as things are out of hand, which is probably about right now. However, you were busy with the aliens and...never mind, it's not important now. If this kid is a part of the cult of the old God, they’ve gotten extremely bold, and they will become a major problem for the aliens. Their whole goal is to purify the planet and kill the great protector so that their own God, the old God, the one who came before the great protector, can reign again, and we can expand past the red lightning veil and enter the greater galaxy. These aliens represent a massive threat to that ideology. Now they know there’s another life out there, other empires, they will see the aliens as a huge threat. This means they’ll be number one on their bucket list to take out, and if they do that, the aliens could turn against us, seeing us as all hostile, which is not happening at all, considering just how nice they’ve been, they’re also extremely cuddly, I mean, have you seen the way they-.” “Sunclick, I understand you enjoy discussing advanced science with humans, but we need you to focus.” One of the commander lieutenants said. Sunclick stopped and nodded. “Right, right, sorry. As I was saying, the aliens represent a massive threat to their organization. However, this attack could’ve been a totally one-off situation where some random member decided to prove themselves. However, it also could have been something to test the alien's reaction to one of their own getting attacked. The aliens were mad, sure, but they trusted us to keep them safe. The aliens themselves didn’t do much other than send down more equipment for us and some of their own people to monitor the situation.” Sunclick finished. I nodded my head. “Thank you, good work as always.” he smiled and nodded as his ears returned to normal, then returned to his computer. I looked back at the lieutenant command, who had the Zeyzell and citizen who were assaulted under her watch. “How are the two that were assaulted?” She grimaced. “Not great, I'm afraid. The Zeyzell has been having regular panic attacks, and the citizen has refused to come out of their house in the past two days. They’re too scared for their Zeyzell counterpart. The two have become great friends, which is good for AR, though.” She said, “AR?” I asked. “Sorry. Many of the grunts have been using it, and it’s very catchy. It’s called alien relations, AR.” I nodded and turned back to the screen as the scene played again. It was the kid, limping off out of the door, who would then disappear from his friend's arms. I glanced up at the screen a little higher, and that’s when I noticed it. A camera is not connected to the system, barely a pixel on the screen. It’s a private camera. How did we not see that? “Sunclick, look up top of the ceiling on the screen,” I told him. He looked up, and his eyes went wide. “It's a private camera! How could we miss that?” he said out loud. “Not important right now. Can you get access to it?” I asked him. This is the chance I've been waiting for to get this person who would dare assault the alien who's making my daughter so happy. “Yes, sir, I can do that!” he proudly exclaimed. After a few quick taps on his computer, multiple connections, errors, and unknown errors, he punched the computer and got a connection. The tape played this time from the front. The angle was a bit weird, so we couldn’t get a good look at the kid's face, But it was what was around his neck that mattered. “I’ll be damned, a pendant of the cult of the old God.” my niece said as we all looked at it in surprised silence. “ I’m gonna have fun tearing that kid apart.” She said as she flexed her power armor claws. I looked at the pendent in silent anger. "Bold of the kid to wear it around in the open like that." She said aloud, and we all agreed. I turned around to the face of other lieutenant commanders. “This is what we’ve been preparing for. You know the drill: get your districts, alert every enforcement office if possible, and get the enforcers on the streets. Get everyone on higher alert. I want more patrols, and I want everything more. Not enough to alert the population that something is happening yet, just more than usual.” They all nodded and streamed out of the room. I turned to leave. However, an open door caught my eye. I turned and walked through it to see my niece standing on the balcony overlooking the city. I wandered out myself, power armor slightly clanking the entire time, the metal hitting the cold, polished concrete of the floor. I also looked at the sprawling metropolis we had built from this hell hole of a planet, its towering walls lined with guns and cannons to keep out the beasties. I walked up beside her and saw that something was in her hands. “What do you have there?” I asked her. I looked at it closely, and it seemed to be some sort of scarf. I didn’t recognize the design or patterns. “Dominic made this for me. I don’t exactly know why. He just kind of did. He didn’t ask for anything in return. He just gave it to me. He said he didn’t want me to get a cold.” She brought the scarf to her neck, which was a perfect fit. She tied it around just underneath her mask, and when she was finished, she let out a puff of steam from her mask. “It's a perfect fit,” I replied, smiled, and looked back out over the city. Looking over it, I thought about our history, the feral's bloodline, and how we have served as the world’s protectors for so long. Now, it was threatened because only two ferals were left: me and my niece. Now, we have aliens to deal with. They seemed nice so far… I leaned a little farther over the railing. A glint of metal in the sky caught my eye and I looked up to see one of the Zeyzell transports coming down, most likely More Humans. I tracked it with my eyes as it landed in one of the newer landing pads with a loud clang, the landing gear hissing as it landed, and saw a large number of my people standing around there waving signs that said “Welcome!” and “Hello new friends!” and other signs that said similar welcoming messages. I smiled and looked over at my niece. “How has the city’s morale been since the aliens have come here?” She quickly opened her wrist computer and typed minor keys on the tiny keypad. I still don't understand how she can use that, the screen is so tiny. “From last time, when it was already an eighty percent increase, an additional twenty-three point four percent.” I smiled even brighter and looked back down. The Zeyzell transport landed, and everybody cheered, and then the door opened as the Humans and a few Zeyzell came off the transport. My people began shouting names. Most likely for exchange partners. Immediately, the aliens again answered the calls and ran to their new friends. Many embraced in tight hugs and made what I assumed were happy noises based on how their mouths moved, as I could hear very little from up here. A few of the humans even started crying as soon as they embraced the larger frames of my species, practically melting into the "floofy fur" as the humans called it, of our fur. I even saw a pup leap from its mom and “run,” although it was more of a quick waddle over to a human and embrace them, making happy beeping sounds the entire time. The human held them so gently as if they were afraid to break. Then, he immediately started to cry uncontrollably. However, with all of the joy and happiness down there that I so loved, I was a bit disturbed by the crying. What in the world could they have gone through that would make something like a simple hug so unique? No, it wasn't the hug itself. I thought about my time on board the ARK ship and what I had seen. I have seen many humans embracing each other and hugs, giving each other kisses or their equivalent of it, I've also seen them embracing and hugging Zeyzell. I was also aware of a lot of inter-species couples and marriages on board the ARK ship. I thought about it very hard, deciphering everything that I had learned on board the ARK ship, in addition to the information that was sent to us very early on, and-... then it clicked. “They aren't crying because they're being shown love…” “What?” My niece asked. I turned fully to her. “They are not crying because they're being shown love. They are crying because another species is showing them love. They're being shown that someone cares about them other than their own species and the Zeyzell.” I turned back to the landing pad and the ship was leaving as all the aliens had found the people they were looking for and were being carried back to cars, walking alongside them, or simply sitting and talking and sharing a meal. As I stood there, it was as if I could feel the emotions coming from the humans: the joy, the happiness, and the sheer love of being accepted. I couldn't explain it, but I felt as though we shared a deeper connection with humans than we initially thought. “Do you feel it?” my niece asked. I looked at her and nodded. “I can feel the joy, happiness, and love they are feeling right now from all the way over here.” I nodded my head. “I think whoever or whatever they were running from was another alien species, based on the information I gathered from the ark ship, the reactions and emotions of the humans down there, and the information I sent to us early on. I had theories before that it was another species they were running from; I know many other people thought that, too, But I think this almost confirms it: they are definitely running from someone. Or were, but now they feel safe here.” I told her as I gestured to all the people below us. My niece nodded. “When I get home, I'm going to give Dominic a big hug.” We remained silent for a time. Just watching the beautiful scene before us as the snow fell slowly and lightly, the trees swayed in the breeze, ever so slightly bending. The wind made a howling noise as it whipped through the tight streets and architecture of our building. I breathed in and let it out, letting my breath turn to steam. I reached out and let the snow fall onto my hand. I brought my hand close, but the snowflake had already melted. My gaze returned to the Humans and Zeyzell, enjoying the snow alongside my people. I turned to my niece. “Our planet may be trying to kill us in over a thousand different ways, but it’s beautiful, huh?” My niece sighed and looked at me. “Yeah, and it’s going to get a lot better now that we have friends, or lovers for some, from beyond the veil.” I nodded and looked back at the snow that now danced in my vision as the Humans and Zeyzell departed with my people. I sighed, and we both returned inside to see Sunclick waiting for us. “You can go nerd out with the humans now,” I told him. ‘“Thank you, sir!” He shot out of the room and down the hall. I smiled and turned back to my niece. “Do you want to grab something to eat? The snow is great right now.” I asked “Sure. However, before that, we should warn the aliens about the cult, huh?” “Oh, definitely,” I told her. I smiled and we walked over to the communication system connecting us to the Aliens. First/Previous/Next |
2024.05.19 16:05 DavidWtube I have muted 994 subreddits and have maxed out my ability to mute any more. AMA
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0xPolygon
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titanic
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OMORI
uber
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UFOs
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Nbamemes
691
actuallesbians
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meme
ask
midjourney
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FightLibrary
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sailormoon
pyrocynical
BlackPeopleTwitter
delta
wholesomememes
1000lbsisters
moreplatesmoredates
nattyorjuice
ripcity
JustUnsubbed
subway
Konosuba
badwomensanatomy
KDRAMA
MyHeroAcadamia
PERSoNA
Ningen
FUTMobile
Dimension20
Nanny
MarvelStudios_Rumours
antifastonetoss
kings
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lookyourbest
shittytattoos
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awfuleverything
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2visegrad4you
starterpacks
motorcycles
PeterExplainsTheJoke
popheadscirclejerk
BaldursGate3
memesopdidnotlike
Witcher3
religiousfruitcake
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Chipotle
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ColleenBallingerSnark
ImTheMainCharacter
Teachers
TheBoys
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Kenshi
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jschlattsubmissions
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steelers
nayeon
thewalkingdead
yandere
gaybrosgonemild
AEWOfficial
NYKnicks
weddingdress
apolloapp
MakeupAddiction
UberEATS
PokeInvesting
WeDoALittlePosting
CCW
lewishamilton
Transformemes
im14andthisisdeep
TeenMomOGandTeenMom2
FireEmblemHeroes
mtg
OffMyChestPH
Piratefolk
MagicArena
civ
needforspeed
BeautyGuruChatter
firstimpression
boxoffice
amiwrong
liluzivert
TalesFromYourServer
Asmongold
CitiesSkylines
ChatGPT
ClashRoyale
NBATalk
Jujutsushi
TrueOffMyChest
TOTK
doordash
doordash_drivers
Sadiesink
ImaginarySliceOfLife
QAnonCasualties
GCSE
Kanye
FlorkofCowsOfficial
ImaginaryCharacters
OculusQuest
OkBuddyPersona
Edelgard
footballmanagergames
exmuslim
traditionaltattoos
animalcrossingmeme
Advice
ussoccer
dankvideos
torontoraptors
Gundam
FamousLatinas
FifaCareers
gaymers
OliviaRodrigo
bindingofisaac
TedLasso
StreetFighter
IndianBoysOnTinder
tattooadvice
KUWTKsnark
DemonSlayerAnime
weed
okbuddyhololive
NikkeMobile
EpicSeven
JenniferLawrence
Androgynoushotties
TenseiSlime
LesbianActually
ClassroomOfTheElite
Vocaloid
HuntShowdown
197
TrueUnpopularOpinion
bonehurtingjuice
attackontitan
FortniteLeaks
Overwatch_Memes
HonkaiStarRail_leaks
Truckers
chelseafc
Sephora
furry_irl
sadcringe
Persona5
AccidentalAlly
dccomicscirclejerk
2meirl4meirl
yugioh
Yellowjackets
femboymemes
summerhousebravo
goons
denvernuggets
Wrasslin
thesims
NewGreentexts
Marriage
dating_advice
AFL
Undertale
TwoHotTakes
truerateme
3amjokes
diablo4
SpidermanPS4
tearsofthekingdom
evangelion
Instagramreality
polandball
FallenOrder
AITAH
xbox
HonkaiStarRail
amiugly
cursedcomments
pettyrevenge
XboxSeriesX
nbacirclejerk
BostonBruins
heat
criticalrole
MLS
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AskReddit
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Weird
tattoos
LoveIsBlindOnNetflix
MinecraftMemes
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NoStupidQuestions
RPClipsGTA
NoMansSkyTheGame
wholesomegreentext
starcitizen
bostonceltics
AnimeART
mariokart
araragi
DankMemesFromSite19
RaidenMains
starwarsrebels
KimetsuNoYaiba
MortalKombat
TransLater
ac_newhorizons
Catan
HeroForgeMinis
houkai3rd
Warhammer
Ben10
dankruto
botw
legendofkorra
starbucks
HypixelSkyblock
DnDGreentext
TattooDesigns
playstation
confessions
fakehistoryporn
projectzomboid
arknights
LinusTechTips
IASIP
SmashBrosUltimate
residentevil
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comics
SuccessionTV
TrueSTL
Costco
mlb
mmamemes
xmen
NewVegasMemes
DestinyFashion
Stellaris
CuratedTumblr
legostarwars
ElderScrolls
egg_irl
DestinyMemes
StardustCrusaders
Bossfight
BocchiTheRock
dankchristianmemes
Ultrakill
CasualConversation
btd6
ImaginaryWarhammer
bluey
TaylorSwift
doodoofard
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Lisa_Mains
2024.05.19 16:04 APCleriot My Family Isn't In The Family Photos
What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.
submitted by APCleriot to nosleep [link] [comments]
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.
2024.05.19 15:58 adultanim IP-adapter for clothes/poses questions
Working with IP adapters and a comic/anime generating checkpoint, I've been able to create nice consistent face results for a comic.
IP adapter does 70%-80% of the job, and then I go into Photoshop to tune levels/gama, add some characteristic elements (an earring or a tattoo, for example) , and pass it through SD again for final touches. So far, so good!
Where I get lose now is clothing. I download all safepoints from hugging face (https://huggingface.co/h94/IP-Adaptetree/main), but in A1111 some seem to be missing from the list of available processors once I select IP Adapter. For example, I downloadedip-adapter-plus_sd15.safetensors and relaunched SD, but I still can't see it from the dropdown menu.
What I do see is ip-adapater-auto, which I did not download, and I guess this is just part of the script where it attempts to identify the matching model. This I'm basiing on the fact that when I run IP adapter, I see "ip-adapter-auto ==> ip-adapter-clip-g" which tells me it automatically switched to the appropriate preprocessor.
The issues is when I choose ip-adapter-auto from the preprocessor list with ip-adapater-sdxl, I get an error: "RuntimeError: Input type (torch.cuda.FloatTensor) and weight type (torch.FloatTensor) should be the same." I still see ip-adapter-auto ==> ip-adapater-clip-g.
What I'm trying to figure out is:
submitted by adultanim to StableDiffusion [link] [comments]
IP adapter does 70%-80% of the job, and then I go into Photoshop to tune levels/gama, add some characteristic elements (an earring or a tattoo, for example) , and pass it through SD again for final touches. So far, so good!
Where I get lose now is clothing. I download all safepoints from hugging face (https://huggingface.co/h94/IP-Adaptetree/main), but in A1111 some seem to be missing from the list of available processors once I select IP Adapter. For example, I downloadedip-adapter-plus_sd15.safetensors and relaunched SD, but I still can't see it from the dropdown menu.
What I do see is ip-adapater-auto, which I did not download, and I guess this is just part of the script where it attempts to identify the matching model. This I'm basiing on the fact that when I run IP adapter, I see "ip-adapter-auto ==> ip-adapter-clip-g" which tells me it automatically switched to the appropriate preprocessor.
The issues is when I choose ip-adapter-auto from the preprocessor list with ip-adapater-sdxl, I get an error: "RuntimeError: Input type (torch.cuda.FloatTensor) and weight type (torch.FloatTensor) should be the same." I still see ip-adapter-auto ==> ip-adapater-clip-g.
What I'm trying to figure out is:
- Which preprocessor should I use for clothes, or generic body recognition, like poses? Should it still be ip-adapter-auto? If not, where do I get it from?
- several documentations say to run the sd15 Preprocessor or sd15 clip. I do have ip-adapter_sd15.safetensors inside /models/ControlNet, but I do not see it on the list. Can this be because of the checkpoint I'm using, a SDXL one?
- If you have a workflow to copy clothes/poses in SD using A1111, do you mind sharing? I know I can use PS, and I do. I can get by with simple clothing pretty well. But I'm wondering about SD specifically.
2024.05.19 15:53 Gazooonga [Diary of a Press-Ganged Saurian] #1
Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.
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Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.
2024.05.19 15:48 lightingnations I found my girlfriend’s secret Google account and it feels like our entire relationship was built on a lie
I met Luna on a train two years ago. I’d just escaped from a toxic relationship, so romance was the last thing on my mind, but then she sat across from me in the carriage and asked about the book I was reading. She had a copy in her bag and wanted to know if it was any good.
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…
submitted by lightingnations to nosleep [link] [comments]
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…
2024.05.19 15:35 Drakeishere_RUN The Year of the Dragon - Part 1 : 2014 Royal Rumble
26/01/2014 - WWE Royal Rumble
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Commentated by Jim Ross, JBL, and Michael Cole
We see some footage of superstars arriving to the arena today. The Authority arrive in a limousine; WWE Champion Randy Orton, Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane. Daniel Bryan is shown walking with Brie Bella. "The Animal" Batista shows up in a truck and flexes for the camera. The feed cuts and glitches out revealing a dark room with a empty rocking chair moving slowly. "We're here."
The iconic voice of Jim Ross welcomes us to the 2014 Royal Rumble as pyro erupts from the stage and the fans go wild. The Authority's music plays and the mood quickly shifts, the crowd rains down boo's. Here comes the WWE World Champion Randy Orton. Orton talks trash to some fans in the front row while Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane make their way out as well. Orton raises the title as HHH passes him a microphone. Orton is in a great mood tonight. He's got the night off and there will be 30 men all vying for a chance to get RKO'ed in the main event of Wrestlemania 30. The crowd chants, “Daniel Bryan” as Orton laughs and promises that Bryan doesn't stand a chance. If you want to win the Royal Rumble you have to be taller than these marks in the crowd, you can't be a front row wrestler like Daniel Bryan or CM Punk. The crowd breaks into a deafening “DANIEL BRYAN/CM PUNK!” chant as Orton highlights some of the past winners like himself, Triple H, and Batista. True superstars who all pass the airport test. Triple H takes the microphone and tells the fans to shut the hell up and respect greatness. The reason The Authority are out here is because they want an answer from Batista. Will The Animal join them, take the #30 spot, and win the Rumble to make the biggest Wrestlemania main event a reality? Batista's music hits and he gets a great reaction. First of all, Batista thanks the Pittsburgh fans and everyone in the WWE for welcoming him back with open arms. Batista has a ton of respect for Triple H and Orton after all those years in Evolution. They all shake hands and it looks like he's accepting the offer. Triple H tells Batista to make the right decision and do whats best for business. Batista gives the THUMBS UP! The Authority are all psyched up until.... Batista, who still has his thumb in the air, says "What's best for business.... is listening to these fans! Doing things the hard way, the same way he did it through his whole career. Batista didn't come back to be handed anything, he came back to prove he can still be The Animal. The man who beat Triple H in the main event of Wrestlemania.... The thumbs up is turned into a THUMBS DOWN! Kane charges at Batista but gets clotheslined! Randy Orton and Tripe H flee from the ring as The Animal delivers a Spinebuster to Kane and rattles the ropes! Triple H screams that Batista is going to regret this decision.....
A video package of the feud between Divas Champion AJ Lee and Mickie James is next. After AJ Lee defeated Naomi to retain her title on RAW, AJ declared she had no competition in the locker room. Cue the surprise return of Mickie James! Former psycho versus current psycho, legend versus future legend. They exchange verbal barbs over the next few weeks, with Mickie picking up some big wins and earning a title match. During a contract signing on the final RAW before the Royal Rumble, things finally turned physical and Mickie put AJ Lee through a table with a huge bulldog from the top rope! Everything comes to a head tonight with the championship on the line.
Tony Chimel lets us know that this contest is scheduled for one fall as Mickie James makes her entrance and gets emotional at the ovation from the audience in Pittsburgh. Divas Champion AJ Lee is next and she gets a mixed reaction; the fans love her but are definitely backing Mickie in this one.
AJ Lee (c) vs. Mickie James for the WWE Divas Championship
The match kicks off with AJ slapping Mickie across the face! James returns the favour and tackles AJ, raining down a flurry of punches. AJ Lee cowers into the corner but then takes advantage by slamming Mickie to the mat by her hair! AJ taunts Mickie and stomps her in the corner but when the champion charges, Mickie backdrops her over the ropes! Mickie hits a Thez Press from the apron and tosses AJ into the barricade!
They battle on the apron until AJ sends Mickie head first into the ringpost. Mickie seems genuinely hurt and the referee goes to check on her, allowing AJ to expose the turnbuckle on the opposite side of the ring. She shows no regard for her possibly injured challenger, ignoring the ref and dragging Mickie back into the centre of the ring. Out of nowhere, James nails the Mick Kick! AJ is down! 1-2-AJ gets her foot underneath the bottom rope! James goes for the Stratus-faction but AJ Lee launches her into the exposed turnbuckle! Mickie James is out cold! 1-2-3! AJ retains!
Result- AJ Lee wins by pinfall via exposed turnbuckle shot. (12:58)
The Royal Rumble tumbler is back! Stephanie McMahon is overseeing things as superstars enter to pick their spots in the Royal Rumble. We see Alberto Del Rio, Brodus Clay, and other superstars pick their numbers. Triple H and Paul Heyman in the background; they shake hands and it appears that HHH hands Heyman something before he walks off.
"The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes is here! He introduces his sons, the WWE World Tag Team Champions Cody Rhodes and Goldust! The champions hug their father and make their way to the ring for a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match! After being on the wrong side of The Authority, The Rhodes Brothers have been put in quite the predicament as they look to retain their title's against all odds.
Cody Rhodes and Goldust (c) vs. The New Age Outlaws vs. The Prime Time Players vs. Truth & Consequences vs. Hunico and Camacho vs. The Uso's in a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match for the WWE World Tag Team Championship
Everything breaks down right off the bat. Bodies are flying everywhere. The Uso's hit a pair of dives over the ropes onto a pile of opponents. Back in the ring Hunico and Camacho eat a pair of Superkicks. Uso Splash to Hunico! 1-2-3!
Jey Uso pins Hunico via Uso Splash (Hunico and Camacho are eliminated)
The Prime Time Players take their turn dominating. Titus hits a Sit-Out Spinebuster to Billy Gunn. Darren Young launches Road Dogg from the ring and dropkicks an incoming Jimmy Uso. Xavier Woods comes out of nowhere with a springboard DDT on Titus O'Neil! Darren Young gets hit with a spinning elbow from R-Truth! Woods and Truth connect with a double Scissor Kick on Titus for the 3 count.
R-Truth pins Titus O'Neil via Double Scissors Kick (The Prime Time Players are eliminated)
Road Dogg chopblocks R-Truth immediately and throws him into the ringpost. Woods gets some shots in on Dogg but turns around into a Fameasser from Billy Gunn! 1-2-3!
Billy Gunn pins Xavier Woods via Fameasser (Truth & Consequences are eliminated)
Road Dogg grabs one of the tag title belts and brings it in the ring. The referee tries to stop him but Billy warns the referee that Triple H will fire him if he gets in their way. Billy holds Goldust as Road Dogg charges with the title ---- Goldust low blows Billy Gunn and ducks; Road Dogg knocks out Billy Gunn with the title belt! Cody Rhodes grabs Road Dogg and hits the Cross Rhodes!
Cody Rhodes pins Billy Gunn via Cross Rhodes (The New Age Outlaws are eliminated)
We are down to two teams. The Rhodes Brothers and The Uso's. The teams gather themselves in opposite corners as the crowd swells to a fever pitch. All four slug it out in the middle. Double Superkick to Goldust sends him to the floor. Cody hits the Bionic Elbow to Jimmy! Alabama Slam to Jey! Cody is all fired up! Cody goes for the Cross Rhodes but nearly gets pinned on a roll up. Double Superkick to Cody! Both The Uso's climb to the top rope but Goldust comes back in and drops Jimmy right on his yambags! Goldust meets Jey on the other side and delivers a giant superplex! BUT JIMMY RECOVERS AND FLIES OFF THE TOP! USO SPLASH TO GOLDUST! 1-2-CODY BREAKS UP THE PIN! Cody hits a Disaster Kick to Jimmy but gets Superkicked by Jey! With his last gasp of energy, Goldust nails Jey with the Final Cut! 1-2-3! Cody and Goldust retain!
Goldust pins Jey Uso via The Final Cut
Result- Cody Rhodes and Goldust retain the WWE World Tag Team Championship. (15:59)
CM Punk is taping his wrists in the locker room when Corporate Kane approaches with a bunch of security. Punk stands up ready to defend himself. But Kane tells him to calm down. He's here with a gift from The Authority. Kane hands Punk a Rumble number from the tumbler and tells him on behalf of The Authority, they wish him luck tonight. Kane leaves as punk opens the ball and shakes his head.
A video package showcases the rivalry between the United States Champion Dean Ambrose and Rob Van Dam. After RVD became # 1 Contender, The Shield brutalized him in a 3 on 1 beatdown. The next week, Rob Van Dam attacked Ambrose with a steel chair and delivered a devastating Van Daminator. Ambrose got busted open but the blood seemed to turn him into some kind of maniac. A bloodied Ambrose cut an iconically intense promo backstage in the boiler room where he challenged RVD to a Hardcore match at the Royal Rumble. Rob Van Dam accepted and began to tap into his hardcore style, even going as far as to bring back his old friend Sabu to help him fend off repeated attacks by The Shield. Tonight this rivalry concludes in a Hardcore match for the US Championship.
Dean Ambrose (c) vs. Rob Van Dam for the United States Championship in a Hardcore Match
Van Dam starts off hot with a barrage of kicks to Ambrose. RVD hits his signature barricade legdrop from the apron! He pulls out a kendo stick and starts unloading on the champion. Ambrose stops the beating by raking RVD's eyes and then snapping the kendo stick in half. Ambrose goes berserk, stabbing RVD with the sharp part of the broken kendo stick repeatedly in the corner as JR tells the TV audience to put their kids to bed because "this match is going to be bowling shoe ugly folks". Van Dam slides out of the ring and we see he's bleeding profusely. Ambrose stalks his prey on the outside but RVD tosses a steel chair full speed at his head! RVD goes under the ring and grabs a couple of trash cans and a lid. He smashes Ambrose over the head with the lid and throws him in the ring. RVD sets up a table on the outside but is momentarily distracted, trying to wipe the blood out of his eyes which allows Ambrose to crush one of the trash cans over Van Dam's head. Like a shark that smells blood in the water, Ambrose pounces on RVD and unloads punches to his open cut. The referee pulls him off and checks on RVD. But Ambrose is not done. Far from it. He goes under the ring and grabs a barbed wired baseball bat! As he gets in the ring, RVD kicks the barbed wired bat into Ambrose's face! Spike DDT! Van Dam puts a trash can over Ambrose's head and props him in the corner. VAN TERMINATOR WITH A STEEL CHAIR INTO THE TRASH CAN! RVD slowly drapes his arm over Ambrose. 1-2-Dean somehow kicks out! They exchange punches in the middle of the ring until Ambrose bites RVD's bloody head!!! RVD punches Ambrose just to get him off of him but Dean rebounds with a lariat that turns RVD inside out! Instead of going for the pin, Ambrose picks up the barbed wired baseball bat and smashes RVD in the back repeatedly! Van Dam rolls to the apron but Ambrose follows him and starts grinding the barbed wire in RVD's face! Using the pure adrenaline of survival instinct, RVD reverses into a suplex over the ropes, sending he and Ambrose crashing through the table on the outside!
The fans chant "Holy shit!" as the announcers question how much more these guys, specifically RVD, can take. RVD is first to his feet and throws Ambrose in the ring. RVD climbs to the top rope but Ambrose hits the ropes and causes him to lose balance. He tosses RVD off the top rope onto a trash can! Ambrose goes under the ring and grabs a bag..... The referee tries to stop him but Ambrose shoves him to the ground and empties the contents all over the ring ---- IT'S THUMBTACKS! He turns around and catches a steel chair hurled at him by RVD! VAN TERMINATOR! Ambrose falls into the tacks! RVD goes up top! FIVE STAR FROG SPLASH INTO THE TACKS! "BY GAWD!" Cover! 1-2-Ambrose kicks out by shoving a handful of tacks into RVD's face! Van Dam screams in pain as a now bloody Ambrose pulls himself to his feet and smiles. DIRTY DEEDS ON THE TACKS! 1-2-3!
Result- Dean Ambrose wins by pinfall via Dirty Deeds onto thumbtacks! (22:22)
Rob Van Dam is taken out on a stretcher as Dean Ambrose sits bloodied in the corner, with thumbtacks all over him and the United States Title over his shoulder, admiring his work.
Writer's Note: This match writes RVD out for the foreseeable future to give him a well deserved break. Ambrose is put over as a sadistic, hardcore, psycho path on RVD's way out.
We cut backstage where Mark Henry and The Big Show are picking their numbers. Stephanie McMahon plays nice with the legendary giants, telling them that there are always advantages to helping The Authority. Mark Henry laughs her off and walks out but Big Show appears to contemplate her words. Daniel Bryan walks in and has a face off with Triple H. Bryan wants to pick his Rumble number but HHH tells him there's only one ball left. He teases not giving it to him but places it in his hands. Bryan opens it, shakes his head and smiles, saying he wouldn't expect anything less from The Authority.
A video package on the history of the Royal Rumble match is next, highlighting past winners, elimination records, and obscure statistics. Ladies and gentlemen. We promised you a great main event.
Main Event- 30 Man Royal Rumble Match
1. Daniel Bryan
2. CM Punk
The two heroes of our story; enemies of The Authority that have been given the insurmountable task of winning from the opening spots if they want to main event Wrestlemania. They slug it out and the fans love every second of it.
3. Big E Langston
The Intercontinental Champion gets a chance to showcase his abilities in full spotlight. He tosses Bryan and Punk around much to the chagrin of the crowd. Punk and Bryan team up to stop the onslaught and slow the big man down.
4. Mark Henry
The World's Strongest Man double clotheslines Punk and Bryan before squaring up with Big E. The two meaty men begin slappin' meat until Henry squashes the IC Champion in the corner and takes advantage.
5. Alexander Rusev
The Bulgarian Brute from NXT goes nose to nose with Mark Henry. Rusev kicks Henry in the head and then charges full speed, clobbering him and sending Mark crashing from the ring for our first official elimination of the night!
Alexander Rusev eliminates Mark Henry
6. Evan Bourne
Bourne quickens the pace of the match and hits a barrage of high flying moves until he meets the brick wall known as Rusev. Rusev gets Bourne in a precarious position and clotheslines him so hard that he takes a nasty backflip bump off the apron ala Paul London 2005.
Alexander Rusev eliminates Evan Bourne
Rusev turns around and realizes he's surrounded by Bryan, Punk, and Big E! He fights valiantly but it's no use. YES+ Knee by Bryan! Rusev is rocked but still standing! GTS by Punk! Rusev is STILL somehow on his feet but falls back against the ropes ..... A clothesline from Big E sends Rusev over the ropes for another elimination!
Big E Langston eliminates Alexander Rusev
7. Alberto Del Rio w/Ricardo Rodriguez
As a former World Champion and Royal Rumble winner, Del Rio has to be considered dangerous in this match. He hits a nasty double foot stomp on Big E and trash talks the fans as they boo him out of the building. Bryan and Punk hit a Hart Attack on Del Rio to a massive pop!
8. Kevin Nash
It looks like The Authority have a couple of tricks up their sleeve tonight. Nash immediately targets Punk and Bryan, savouring the boo's from the audience. Meanwhile, Big E nearly has Del Rio eliminated until Rodriguez hops on the apron and allows Del Rio to get the advantage by jamming him thumb in Big E's eye! Del Rio kicks Big E in the face and eliminates the Intercontinental Champion!
Alberto Del Rio eliminates Big E Langston
Del Rio and Nash team up to beat down Punk and Bryan.
9. John Cena
Business is about to pick up! Cena hits the ring and takes the fight to Del Rio and Nash! AA to Del Rio! Nash immediately takes Cena down with a big boot and mocks the fans, pretending to cry. Jackknife Powerbomb to Cena! Nash tosses Punk over the ropes but Punk skins the cat and starts kicking Nash in his surgically repaired knee's.
10. Big Show
Nash throws Punk into the ring post and has a face off with The World's Largest Athlete. Nash extends his hand, wondering if Show is going to take The Authority up on their offer. Big Show teases joining him --- psych! Knockout Punch by Big Show! Nash crumples to the mat. The fans love it as Big Show gets hyped up and then starts chopping Del Rio in the corner.
11. X-Pac
Another surprise return! But is this another legend doing the bidding of The Authority? Pac does some crotch chops and gets a good reaction as he fist bumps The Big Show and hits a Bronco Buster to Del Rio! But X-Pac cannot be trusted as he kicks Big Show right in the family jewels! Kevin Nash pulls himself to his feet and two sweets X-Pac! Nash goes to stomping on The Big Show as Pac charges for a Bronco Buster on Punk ---- Cena takes X-Pac's head off with a clothesline and then AA's him from the ring!
John Cena eliminates X-Pac
Cena, Punk, and Bryan all attack Kevin Nash and buy enough time for Big Show to recover. Show grabs Nash by the throat and pushes him back over the ropes!
Big Show eliminates Kevin Nash
Show, Cena, Punk, Bryan, and Del Rio all fight and try to eliminate each other as the buzzer sounds for the next entrant.
12. Bray Wyatt
The mood has shifted in the arena! Bray Wyatt comes in like an absolute killer, wrecking everyone in his path. Sister Abigail to CM Punk! Daniel Bryan is the last one standing and the crowd breaks out into thunderous "YES!" chants as Bryan and Wyatt exchange stiff slaps and beat the piss out of each other!
13. Erick Rowan
A coincidence or the puppet strings of The Authority? The Wyatt Family now has two members and begin to dominate. Big Show grabs their throats but Rowan breaks free with several headbutts! Big Show slumps back against the ropes --- Wyatt and Rowan dump him to the floor!
Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan eliminate Big Show
Wyatt sits in the corner moving his hands like a orchestra conductor as Rowan chokes Daniel Bryan on the opposite side of the ring. Del Rio tries to eliminate John Cena.
14. Brodus Clay
The Funkasaurus is in no dancing mood, he knows how serious this opportunity is and he also knows what he's up against. As soon as he slides in the ring, Wyatt and Rowan put the boots to him. Clay fights back but it's no use. It's Wyatt Family domination as Bray hits a Sister Abigail and then Rowan throws the big man over the ropes.
Erick Rowan eliminates Brodus Clay
CM Punk is Bray Wyatt's next target but he fights for his life and hits a big roundhouse kick to Rowan! Bray has to fend for himself and he smiles, it's time to dance!
15. Kofi Kingston
Kingston is a house of fire, flying all over the ring. SOS to Bray Wyatt! Trouble in Paradise to Del Rio! Kingston springboards off the ropes but gets caught by Erick Rowan! Rowan press slams Kofi to the outside ---- Kofi lands on the barricade! He trust falls back into the crowd and they surf him around as the arena breaks out into huge "KOFI!" chants.
16. Santino Marella
Santino breaks out THE COBRA! Wyatt does the creepy spider walk which freaks Santino out ---- he eliminates himself and walks to the back!
Santino Marella eliminates himself
17. Ezekiel Jackson
As Jackson walks down to the ring, the crowd bring Kofi back to the barricade and he hops to the apron! Bray Wyatt launches himself into Kofi, sending him flying into in the arms of Ezekiel Jackson! Kofi is all pumped up at avoiding elimination twice but Jackson bodyslams Kofi on the floor! Kofi is now out and Big Zeke has his first elimination before he even gets in the ring!
Ezekiel Jackson eliminates Kofi Kingston
Jackson joins the match and exchanges some shoulder blocks with Erick Rowan. Bray Wyatt continues to brawl with Daniel Bryan while John Cena fights Del Rio.
18. Christian
Captain Charisma joins the match and finds himself squaring off with his old rival Ezekiel Jackson. Jackson gets him up for a Powerslam but Christian fights out and hits the Killswitch! Christian then ducks a Bray Wyatt clothesline and hits a Spear! Del Rio cheapshots Christian and tells the fans to shut up as he chokes Captain Charisma in the corner.
19. Chris Jericho
Y2J makes quite the entrance with a boatload of pyro. Jericho slaps Del Rio and locks in the Walls of Jericho! The ring begins to fill up now as strategy changes this late into the match; nobody wants to risk elimination at this point.
20. The Boogeyman
JBL gets real quiet all of a sudden as the legend crawls out and smashes a clock on his head! Boogeyman gets in the ring and begins eating a handful of worms! This gets Bray Wyatt's attention and the two spooky guys have a staredown. The Eater of Worlds vs. The Eater of Worms. Boogeyman sets Wyatt up for the Pumphandle Slam but Erick Rowan boots him in the head and then tosses him from the ring!
Erick Rowan eliminates The Boogeyman
21. Fandango w/Summer Rae
As Fandango dances his way to the ring, Christian and Jericho team up to eliminate Ezekiel Jackson.
Christian and Chris Jericho eliminate Ezekiel Jackson
Fandango sets his sights on Jericho and shows a more vicious side of himself, stomping Y2J relentlessly. Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan try to eliminate Christian.
22. Luke Harper
The Wyatt Family is now at full strength. They dominate the field and Luke Harper clotheslines Fandango off the apron!
Luke Harper eliminates Fandango
Bray instructs them to eliminate Bryan but Punk and Cena have something to say about that.
23. Bad News Barrett
As Barrett picks the most opportune time to enter, The Wyatt Family gang up on Christian and Bray Wyatt tosses him out!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Christian
Chris Jericho puts up a fight, nailing Rowan with a Codebreaker! The numbers game is still in The Wyatt Family's favour --- Harper decapitates Y2J with a clothesline, and Wyatt eliminates him as well!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Chris Jericho
The clock begins to countdown so Barrett is forced to roll in the ring and Harper attacks him.
24. Shelton Benjamin
AIN'T NO STOPPIN' ME, NOOOO! The Gold Standard makes his return to WWE and gets a nice ovation from the Pittsburgh crowd. He single handedly ends The Wyatt Family's domination by diving onto all three of them! As Bray Wyatt scurries to his feet, Shelton greets him with a T-Bone Suplex! Erick Rowan charges full speed at Daniel Bryan but Bryan avoids him by pulling the rope down and Rowan crashes to the floor!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Erick Rowan
Rowan is pissed and starts dismantling the announce table until the referee's force him to leave. The ring is full of superstars with full intentions of headlining Wrestlemania. Bryan and Punk are spent. Cena too. Del Rio hides in the corner to stay alive. Shelton battles it out with Barrett and Harper. Wyatt pulls himself to his feet.
25. Batista
THE ANIMAL IS HERE! Batista is a one man wrecking crew. Spinebuster to Luke Harper! Batista Bomb to Barrett! Del Rio sneaks up and attempts to toss Batista out but The Animal reverses his momentum and eliminates Del Rio!
Batista eliminates Alberto Del Rio
Batista and Bray Wyatt lock eyes. Wyatt loves it and yells "Show me that Animal, David!" Batista crushes him with a Spear and then finds himself face to face with John Cena. Cena is much more exhausted and ends up getting Spinebustered for his troubles.
26. Roman Reigns
The powerhouse of The Shield enters the ring with bad intentions; Spear to Shelton Benjamin! Superman Punch to Daniel Bryan! Reigns and Batista do battle until Wyatt and Harper attack them ---- Batista and Reigns hit a pair of Spears to The Wyatt Family!
27. Dolph Ziggler
Ziggler comes down with a microphone and tells everyone in the ring that this is his year. Number 27 is the most coveted position as more people have won the Rumble from this spot than any other. He smashes Batista with the microphone and unloads punches on The Animal! Dolph with a Superkick to Barrett and a Zig Zag to John Cena! 10 superstars are left in the ring with 3 more to make their entrance.
28. Seth Rollins
The Architect of The Shield is here and he joins Roman Reigns as they go face to face with Wyatt and Harper! Electricity in the air folks! Things break down; Bray and Roman fight in the corner as Harper drops Rollins with a clothesline! John Cena hoists Luke Harper up and sends him to the floor with an AA!
John Cena eliminates Luke Harper
Bad News Barrett sneaks up and dumps Cena from the ring! John Cena is eliminated! Revenge for The Nexus at last!
Bad News Barrett eliminates John Cena
29. Sheamus
The Celtic Warrior imediately Brogue Kicks Shelton off the apron!
Sheamus eliminates Shelton Benjamin
Everyone fights as the clock counts down for our final entrant.
30. Brock Lesnar w/Paul Heyman
Now we know what Triple H gifted Paul Heyman earlier! The Beast enters the ring and F5's Bad News Barrett to the floor!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Bad News Barrett
Dolph Ziggler jumps on Brock's back and tries to choke him out but Lesnar reverses into an F5 position! Lesnar sends Dolph flying over the ropes!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Dolph Ziggler
Lesnar now targets Batista and hits a series of shoulder blocks in the corner. He picks The Animal up for an F5 but Batista fights out and clotheslines Brock out of the ring!!!
Batista eliminates Brock Lesnar
Brock is in shock along with the announcers and everyone in the arena. He starts pacing around the ring as Batista sets Bray Wyatt up for a Batista Bomb. Lesnar shoves the referee to the ground and slides back in the ring, tossing Batista out!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Batista
Lesnar smashes Batista with the steel steps and then F5's The Animal through the announce table! We're down to five as Rollins and Punk fight on the apron until Punk hits a GTS! Rollins crumbles unconscious to the floor!
CM Punk eliminates Seth Rollins
The final four of the 2014 Royal Rumble: CM Punk, Daniel Bryan, Bray Wyatt, and Roman Reigns. Punk and Bryan entered at number 1 and 2. Incredible accomplishment for them. Roman Reigns Spears Daniel Bryan and then sidesteps Bray Wyatt, sending him flying from the ring!
Roman Reigns eliminates Bray Wyatt
CM Punk hits a GTS on Reigns and all three men are down. Triple H walks down to the ring and rips his jacket off. Kane follows behind him. Punk pulls himself to his feet as tells them to bring it. Randy Orton RKO's CM Punk out of nowhere! The WWE Champion soaks in the boo's as he and Kane throw CM Punk out! "This is bullshit" yells the fans and JR agrees!
Randy Orton and Kane eliminate CM Punk
Triple H smiles and grabs the sledgehammer. Orton and Kane hold Daniel Bryan as HHH charges with the hammer ---- Roman Reigns Spears Triple H! CM Punk pulls Orton from the ring and they brawl into the crowd! Daniel Bryan takes Kane out with the YES+ Knee! With everyone out of the equation, Reigns and Bryan get three minutes of back and forth action, a proper finish to the Rumble. Reigns gets locked in a triangle choke but shows tremendous strength, lifting Bryan up and over the ropes! Bryan holds onto Roman and drags him over with him! They battle on the apron until Bryan viciously kicks Roman in the head! Reigns falls to the floor! Daniel Bryan wins the 2014 Royal Rumble!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Roman Reigns
Winner of the 2014 Royal Rumble: Daniel Bryan
Fireworks explode as Daniel Bryan leads the fans in a YES chant and points at the Wrestlemania sign.
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Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Commentated by Jim Ross, JBL, and Michael Cole
We see some footage of superstars arriving to the arena today. The Authority arrive in a limousine; WWE Champion Randy Orton, Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane. Daniel Bryan is shown walking with Brie Bella. "The Animal" Batista shows up in a truck and flexes for the camera. The feed cuts and glitches out revealing a dark room with a empty rocking chair moving slowly. "We're here."
The iconic voice of Jim Ross welcomes us to the 2014 Royal Rumble as pyro erupts from the stage and the fans go wild. The Authority's music plays and the mood quickly shifts, the crowd rains down boo's. Here comes the WWE World Champion Randy Orton. Orton talks trash to some fans in the front row while Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane make their way out as well. Orton raises the title as HHH passes him a microphone. Orton is in a great mood tonight. He's got the night off and there will be 30 men all vying for a chance to get RKO'ed in the main event of Wrestlemania 30. The crowd chants, “Daniel Bryan” as Orton laughs and promises that Bryan doesn't stand a chance. If you want to win the Royal Rumble you have to be taller than these marks in the crowd, you can't be a front row wrestler like Daniel Bryan or CM Punk. The crowd breaks into a deafening “DANIEL BRYAN/CM PUNK!” chant as Orton highlights some of the past winners like himself, Triple H, and Batista. True superstars who all pass the airport test. Triple H takes the microphone and tells the fans to shut the hell up and respect greatness. The reason The Authority are out here is because they want an answer from Batista. Will The Animal join them, take the #30 spot, and win the Rumble to make the biggest Wrestlemania main event a reality? Batista's music hits and he gets a great reaction. First of all, Batista thanks the Pittsburgh fans and everyone in the WWE for welcoming him back with open arms. Batista has a ton of respect for Triple H and Orton after all those years in Evolution. They all shake hands and it looks like he's accepting the offer. Triple H tells Batista to make the right decision and do whats best for business. Batista gives the THUMBS UP! The Authority are all psyched up until.... Batista, who still has his thumb in the air, says "What's best for business.... is listening to these fans! Doing things the hard way, the same way he did it through his whole career. Batista didn't come back to be handed anything, he came back to prove he can still be The Animal. The man who beat Triple H in the main event of Wrestlemania.... The thumbs up is turned into a THUMBS DOWN! Kane charges at Batista but gets clotheslined! Randy Orton and Tripe H flee from the ring as The Animal delivers a Spinebuster to Kane and rattles the ropes! Triple H screams that Batista is going to regret this decision.....
A video package of the feud between Divas Champion AJ Lee and Mickie James is next. After AJ Lee defeated Naomi to retain her title on RAW, AJ declared she had no competition in the locker room. Cue the surprise return of Mickie James! Former psycho versus current psycho, legend versus future legend. They exchange verbal barbs over the next few weeks, with Mickie picking up some big wins and earning a title match. During a contract signing on the final RAW before the Royal Rumble, things finally turned physical and Mickie put AJ Lee through a table with a huge bulldog from the top rope! Everything comes to a head tonight with the championship on the line.
Tony Chimel lets us know that this contest is scheduled for one fall as Mickie James makes her entrance and gets emotional at the ovation from the audience in Pittsburgh. Divas Champion AJ Lee is next and she gets a mixed reaction; the fans love her but are definitely backing Mickie in this one.
AJ Lee (c) vs. Mickie James for the WWE Divas Championship
The match kicks off with AJ slapping Mickie across the face! James returns the favour and tackles AJ, raining down a flurry of punches. AJ Lee cowers into the corner but then takes advantage by slamming Mickie to the mat by her hair! AJ taunts Mickie and stomps her in the corner but when the champion charges, Mickie backdrops her over the ropes! Mickie hits a Thez Press from the apron and tosses AJ into the barricade!
They battle on the apron until AJ sends Mickie head first into the ringpost. Mickie seems genuinely hurt and the referee goes to check on her, allowing AJ to expose the turnbuckle on the opposite side of the ring. She shows no regard for her possibly injured challenger, ignoring the ref and dragging Mickie back into the centre of the ring. Out of nowhere, James nails the Mick Kick! AJ is down! 1-2-AJ gets her foot underneath the bottom rope! James goes for the Stratus-faction but AJ Lee launches her into the exposed turnbuckle! Mickie James is out cold! 1-2-3! AJ retains!
Result- AJ Lee wins by pinfall via exposed turnbuckle shot. (12:58)
The Royal Rumble tumbler is back! Stephanie McMahon is overseeing things as superstars enter to pick their spots in the Royal Rumble. We see Alberto Del Rio, Brodus Clay, and other superstars pick their numbers. Triple H and Paul Heyman in the background; they shake hands and it appears that HHH hands Heyman something before he walks off.
"The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes is here! He introduces his sons, the WWE World Tag Team Champions Cody Rhodes and Goldust! The champions hug their father and make their way to the ring for a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match! After being on the wrong side of The Authority, The Rhodes Brothers have been put in quite the predicament as they look to retain their title's against all odds.
Cody Rhodes and Goldust (c) vs. The New Age Outlaws vs. The Prime Time Players vs. Truth & Consequences vs. Hunico and Camacho vs. The Uso's in a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match for the WWE World Tag Team Championship
Everything breaks down right off the bat. Bodies are flying everywhere. The Uso's hit a pair of dives over the ropes onto a pile of opponents. Back in the ring Hunico and Camacho eat a pair of Superkicks. Uso Splash to Hunico! 1-2-3!
Jey Uso pins Hunico via Uso Splash (Hunico and Camacho are eliminated)
The Prime Time Players take their turn dominating. Titus hits a Sit-Out Spinebuster to Billy Gunn. Darren Young launches Road Dogg from the ring and dropkicks an incoming Jimmy Uso. Xavier Woods comes out of nowhere with a springboard DDT on Titus O'Neil! Darren Young gets hit with a spinning elbow from R-Truth! Woods and Truth connect with a double Scissor Kick on Titus for the 3 count.
R-Truth pins Titus O'Neil via Double Scissors Kick (The Prime Time Players are eliminated)
Road Dogg chopblocks R-Truth immediately and throws him into the ringpost. Woods gets some shots in on Dogg but turns around into a Fameasser from Billy Gunn! 1-2-3!
Billy Gunn pins Xavier Woods via Fameasser (Truth & Consequences are eliminated)
Road Dogg grabs one of the tag title belts and brings it in the ring. The referee tries to stop him but Billy warns the referee that Triple H will fire him if he gets in their way. Billy holds Goldust as Road Dogg charges with the title ---- Goldust low blows Billy Gunn and ducks; Road Dogg knocks out Billy Gunn with the title belt! Cody Rhodes grabs Road Dogg and hits the Cross Rhodes!
Cody Rhodes pins Billy Gunn via Cross Rhodes (The New Age Outlaws are eliminated)
We are down to two teams. The Rhodes Brothers and The Uso's. The teams gather themselves in opposite corners as the crowd swells to a fever pitch. All four slug it out in the middle. Double Superkick to Goldust sends him to the floor. Cody hits the Bionic Elbow to Jimmy! Alabama Slam to Jey! Cody is all fired up! Cody goes for the Cross Rhodes but nearly gets pinned on a roll up. Double Superkick to Cody! Both The Uso's climb to the top rope but Goldust comes back in and drops Jimmy right on his yambags! Goldust meets Jey on the other side and delivers a giant superplex! BUT JIMMY RECOVERS AND FLIES OFF THE TOP! USO SPLASH TO GOLDUST! 1-2-CODY BREAKS UP THE PIN! Cody hits a Disaster Kick to Jimmy but gets Superkicked by Jey! With his last gasp of energy, Goldust nails Jey with the Final Cut! 1-2-3! Cody and Goldust retain!
Goldust pins Jey Uso via The Final Cut
Result- Cody Rhodes and Goldust retain the WWE World Tag Team Championship. (15:59)
CM Punk is taping his wrists in the locker room when Corporate Kane approaches with a bunch of security. Punk stands up ready to defend himself. But Kane tells him to calm down. He's here with a gift from The Authority. Kane hands Punk a Rumble number from the tumbler and tells him on behalf of The Authority, they wish him luck tonight. Kane leaves as punk opens the ball and shakes his head.
A video package showcases the rivalry between the United States Champion Dean Ambrose and Rob Van Dam. After RVD became # 1 Contender, The Shield brutalized him in a 3 on 1 beatdown. The next week, Rob Van Dam attacked Ambrose with a steel chair and delivered a devastating Van Daminator. Ambrose got busted open but the blood seemed to turn him into some kind of maniac. A bloodied Ambrose cut an iconically intense promo backstage in the boiler room where he challenged RVD to a Hardcore match at the Royal Rumble. Rob Van Dam accepted and began to tap into his hardcore style, even going as far as to bring back his old friend Sabu to help him fend off repeated attacks by The Shield. Tonight this rivalry concludes in a Hardcore match for the US Championship.
Dean Ambrose (c) vs. Rob Van Dam for the United States Championship in a Hardcore Match
Van Dam starts off hot with a barrage of kicks to Ambrose. RVD hits his signature barricade legdrop from the apron! He pulls out a kendo stick and starts unloading on the champion. Ambrose stops the beating by raking RVD's eyes and then snapping the kendo stick in half. Ambrose goes berserk, stabbing RVD with the sharp part of the broken kendo stick repeatedly in the corner as JR tells the TV audience to put their kids to bed because "this match is going to be bowling shoe ugly folks". Van Dam slides out of the ring and we see he's bleeding profusely. Ambrose stalks his prey on the outside but RVD tosses a steel chair full speed at his head! RVD goes under the ring and grabs a couple of trash cans and a lid. He smashes Ambrose over the head with the lid and throws him in the ring. RVD sets up a table on the outside but is momentarily distracted, trying to wipe the blood out of his eyes which allows Ambrose to crush one of the trash cans over Van Dam's head. Like a shark that smells blood in the water, Ambrose pounces on RVD and unloads punches to his open cut. The referee pulls him off and checks on RVD. But Ambrose is not done. Far from it. He goes under the ring and grabs a barbed wired baseball bat! As he gets in the ring, RVD kicks the barbed wired bat into Ambrose's face! Spike DDT! Van Dam puts a trash can over Ambrose's head and props him in the corner. VAN TERMINATOR WITH A STEEL CHAIR INTO THE TRASH CAN! RVD slowly drapes his arm over Ambrose. 1-2-Dean somehow kicks out! They exchange punches in the middle of the ring until Ambrose bites RVD's bloody head!!! RVD punches Ambrose just to get him off of him but Dean rebounds with a lariat that turns RVD inside out! Instead of going for the pin, Ambrose picks up the barbed wired baseball bat and smashes RVD in the back repeatedly! Van Dam rolls to the apron but Ambrose follows him and starts grinding the barbed wire in RVD's face! Using the pure adrenaline of survival instinct, RVD reverses into a suplex over the ropes, sending he and Ambrose crashing through the table on the outside!
The fans chant "Holy shit!" as the announcers question how much more these guys, specifically RVD, can take. RVD is first to his feet and throws Ambrose in the ring. RVD climbs to the top rope but Ambrose hits the ropes and causes him to lose balance. He tosses RVD off the top rope onto a trash can! Ambrose goes under the ring and grabs a bag..... The referee tries to stop him but Ambrose shoves him to the ground and empties the contents all over the ring ---- IT'S THUMBTACKS! He turns around and catches a steel chair hurled at him by RVD! VAN TERMINATOR! Ambrose falls into the tacks! RVD goes up top! FIVE STAR FROG SPLASH INTO THE TACKS! "BY GAWD!" Cover! 1-2-Ambrose kicks out by shoving a handful of tacks into RVD's face! Van Dam screams in pain as a now bloody Ambrose pulls himself to his feet and smiles. DIRTY DEEDS ON THE TACKS! 1-2-3!
Result- Dean Ambrose wins by pinfall via Dirty Deeds onto thumbtacks! (22:22)
Rob Van Dam is taken out on a stretcher as Dean Ambrose sits bloodied in the corner, with thumbtacks all over him and the United States Title over his shoulder, admiring his work.
Writer's Note: This match writes RVD out for the foreseeable future to give him a well deserved break. Ambrose is put over as a sadistic, hardcore, psycho path on RVD's way out.
We cut backstage where Mark Henry and The Big Show are picking their numbers. Stephanie McMahon plays nice with the legendary giants, telling them that there are always advantages to helping The Authority. Mark Henry laughs her off and walks out but Big Show appears to contemplate her words. Daniel Bryan walks in and has a face off with Triple H. Bryan wants to pick his Rumble number but HHH tells him there's only one ball left. He teases not giving it to him but places it in his hands. Bryan opens it, shakes his head and smiles, saying he wouldn't expect anything less from The Authority.
A video package on the history of the Royal Rumble match is next, highlighting past winners, elimination records, and obscure statistics. Ladies and gentlemen. We promised you a great main event.
Main Event- 30 Man Royal Rumble Match
1. Daniel Bryan
2. CM Punk
The two heroes of our story; enemies of The Authority that have been given the insurmountable task of winning from the opening spots if they want to main event Wrestlemania. They slug it out and the fans love every second of it.
3. Big E Langston
The Intercontinental Champion gets a chance to showcase his abilities in full spotlight. He tosses Bryan and Punk around much to the chagrin of the crowd. Punk and Bryan team up to stop the onslaught and slow the big man down.
4. Mark Henry
The World's Strongest Man double clotheslines Punk and Bryan before squaring up with Big E. The two meaty men begin slappin' meat until Henry squashes the IC Champion in the corner and takes advantage.
5. Alexander Rusev
The Bulgarian Brute from NXT goes nose to nose with Mark Henry. Rusev kicks Henry in the head and then charges full speed, clobbering him and sending Mark crashing from the ring for our first official elimination of the night!
Alexander Rusev eliminates Mark Henry
6. Evan Bourne
Bourne quickens the pace of the match and hits a barrage of high flying moves until he meets the brick wall known as Rusev. Rusev gets Bourne in a precarious position and clotheslines him so hard that he takes a nasty backflip bump off the apron ala Paul London 2005.
Alexander Rusev eliminates Evan Bourne
Rusev turns around and realizes he's surrounded by Bryan, Punk, and Big E! He fights valiantly but it's no use. YES+ Knee by Bryan! Rusev is rocked but still standing! GTS by Punk! Rusev is STILL somehow on his feet but falls back against the ropes ..... A clothesline from Big E sends Rusev over the ropes for another elimination!
Big E Langston eliminates Alexander Rusev
7. Alberto Del Rio w/Ricardo Rodriguez
As a former World Champion and Royal Rumble winner, Del Rio has to be considered dangerous in this match. He hits a nasty double foot stomp on Big E and trash talks the fans as they boo him out of the building. Bryan and Punk hit a Hart Attack on Del Rio to a massive pop!
8. Kevin Nash
It looks like The Authority have a couple of tricks up their sleeve tonight. Nash immediately targets Punk and Bryan, savouring the boo's from the audience. Meanwhile, Big E nearly has Del Rio eliminated until Rodriguez hops on the apron and allows Del Rio to get the advantage by jamming him thumb in Big E's eye! Del Rio kicks Big E in the face and eliminates the Intercontinental Champion!
Alberto Del Rio eliminates Big E Langston
Del Rio and Nash team up to beat down Punk and Bryan.
9. John Cena
Business is about to pick up! Cena hits the ring and takes the fight to Del Rio and Nash! AA to Del Rio! Nash immediately takes Cena down with a big boot and mocks the fans, pretending to cry. Jackknife Powerbomb to Cena! Nash tosses Punk over the ropes but Punk skins the cat and starts kicking Nash in his surgically repaired knee's.
10. Big Show
Nash throws Punk into the ring post and has a face off with The World's Largest Athlete. Nash extends his hand, wondering if Show is going to take The Authority up on their offer. Big Show teases joining him --- psych! Knockout Punch by Big Show! Nash crumples to the mat. The fans love it as Big Show gets hyped up and then starts chopping Del Rio in the corner.
11. X-Pac
Another surprise return! But is this another legend doing the bidding of The Authority? Pac does some crotch chops and gets a good reaction as he fist bumps The Big Show and hits a Bronco Buster to Del Rio! But X-Pac cannot be trusted as he kicks Big Show right in the family jewels! Kevin Nash pulls himself to his feet and two sweets X-Pac! Nash goes to stomping on The Big Show as Pac charges for a Bronco Buster on Punk ---- Cena takes X-Pac's head off with a clothesline and then AA's him from the ring!
John Cena eliminates X-Pac
Cena, Punk, and Bryan all attack Kevin Nash and buy enough time for Big Show to recover. Show grabs Nash by the throat and pushes him back over the ropes!
Big Show eliminates Kevin Nash
Show, Cena, Punk, Bryan, and Del Rio all fight and try to eliminate each other as the buzzer sounds for the next entrant.
12. Bray Wyatt
The mood has shifted in the arena! Bray Wyatt comes in like an absolute killer, wrecking everyone in his path. Sister Abigail to CM Punk! Daniel Bryan is the last one standing and the crowd breaks out into thunderous "YES!" chants as Bryan and Wyatt exchange stiff slaps and beat the piss out of each other!
13. Erick Rowan
A coincidence or the puppet strings of The Authority? The Wyatt Family now has two members and begin to dominate. Big Show grabs their throats but Rowan breaks free with several headbutts! Big Show slumps back against the ropes --- Wyatt and Rowan dump him to the floor!
Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan eliminate Big Show
Wyatt sits in the corner moving his hands like a orchestra conductor as Rowan chokes Daniel Bryan on the opposite side of the ring. Del Rio tries to eliminate John Cena.
14. Brodus Clay
The Funkasaurus is in no dancing mood, he knows how serious this opportunity is and he also knows what he's up against. As soon as he slides in the ring, Wyatt and Rowan put the boots to him. Clay fights back but it's no use. It's Wyatt Family domination as Bray hits a Sister Abigail and then Rowan throws the big man over the ropes.
Erick Rowan eliminates Brodus Clay
CM Punk is Bray Wyatt's next target but he fights for his life and hits a big roundhouse kick to Rowan! Bray has to fend for himself and he smiles, it's time to dance!
15. Kofi Kingston
Kingston is a house of fire, flying all over the ring. SOS to Bray Wyatt! Trouble in Paradise to Del Rio! Kingston springboards off the ropes but gets caught by Erick Rowan! Rowan press slams Kofi to the outside ---- Kofi lands on the barricade! He trust falls back into the crowd and they surf him around as the arena breaks out into huge "KOFI!" chants.
16. Santino Marella
Santino breaks out THE COBRA! Wyatt does the creepy spider walk which freaks Santino out ---- he eliminates himself and walks to the back!
Santino Marella eliminates himself
17. Ezekiel Jackson
As Jackson walks down to the ring, the crowd bring Kofi back to the barricade and he hops to the apron! Bray Wyatt launches himself into Kofi, sending him flying into in the arms of Ezekiel Jackson! Kofi is all pumped up at avoiding elimination twice but Jackson bodyslams Kofi on the floor! Kofi is now out and Big Zeke has his first elimination before he even gets in the ring!
Ezekiel Jackson eliminates Kofi Kingston
Jackson joins the match and exchanges some shoulder blocks with Erick Rowan. Bray Wyatt continues to brawl with Daniel Bryan while John Cena fights Del Rio.
18. Christian
Captain Charisma joins the match and finds himself squaring off with his old rival Ezekiel Jackson. Jackson gets him up for a Powerslam but Christian fights out and hits the Killswitch! Christian then ducks a Bray Wyatt clothesline and hits a Spear! Del Rio cheapshots Christian and tells the fans to shut up as he chokes Captain Charisma in the corner.
19. Chris Jericho
Y2J makes quite the entrance with a boatload of pyro. Jericho slaps Del Rio and locks in the Walls of Jericho! The ring begins to fill up now as strategy changes this late into the match; nobody wants to risk elimination at this point.
20. The Boogeyman
JBL gets real quiet all of a sudden as the legend crawls out and smashes a clock on his head! Boogeyman gets in the ring and begins eating a handful of worms! This gets Bray Wyatt's attention and the two spooky guys have a staredown. The Eater of Worlds vs. The Eater of Worms. Boogeyman sets Wyatt up for the Pumphandle Slam but Erick Rowan boots him in the head and then tosses him from the ring!
Erick Rowan eliminates The Boogeyman
21. Fandango w/Summer Rae
As Fandango dances his way to the ring, Christian and Jericho team up to eliminate Ezekiel Jackson.
Christian and Chris Jericho eliminate Ezekiel Jackson
Fandango sets his sights on Jericho and shows a more vicious side of himself, stomping Y2J relentlessly. Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan try to eliminate Christian.
22. Luke Harper
The Wyatt Family is now at full strength. They dominate the field and Luke Harper clotheslines Fandango off the apron!
Luke Harper eliminates Fandango
Bray instructs them to eliminate Bryan but Punk and Cena have something to say about that.
23. Bad News Barrett
As Barrett picks the most opportune time to enter, The Wyatt Family gang up on Christian and Bray Wyatt tosses him out!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Christian
Chris Jericho puts up a fight, nailing Rowan with a Codebreaker! The numbers game is still in The Wyatt Family's favour --- Harper decapitates Y2J with a clothesline, and Wyatt eliminates him as well!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Chris Jericho
The clock begins to countdown so Barrett is forced to roll in the ring and Harper attacks him.
24. Shelton Benjamin
AIN'T NO STOPPIN' ME, NOOOO! The Gold Standard makes his return to WWE and gets a nice ovation from the Pittsburgh crowd. He single handedly ends The Wyatt Family's domination by diving onto all three of them! As Bray Wyatt scurries to his feet, Shelton greets him with a T-Bone Suplex! Erick Rowan charges full speed at Daniel Bryan but Bryan avoids him by pulling the rope down and Rowan crashes to the floor!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Erick Rowan
Rowan is pissed and starts dismantling the announce table until the referee's force him to leave. The ring is full of superstars with full intentions of headlining Wrestlemania. Bryan and Punk are spent. Cena too. Del Rio hides in the corner to stay alive. Shelton battles it out with Barrett and Harper. Wyatt pulls himself to his feet.
25. Batista
THE ANIMAL IS HERE! Batista is a one man wrecking crew. Spinebuster to Luke Harper! Batista Bomb to Barrett! Del Rio sneaks up and attempts to toss Batista out but The Animal reverses his momentum and eliminates Del Rio!
Batista eliminates Alberto Del Rio
Batista and Bray Wyatt lock eyes. Wyatt loves it and yells "Show me that Animal, David!" Batista crushes him with a Spear and then finds himself face to face with John Cena. Cena is much more exhausted and ends up getting Spinebustered for his troubles.
26. Roman Reigns
The powerhouse of The Shield enters the ring with bad intentions; Spear to Shelton Benjamin! Superman Punch to Daniel Bryan! Reigns and Batista do battle until Wyatt and Harper attack them ---- Batista and Reigns hit a pair of Spears to The Wyatt Family!
27. Dolph Ziggler
Ziggler comes down with a microphone and tells everyone in the ring that this is his year. Number 27 is the most coveted position as more people have won the Rumble from this spot than any other. He smashes Batista with the microphone and unloads punches on The Animal! Dolph with a Superkick to Barrett and a Zig Zag to John Cena! 10 superstars are left in the ring with 3 more to make their entrance.
28. Seth Rollins
The Architect of The Shield is here and he joins Roman Reigns as they go face to face with Wyatt and Harper! Electricity in the air folks! Things break down; Bray and Roman fight in the corner as Harper drops Rollins with a clothesline! John Cena hoists Luke Harper up and sends him to the floor with an AA!
John Cena eliminates Luke Harper
Bad News Barrett sneaks up and dumps Cena from the ring! John Cena is eliminated! Revenge for The Nexus at last!
Bad News Barrett eliminates John Cena
29. Sheamus
The Celtic Warrior imediately Brogue Kicks Shelton off the apron!
Sheamus eliminates Shelton Benjamin
Everyone fights as the clock counts down for our final entrant.
30. Brock Lesnar w/Paul Heyman
Now we know what Triple H gifted Paul Heyman earlier! The Beast enters the ring and F5's Bad News Barrett to the floor!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Bad News Barrett
Dolph Ziggler jumps on Brock's back and tries to choke him out but Lesnar reverses into an F5 position! Lesnar sends Dolph flying over the ropes!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Dolph Ziggler
Lesnar now targets Batista and hits a series of shoulder blocks in the corner. He picks The Animal up for an F5 but Batista fights out and clotheslines Brock out of the ring!!!
Batista eliminates Brock Lesnar
Brock is in shock along with the announcers and everyone in the arena. He starts pacing around the ring as Batista sets Bray Wyatt up for a Batista Bomb. Lesnar shoves the referee to the ground and slides back in the ring, tossing Batista out!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Batista
Lesnar smashes Batista with the steel steps and then F5's The Animal through the announce table! We're down to five as Rollins and Punk fight on the apron until Punk hits a GTS! Rollins crumbles unconscious to the floor!
CM Punk eliminates Seth Rollins
The final four of the 2014 Royal Rumble: CM Punk, Daniel Bryan, Bray Wyatt, and Roman Reigns. Punk and Bryan entered at number 1 and 2. Incredible accomplishment for them. Roman Reigns Spears Daniel Bryan and then sidesteps Bray Wyatt, sending him flying from the ring!
Roman Reigns eliminates Bray Wyatt
CM Punk hits a GTS on Reigns and all three men are down. Triple H walks down to the ring and rips his jacket off. Kane follows behind him. Punk pulls himself to his feet as tells them to bring it. Randy Orton RKO's CM Punk out of nowhere! The WWE Champion soaks in the boo's as he and Kane throw CM Punk out! "This is bullshit" yells the fans and JR agrees!
Randy Orton and Kane eliminate CM Punk
Triple H smiles and grabs the sledgehammer. Orton and Kane hold Daniel Bryan as HHH charges with the hammer ---- Roman Reigns Spears Triple H! CM Punk pulls Orton from the ring and they brawl into the crowd! Daniel Bryan takes Kane out with the YES+ Knee! With everyone out of the equation, Reigns and Bryan get three minutes of back and forth action, a proper finish to the Rumble. Reigns gets locked in a triangle choke but shows tremendous strength, lifting Bryan up and over the ropes! Bryan holds onto Roman and drags him over with him! They battle on the apron until Bryan viciously kicks Roman in the head! Reigns falls to the floor! Daniel Bryan wins the 2014 Royal Rumble!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Roman Reigns
Winner of the 2014 Royal Rumble: Daniel Bryan
Fireworks explode as Daniel Bryan leads the fans in a YES chant and points at the Wrestlemania sign.
2024.05.19 15:31 SpecialistDevice5770 Did Taylor have a secret relationship with Julien Baker?
 | Look, this is high level clowning. I don't typically speculate about muses and I've mostly been a casual listener of Taylor. Actually, to be completely frank I've also dismissed a lot of gaylor theories as intentional queerbating on Taylor's part, even if my gay little heart would love it if she was one of us. However, this 89th show truly awakened something in me with how unashamedly lesbian it was. submitted by SpecialistDevice5770 to GaylorSwift [link] [comments] So, seeing her do both Peter and Guilty as sin in Stockholm, I started thinking about Matty Healy and TTPD and what could have actually gone on in her life for her to write these lyrics - and I truly believe one of the muses for TTPD was Julien Baker. I understand this feels like it comes out of left field, but hear me out: Matty is a wild choice for a beard, for a lot of reasons, but it makes sense of she chooses her beards intentionally to conceal as much of what is actually going on in her life as possible. Julien and Matty were running in the same circles, so it gave Taylor a lot of plausible deniability. It also explains Matty signing up for it, doing a favor for several people he consider friends (at least Taylor, Phoebe, Jack). It would explain things like the "this is for you, i love you, you know who you are" - Julien was at that same show, and Matty saying it a few days earlier would make sense if Taylor needed cover up since she was planning to make a public move. Why she wanted to do that becomes clear a little further down this text. I also don't think she meant "this is about you", because as been theorized on this sub, cardigan is likely about Karlie Kloss. I think she literally meant "this is for you" as in, this is a song you like. Either way, let me wind back just a little bit and explain my reasoning. Why not Phoebe Bridgers? Okay, so I know there are some people on this subreddit that think that Phoebe and Taylor had a thing, however, a lot of the lyrics in TTPD wouldn't make sense with Phoebe (tattooed golden retriever? substance abuse issues?), and the timeline would be wonky - when the relationship is supposed to have happened Phoebe was seen with Bo Burnham, and tbh, to me their interactions have seen like they ended up on film unintentionally and also they seemed quite real. Phoebe's and Taylor's relationship has been way longer than the slow start-intense middle and end described in TTPD would suggest. Also, I think the sexuality/identity crisis in TTPD would suggest Taylor had some "new" influence in her life - if the Gaylor theories are correct she has been dating people who are either closeted or bisexual for years - but someone who is openly gay and has even slyly criticized Taylor for queerbaiting in the past (see this billboard article: https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.billboard.com/music/rock/julien-baker-summer-of-pride-playlist-interview-8518598/amp/) - that is a whole different ballgame, and would probably function as inspiration for TTPD. Would Julien Baker make sense? Yes - first of all, look at Julien next to Matty - who here looks more like a tattooed golden retriever? https://preview.redd.it/ek0mzey4rd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e3d8c9716fa7f9f2d8ec350ee5f9c37268f5f589 https://preview.redd.it/bxfrzvo0wd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8aab59531a72cc7984df92e5cb1dc63d51d0d870 But also, Julien lives in Nashville. She has been friends with Phoebe Bridgers for years, so Taylor and Julien would have naturally met at parties or functions, and thinking that a closeted Taylor might need a queer friend to confide in - to me it seems only natural that she would gravitate to and take an interest in Julien. Notably, if you look at their respective instagrams, it also seemed like Julien broke up with her partner around the end of 2022, so perhaps not that strange if she needed more support, especially considering she has been vocal about mental health issues and her substance use. Both Lucy and Phoebe lives in Philly, so where could Julien go for support? Taylor's? Look, I know a lot of this is conjecture, but I personally think the most damning piece of evidence is seeing boygenius interact with Taylor at the Grammys - first of all look how happy Lucy and Phoebe seem to see her, like they don't seem to be the source of it being awkward as it later REALLY is. Also, look at the difference in the way she is embracing Julien: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeXkVr4p/ And then look at this video - for some reason the sound is cut out while she is talking to Julien, but the most important part to me is how the boygeniuses seem to stand in between Taylor and Julien, and how everyone - Jack, Lucy, Phoebe - seem to comfort Julien throughout the interaction, especially the way Phoebe comforts her as soon as Taylor has approached her: https://ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com/127739095.html Taylor is acting a little weird and erratic, and people say it is because she wants to make things about herself - honestly never a good explanation for human behavior. However, something that could explain it is if you just announced an album that your ex knows is partially about them, and you haven't seen them since your whirlwind romance, and they seem visibly upset. That would make anyone a little nervous. Julien is actually sad in those videos, those are not tears of joy. What other explanation could there be for that? (Also, I can see people being like, 'it's because they won a grammy - does this Julien, just a few moments earlier, seem sad to you? https://youtu.be/mI-MMMhLsow?si=X5XEX3CLMqsHyogJ The explanation that I have seen when looking around is that they had a discussion about the chairman of the Grammy's being a d*ck just before this happened, and while I think that is true, that seems a little far-fetched to me in terms of why she is looking so sad) Song references - Fortnight So let's talk some lyrics! This one I find interesting. Phoebe Bridgers toured with Taylor for about a month, and we know that Julien was there for at least the two first nights. (I just have to post this video of Julien and Matty at the eras tour... one of them seem like they are in a very new relationship, for sure: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeXBkeD8/) We also know that Julien lives in Nashville and easily could have been present for that time, and that she could have been around in Philly as that is where Lucy and Phoebe lives, so she would have had a place to stay. That is about a fortnight. Boygenius had a break in their own tour for this period of time, as Phoebe was touring with Taylor, so there would have been time for them to hang out together. We also know that "the rest" by boygenius was recorded in May of 2023, i.e. while Phoebe was touring with Taylor, so Julien and Lucy would have needed to be around for some of it. https://preview.redd.it/u0upzqcprd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=beadbde3b7bf0f882ee487eec3f0b680e837b76b "Run into you sometimes, ask about the weatheNow you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors/Your wife waters flowers, I wanna kill her" So Matty and Taylor are not even close to being neighbours, but Julien and Taylor live in the same town. Also, the wife line makes Taylor sound as if she is jealous, despite having been very clear in Lavender Haze that she doesn't want to be seen as just a wife - maybe it is less about the marriage, and more about being in an openly gay relationship? "My husband is cheating, I wanna kill him" - Very clearly a parallel back to the wife line, and could be about being in a relationship with a male beard who clearly isn't interested in you, hence the 'cheating'. "I love you, it is ruining my life" - What if this isn't about pining for someone, what if it is about watching your closeted self crumble, wishing that you could be open so that you could be together? Julien has been vocal about why she feels it is important to be openly queer, if they were dating, that was definitely going to be a major issue. The experiment/asylum vibes would also make more sense if it is a reference to internalized (and external) homophobia - drawing references to how homosexuality has been medicalised and deemed a mental illness throughout history. What about "the rest"? Okay, since I mentioned it, here are the two songs Julien wrote for "the rest". https://preview.redd.it/6iwgrnxgsd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a6bd721affd60379b598ea665acd48b2f58d670f https://preview.redd.it/6igdmkxgsd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5d809ac31a7f4a0d364e625991a127894786fc61 Notable appearances: Alien abduction (like down bad?), failed experiment (like fortnight?), trailing behind a comet (like dating a global superstar?) https://preview.redd.it/q8nayemlsd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=872c6bc99a67f0771b16bf561daa2dbbab9ea432 https://preview.redd.it/cnjhg0y5xd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=45b50de34a6f7439a780e926dc54ff0139146f3c https://preview.redd.it/b2edj0y5xd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8e830b3782cd22b83f650fbba0e93df1234a1b28 Notable appearances: Stars and rain appareance (we'll get back to this), "it's out of your hands but have a safe flight" (being with someone who can't really be in control of their own life, who is constantly busy?), "all noise, fake smile, decoys" (beards? being miserable when nobody knows?) Important to note also that this was written towards the end of the recording of the EP, so if they dated, likely towards the end of the relationship, and it seems like it spells put some things that could have been frustrations. Song references - Tortured Poets Department Okay, so we have adressed the tattooed golden retriever-line, but let's talk about the typewriter line. Yes, Matty Healy has claimed to enjoy writing on vintage typewriters, but he has also been very clear he doesn't travel with them. Would he have really brought the typewriter to the US only to leave it at Taylor's apartment? It makes no sense, so I would think this is a red herring, specifically put in there because it takes the heat off of Taylor in a song where she makes some pretty clear references to someone else. Julien is however nearby enough that the line could have originally been about leaving something else, and that wouldn't really be odd. (For example, we know that Julien writes by hand a lot - try substuting "notepad" for typewriter in the first line, and the second typewriter for "handwriting", and especially the first line runs a lot smoother) There have been clips of Matty saying he doesn't like poetry, however he has written poetry in the past. He does however seem to separate poetry a lot from his actual songwriting, while Julien seems to consider the two intertwined: (https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://m.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3D7hbr1mqHj88&ved=2ahUKEwiBpquPy5mGAxUhCBAIHUCJAQ0QtwJ6BAhOEAE&usg=AOvVaw1wYqjHeiHq8rmlcnGgwbEk) The Chelsea hotel reference is one that many seem to link to Phoebe's song Chelsea, but there is a boygenius song that references Leonard Cohen and "not writing horny poetry" that someone in the trio wrote. We know it wasn't Phoebe, as the song is about her and a drive they took. If Julien wrote the song, which seems likely, that would explain the reference to Cohen. Julien smokes, just like Matty. Unlike Matty, Julien has smaller hands than Taylor, so she could fit her middle finger ring onto her ring finger (it is also an inherently lesbian move, not the move of Matty Healy, known comittment phobe). https://preview.redd.it/8zawhjassd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=32aab28dbcdc58db60aa04081b7b2031b8182963 The Jack and Lucy line shows why Matty was such a welcome beard. He gives plausible deniability here, even though Lucy has been openly antsgonistic towards Matty and does not seem to like him. She does, however, like Julien. Julien has also been suicidal before, and written songs about it herself “who put me in / your way to find? / what right had you / not to let me die" and had her friends write songs about it as well (see Lucy Dacus Please Stay). It also makes sense that Julien was more brittle at the time, if she had broken up from Mariah a few months earlier. Matty, on the other hand, has been quoted really wanting to live, and considering how nonchalant/aloof he has been about the potential relationship with Taylor, he doesn't seem distressed enough to be the person in the song: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/3188904-i-think-about-dying-but-i-dont-want-to-die Julien Baker, however, as you saw from the Grammys but also from crying during their tour in 2023 (for example - this is from august 2023, crying during cool about it which is arguably such a gay song, about a relationship where you pretend everything is fine but it isn't: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeXBshbt/) could be that person. Song references - Down Bad https://preview.redd.it/ps2twknbvd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d698f54240456d5d5bae5b9406e88a3727dce996 I don't think I need to talk about how this song is gay (and how interesting the alien/experiement references are when put in relation to Julien's song ) so I just want to say - we know from this song that Taylor was left, she didn't leave the person she is writing about. For Matty, she would have been the one leaving because of all the noise - but as we know, he is a beard. Julien has specifically talked about how she leaves people before they leave her, and disappear so that she won't be a burden for them. I also think the lyrics to this song gives some more clues as to why someone would leave - "I'll build you a fort on some planet/where they can all understand it/how dare you think it is romantic/leaving me safe and stranded". This is alluding to someone leaving Taylor for her own good, specifically because "they don't all understand it". If you were dating someone so deep in the closet, that is genuinely fearful that their whole life might be ruined it the world finds out about you?? I've been there, and boy do I relate to I relate to the absolute heartbreak of having to leave someone because you can't stand being a secret that might eff up their life. Very gay. Song references -But daddy I love him The christian references? "If all you want is grey from me, then it is just white noise and it is my choice"? Nothing more to add here, except that Julien has specifically strugfled with christianity and homosexuality, and has written and talked about her experiences with that a lot (https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.cbc.ca/amp/1.5062456) Song references - Fresh out the slammer Also very gay, and about breaking free from a jail cell that she has referenced many times before. Just want to add a few things here - Matty Healy has a house in Hackney. He doesn't have a porch. You know who does? Julien Baker (momo_slider is Julien's ex-partner) https://preview.redd.it/dy9l8qvbtd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=56066e0340fbbf956f393157110383199f7c0fa4 Song references - The black dog Notably, Taylor doesn't call The Black Dog a pub, she says a bar. This is important, why? Bc I think it is a bar is Massachusetts, called the Black dog tavern. Boygenius played in Boston on the 18th of June and then drove to Pennsylvania for their next concert. The black dog tavern is in that direction, and it is in a quite remote location near an inn where the band could have stayed with much greater privacy than in central Boston before driving to Pennsylvania. I think The Starting Line is a red herring, it is interesting that Matty referenced them in May 2023 for the first time, especially considering that his taste in music is acoustic/synthpop/etc, whilst Julien is specifically into punk and metal. https://preview.redd.it/2bwem1pjtd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a9117f53a7d5cd389574a2dd42e85fc7db34a768 https://preview.redd.it/bmk962pjtd1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3737193da97a3e1d7ffcdde5b4725a2f478c2f1c (the last screenshot is from an article of Julien talking about her favorite bands) Also interesting is the rain mention here (see, I said I'd get back to it) and the rainstorm mentioned in Julien's song from the rest. The much younger girl could also be a reference to the actual age difference between Julien and Taylor. Empty voices Julien hasn't put out any music after 'the rest' apart from the new Orphan Black series theme song and a song called Empty Voices that she co-wrote. Apparently she offered to write on it after hearing it was about voice of the public and voices over social media. Here is the text. https://preview.redd.it/0l41r2vbud1d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e37e4acd2d9c6479198d668f00f0e430fdb2e553 "this block, this autonomy dread" - to me this reads as someone in a relationship with a person that prioritizes the opinion of others above the relationship. "maybe don't just go pulling this apart/before you brace yourself for a fall" could be referencing a fall from grace, the result of doing exactly what happens in TTPD, sort of an autopsy of the relationship, and someone finding out. It is especially interesting because Julien's last relationship before this (that we know of) was with a person who was very openly gay. In conclusion I could keep going, but I think I have said enough. To me, this album has such overtly queer undertones, the way she talks about being caged and breaking free into a new form of chaos, the pleading temporary insanity - it reads as someone conflicted about themselves and their identity. People have been baffled that she has placed such a huge impact on such a short relationship, but if the very breaking point of the relationship was her choice to prioritize her career over her true self, that would explain not only the need to write about it but also many of the lyrics that otherwise seem puzzling or inconsequential. It explains, next to midnight where she is clearly bored of and criticzing the life she has created, why she has lived her entire life like this and is now questioning her choices - the people she have been connected to before have mostly been people that have seemed to make the same choices as her. This would have been one of the first times that was really truly questioned, where her counterpart was someone who had chosen a very different life. It explains the TTPD part of the eras tour - but daddy I love him for explaining the cultural context she is in, so high school to make fun of and portray this image she has created of herself (v much a call back to the 'are you ready to go back to high school with me' part during fearless), who's afraid of little old me as a way to call out her audience and the comphet that keeps her caged, down bad to explain her regrets and frustration with herself, fortnight setting the scene for what their relationship was to her and to her realizations, the smallest man who ever lived calling out scott borchetta for what he did to her life and for the master's heist, and then reaffirming her choice as the one she 'has to' make in ICDWABH. It is a tragedy, a story of hunkering down and going forward even though everything in you tells you stop stop, to just be honest, to make place for the love of your life. Nothing makes more sense to me, honestly. If we assume that Taylor truly wants her relationships hidden, she doesn't want to involve the public, it isn't strange that we don't have more pictures of them interacting or of their relationship. The clues, to me, would be enough. So - I fully fell down a rabbit hole yesterday. This might all just be clowning, let me know if I too need to plead some temporary insanity - I might have been hit so hard by that 1989 mashup yesterday that my head isn't on straight (was it ever?). EDIT: Another thing of note - Julien has been discussing Florida as kind of the normative dream world/escape in the past, check out Satanist by boygenius (that she wrote). |
2024.05.19 15:28 DeliriousSifaka Rep called out at the Office
I work in civil service. Could I afford a Rolex? Maybe, if I stashed away for a couple of years. On a whim I picked up a Hulk shitter from a particular S.E.Asian country and it grew on me over time. Till I found this subreddit.
I read up, picked myself up a VSF Hulk and was blown away, I have other Gen watches (maybe worth a couple times more than the VSF) I quite like but this was easily my favourite.
Well, one day I was in the lift with my floor's janitor and he commented "Nice watch. Oh wait. Is that a Rolex?"
I said no, it's a shitter (figured I wanted to pass it off as a shitter to avoid other questions), from the other country.
He took a closer look and moved my wrist around, "hmm nope, it isn't a low cost watch... This is from China, and a very good copy of one."
I was stunned! I asked if he knew about reps, but he replied "what's a rep? No, I only know Rolex, this isn't one, but it's good enough to pass off to most people." I shrugged, said cool, but our bosses probably would know too. He nodded and before he left he said "you think our bosses would know the difference? I don't think so. I don't think anyone else looks close enough at us. But the day they do, just be cool if they ask about it, just say thanks, move the conversation along. It's nice to you, and that should be enough."
I never forgot that short conversation, and has been fun since. No one else has noticed or asked about it.
submitted by DeliriousSifaka to RepTime [link] [comments]
I read up, picked myself up a VSF Hulk and was blown away, I have other Gen watches (maybe worth a couple times more than the VSF) I quite like but this was easily my favourite.
Well, one day I was in the lift with my floor's janitor and he commented "Nice watch. Oh wait. Is that a Rolex?"
I said no, it's a shitter (figured I wanted to pass it off as a shitter to avoid other questions), from the other country.
He took a closer look and moved my wrist around, "hmm nope, it isn't a low cost watch... This is from China, and a very good copy of one."
I was stunned! I asked if he knew about reps, but he replied "what's a rep? No, I only know Rolex, this isn't one, but it's good enough to pass off to most people." I shrugged, said cool, but our bosses probably would know too. He nodded and before he left he said "you think our bosses would know the difference? I don't think so. I don't think anyone else looks close enough at us. But the day they do, just be cool if they ask about it, just say thanks, move the conversation along. It's nice to you, and that should be enough."
I never forgot that short conversation, and has been fun since. No one else has noticed or asked about it.
2024.05.19 15:18 Taraptor_17 Next Tattoo
Heyo all, I’ve got a question. So im planning for my next tattoo and I want it to be a Markiplier quote. One that I was thinking was “You may fail, but you fail in a wonderful way.” He said that to Ethan in the Markiplier Makes Pancakes. It makes me feel happy, cause I often make mistakes or fail stupidly, but it’s typically pretty funny. I was also thinking, the most stupid thing, putting “You Right” on my right wrist. There’s just something so stupid but so funny about that, and it could be helpful(I somehow forget rights and lefts). But if anyone has some other, clean as it will be on my body forever, awesome Markiplier quotes that could be a cool tattoo, please put them in the comments. I also plan to have my mom write them in her handwriting to make it extra special.
submitted by Taraptor_17 to Markiplier [link] [comments]