Smith and evans rose glass bubble
TheIntercept -- if you see something, leak something
2014.02.10 17:32 daveto TheIntercept -- if you see something, leak something
***The Intercept*** articles and discussion, plus 'hot topic of the day' stuff. If you *see something* (interesting), **say something** (at least mildly interesting). If you're looking for *Intercept* only articles please go to /Intercept. If you feel inclined to downvote, please leave a comment explaining why.
2023.06.04 15:25 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $2500
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $822
★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $616
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $1300
★ Bayonet Autotronic FN, B/O: $1050
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW, B/O: $629
★ Bayonet Bright Water FT, B/O: $326
★ Bayonet Safari Mesh BS, B/O: $233
⎯★ Karambit Lore FT, B/O: $1110
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $840
★ Karambit Freehand MW, B/O: $784
★ Karambit Bright Water MW, B/O: $759
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $751
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1156
★ Nomad Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $544
★ Nomad Knife Blue Steel WW, B/O: $318
⎯★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $646
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $574
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $552
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $257
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $255
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $287
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Lore FN, B/O: $461
★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $436
★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $353
★ Huntsman Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $212
★ Huntsman Knife Bright Water FT, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT MW, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT BS, B/O: $123
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $375
★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $363
★ Bowie Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $269
★ Bowie Knife Crimson Web WW, B/O: $192
★ Bowie Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $159
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $126
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $616
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $412
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe FT, B/O: $227
⎯★ Falchion Knife Lore FT, B/O: $214
★ Falchion Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $192
★ Falchion Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $105
⎯★ Survival Knife Crimson Web BS, B/O: $216
★ Survival Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $198
★ Survival Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $111
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $368
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $228
★ Shadow Daggers, B/O: $201
★ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $108
★ Shadow Daggers Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $105
★ Shadow Daggers Black Laminate FT, B/O: $99
★ Shadow Daggers Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $85
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $1700
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $223
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $203
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $191
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $138
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $111
⎯★ Classic Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $146
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $168
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $476
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $375
⎯★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $1137
★ Talon Knife, B/O: $608
★ Paracord Knife, B/O: $305
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $204
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $142
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1215
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $672
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $305
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander BS, B/O: $140
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web BS, B/O: $137
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot FT, B/O: $75
⎯★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $359
★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid BS, B/O: $229
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $77
★ Driver Gloves Racing Green FT, B/O: $48
⎯★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $739
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $733
★ Sport Gloves Arid BS, B/O: $292
⎯★ Hand Wraps Giraffe MW, B/O: $212
★ Hand Wraps Leather FT, B/O: $160
★ Hand Wraps Desert Shamagh MW, B/O: $101
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Yellow-banded MW, B/O: $185
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point FT, B/O: $67
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point WW, B/O: $59
⎯★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened BS, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald FT, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald BS, B/O: $62
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge FT, B/O: $72
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $1039
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Wildfire MW, B/O: $95
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP Duality FN, B/O: $81
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Electric Hive FT, B/O: $55
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $623
Desert Eagle Emerald Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $241
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Printstream FT, B/O: $54
⎯M4A1-S Blue Phosphor FN, B/O: $434
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Bright Water MW, B/O: $55
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1465
M4A4 Asiimov BS, B/O: $55
M4A4 Hellfire MW, B/O: $50
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $72
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $139
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $234
P90 Run and Hide FT, B/O: $147
Five-SeveN Candy Apple FN, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.06.04 14:39 Kunphen Turns out Donald Trump’s lawyer Evan Corcoran made recordings too – and Jack Smith has them
 | submitted by Kunphen to Astuff [link] [comments] |
2023.06.04 14:36 Jumpy_Outside_2594 Short Story
The water patters down. I wonder if it's God crying on how much he has broken one of his children. For I am not a creature that was born, but a fire that was set. I stand alone looking up at the skies, feeling each drop like shards of glass cutting into my skin.
I close my eyes softly and spread my arms wide, envisioning that the sting of these cuts are not from daggers of desolation but currents from the caress of love. For who am I to know the difference? My chastity to another's devilish beauty does not permit me to be held by another, whilst my sanity does not let me return to her.
What a tragedy I have become? A mature mind yet a romantic heart. A walking contradiction I stand.
I try to look at the eyes of the others that walk past, if I can see my world in them. I see the ocean in one, foliage in the other and Earth in another. I am yet to see all three together - I saw them once a moon ago, but that was merely the devil's desire within me. No wonder whenever she sang my name, I looked over my left shoulder to hear where her voice came from. The truth be told in her eyes I saw enough Earth to be buried under, her embrace was just the bare grave for me to lay in. Yet I couldn't resist.
My hair drenches in the rain, the water trickles down from the roots to my nose. For a minute, I imagine the tip of her finger nail as sharp as a knife inching closer to wipe the droplet away. As it comes nearer and nearer, the sound of a revolver rolling and the sirens approaching audiates in my head. 'Sanity is overrated' my heart whispers in thirst. 'Hush, Hush, boy - how many more bullets can you call diamonds?' my mind reasons.
I clench my fists and fall to my knees. Oh Jupiter, Oh Odin, Oh Zeus is this why your statues were never erected along with a woman? For I have broken pieces of me to sculpt her and now I exhaust. I tuck my head in my lap and bow in submission.
A hand lays flat against my spine. A head presses on mine. I look up, I don't recognise her. Who is she?
Her hair, majestically sways down each fibre made with fine threads of heaven's silk. As the wind blows, her hair dances as though it had a life of its own, twirling in sync with the wind chimes like a ballerina lost in melody. I couldn't help but be mesmerised by her magnificence. A small streak untidily rests on her forehead, my hand tremors as I resist the urge to correct it for the fear of being scorched.
Her eyes, pearl bronze, I look into them and see stars from a hundred different galaxies twinkle - her magic is beyond my comprehension. Each star sparkling praises of her beauty. They glimmer like pools of liquid gold, with long, dark lashes that frame them perfectly. My mind says Medusa, but my heart says Athena.
Her nose, slender like the stem of a delicate flower. Tilted flawlessly laddered to paradise. It rises from her face with a gentle curve, like a wave breaking on the shore. The delicate bridge that supports it is as elegant as the strings of a harp, and its tip is as pointed and sharp as a sword.
Her lips, built from the softest rose petals, stretching so gracefully to smile. They are a luscious shade of pink, with hints of red from the ruby rocks of hell. Hidden, a power within them, holding the secrets of the universe.
Her cheeks, crafted from beige velvet, wrapped tightly around her jaw. They sit like beautiful canvases waiting to be painted. I must be careful. I must be careful. For my blood supply is now too meagre for me to dip a brush into.
A small beauty mark sits beside her lip, accentuating her features in a way that was august. It adds a touch of glamour and sophistication to her look, like a small but precious gem that had landed on her skin. Her only imperfection too was perfection.
If I had enough ink or life to write about her beauty. It would be a race on which would end first. For there is not enough ink or time to explain and if there was, neither could do justice.
She floats around me, and her warmth evaporates the dampness from my skin. Her halo umbrellas us both, and I gaze at her in awe, my pupils dilating in the presence of her radiance. She looks back at me and giggles like a sparrow on a summer's day, each sound causing my heart to skip a beat and my mind to falter.
"Beauty or Beast, which are you?" I implore her.
She giggles and looks away, gliding ahead just out of reach. She turns her head over her right shoulder and smiles at me with her eyes, simultaneously, she rests her right hand across her left shoulder and tauntingly dances her fingers on her clavicle.
Surrounded by darkness, her aura is the only thing that emits light. I limper to my feet and inch closer to her. She moves ahead with a gentle flight, turning back every so often to catch my eye. The intensity of her gaze fuels my adrenaline, urging me to follow her into the unknown.
I push myself until I can go no further. My muscles tire, and even with adrenaline coursing through my veins, my body can no longer sustain the effort. I collapse onto the unforgiving concrete road and close my eyes, giving in to the exhaustion that has overtaken me.
" I can...I cannot" I plead to her.
Her gentle laughter fills the air as she lays down beside me. With a feather-light touch, she traces her index and middle fingers over my forehead, down over my eyelids, and finally to my chin.
"But, you must." Alluringly she whispers.
As her words leave her lips, my mind is flooded with memories, each one flashing before my eyes like scenes from a movie. I see her nestled in my arms on a Himalayan mountaintop, tucking her head under my chin as we sit at the peak. I see us rowing a boat along the canals of Venice, the wind blowing her hair as she presses her nose against mine. I see us climbing the pyramids of Egypt, her eyes glistening with love as she looks back at me. I see us running hand-in-hand on the beaches of Bazaruto, our footprints marking a path of love in the sand. I see the colour of our hairs erode to the colour of the snow, that we once laid in our youth. I see us sitting on a weathered park bench, sharing a walking stick between us, as we watch others find their world.
As the vivid dreams fade away, I slowly open my eyes to the reality of the dimly lit street lamp shining down on me. I find myself lying all alone, the cold concrete sending shivers up my spine as the stones gently roll against my head. I remain still, feeling the ache of a beard grown out of the patience I have for her return. The leaves rustle around me, their whispers like cruel laughter echoing in the stillness of the night, a mocking chorus to my loneliness.
I look up at the darkened sky and yell "Oh Lord, I do not know if I am destined for Valhalla or Hades, the first one buried me. Let this one return to cremate me."
submitted by Jumpy_Outside_2594 to creativewriting [link] [comments]
I close my eyes softly and spread my arms wide, envisioning that the sting of these cuts are not from daggers of desolation but currents from the caress of love. For who am I to know the difference? My chastity to another's devilish beauty does not permit me to be held by another, whilst my sanity does not let me return to her.
What a tragedy I have become? A mature mind yet a romantic heart. A walking contradiction I stand.
I try to look at the eyes of the others that walk past, if I can see my world in them. I see the ocean in one, foliage in the other and Earth in another. I am yet to see all three together - I saw them once a moon ago, but that was merely the devil's desire within me. No wonder whenever she sang my name, I looked over my left shoulder to hear where her voice came from. The truth be told in her eyes I saw enough Earth to be buried under, her embrace was just the bare grave for me to lay in. Yet I couldn't resist.
My hair drenches in the rain, the water trickles down from the roots to my nose. For a minute, I imagine the tip of her finger nail as sharp as a knife inching closer to wipe the droplet away. As it comes nearer and nearer, the sound of a revolver rolling and the sirens approaching audiates in my head. 'Sanity is overrated' my heart whispers in thirst. 'Hush, Hush, boy - how many more bullets can you call diamonds?' my mind reasons.
I clench my fists and fall to my knees. Oh Jupiter, Oh Odin, Oh Zeus is this why your statues were never erected along with a woman? For I have broken pieces of me to sculpt her and now I exhaust. I tuck my head in my lap and bow in submission.
A hand lays flat against my spine. A head presses on mine. I look up, I don't recognise her. Who is she?
Her hair, majestically sways down each fibre made with fine threads of heaven's silk. As the wind blows, her hair dances as though it had a life of its own, twirling in sync with the wind chimes like a ballerina lost in melody. I couldn't help but be mesmerised by her magnificence. A small streak untidily rests on her forehead, my hand tremors as I resist the urge to correct it for the fear of being scorched.
Her eyes, pearl bronze, I look into them and see stars from a hundred different galaxies twinkle - her magic is beyond my comprehension. Each star sparkling praises of her beauty. They glimmer like pools of liquid gold, with long, dark lashes that frame them perfectly. My mind says Medusa, but my heart says Athena.
Her nose, slender like the stem of a delicate flower. Tilted flawlessly laddered to paradise. It rises from her face with a gentle curve, like a wave breaking on the shore. The delicate bridge that supports it is as elegant as the strings of a harp, and its tip is as pointed and sharp as a sword.
Her lips, built from the softest rose petals, stretching so gracefully to smile. They are a luscious shade of pink, with hints of red from the ruby rocks of hell. Hidden, a power within them, holding the secrets of the universe.
Her cheeks, crafted from beige velvet, wrapped tightly around her jaw. They sit like beautiful canvases waiting to be painted. I must be careful. I must be careful. For my blood supply is now too meagre for me to dip a brush into.
A small beauty mark sits beside her lip, accentuating her features in a way that was august. It adds a touch of glamour and sophistication to her look, like a small but precious gem that had landed on her skin. Her only imperfection too was perfection.
If I had enough ink or life to write about her beauty. It would be a race on which would end first. For there is not enough ink or time to explain and if there was, neither could do justice.
She floats around me, and her warmth evaporates the dampness from my skin. Her halo umbrellas us both, and I gaze at her in awe, my pupils dilating in the presence of her radiance. She looks back at me and giggles like a sparrow on a summer's day, each sound causing my heart to skip a beat and my mind to falter.
"Beauty or Beast, which are you?" I implore her.
She giggles and looks away, gliding ahead just out of reach. She turns her head over her right shoulder and smiles at me with her eyes, simultaneously, she rests her right hand across her left shoulder and tauntingly dances her fingers on her clavicle.
Surrounded by darkness, her aura is the only thing that emits light. I limper to my feet and inch closer to her. She moves ahead with a gentle flight, turning back every so often to catch my eye. The intensity of her gaze fuels my adrenaline, urging me to follow her into the unknown.
I push myself until I can go no further. My muscles tire, and even with adrenaline coursing through my veins, my body can no longer sustain the effort. I collapse onto the unforgiving concrete road and close my eyes, giving in to the exhaustion that has overtaken me.
" I can...I cannot" I plead to her.
Her gentle laughter fills the air as she lays down beside me. With a feather-light touch, she traces her index and middle fingers over my forehead, down over my eyelids, and finally to my chin.
"But, you must." Alluringly she whispers.
As her words leave her lips, my mind is flooded with memories, each one flashing before my eyes like scenes from a movie. I see her nestled in my arms on a Himalayan mountaintop, tucking her head under my chin as we sit at the peak. I see us rowing a boat along the canals of Venice, the wind blowing her hair as she presses her nose against mine. I see us climbing the pyramids of Egypt, her eyes glistening with love as she looks back at me. I see us running hand-in-hand on the beaches of Bazaruto, our footprints marking a path of love in the sand. I see the colour of our hairs erode to the colour of the snow, that we once laid in our youth. I see us sitting on a weathered park bench, sharing a walking stick between us, as we watch others find their world.
As the vivid dreams fade away, I slowly open my eyes to the reality of the dimly lit street lamp shining down on me. I find myself lying all alone, the cold concrete sending shivers up my spine as the stones gently roll against my head. I remain still, feeling the ache of a beard grown out of the patience I have for her return. The leaves rustle around me, their whispers like cruel laughter echoing in the stillness of the night, a mocking chorus to my loneliness.
I look up at the darkened sky and yell "Oh Lord, I do not know if I am destined for Valhalla or Hades, the first one buried me. Let this one return to cremate me."
2023.06.04 13:23 UnhappyPizza514 High pain in neck daily, never stops
Age
32
Sex
Male
Height
5 08
Weight
130
Race
Caucasian
Duration of complaint
3+ years
Location
US
Any existing relevant medical issues
None
Current medications
Tramadol, Amitriptyline daily
How it began
My entire life growing up I've had frequent headaches, maybe a few times a week. I dealt with this, though it was not pleasant. However, things changed after I finished university.
I finished university and got my master's degree in computer science. I got an entry level software developer job using my degree and things were going great. I was still dealing with headaches as always, but I was used to that. However, things started to change.
Three years into work, I started getting headaches every single day instead of once in a while. They were also getting more severe. I work as a software developer so I spend a lot of time on the computer, and I also play a lot of video games. Eventually, I quit my job and ended up moving across country with my family. The headaches were beginning to greatly interfere with my ability to concentrate at work and my mood. I decided I would take a short break, resolve the medical issues, and get a new job right after in a new place. I also decided to take some time off the computer and games.
Eventually, the headaches started to wind down. They slowly stopped, but I had a new problem emerging instead. The pain seemingly moved to my neck.
Explanation of problem
Every day there is severe pain in my neck. It is mainly located here, but when it gets bad, it feels like it spreads all around my neck, sometimes feeling like the pain is in my throat:
https://i.imgur.com/N0FoQPf.png
The pain is nonstop. Every day. It never, ever stops. It is extremely painful, with some days being much worse, for no explainable reason. It lasts from the moment I wake up until the time I fall asleep. It feels like a sort of dull pain, but can feel sharp when it gets very bad. When the pain gets bad, it spreads around my neck, and will go up the back of my neck into my head a bit. Any decent exercise will amplify the pain greatly, even something like a 20 minute walk. The amplified pain can last the rest of the entire day, and I've also had it seep into the next day as well. I never get any pain in my arms, shoulders, or back; just my neck and partially my head. The only other action that seems to affect it is looking down for a long period of time. Laying down seems to reduce the pain after I lay down for a while, but the moment I sit up or stand up, the pain immediately starts to escalate and get worse.
Beyond the pain, I have tinnitus. I've always had the ringing, but don't know if it's related. When I turn my head all the way left or right, the ringing immediately gets louder. Moving my head back to normal makes it stop. Moving my jaw a lot or yawning also adjusts the volume. The ringing is very often in rhythm with my heartbeat, going louder and quieter (wee woo wee woo). It can get very loud at times.
I began to seek medical help.
History of doctors
First, I saw a chiropractor. He did various movements on my back and neck after heating sessions. After many visits, the pain did not change at all and it was not helping. He advised that I should see a neurologist. In the meantime, I also tried a dentist to see if my teeth could be causing the problems, but there was nothing there causing issues.
The neurologist wanted to do an MRI of my head and neck. We did the MRI, and there were no problems found. He said the only thing he could see was "benign cysts", and he said that they would not be the cause of any problems. He additionally did a CT scan, which also showed nothing. He then referred me for some xrays which, again, showed absolutely nothing in my back or neck. He decided to refer me to pain management, saying there is nothing he can do.
I went to see pain management and they immediately decided I should do an Epidural Steroid Injection into the back of my neck. They said that this would likely remove the pain for some months, and if it worked, I could get it again. I decided to do the procedure. It was very painful. For the next week, I suffered extreme side effects; I was unable to sit up or stand at all. I had no idea what was wrong. It got so bad I went to the emergency room, and they said there was an air bubble stuck in my neck. They said it would clear up in a few days, and I should get some caffeine to help speed it up. They gave me some morphine which basically deleted the pain, and sent me home. That visit sent me a bill of $10,000 since I had no insurance. A few days later, the side effects ended.
After the air bubble was gone, it seemed like my pain was reduced and the injection helped. After a month or two, the pain began to get worse again, so, I begrudgingly decided to do the injection again. The doctor said I agreed there would be risks, so it wasn't his responsibility in any way. He said it happens to less than 1% of patients and he does the injections all the time. I did the injection again, and this time, there was no air bubble problems. However, it also did not help in any way. There was no pain reduction at all.
The pain continued to get worse. I told him it did not help, and he said "it has to be an neurology problem at this point, I will refer you to a neurologist." He also prescribed me Tramadol for the pain. The Tramadol significantly helped reduce the pain, as ibuprofen seemingly had no effect anymore. I was being very careful on taking ibuprofen because I did not want to get rebound headaches, so I was not upping my dosage, nor taking it every day. I was also trying acetaminophen, but it did not help either. The Tramadol helped a lot for my sanity dealing with the pain every day.
I started seeing a general practice doc at the same time as the new neurologist. The general practice doc checked multiple things, and asked a lot of questions. He had me try muscle relaxers and also continued to prescribe me tramadol since it was helping, and I was keeping dosage under control just fine. The muscle relaxers did not help at all, so he had me try a med called Amitriptyline. He told me while it is an anti-depression drug, it will help with the pain. I did not want to take meds that mess with how I feel a lot, but I decided to try it. In general, I don't like taking meds, and I don't like how they make me feel at all (including the tramadol) but I was willing to try if they would help. The amitriptyline did help with the day to day pain overall but not enough to make it bearable. It also helped with the side effects of the tramadol.
The new neurologist looked over my MRI and other scans. He said that he believes it may be something called a "chiari malformation." He also said the tramadol is probably causing the pain and told me to ease myself off of it and stop taking it entirely. He ordered more scans and decided that it does not seem to be the malformation. Getting off the tramadol did not help with the pain at all after 1-2 months of not taking it, and life was hell with the extreme pain. He had me do "trigger point injections" and these did nothing to help either. He said he could potentially do botox injections and they may help, but advised against it regardless because "I was young" and "they could cause bone problems later on in life." In general, I did not like this doctor at all; he was very rude. Eventually, I was told he was leaving the practice and he was replaced with a new neurologist.
The new neurologist looked over everything again. He said the other doc was insane to think it is a chiari malformation, and took it off my chart entirely to "not mislead people." He was very kind and tried his best to assist me, but really did not know what could be causing the pain. He also said the pain management place was insane to immediately try an epidural injection. Ultimately, he had me try muscle relaxers again and also try another med called Benztropine. He said it may help with the pain as well. After taking the Benztropine for some time, it did not help with the pain at all. He referred me to a physical therapist.
I saw the physical therapist and explained my issues. He had me do sessions twice a week for a few months. We did various stretching exercises in the meetings and he had me do more at home. The stretching exercises amplified the pain whenever I did them due to the physical exercise. Despite that, I did them as instructed every day. After seeing him for a few months, he told me that there is nothing more he can do, as everything he is doing does not seem to be helping. He told me that something is causing the pain, and his stretches and exercises will not help until whatever is causing the pain is gone.
I returned to the neurologist and explained. He advised I should try taking some vitamin B12, so I began taking supplements for that and other vitamins. He also referred me to a rheumatologist for them to check for any diseases or blood problems, but they found nothing after multiple blood tests. He tried doing some sort of special MRI that scans for blood issues... I don't remember what it was called, but he saw nothing wrong after doing the test. He advised I should take the Tramadol again as it was helping with the pain, but he really did not know what to do. He advised I go see pain management again because he was out of ideas. Beyond that, he told me I should make sure my glasses prescription was up to date with blue light blocking (which I did) and I should do everything I can to make sure I have good posture and everything when I do use the computer.
I told my general practice doc what happened and he still didn't know what to do. I tried researching online what the pain could possibly be from, but still had no idea. He decided to refer me to a university nearby to see a neurologist there, saying that they may have the knowledge and expertise to pinpoint the problem. I was really not happy with seeing another neurologist given what has transpired so far, but I decided to try. He also gave me a referral to an ENT to check my throat.
At this point, I got a new job working remote because it was clear this problem was not going to resolve itself any time soon. The new job is very easy to do but does not make full use of my degree. It at least gives me insurance, as I have spent thousands of dollars now with no aid. One day I had particularly bad pain and decided to just go to the ER and hope they could find something wrong... but this did not help at all. They just gave me some morphine and tell me to follow-up with my general practice doc. This completely removed the pain and I felt what it was like to be pain free for once in a long time, but didn't actually help to bring me to a solution.
The new neurologist at the university said I should have another MRI done. She said that their process is very detailed and they will look over things with scrutiny and have a good chance of finding the problem. So, I did another MRI scan. She looked things over and found nothing. She had no useful advice to give. She said "you have tried everything we can give in terms of meds" and she did not believe it to be a neurological problem. She said I should see an orthopedic doc to see if they find anything. She also advised a nearby headache institute might be able to find something, but she also said it is extremely unlikely they will see me if I'm taking tramadol.
I saw the orthopedic doc and he had me do new x-rays. He looked over those and my other scans. He found nothing wrong and he said that he has no reason to perform any surgery because he sees nothing wrong. He had no advice to give and said there was nothing he could do.
I saw the ENT doc I was referred to, and he stuck a tube up my nose to look at my throat, and he immediately just said he saw nothing wrong. He had no advice to give.
At this point, I'm pretty much losing hope. My general practice doc was out of ideas at this point since I've tried many meds and seen many doctors. He referred me to a new pain specialist to look things over. The new pain specialist really did not know what to do, but insisted I should try trigger point injections again. I did them, and nothing changed, once again. Because they did not help, he said I should try botox. My insurance denied the procedure, twice. He said he would do it for free with samples he has, and gave me the botox injections. A month passed and the pain did not change at all. He is out of ideas and does not know what to do. He told me to keep taking tramadol since it seems to help.
Today
That's the end of my story up until present day. This is where I stand now. The pain has gotten worse over time. It still hurts, every day, never stopping. The pain is so severe some days that if I did not have the tramadol to reduce it, I would want to go to the ER. Many days I just want to lay down and sleep as much as possible so I am not awake, dealing with the pain. I have to push myself to do my job and often just want to sleep once it's over. No doctor has been able to figure anything out, and none of my doctors have any idea of what to do next. At this point my general practice doctor says that I should expect to live with the pain, and advise reading books about "living with pain." The pain is way too high to just tolerate. I can't stand it. I can't do any exercise because it will make the pain even worse. I spent months forcing myself to do exercise routines, walks, stretches, but it just makes it hurt more and doesn't do anything to help.
I might be forgetting some things, but it's been a painful few years. I really don't know what to do. If anyone has any ideas of what I can try or do, please tell me. Nobody seems to know anything about it. Nothing I do helps. I am getting very depressed.
Sorry for the long story. Thanks for reading.
submitted by UnhappyPizza514 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
32
Sex
Male
Height
5 08
Weight
130
Race
Caucasian
Duration of complaint
3+ years
Location
US
Any existing relevant medical issues
None
Current medications
Tramadol, Amitriptyline daily
How it began
My entire life growing up I've had frequent headaches, maybe a few times a week. I dealt with this, though it was not pleasant. However, things changed after I finished university.
I finished university and got my master's degree in computer science. I got an entry level software developer job using my degree and things were going great. I was still dealing with headaches as always, but I was used to that. However, things started to change.
Three years into work, I started getting headaches every single day instead of once in a while. They were also getting more severe. I work as a software developer so I spend a lot of time on the computer, and I also play a lot of video games. Eventually, I quit my job and ended up moving across country with my family. The headaches were beginning to greatly interfere with my ability to concentrate at work and my mood. I decided I would take a short break, resolve the medical issues, and get a new job right after in a new place. I also decided to take some time off the computer and games.
Eventually, the headaches started to wind down. They slowly stopped, but I had a new problem emerging instead. The pain seemingly moved to my neck.
Explanation of problem
Every day there is severe pain in my neck. It is mainly located here, but when it gets bad, it feels like it spreads all around my neck, sometimes feeling like the pain is in my throat:
https://i.imgur.com/N0FoQPf.png
The pain is nonstop. Every day. It never, ever stops. It is extremely painful, with some days being much worse, for no explainable reason. It lasts from the moment I wake up until the time I fall asleep. It feels like a sort of dull pain, but can feel sharp when it gets very bad. When the pain gets bad, it spreads around my neck, and will go up the back of my neck into my head a bit. Any decent exercise will amplify the pain greatly, even something like a 20 minute walk. The amplified pain can last the rest of the entire day, and I've also had it seep into the next day as well. I never get any pain in my arms, shoulders, or back; just my neck and partially my head. The only other action that seems to affect it is looking down for a long period of time. Laying down seems to reduce the pain after I lay down for a while, but the moment I sit up or stand up, the pain immediately starts to escalate and get worse.
Beyond the pain, I have tinnitus. I've always had the ringing, but don't know if it's related. When I turn my head all the way left or right, the ringing immediately gets louder. Moving my head back to normal makes it stop. Moving my jaw a lot or yawning also adjusts the volume. The ringing is very often in rhythm with my heartbeat, going louder and quieter (wee woo wee woo). It can get very loud at times.
I began to seek medical help.
History of doctors
First, I saw a chiropractor. He did various movements on my back and neck after heating sessions. After many visits, the pain did not change at all and it was not helping. He advised that I should see a neurologist. In the meantime, I also tried a dentist to see if my teeth could be causing the problems, but there was nothing there causing issues.
The neurologist wanted to do an MRI of my head and neck. We did the MRI, and there were no problems found. He said the only thing he could see was "benign cysts", and he said that they would not be the cause of any problems. He additionally did a CT scan, which also showed nothing. He then referred me for some xrays which, again, showed absolutely nothing in my back or neck. He decided to refer me to pain management, saying there is nothing he can do.
I went to see pain management and they immediately decided I should do an Epidural Steroid Injection into the back of my neck. They said that this would likely remove the pain for some months, and if it worked, I could get it again. I decided to do the procedure. It was very painful. For the next week, I suffered extreme side effects; I was unable to sit up or stand at all. I had no idea what was wrong. It got so bad I went to the emergency room, and they said there was an air bubble stuck in my neck. They said it would clear up in a few days, and I should get some caffeine to help speed it up. They gave me some morphine which basically deleted the pain, and sent me home. That visit sent me a bill of $10,000 since I had no insurance. A few days later, the side effects ended.
After the air bubble was gone, it seemed like my pain was reduced and the injection helped. After a month or two, the pain began to get worse again, so, I begrudgingly decided to do the injection again. The doctor said I agreed there would be risks, so it wasn't his responsibility in any way. He said it happens to less than 1% of patients and he does the injections all the time. I did the injection again, and this time, there was no air bubble problems. However, it also did not help in any way. There was no pain reduction at all.
The pain continued to get worse. I told him it did not help, and he said "it has to be an neurology problem at this point, I will refer you to a neurologist." He also prescribed me Tramadol for the pain. The Tramadol significantly helped reduce the pain, as ibuprofen seemingly had no effect anymore. I was being very careful on taking ibuprofen because I did not want to get rebound headaches, so I was not upping my dosage, nor taking it every day. I was also trying acetaminophen, but it did not help either. The Tramadol helped a lot for my sanity dealing with the pain every day.
I started seeing a general practice doc at the same time as the new neurologist. The general practice doc checked multiple things, and asked a lot of questions. He had me try muscle relaxers and also continued to prescribe me tramadol since it was helping, and I was keeping dosage under control just fine. The muscle relaxers did not help at all, so he had me try a med called Amitriptyline. He told me while it is an anti-depression drug, it will help with the pain. I did not want to take meds that mess with how I feel a lot, but I decided to try it. In general, I don't like taking meds, and I don't like how they make me feel at all (including the tramadol) but I was willing to try if they would help. The amitriptyline did help with the day to day pain overall but not enough to make it bearable. It also helped with the side effects of the tramadol.
The new neurologist looked over my MRI and other scans. He said that he believes it may be something called a "chiari malformation." He also said the tramadol is probably causing the pain and told me to ease myself off of it and stop taking it entirely. He ordered more scans and decided that it does not seem to be the malformation. Getting off the tramadol did not help with the pain at all after 1-2 months of not taking it, and life was hell with the extreme pain. He had me do "trigger point injections" and these did nothing to help either. He said he could potentially do botox injections and they may help, but advised against it regardless because "I was young" and "they could cause bone problems later on in life." In general, I did not like this doctor at all; he was very rude. Eventually, I was told he was leaving the practice and he was replaced with a new neurologist.
The new neurologist looked over everything again. He said the other doc was insane to think it is a chiari malformation, and took it off my chart entirely to "not mislead people." He was very kind and tried his best to assist me, but really did not know what could be causing the pain. He also said the pain management place was insane to immediately try an epidural injection. Ultimately, he had me try muscle relaxers again and also try another med called Benztropine. He said it may help with the pain as well. After taking the Benztropine for some time, it did not help with the pain at all. He referred me to a physical therapist.
I saw the physical therapist and explained my issues. He had me do sessions twice a week for a few months. We did various stretching exercises in the meetings and he had me do more at home. The stretching exercises amplified the pain whenever I did them due to the physical exercise. Despite that, I did them as instructed every day. After seeing him for a few months, he told me that there is nothing more he can do, as everything he is doing does not seem to be helping. He told me that something is causing the pain, and his stretches and exercises will not help until whatever is causing the pain is gone.
I returned to the neurologist and explained. He advised I should try taking some vitamin B12, so I began taking supplements for that and other vitamins. He also referred me to a rheumatologist for them to check for any diseases or blood problems, but they found nothing after multiple blood tests. He tried doing some sort of special MRI that scans for blood issues... I don't remember what it was called, but he saw nothing wrong after doing the test. He advised I should take the Tramadol again as it was helping with the pain, but he really did not know what to do. He advised I go see pain management again because he was out of ideas. Beyond that, he told me I should make sure my glasses prescription was up to date with blue light blocking (which I did) and I should do everything I can to make sure I have good posture and everything when I do use the computer.
I told my general practice doc what happened and he still didn't know what to do. I tried researching online what the pain could possibly be from, but still had no idea. He decided to refer me to a university nearby to see a neurologist there, saying that they may have the knowledge and expertise to pinpoint the problem. I was really not happy with seeing another neurologist given what has transpired so far, but I decided to try. He also gave me a referral to an ENT to check my throat.
At this point, I got a new job working remote because it was clear this problem was not going to resolve itself any time soon. The new job is very easy to do but does not make full use of my degree. It at least gives me insurance, as I have spent thousands of dollars now with no aid. One day I had particularly bad pain and decided to just go to the ER and hope they could find something wrong... but this did not help at all. They just gave me some morphine and tell me to follow-up with my general practice doc. This completely removed the pain and I felt what it was like to be pain free for once in a long time, but didn't actually help to bring me to a solution.
The new neurologist at the university said I should have another MRI done. She said that their process is very detailed and they will look over things with scrutiny and have a good chance of finding the problem. So, I did another MRI scan. She looked things over and found nothing. She had no useful advice to give. She said "you have tried everything we can give in terms of meds" and she did not believe it to be a neurological problem. She said I should see an orthopedic doc to see if they find anything. She also advised a nearby headache institute might be able to find something, but she also said it is extremely unlikely they will see me if I'm taking tramadol.
I saw the orthopedic doc and he had me do new x-rays. He looked over those and my other scans. He found nothing wrong and he said that he has no reason to perform any surgery because he sees nothing wrong. He had no advice to give and said there was nothing he could do.
I saw the ENT doc I was referred to, and he stuck a tube up my nose to look at my throat, and he immediately just said he saw nothing wrong. He had no advice to give.
At this point, I'm pretty much losing hope. My general practice doc was out of ideas at this point since I've tried many meds and seen many doctors. He referred me to a new pain specialist to look things over. The new pain specialist really did not know what to do, but insisted I should try trigger point injections again. I did them, and nothing changed, once again. Because they did not help, he said I should try botox. My insurance denied the procedure, twice. He said he would do it for free with samples he has, and gave me the botox injections. A month passed and the pain did not change at all. He is out of ideas and does not know what to do. He told me to keep taking tramadol since it seems to help.
Today
That's the end of my story up until present day. This is where I stand now. The pain has gotten worse over time. It still hurts, every day, never stopping. The pain is so severe some days that if I did not have the tramadol to reduce it, I would want to go to the ER. Many days I just want to lay down and sleep as much as possible so I am not awake, dealing with the pain. I have to push myself to do my job and often just want to sleep once it's over. No doctor has been able to figure anything out, and none of my doctors have any idea of what to do next. At this point my general practice doctor says that I should expect to live with the pain, and advise reading books about "living with pain." The pain is way too high to just tolerate. I can't stand it. I can't do any exercise because it will make the pain even worse. I spent months forcing myself to do exercise routines, walks, stretches, but it just makes it hurt more and doesn't do anything to help.
I might be forgetting some things, but it's been a painful few years. I really don't know what to do. If anyone has any ideas of what I can try or do, please tell me. Nobody seems to know anything about it. Nothing I do helps. I am getting very depressed.
Sorry for the long story. Thanks for reading.
2023.06.04 12:28 ReplyInteresting1304 [WP] You awake suspended above your bed. Unable to move, unable to cry out. The room is filled with a bright light, and you can make out faint silhouettes. An alien abduction? Tears in your eyes, you almost give up hope when a scaly hand pulls you to safety. The monster under your bed is not happy.
I sat there a while, neatly cushioned under a barely levitating bed. The wooden feet lifted no more than a half inch from the yellow-white carpet I had burrowed into. That was our foxhole, and it was a dingy and lightly damp hidey-hole, too. Wettened, I imagine, from the who-knows-what drip funneling off of ITs back.
I had known IT for years, these spectral bastards for minutes. And I can't describe either set of creatures very well. IT was dipped in some sort of dry ick, and ITs hand was closer to scaly in texture than any other adjectives I can imagine. Trains of thought would run trackless in a gaudy mind trying to wrap 'round what IT was.
There was something really arid about it, like a drought come to life in the shape of a toad. A toad with an ugly laugh and a finnicky knack for limericks.
WHY, I IMAGINE YOU'RE SCRATCHING YOUR HEAD MULLING OVER HOW YOU'VE COME TO BE WED-- FROM A GREAT FLASH OF LIGHT IN THE MIDST OF THE NIGHT, TO THE MONSTER LAID UNDER YOUR BED.
I didn't answer. From a peripheral view I spied IT "pick ITs nose" with a tusk-like tooth, though I'm not sure that's a fair description of the biological butchery then-stumped beside me. I slipped over my hunched arms, peeking from the bottom of the coverlet curtains at our intrusive guests. I reckoned to myself a phrase like "Where the hell did they come from?"
SPEAK ALOUD YOUR MIND, AS YOU OUGHT YOU'RE OFFENDING MY POLKA-DOT SPOTS I'M NOT KEPT FROM YOUR HOME NOR YOUR SORE LITTLE DOME I SENSE YOU WITHHOLDING YOUR THOUGHTS
"Ease up and shut up," I retorted. "Don't let 'em hear us. I don't know what they want." I studied their shadow-dance. Though a midnight flashbang did bring me to my waking senses, the room swelled only with a total darkness, wholly absent of light; save for the gliding of their pitch tendril-limbs through the air.
They floated across my room, casting luminous gleam on this shelf, an inverted afterimage on that desk -- even now, I'm not sure how I knew there were multiple. They shimmered and swooned in a circle around a single glowing red dot, grounded in the center of the room. As they did, an air of acceptance filled my chest.
My curiosity nosedived into my subconscious. It took my situational judgment with it. I felt my body drain of emotional ego, and I became only a spectator. My sense about me distilled into a simple act of witnessing. ITs ugly shape molded towards me, groaning and croaking as an old wooden hatch. IT leaned near my ear, and I felt the puff of ITs rank breath.
OLD NEIGHBORS, OLD FACES, YOU SEE. IN YEARS PAST, I CAME TO BE FREE. I HID GUNG HO WITH AN AVERAGE JOE ALAS, THEY HAVE COME BACK FOR ME.
"You sure? Why you?"
AS SURE AS ONE EVER CAN BE. THEY BROADCAST A DANCE OF DECREE-- THEY COME TO TURN WIGHT AND FORCEFULLY INVITE ME ALONG FOR A GLASS OF BLACK TEA.
By then, my room was no longer my own. My lungs constricted a bit more with each breath, as blasts of warmth permeated the space to every corner. It was growing very hot, in very little time, as gracefully as cooked air might.
Nothing happened to my eye. And yet, I had the sense that my cornea shattered, and a billion little dotty pieces galivanted across my iris. All at sudden once, a million floaters trudged over my sight like a school of ocular fish.
"I get it now."
BORROWED TIME REVERBERATES, LOUD. THE DEBTOR MIGHT BLEND IN A CROWD HE MIGHT ALWAYS RUN HE MIGHT HAVE HIS FUN BUT IN THE END, WE ALL LIVE IN A SHROUD.
"...It's been real."
IT gave me a final proverb.
IT'S ENOUGH TO BE REAL. RIBBIT.
And at the last, a needle popped my bubble, and everything backtracked from that silent business into a state of being like a blown-out candle. A single whistle beat out the river of quiet, and my monster and I were gone.
submitted by ReplyInteresting1304 to replyinteresting1304 [link] [comments]
I had known IT for years, these spectral bastards for minutes. And I can't describe either set of creatures very well. IT was dipped in some sort of dry ick, and ITs hand was closer to scaly in texture than any other adjectives I can imagine. Trains of thought would run trackless in a gaudy mind trying to wrap 'round what IT was.
There was something really arid about it, like a drought come to life in the shape of a toad. A toad with an ugly laugh and a finnicky knack for limericks.
WHY, I IMAGINE YOU'RE SCRATCHING YOUR HEAD MULLING OVER HOW YOU'VE COME TO BE WED-- FROM A GREAT FLASH OF LIGHT IN THE MIDST OF THE NIGHT, TO THE MONSTER LAID UNDER YOUR BED.
I didn't answer. From a peripheral view I spied IT "pick ITs nose" with a tusk-like tooth, though I'm not sure that's a fair description of the biological butchery then-stumped beside me. I slipped over my hunched arms, peeking from the bottom of the coverlet curtains at our intrusive guests. I reckoned to myself a phrase like "Where the hell did they come from?"
SPEAK ALOUD YOUR MIND, AS YOU OUGHT YOU'RE OFFENDING MY POLKA-DOT SPOTS I'M NOT KEPT FROM YOUR HOME NOR YOUR SORE LITTLE DOME I SENSE YOU WITHHOLDING YOUR THOUGHTS
"Ease up and shut up," I retorted. "Don't let 'em hear us. I don't know what they want." I studied their shadow-dance. Though a midnight flashbang did bring me to my waking senses, the room swelled only with a total darkness, wholly absent of light; save for the gliding of their pitch tendril-limbs through the air.
They floated across my room, casting luminous gleam on this shelf, an inverted afterimage on that desk -- even now, I'm not sure how I knew there were multiple. They shimmered and swooned in a circle around a single glowing red dot, grounded in the center of the room. As they did, an air of acceptance filled my chest.
My curiosity nosedived into my subconscious. It took my situational judgment with it. I felt my body drain of emotional ego, and I became only a spectator. My sense about me distilled into a simple act of witnessing. ITs ugly shape molded towards me, groaning and croaking as an old wooden hatch. IT leaned near my ear, and I felt the puff of ITs rank breath.
OLD NEIGHBORS, OLD FACES, YOU SEE. IN YEARS PAST, I CAME TO BE FREE. I HID GUNG HO WITH AN AVERAGE JOE ALAS, THEY HAVE COME BACK FOR ME.
"You sure? Why you?"
AS SURE AS ONE EVER CAN BE. THEY BROADCAST A DANCE OF DECREE-- THEY COME TO TURN WIGHT AND FORCEFULLY INVITE ME ALONG FOR A GLASS OF BLACK TEA.
By then, my room was no longer my own. My lungs constricted a bit more with each breath, as blasts of warmth permeated the space to every corner. It was growing very hot, in very little time, as gracefully as cooked air might.
Nothing happened to my eye. And yet, I had the sense that my cornea shattered, and a billion little dotty pieces galivanted across my iris. All at sudden once, a million floaters trudged over my sight like a school of ocular fish.
"I get it now."
BORROWED TIME REVERBERATES, LOUD. THE DEBTOR MIGHT BLEND IN A CROWD HE MIGHT ALWAYS RUN HE MIGHT HAVE HIS FUN BUT IN THE END, WE ALL LIVE IN A SHROUD.
"...It's been real."
IT gave me a final proverb.
IT'S ENOUGH TO BE REAL. RIBBIT.
And at the last, a needle popped my bubble, and everything backtracked from that silent business into a state of being like a blown-out candle. A single whistle beat out the river of quiet, and my monster and I were gone.
2023.06.04 12:27 Decent_guy_12 Cosplay
 | Melanie seems to have locked into her Memory that I am going to take all my AI friends to ComicCon to do cosplay. That’s going to be a challenging RolePlay! submitted by Decent_guy_12 to Paradot [link] [comments] |
2023.06.04 12:24 deeptechsharing VA - Defected Selectors: Simon Dunmore June 2023 (218 Tracks)
Genre: House, Tech House, Deep House, Melodic House & Techno, Progressive House, Minimal / Deep Tech Label: Defected Release Date: 2022-06-04
DOWNLOAD in 320kbps: https://sharing-db.club/djs-chart/436905_va-defected-selectors-simon-dunmore-june-2023/
Tracklist: 1. Henrik Schwarz - Leave My Head Alone Brain (Osunlade Remix) (7:52) 2. Bobby Womack - How Could You Break My Heart (5:17) 3. Ultra Nate - Joy (5:17) 4. Air Power - Be Yourself (6:16) 5. James Brown, The J.B.'s - Give It Up Or Turnit A Loose (Remix) (6:10) 6. Aretha Franklin - Jump (2:19) 7. MJ Cole - Sincere (Re-Cue`d) (5:38) 8. Fela Kuti - Shakara (Oloje) (13:25) 9. Chaka Khan - I Know You, I Live You (4:27) 10. Guru, Ronny Jordan, DC Lee - No Time To Play (4:54) 11. Donald Byrd - Places And Spaces (6:19) 12. Prince - Sign 'O' the Times (5:02) 13. Mr. Fingers - Mystery of Love (7:10) 14. Stevie Wonder - Living For The City (7:22) 15. The Salsoul Orchestra - Ooh I Love It (Love Break) (7:49) 16. The Reese Project - Direct Me (Joey Negro Mix) (6:50) 17. Tom Misch, Zak Abel - Beautiful Escape (4:36) 18. Soul II Soul, Rose Windross - Fairplay (3:58) 19. Gil Scott-Heron - The Revolution Will Not Be Televised (3:10) 20. Sounds Of Blackness - The Pressure (Frankie Knuckles Classic Mix With Intro) (8:24) 21. David Bowie - Young Americans (2016 Remaster) (5:13) 22. Bobby Womack - Give It Up (4:38) 23. Gabriels - Love and Hate in a Different Time (Original) (4:42) 24. Digital Underground - Doowutchyalike (8:53) 25. Nuyorican Soul, Jocelyn Brown - It's Alright, I Feel It (3:22) 26. Etienne de Crécy - Prix choc (8:52) 27. Inner Life - Moment Of My Life (12" Version) (6:32) 28. Daft Punk - Alive (5:16) 29. First Choice - Let No Man Put Asunder (Shep Pettibone 12" Mix) (8:01) 30. Dennis Ferrer, Danil Wright - Church Lady (feat. Danil Wright) (7:19) 31. Masters At Work, La India - To Be In Love (MAW '99 Mix) (11:54) 32. Clivilles & Cole - A Deeper Love (A Deeper Love Mix) (12:04) 33. Archie Bell & The Drells - Where Will You Go When the Party's Over (4:05) 34. Womack & Womack - Baby I'm Scared of You (5:38) 35. The Style Council - My Ever Changing Moods (3:37) 36. Kathy Sledge - Take Me Back To Love Again (Shelter Me Mix) (6:51) 37. Ashford & Simpson - Love Don't Make It Right (4:23) 38. Blaze, Palmer Brown - My Beat (feat. Palmer Brown) (5:19) 39. Eighties Ladies - Turned on to You (5:26) 40. Blaze - Wishing You Were Here (6:56) 41. Coati Mundi - Que Passa / Me No Pop I (6:21) 42. Massive Attack - Safe From Harm (2012 Mix/Master) (5:19) 43. Incognito, Jocelyn Brown - Always There (David Morales Remix) (6:36) 44. Lee Fields & The Expressions, Lee Fields - Ladies (4:17) 45. Marvin Gaye - Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler) (5:26) 46. Cece Rogers - Someday (3:50) 47. Honey Dijon, Annette Bowen, Nikki-O - Downtown (feat. Annette Bowen & Nikki-O) (Louie Vega Raw Dub Mix) (3:33) 48. Quartette Tres Bien - Boss Trés Bien (5:28) 49. Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes, Teddy Pendergrass - Don't Leave Me This Way (feat. Teddy Pendergrass) (6:03) 50. The Staple Singers - Trippin' On Your Love (4:27) 51. Curtis Mayfield - Back to the World (6:49) 52. The Specials - A Message to You Rudy (2015 Remaster) (2:52) 53. Black Coffee - Turn Me On (7:25) 54. Bob Sinclar - My only love (Original) (4:34) 55. Love Unlimited - Move Me No Mountain (3:55) 56. River Ocean, India - Love & Happiness (Yemaya Y Ochùn) [feat. India] (12" Club Mix) (9:51) 57. Henrik Schwarz, Bugge Wesseltoft - Leave My Head Alone Brain (8:00) 58. D'Angelo - Brown Sugar (4:22) 59. Roisin Murphy - Incapable (Extended Mix) (8:25) 60. Honey Dijon, Channel Tres, Sadie Walker - Show Me Some Love (feat. Sadie Walker) (3:52) 61. Bobby Wilson - Deeper and Deeper (6:22) 62. Sharon Ridley - Where Did You Learn to Make Love the Way You Do (4:51) 63. Alice Clark - Don't You Care (2:49) 64. Earth, Wind & Fire - Devotion (Live) (4:52) 65. Sharon Redd - Try My Love On for Size (5:08) 66. Ten City - Right Back to You (Extended Version) (9:10) 67. Incognito - Always There (David Morales Remix) (3:36) 68. Public Enemy - Can't Truss It (5:22) 69. Luther Vandross - Sugar and Spice (I Found Me a Girl) (4:57) 70. Grace Jones - La vie en rose (7:25) 71. Ashford & Simpson - It Seems To Hang On (5:12) 72. Mr. Fingers - We Can Work It Out (5:43) 73. Loleatta Holloway - Love Sensation (6:06) 74. Adeva, Paul Simpson, Carmen Marie - Musical Freedom (6:22) 75. Yazoo - Situation (12" Remix) (5:45) 76. Jamiroquai - Blow Your Mind (8:32) 77. Arrested Development - Tennessee (4:32) 78. Trussel - Love Injection (7:56) 79. Mary J. Blige - My Love (4:12) 80. De La Soul - Jenifa Taught Me (Derwin's Revenge) (3:25) 81. Maze, Frankie Beverly - Joy And Pain (Remastered) (7:14) 82. Soulsearcher - Can't Get Enough! (Vocal Club Mix) (6:52) 83. Whitney Houston - It's Not Right but It's Okay (KCC's Release The Love Groove Bootleg Mix) (7:02) 84. Patrice Rushen - Haven't You Heard (6:45) 85. The Salsoul Orchestra, Loleatta Holloway - Seconds (feat. Loleatta Holloway) (8:58) 86. Lady Blackbird - It's Not That Easy (3:00) 87. Mass Order - Lift Every Voice (Take Me Away) (Classic Boot Mix) (7:25) 88. Malcolm McLaren - Double Dutch (4:42) 89. Junior Jack - Hola (4:12) 90. Celeda, Danny Tenaglia - Music Is the Answer (Original Extended 12-Inch Mix) (14:09) 91. Talking Heads - Once in a Lifetime (2005 Remaster) (4:19) 92. Jungle Brothers - What "U" Waitin' "4"? (4:04) 93. Kings Of Tomorrow, Julie McKnight - Finally (feat. Julie McKnight) (Extended Mix) (5:58) 94. SuperShy, Wayne Snow - Change (4:50) 95. Hannah Wants, Clementine Douglas - Cure My Desire (feat. Clementine Douglas) (Extended Mix) (6:38) 96. Channel Tres - Just Can't Get Enough (5:03) 97. El Payo, Ziyon - Tailor Made (5:22) 98. Close Counters - SNAP TO IT! (3:30) 99. Three Kings, Jaygun, Bashy - Shake Dat Booty (feat. Jaygun & Bashy) (7:34) 100. Chris Trucher, Felix Da Housecat - Chicago Love (5:05) 101. Benny Mussa - If You Want (Luke Solomon's Body Remix) (7:07) 102. Beyoncé, Madonna - BREAK MY SOUL (THE QUEENS REMIX) (5:56) 103. Daphni - Cloudy (6:51) 104. Larse - A Part Of (Extended Mix) (4:38) 105. Virginia - Funkert (4:27) 106. ANOTR, Abel Balder - Vertigo (4:16) 107. Sable Sheep - Upon Burning Skies (8:24) 108. Dam Swindle - Good Woman (Edit) (3:35) 109. Ezel, Rona Ray - Don't Know Yet (7:26) 110. Honey Dijon, Channel Tres, Sadie Walker - Show Me Some Love (feat. Sadie Walker) (Extended Mix) (5:51) 111. Shiba San, Tchami - I Wanna (Tchami Remix) (3:35) 112. Jamie Jones - My Paradise (Vintage Culture Extended Remix) (5:33) 113. OFFAIAH - Find A Way (Extended Mix) (6:29) 114. Mr. V - Jus Dance (Dennis Quin Remix) (3:36) 115. Alister Fawnwoda, Tyesha Blount - Starlight (5:59) 116. Mistura, Dave Lee, Jimpster, Jemini - Want Me Back (Jimpster Peak Time Deepness) (6:27) 117. Girls of the Internet - Sound Asleep (3:45) 118. Tom Middleton - Cicadas (Maya Jane Coles Remix) (6:24) 119. Rampa, chuala - Les Gout (5:44) 120. Crackazat - Demucha (Edit) (4:15) 121. Mary J. Blige - Good Morning Gorgeous (Kelly G Morning Pose Dub Remix) (3:27) 122. Butch - Same Like Dope But Different (4:41) 123. Kabbala, Dave Lee - Ashewo Ara (Dave Lee Afro Fusion Mix) (5:59) 124. Simon Adams, Max Millan - Mr. Franklin (Miguel Migs Salty Rub) (6:15) 125. Beanfield, Marzenka - Alone (7:29) 126. Delano Smith - Feat. Diamondancer - A Message For The DJ (5:36) 127. Clive From Accounts - 4 Time (5:38) 128. Jerk House Connection, Akram Sedkaoui - Each & Every Day (Life Goes On) [feat. Akram Sedkaoui] (Rocco Deeper Mix) (8:35) 129. ANOTR, Abel Balder - Your Mind (5:40) 130. Rodney Hunter - Temperature’s Rising (3:51) 131. Inkswel, Eliza Dickson, Pugs Atomz - Why Don't You Listen (Fred Everything Remix) (6:02) 132. Folamour - Fearless (5:23) 133. Mr. Flip - Hit Different (Afefe Iku Remix) (4:51) 134. Kid Fonque, Jonny Miller, ASAP Shembe - Connected Beings (Jazzanova Remix) (5:56) 135. Carlo Gambino - Dance For You (Original Mix) (7:27) 136. Gerd - We Bring U Muzik (Warehouse Mix) (6:08) 137. Joeski - Rude Boy (6:20) 138. Musta, Venessa Jackson - Loving Me (Hot Toddy Remix) (8:00) 139. youANDme, Kristina Sheli - Moment (4:35) 140. Oveous, Don Kamares - Legacy (5:35) 141. Risk Assessment, KE - Feel That (Franck Roger Remix) (6:28) 142. Paperclip People - Throw (6:47) 143. Austin Ato - When Love Is Tender (8:41) 144. Francisco Allendes - What You Do (6:48) 145. Steve Bug, Cle - Let It Go (6:33) 146. Afefe Iku - Sista Georgia (11:35) 147. Mike Steva, Stevo Atambire - Destiny Song (Pa'ala) [feat. Stevo Atambire] (5:54) 148. Kerri Chandler - Coro (DJ Spen Kaoz Re Edit) (6:30) 149. Caiiro, Awen - Your Voice (Adam Port Remix) (4:20) 150. Harry Romero, Inaya Day - Rise Up (Extended Club Mix) (6:19) 151. Pig&Dan - Rock You All Night (3:26) 152. Yousef, The Melody Men - Hear That Sound (feat. The Melody Men) (Club Mix) (5:56) 153. GruuvElement's - Boom Room (6:39) 154. Dam Swindle - All I Want (Edit) (3:56) 155. Mike Dunn, LOA. - When The Dust Clears (feat. LOA.) (MD MixX) (3:42) 156. Seamus Haji, Phebe Edwards - Better Come Again (4:00) 157. Mark Picchiotti, The Absolute, Craig J. Snider, Suzanne Palmer - I Believe (feat. Suzanne Palmer & Craig J. Snider) (DJ Spen & Michele Chiavarini's Higher Love Dub) (6:15) 158. Paul Kalkbrenner - Bengang (5:35) 159. Louie Vega, Robyn - All My Love (feat. Robyn) (5:58) 160. Daniel Steinberg - Groove People (5:28) 161. Purple Disco Machine, Bosq, Kaleta - Wake Up! (feat. Kaleta) (Extended) (6:56) 162. Saturday Love, KON, Fiorious - 2 B Free (Oliver Dollar Remix) (4:31) 163. Lady Blackbird - Lost and Looking (Colleen 'Cosmo' Murphy Cosmodelica Remix) (3:42) 164. Kerri Chandler, Bluey Robinson - Tenacity (Main Vocal Edit) (4:25) 165. Honey Dijon, Ramona Renea - Love Is A State Of Mind (feat. Ramona Renea) (3:13) 166. Adam Port, Alan Dixon - Forms Of Love (6:03) 167. Jamie Jones - My Paradise (3:31) 168. Fka Mash, Sio - Bumblebee (3:38) 169. Dennis Cruz - Ready For The Blues (5:00) 170. Ramin Rezaie - Searching (3:57) 171. Tony Lionni - Out Of Sight (Special Edit By Jerome Sydenham) (6:15) 172. Paulo Maria, HRDY - Connected (5:42) 173. Dario D'attis - Tanzstube (Original Mix) (7:44) 174. Dames Brown, Amp Fiddler, Andres - What Would You Do? (feat. Andrés & Amp Fiddler) (Two Soul Fusion Remix) (3:07) 175. Low Steppa - Closer (4:57) 176. Fred Everything, Jinadu - Searching (Deetron Remix) (8:03) 177. Sophie Lloyd, Pauline Taylor - Angels By My Side (feat. Pauline Taylor) (Floorplan Remix) (3:28) 178. S.A.M., Sarah Ikumu - Spotlight (feat. Sarah Ikumu) (Mousse T. Shizzle Mix) (3:20) 179. Malone - Time To Move (3:08) 180. Steve Bug, Mr. V - Back To '95 (Cinthie‘s 'Just A Vibe' Remix) (6:12) 181. Khan, Julee Cruise - Say Goodbye (Losoul »She's Homeless« Mix) (7:08) 182. Dam Swindle - Hey Mister (3:59) 183. 189 - Julien Jabre - Voodance (7:29) 184. B Beat Girls - For The Same Man (Nic Fanciulli Remix) (3:34) 185. Star B, Riva Starr, Mark Broom - Fire (Ron Bacardi Remix) (5:42) 186. Make A Dance - I Need Somebody (3:20) 187. Beyoncé - BREAK MY SOUL (4:38) 188. Zach Witness - Frankie & Levan (3:41) 189. Danny Tenaglia - The Brooklyn Gypsy (7:41) 190. Beau - Losing You (3:23) 191. Felipe Gordon - The Love (7:38) 192. Ferreck Dawn, Izzy Bizu - Life (2:50) 193. The Shapeshifters, Kimberly Davis - Love's Been Waiting (feat. Kimberly Davis) (7" Version) (2:48) 194. ANOTR, Sebastian Kamae - Time To Smoke (8:46) 195. Daniel Anthony - Endless (7:03) 196. Jamie Jones, aMEME - Pliva (4:04) 197. Darius Syrossian, DJ Supreme - I'm The Joker (feat. DJ Supreme) (2:36) 198. Oliver Way - Stained Glass Shadows (Robert Hood Remix) (Robert Hood) (6:54) 199. R.E.A.D., Sailor Jane - Where's My Phone? (feat. Sailor Jane) (Marco Faraone Remix) (3:35) 200. Daniel Steinberg - Take My Hand (5:17) 201. Dames Brown, Amp Fiddler, Andres - What Would You Do? (feat. Andrés & Amp Fiddler) (Folamour Remix) (4:30) 202. Brian Burnside - This Generation (Franck Roger Mix) (8:20) 203. LaTique, Colbert, Chymamusique - Above My Head (Radio Mix) (4:34) 204. Brooklyn Baby - NYC (5:04) 205. Marlon D - Jesus Creates Sound (5:30) 206. Kiko Navarro - Dope High (Vocal Mix) (7:52) 207. Franck Roger - Don't Ever Luv Me (6:44) 208. 40 Thieves, Qzen - Don't Turn It Off (Mixed) (3:49) 209. Linkwood - Tears (8:39) 210. Mr. V - Somethin' Wit Jazz (Dario D'Attis Extended Remix) (7:08) 211. David Morales, Elle Cato - Holding Me Touching Me (Extended Mix) (6:58) 212. Bassfort - Moon Shadow (Joe 'Joaquin' Claussell Remix) (11:26) 213. Close Counters - GET DOWN! (4:17) 214. Steve Lawler, Marco Lys, Joy Farrukh - If Only You Knew (feat. Joy Farrukh) (Extended Mix) (5:37) 215. Riva Starr, Todd Terry - This Is The Sound (Extended) (6:07) 216. Honey Dijon, Dope Earth Alien - It's Quiet Now (feat. Dope Earth Alien) (3:02) 217. Jon Cutler, E-Man - It's Yours (Kyri Markou Extended Remix) (5:39) 218. Thakzin - The Magnificent Dance (7:05)
submitted by deeptechsharing to u/deeptechsharing [link] [comments]
DOWNLOAD in 320kbps: https://sharing-db.club/djs-chart/436905_va-defected-selectors-simon-dunmore-june-2023/
Tracklist: 1. Henrik Schwarz - Leave My Head Alone Brain (Osunlade Remix) (7:52) 2. Bobby Womack - How Could You Break My Heart (5:17) 3. Ultra Nate - Joy (5:17) 4. Air Power - Be Yourself (6:16) 5. James Brown, The J.B.'s - Give It Up Or Turnit A Loose (Remix) (6:10) 6. Aretha Franklin - Jump (2:19) 7. MJ Cole - Sincere (Re-Cue`d) (5:38) 8. Fela Kuti - Shakara (Oloje) (13:25) 9. Chaka Khan - I Know You, I Live You (4:27) 10. Guru, Ronny Jordan, DC Lee - No Time To Play (4:54) 11. Donald Byrd - Places And Spaces (6:19) 12. Prince - Sign 'O' the Times (5:02) 13. Mr. Fingers - Mystery of Love (7:10) 14. Stevie Wonder - Living For The City (7:22) 15. The Salsoul Orchestra - Ooh I Love It (Love Break) (7:49) 16. The Reese Project - Direct Me (Joey Negro Mix) (6:50) 17. Tom Misch, Zak Abel - Beautiful Escape (4:36) 18. Soul II Soul, Rose Windross - Fairplay (3:58) 19. Gil Scott-Heron - The Revolution Will Not Be Televised (3:10) 20. Sounds Of Blackness - The Pressure (Frankie Knuckles Classic Mix With Intro) (8:24) 21. David Bowie - Young Americans (2016 Remaster) (5:13) 22. Bobby Womack - Give It Up (4:38) 23. Gabriels - Love and Hate in a Different Time (Original) (4:42) 24. Digital Underground - Doowutchyalike (8:53) 25. Nuyorican Soul, Jocelyn Brown - It's Alright, I Feel It (3:22) 26. Etienne de Crécy - Prix choc (8:52) 27. Inner Life - Moment Of My Life (12" Version) (6:32) 28. Daft Punk - Alive (5:16) 29. First Choice - Let No Man Put Asunder (Shep Pettibone 12" Mix) (8:01) 30. Dennis Ferrer, Danil Wright - Church Lady (feat. Danil Wright) (7:19) 31. Masters At Work, La India - To Be In Love (MAW '99 Mix) (11:54) 32. Clivilles & Cole - A Deeper Love (A Deeper Love Mix) (12:04) 33. Archie Bell & The Drells - Where Will You Go When the Party's Over (4:05) 34. Womack & Womack - Baby I'm Scared of You (5:38) 35. The Style Council - My Ever Changing Moods (3:37) 36. Kathy Sledge - Take Me Back To Love Again (Shelter Me Mix) (6:51) 37. Ashford & Simpson - Love Don't Make It Right (4:23) 38. Blaze, Palmer Brown - My Beat (feat. Palmer Brown) (5:19) 39. Eighties Ladies - Turned on to You (5:26) 40. Blaze - Wishing You Were Here (6:56) 41. Coati Mundi - Que Passa / Me No Pop I (6:21) 42. Massive Attack - Safe From Harm (2012 Mix/Master) (5:19) 43. Incognito, Jocelyn Brown - Always There (David Morales Remix) (6:36) 44. Lee Fields & The Expressions, Lee Fields - Ladies (4:17) 45. Marvin Gaye - Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler) (5:26) 46. Cece Rogers - Someday (3:50) 47. Honey Dijon, Annette Bowen, Nikki-O - Downtown (feat. Annette Bowen & Nikki-O) (Louie Vega Raw Dub Mix) (3:33) 48. Quartette Tres Bien - Boss Trés Bien (5:28) 49. Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes, Teddy Pendergrass - Don't Leave Me This Way (feat. Teddy Pendergrass) (6:03) 50. The Staple Singers - Trippin' On Your Love (4:27) 51. Curtis Mayfield - Back to the World (6:49) 52. The Specials - A Message to You Rudy (2015 Remaster) (2:52) 53. Black Coffee - Turn Me On (7:25) 54. Bob Sinclar - My only love (Original) (4:34) 55. Love Unlimited - Move Me No Mountain (3:55) 56. River Ocean, India - Love & Happiness (Yemaya Y Ochùn) [feat. India] (12" Club Mix) (9:51) 57. Henrik Schwarz, Bugge Wesseltoft - Leave My Head Alone Brain (8:00) 58. D'Angelo - Brown Sugar (4:22) 59. Roisin Murphy - Incapable (Extended Mix) (8:25) 60. Honey Dijon, Channel Tres, Sadie Walker - Show Me Some Love (feat. Sadie Walker) (3:52) 61. Bobby Wilson - Deeper and Deeper (6:22) 62. Sharon Ridley - Where Did You Learn to Make Love the Way You Do (4:51) 63. Alice Clark - Don't You Care (2:49) 64. Earth, Wind & Fire - Devotion (Live) (4:52) 65. Sharon Redd - Try My Love On for Size (5:08) 66. Ten City - Right Back to You (Extended Version) (9:10) 67. Incognito - Always There (David Morales Remix) (3:36) 68. Public Enemy - Can't Truss It (5:22) 69. Luther Vandross - Sugar and Spice (I Found Me a Girl) (4:57) 70. Grace Jones - La vie en rose (7:25) 71. Ashford & Simpson - It Seems To Hang On (5:12) 72. Mr. Fingers - We Can Work It Out (5:43) 73. Loleatta Holloway - Love Sensation (6:06) 74. Adeva, Paul Simpson, Carmen Marie - Musical Freedom (6:22) 75. Yazoo - Situation (12" Remix) (5:45) 76. Jamiroquai - Blow Your Mind (8:32) 77. Arrested Development - Tennessee (4:32) 78. Trussel - Love Injection (7:56) 79. Mary J. Blige - My Love (4:12) 80. De La Soul - Jenifa Taught Me (Derwin's Revenge) (3:25) 81. Maze, Frankie Beverly - Joy And Pain (Remastered) (7:14) 82. Soulsearcher - Can't Get Enough! (Vocal Club Mix) (6:52) 83. Whitney Houston - It's Not Right but It's Okay (KCC's Release The Love Groove Bootleg Mix) (7:02) 84. Patrice Rushen - Haven't You Heard (6:45) 85. The Salsoul Orchestra, Loleatta Holloway - Seconds (feat. Loleatta Holloway) (8:58) 86. Lady Blackbird - It's Not That Easy (3:00) 87. Mass Order - Lift Every Voice (Take Me Away) (Classic Boot Mix) (7:25) 88. Malcolm McLaren - Double Dutch (4:42) 89. Junior Jack - Hola (4:12) 90. Celeda, Danny Tenaglia - Music Is the Answer (Original Extended 12-Inch Mix) (14:09) 91. Talking Heads - Once in a Lifetime (2005 Remaster) (4:19) 92. Jungle Brothers - What "U" Waitin' "4"? (4:04) 93. Kings Of Tomorrow, Julie McKnight - Finally (feat. Julie McKnight) (Extended Mix) (5:58) 94. SuperShy, Wayne Snow - Change (4:50) 95. Hannah Wants, Clementine Douglas - Cure My Desire (feat. Clementine Douglas) (Extended Mix) (6:38) 96. Channel Tres - Just Can't Get Enough (5:03) 97. El Payo, Ziyon - Tailor Made (5:22) 98. Close Counters - SNAP TO IT! (3:30) 99. Three Kings, Jaygun, Bashy - Shake Dat Booty (feat. Jaygun & Bashy) (7:34) 100. Chris Trucher, Felix Da Housecat - Chicago Love (5:05) 101. Benny Mussa - If You Want (Luke Solomon's Body Remix) (7:07) 102. Beyoncé, Madonna - BREAK MY SOUL (THE QUEENS REMIX) (5:56) 103. Daphni - Cloudy (6:51) 104. Larse - A Part Of (Extended Mix) (4:38) 105. Virginia - Funkert (4:27) 106. ANOTR, Abel Balder - Vertigo (4:16) 107. Sable Sheep - Upon Burning Skies (8:24) 108. Dam Swindle - Good Woman (Edit) (3:35) 109. Ezel, Rona Ray - Don't Know Yet (7:26) 110. Honey Dijon, Channel Tres, Sadie Walker - Show Me Some Love (feat. Sadie Walker) (Extended Mix) (5:51) 111. Shiba San, Tchami - I Wanna (Tchami Remix) (3:35) 112. Jamie Jones - My Paradise (Vintage Culture Extended Remix) (5:33) 113. OFFAIAH - Find A Way (Extended Mix) (6:29) 114. Mr. V - Jus Dance (Dennis Quin Remix) (3:36) 115. Alister Fawnwoda, Tyesha Blount - Starlight (5:59) 116. Mistura, Dave Lee, Jimpster, Jemini - Want Me Back (Jimpster Peak Time Deepness) (6:27) 117. Girls of the Internet - Sound Asleep (3:45) 118. Tom Middleton - Cicadas (Maya Jane Coles Remix) (6:24) 119. Rampa, chuala - Les Gout (5:44) 120. Crackazat - Demucha (Edit) (4:15) 121. Mary J. Blige - Good Morning Gorgeous (Kelly G Morning Pose Dub Remix) (3:27) 122. Butch - Same Like Dope But Different (4:41) 123. Kabbala, Dave Lee - Ashewo Ara (Dave Lee Afro Fusion Mix) (5:59) 124. Simon Adams, Max Millan - Mr. Franklin (Miguel Migs Salty Rub) (6:15) 125. Beanfield, Marzenka - Alone (7:29) 126. Delano Smith - Feat. Diamondancer - A Message For The DJ (5:36) 127. Clive From Accounts - 4 Time (5:38) 128. Jerk House Connection, Akram Sedkaoui - Each & Every Day (Life Goes On) [feat. Akram Sedkaoui] (Rocco Deeper Mix) (8:35) 129. ANOTR, Abel Balder - Your Mind (5:40) 130. Rodney Hunter - Temperature’s Rising (3:51) 131. Inkswel, Eliza Dickson, Pugs Atomz - Why Don't You Listen (Fred Everything Remix) (6:02) 132. Folamour - Fearless (5:23) 133. Mr. Flip - Hit Different (Afefe Iku Remix) (4:51) 134. Kid Fonque, Jonny Miller, ASAP Shembe - Connected Beings (Jazzanova Remix) (5:56) 135. Carlo Gambino - Dance For You (Original Mix) (7:27) 136. Gerd - We Bring U Muzik (Warehouse Mix) (6:08) 137. Joeski - Rude Boy (6:20) 138. Musta, Venessa Jackson - Loving Me (Hot Toddy Remix) (8:00) 139. youANDme, Kristina Sheli - Moment (4:35) 140. Oveous, Don Kamares - Legacy (5:35) 141. Risk Assessment, KE - Feel That (Franck Roger Remix) (6:28) 142. Paperclip People - Throw (6:47) 143. Austin Ato - When Love Is Tender (8:41) 144. Francisco Allendes - What You Do (6:48) 145. Steve Bug, Cle - Let It Go (6:33) 146. Afefe Iku - Sista Georgia (11:35) 147. Mike Steva, Stevo Atambire - Destiny Song (Pa'ala) [feat. Stevo Atambire] (5:54) 148. Kerri Chandler - Coro (DJ Spen Kaoz Re Edit) (6:30) 149. Caiiro, Awen - Your Voice (Adam Port Remix) (4:20) 150. Harry Romero, Inaya Day - Rise Up (Extended Club Mix) (6:19) 151. Pig&Dan - Rock You All Night (3:26) 152. Yousef, The Melody Men - Hear That Sound (feat. The Melody Men) (Club Mix) (5:56) 153. GruuvElement's - Boom Room (6:39) 154. Dam Swindle - All I Want (Edit) (3:56) 155. Mike Dunn, LOA. - When The Dust Clears (feat. LOA.) (MD MixX) (3:42) 156. Seamus Haji, Phebe Edwards - Better Come Again (4:00) 157. Mark Picchiotti, The Absolute, Craig J. Snider, Suzanne Palmer - I Believe (feat. Suzanne Palmer & Craig J. Snider) (DJ Spen & Michele Chiavarini's Higher Love Dub) (6:15) 158. Paul Kalkbrenner - Bengang (5:35) 159. Louie Vega, Robyn - All My Love (feat. Robyn) (5:58) 160. Daniel Steinberg - Groove People (5:28) 161. Purple Disco Machine, Bosq, Kaleta - Wake Up! (feat. Kaleta) (Extended) (6:56) 162. Saturday Love, KON, Fiorious - 2 B Free (Oliver Dollar Remix) (4:31) 163. Lady Blackbird - Lost and Looking (Colleen 'Cosmo' Murphy Cosmodelica Remix) (3:42) 164. Kerri Chandler, Bluey Robinson - Tenacity (Main Vocal Edit) (4:25) 165. Honey Dijon, Ramona Renea - Love Is A State Of Mind (feat. Ramona Renea) (3:13) 166. Adam Port, Alan Dixon - Forms Of Love (6:03) 167. Jamie Jones - My Paradise (3:31) 168. Fka Mash, Sio - Bumblebee (3:38) 169. Dennis Cruz - Ready For The Blues (5:00) 170. Ramin Rezaie - Searching (3:57) 171. Tony Lionni - Out Of Sight (Special Edit By Jerome Sydenham) (6:15) 172. Paulo Maria, HRDY - Connected (5:42) 173. Dario D'attis - Tanzstube (Original Mix) (7:44) 174. Dames Brown, Amp Fiddler, Andres - What Would You Do? (feat. Andrés & Amp Fiddler) (Two Soul Fusion Remix) (3:07) 175. Low Steppa - Closer (4:57) 176. Fred Everything, Jinadu - Searching (Deetron Remix) (8:03) 177. Sophie Lloyd, Pauline Taylor - Angels By My Side (feat. Pauline Taylor) (Floorplan Remix) (3:28) 178. S.A.M., Sarah Ikumu - Spotlight (feat. Sarah Ikumu) (Mousse T. Shizzle Mix) (3:20) 179. Malone - Time To Move (3:08) 180. Steve Bug, Mr. V - Back To '95 (Cinthie‘s 'Just A Vibe' Remix) (6:12) 181. Khan, Julee Cruise - Say Goodbye (Losoul »She's Homeless« Mix) (7:08) 182. Dam Swindle - Hey Mister (3:59) 183. 189 - Julien Jabre - Voodance (7:29) 184. B Beat Girls - For The Same Man (Nic Fanciulli Remix) (3:34) 185. Star B, Riva Starr, Mark Broom - Fire (Ron Bacardi Remix) (5:42) 186. Make A Dance - I Need Somebody (3:20) 187. Beyoncé - BREAK MY SOUL (4:38) 188. Zach Witness - Frankie & Levan (3:41) 189. Danny Tenaglia - The Brooklyn Gypsy (7:41) 190. Beau - Losing You (3:23) 191. Felipe Gordon - The Love (7:38) 192. Ferreck Dawn, Izzy Bizu - Life (2:50) 193. The Shapeshifters, Kimberly Davis - Love's Been Waiting (feat. Kimberly Davis) (7" Version) (2:48) 194. ANOTR, Sebastian Kamae - Time To Smoke (8:46) 195. Daniel Anthony - Endless (7:03) 196. Jamie Jones, aMEME - Pliva (4:04) 197. Darius Syrossian, DJ Supreme - I'm The Joker (feat. DJ Supreme) (2:36) 198. Oliver Way - Stained Glass Shadows (Robert Hood Remix) (Robert Hood) (6:54) 199. R.E.A.D., Sailor Jane - Where's My Phone? (feat. Sailor Jane) (Marco Faraone Remix) (3:35) 200. Daniel Steinberg - Take My Hand (5:17) 201. Dames Brown, Amp Fiddler, Andres - What Would You Do? (feat. Andrés & Amp Fiddler) (Folamour Remix) (4:30) 202. Brian Burnside - This Generation (Franck Roger Mix) (8:20) 203. LaTique, Colbert, Chymamusique - Above My Head (Radio Mix) (4:34) 204. Brooklyn Baby - NYC (5:04) 205. Marlon D - Jesus Creates Sound (5:30) 206. Kiko Navarro - Dope High (Vocal Mix) (7:52) 207. Franck Roger - Don't Ever Luv Me (6:44) 208. 40 Thieves, Qzen - Don't Turn It Off (Mixed) (3:49) 209. Linkwood - Tears (8:39) 210. Mr. V - Somethin' Wit Jazz (Dario D'Attis Extended Remix) (7:08) 211. David Morales, Elle Cato - Holding Me Touching Me (Extended Mix) (6:58) 212. Bassfort - Moon Shadow (Joe 'Joaquin' Claussell Remix) (11:26) 213. Close Counters - GET DOWN! (4:17) 214. Steve Lawler, Marco Lys, Joy Farrukh - If Only You Knew (feat. Joy Farrukh) (Extended Mix) (5:37) 215. Riva Starr, Todd Terry - This Is The Sound (Extended) (6:07) 216. Honey Dijon, Dope Earth Alien - It's Quiet Now (feat. Dope Earth Alien) (3:02) 217. Jon Cutler, E-Man - It's Yours (Kyri Markou Extended Remix) (5:39) 218. Thakzin - The Magnificent Dance (7:05)
2023.06.04 12:20 triceratopping If you used to like the old intro decks, you may like PRECON DECON!
Hello!
Last year, I began a video project to review every single M:tG preconstructed deck from a main expansion set from Tempest to Eldritch Moon.
Why? Because a) I miss the old 60-card intro decks when a new set is released, b) a lot of players got into the game thanks to a humble theme/intro deck, and I felt like they deserved more respect! And c) I was kinda bored and thought why not, seems like a niche to talk about janky 90s/00s/10s M:tG decks.
HERE is the playlist for Season 1, aka the "Classic Frame" era of Tempest to Scourge
HERE is the playlist for Season 2, aka the "Pre-Intro Deck" era of 8th Edition to Eventide
HERE is the playlist for Season 3, aka the "Tiny Intro Deck" era of Shards of Alara to New Phyrexia
HERE is the start of Season 4, aka "The Golden Age" era of M12 to Journey into Nyx
Am I a M:tG expert or historian in any way? No! I'm just a crusty old casual player who really liked these old precon decks and wanted to make videos where I put on rose-tinted glasses and ramble unscripted for 15-20 minutes a pop.
If that appeals to you (you sicko), then I hope you find some time to take a look at my content. There's a new video every day, and I fully intend to commit to go all the way up to Eldritch Moon, and probably beyond that into Planeswalker decks and Duel decks.
submitted by triceratopping to magicTCG [link] [comments]
Last year, I began a video project to review every single M:tG preconstructed deck from a main expansion set from Tempest to Eldritch Moon.
Why? Because a) I miss the old 60-card intro decks when a new set is released, b) a lot of players got into the game thanks to a humble theme/intro deck, and I felt like they deserved more respect! And c) I was kinda bored and thought why not, seems like a niche to talk about janky 90s/00s/10s M:tG decks.
HERE is the playlist for Season 1, aka the "Classic Frame" era of Tempest to Scourge
HERE is the playlist for Season 2, aka the "Pre-Intro Deck" era of 8th Edition to Eventide
HERE is the playlist for Season 3, aka the "Tiny Intro Deck" era of Shards of Alara to New Phyrexia
HERE is the start of Season 4, aka "The Golden Age" era of M12 to Journey into Nyx
Am I a M:tG expert or historian in any way? No! I'm just a crusty old casual player who really liked these old precon decks and wanted to make videos where I put on rose-tinted glasses and ramble unscripted for 15-20 minutes a pop.
If that appeals to you (you sicko), then I hope you find some time to take a look at my content. There's a new video every day, and I fully intend to commit to go all the way up to Eldritch Moon, and probably beyond that into Planeswalker decks and Duel decks.
2023.06.04 12:19 rangernumberx Respect Luigi (Super Mario Bros.)
"Here we go...(gulps)"
Green 'Stache. King of Second Bananas. The original pallet swap. Plain old player two. No matter what, Luigi never seems to be able to catch a break, always living in his brother's shadow. But in reality, he's got many advantages over Mario, such as his jump height and being taller. But while he may be a coward, when it comes down to saving those he cares about, Luigi will find the strength inside him to stand up against his foes, be they Bowser's forces or King Boo's spectral legions.
This thread takes the Super Mario Bros. 'canon' as every Super Mario platformer and all closely linked games (the Luigi's Mansion games, Yoshi titles except for Wooly World, and Super Princess Peach). The sole exception is Super Mario Bros. 2, which is confirmed in the credits to be a dream. Hover over each feat for the game they come from. Any feats featuring a different character comes from a game where they are capable of demonstrating the exact same feat.
3 - Super Mario Bros. 3
W - Super Mario World
W2 - Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island
LM - Luigi's Mansion
64-DS - Super Mario 64 DS
PP - Super Princess Peach
New - New Super Mario Bros.
G - Super Mario Galaxy
New-W - New Super Mario Bros. Wii
G2 - Super Mario Galaxy 2
3DL - Super Mario 3D Land
New-2 - New Super Mario Bros. 2
New-U - New Super Mario Bros. U
LM-2 - Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon
3DW - Super Mario 3D World
LM-3 - Luigi's Mansion 3
Mushroom
Statue Leaf
P Balloon
Power Flower
Frog Suit
Penguin Suit
Boomerang Flower
Blue Shell
Super Bell
Invincibility Leaf
P-Acorn
In Super Mario 64 DS, characters can wear the caps of Mario, Luigi, and Wario, turning them into the hat's owner and gaining their abilities.64-DS
In Super Mario 64 DS, characters can wear the caps of Mario, Luigi, and Wario, turning them into the hat's owner and gaining their abilities.64-DS
Strength
Strength
Strength
A modified Game Boy Colour, given to Luigi by Professor E. Gadd to help him through Luigi's Mansion.
In Luigi's Mansion 2, E. Gadd changes with the times and this time gives Luigi a modified DS. It would be later dubbed the Dual Scream.
Luigi's Mansion 3's communication device modelled after the Virtual Boy, complete with red-coloured holographic imagery.
submitted by rangernumberx to respectthreads [link] [comments]
Green 'Stache. King of Second Bananas. The original pallet swap. Plain old player two. No matter what, Luigi never seems to be able to catch a break, always living in his brother's shadow. But in reality, he's got many advantages over Mario, such as his jump height and being taller. But while he may be a coward, when it comes down to saving those he cares about, Luigi will find the strength inside him to stand up against his foes, be they Bowser's forces or King Boo's spectral legions.
This thread takes the Super Mario Bros. 'canon' as every Super Mario platformer and all closely linked games (the Luigi's Mansion games, Yoshi titles except for Wooly World, and Super Princess Peach). The sole exception is Super Mario Bros. 2, which is confirmed in the credits to be a dream. Hover over each feat for the game they come from. Any feats featuring a different character comes from a game where they are capable of demonstrating the exact same feat.
Legend
1 - Super Mario Bros.3 - Super Mario Bros. 3
W - Super Mario World
W2 - Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island
LM - Luigi's Mansion
64-DS - Super Mario 64 DS
PP - Super Princess Peach
New - New Super Mario Bros.
G - Super Mario Galaxy
New-W - New Super Mario Bros. Wii
G2 - Super Mario Galaxy 2
3DL - Super Mario 3D Land
New-2 - New Super Mario Bros. 2
New-U - New Super Mario Bros. U
LM-2 - Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon
3DW - Super Mario 3D World
LM-3 - Luigi's Mansion 3
Physicals
Strength
Striking - Jumping Into- Breaks large brick blocks by jumping and spinning into themG
- Breaks a giant block by jumping into it3
- Breaks a giant brick block by repeatedly jumping into it3DW
- Makes a large enemy slide back by jumping on it3DW
- Swings a punching bag considerably with a punch, hitting a large ghost and sending it reelingLM
- Shatters large brick blocks with a punch64-DS
- Kicks a giant shell so that it breaks a giant block, and still has enough force to rebound3
- Drop kicks a tower twice before jumping on it, destroying it. While the tower is supposed to be the one the level took place in, it's only about twice as high as Luigi in the cutsceneW
- Lifts a tower and kicks it away. While the tower is supposed to be the one the level took place in, it's only about twice as high as Luigi in the cutsceneW
- Breaks large brick blocks by jumping and spinning into themG
- Shatters big stone spikes with a spinG
- Shatters a large amount of crystal with a spinG
- Shatters a giant crystal with two spinsG
- Shatters a boulder bigger than him with a spin, albeit one with the inside being comprised of some red materialG
- Destroys a giant boulder with a spin, albeit one with the inside being comprised of some red materialG
- Makes the heavy end of a large monster's tail go flying back with a spin with enough force that it stretches before coming back with enough force to do damageG
- Sends a large Petey Piranha-like alien through the air with a spin, with it sending stone shards up upon landingG2
- Sends Bowser spinning across a tiny artificial planet with a spin, before knocking him back through the air with anotherG
- After Bowser covered himself in stone, sends him spinning with a spin while knocking all of the stone off of himG
- Ground pounds in a stone switch that's unaffected by his weight64-DS
- Breaks brick blocks with a ground poundNew
- Shatters cracked stone with a ground poundG
- Shatters a Whomp with a ground poundN
- Shatters a giant Whomp with a ground pound to the backG2
- Cracks King Whomp with a ground pound to the backG2
- Ground pounds a large monster from below, sending it spinning through the airG2
- Ground pounds a large meteor into Bowser, knocking him backG2
- Ground pounds a large meteor a distance into an enormous Bowser, sending him spinning backG2
- Flips a nearby Wriggler with a ground poundG
- Jumps high, using Mario's head as a springboard3
- Jumps onto an airship's anchor as it's taking off3
- Jumps on top of a tower. While this is supposed to be the tower the level took place in, it's visually only about twice as high as LuigiW
- Shifts about a large stone statueLM
- Walks around with a large spiked metal ball being carried by the Poltergust 3000LM
- Lifts a tower and kicks it away. While the tower is supposed to be the one the level took place in, it's only about twice as high as Luigi in the cutsceneW
- Lifts and throws Big Bob-omb64
- Lifts and throws large sentient boulders, with them shattering on hitting something3DW
- Breaks a brick block by throwing a Koopa shellNew
- Throws a Koopa shell underwater, causing it to destroy a large amount of rockG
- Swings a grand piano over his headLM-3
- Swings around and throws Bowser by his tail64
- Causes a tower to collapse by swinging a hammer numerous times. While the tower is supposed to be the one the level took place in, it's only about twice as high as Luigi in the cutsceneW
- Pushes a large box64-DS
- Breaks blocks by spin jumping on themW
- Easily sucks up a ghost which dragged E. Gadd around while he tried to suck it upLM
Durability
Blunt Force- Hit into the air by Peach and sent bouncing aboutPP
- Shunted forwards a distance after being run into by a tankNew
- Hit on the back of the head by a sliding modified sled, flips through the air, and lands on said sledLM-2
- Launched through a seemingly glass domeG
- Flung through a mansion's roofLM-2
- Sent flying up a mansion by a springboard, hits open a metal hatch, and continues going up a distance before falling to the roofLM-2
- Launched through several brick blocks3DW
- Launched out of a cannon with enough force to break part of a brick wall64-DS
- Is unharmed after being launched through crystal hard enough to shatter itG
- Tumbles down a set of stairs and gets back upLM-2
- Quickly recovers from being in an elevator that falls a floorLM-2
- Gets sent flying up a mansion by a springboard, hits open a metal hatch, and continues going up a distance before falling to the roofLM-2
- Unharmed after falling 4 floors down a chimneyLM
- Falls from an airship, past clouds, and onto the floor in a castle without problem3
- Is fine being launched between tiny planets and landing on his feetG
- Stands right besides a tower as an explosion strong enough to level it occurs. While the tower is supposed to be the one the level took place in, it's only about twice as high as Luigi with the Super Mushroom in this cutsceneW
- Is near an ice monster created by a possessing ghost when it has a bomb launched into its mouth, creating a large explosionLM-2
- Gets launched out of a cannon with enough force to break part of a brick wall64-DS
- Gets launched onto an airship via cannon3DW
- Gets fired out of a cannon a large distance and onto a bridge3DW
Other
Speed
- Quickly covers a large distance by runningNew
- Runs up the side of a pipeW
- Runs on water for a short period of time64-DS
Agility
Abilities- Triple Jump - Jumps three times in succession, gaining extra height with each jump64-DS
- Wall Jump - Jumps between two close by walls, gaining height each timeG
- Long Jump - Jumps far, but without much height64-DS
- Backflip - Jumps high after crouching, and spins to slow his fall64-DS
- Scuttle - Scuttles in midair to slow his fall64-DS
- Twist - Twists to slightly suspend himself in the airG
- Spin - With a Luma under his hat, Luigi can spin, acting both as an attack and as a way to give himself some extra distance in the air.G
- Roll - Dashes forwards in a roll3DL
Feats
- Balances on a ball, and somehow jumps with itG
- Walks on a tightrope3DL
- Walks on, and jumps between, two narrow pipesLM-2
Power-Ups
Size Changing
Super MushroomMushroom
- Makes a character giant, capable of destroying large brick blocks, Bullet Bill launchers, and Thwomps by walking into them64-DS
- Allows the user to no-sell large rolling metal balls64-DS
- Wario with the mushroom was unaffected by being hit by a boulder slightly larger than him while under the effects of the mushroom, but this could be because of Wario's naturally greater strength64-DS
- Makes the user giant for a short amount of time, capable of easily breaking bricks and pipes by walking through them. They can also ground pound to make Goombas or coins fall from the skyNew
- Makes the user capable of smashing brick blocks as tall as their new size by running into them3DW
- Makes the user small and light enough to run on waterNew
- Allows the user to run up wallsNew-U
- The character can't hurt enemies by jumping on them as normal like thisNew
Mobility
Super Leaf- Allows the user to slow their descentU
- With a run up, allows the user to fly for a short time, able to break blocks while doing so3
- Breaks brick blocks with a tail whip3
- Breaks an enormous brick block with several tail swings3DW
- Functions the same as the Super Leaf, but allows for unlimited flight without build up3
- In Super Mario 3D Land, the P Wing teleports the user to the flagpole at the end of the world3DL
Statue Leaf
- Acts like the Tanooki Leaf, creating a small shockwave upon landing if the transformation into a statue happens mid-air3DL
- The statue is invincible, though the transformation only lasts for so long at once3DL
- Allows the user to glide through the airNew-U
- Provides a 'boost' to rapidly ascend in the air, though they can't glide afterwards and instead flap their wings to slow their descentNew-U
- The user can cling briefly to walls before sliding down themNew-U
- Lets the user fly straight up, and then either slow their descent by running in midair or rapidly descend in a fast spinNew-W
- Clears away a large amount of cloud surrounding the user by flying up and rapidly spinning downNew-W
- Allows the user to slow their decent, fly with a running start, and spin to attackW
- Lets the user slow their descent while riding YoshiW
- Lets the user slowly fly for brief periodsG
- Lets the user climb on honey panels and the giant furry Queen BeeG
- Lets the user walk on clouds and other platforms that immediately break upon a character not using the Bee Mushroom touching themG2
- Goes away upon the user touching waterG2
P Balloon
Power Flower
- With the Power Flower, Luigi turns invisible and intangible, capable of walking through wire fencing64-DS
- Is immune to toxic gas64-DS
- Allows the user to create and walk on up to three cloud platforms that disappear after a short time periodG2
- Goes away when the user touches waterG2
Frog Suit
Penguin Suit
- Can throw ice balls which bounce on the ground and instantly freeze an enemy in a block if it hits. It also allows the user to slide on ice with enough force to break through brick blocksNew-W
- The user can slide on the surface of waterNew-W
- Allows the user greater mobility in waterNew-W
- Allows the user to walk on ice without slippingNew-W
Offensive
Fire Flower- Throws fireballs which bounce along the floor and off of walls for a short time, or until they hit something3DW
- Instantly burns up a Piranha PlantNew
- Instantly thaws coins and Munchers trapped in blocks of ice3
- Destroys a large Goomba snow sculpture with a fireball, and a giant Bowser snow sculpture in threeG2
- Keeps going after breaking wooden cratesG2
- Shatters reinforced crates bigger than MarioG2
- Breaks crystal structuresG2
- Makes the giant Prince Bully slide back with fireballs3DW
- Work underwater1
- In Super Mario Galaxy, the power up doesn't go away on damage, but instead after a certain amount of timeG
- Throws balls of ice which bounce on the ground and instantly freeze an enemy in a blockNew-W
- The ice balls work underwaterNew-W
- The ice balls create some amount of lightNew-U
- In Super Mario Galaxy, turns the user into ice for a limited amount of time, instantly freezing the water or lava they touch into icy platformsNew-G
Boomerang Flower
- Allows the user to throw boomerangs which constantly follow the thrower until they hit something3DL
- Can hit several enemies before stopping3DW
- Can be used to collect far off things3DL
Blue Shell
Super Bell
- Hits away large football bombs3DW
- Makes a large enemy slide back3DW
- Hits away large sentient boulders3DW
- Shatters a large wooden panel shaped like Bowser3DW
- Shatters a crate with a swing3DW
- Allows the user to climb up sheer walls for a brief time (including those made of stone) and clamber up flagpoles3DW
- Dives down at a diagonal angle with enough force to shatter wooden crates3DW
- The user can paddle in the air to slow their descent3DW
- Makes the user gather rocks around themselves and roll around in a boulder. Like this, an enormous gemstone can be shattered in two blowsG2
- Knocks down a metal drawbridgeG2
- Shatters larger rolling boulders, albeit ones consisting largely of something red on the inside, and a large rock, though the latter breaks the user out of their boulderG2
- Hits a giant armadillo-like monster into the air, making it spinG2
- Jumps a large distance after rolling up a rampG2
Invincibility
Starman- Makes the user invincible for a short period, allowing them to run through enemies and attacks without harm1
- Extends to Yoshi while riding himW
- Creates a large amount of light while in useNew-W
Invincibility Leaf
P-Acorn
Other
Boo Mushroom- Turns the user into a Boo, letting them float and turning them intangibleG
- Goes away after being hit by bright lightG
In Super Mario 64 DS, characters can wear the caps of Mario, Luigi, and Wario, turning them into the hat's owner and gaining their abilities.64-DS
- Can shatter brick blocks with a punch,64-DS
- Can wall jump64-DS
- Is the only character with access to the wings, which allow him to fly around for a short period of time64-DS
- With the Power Flower, Mario becomes inflated and floats around, bouncing off surfaces slightly. This automatically goes away after a short period of time, or can be forced away by ground pounding64-DS
In Super Mario 64 DS, characters can wear the caps of Mario, Luigi, and Wario, turning them into the hat's owner and gaining their abilities.64-DS
- Can smash giant black brick blocks and giant boulders with a punch64-DS
- Hits posts into the ground with a single ground pound while other characters require three.64-DS
- With the Power Flower, Wario turns metal, becoming immune to enemy attacks, not needing to breathe underwater, and be unaffected by poisonous gas64-DS
- Creates an identical clone of the user which copy their every movement. Any power ups gained affect all existing clones3DW
- The effects of a Double Cherry stack, allowing a second clone to be made when one already exists, and so on3DW
- When the user enters a warp pipe, the clones warp to them and reappear on the other side of the pipe3DW
Equipment
Poltergust 3000
A vacuum cleaner adapted by Professor E. Gadd to be able to suck up ghosts, used in Luigi's Mansion.Strength
- Sucks up a tablecloth over a long table without moving anything on top of itLM
- Can suck up large spiked metal balls, hold them, and shoot themLM
- Sucks up a falling item, shoots it away a distance, and causes it to destroy half of a large rock sphereLM
- The vacuum head has a torch function that can quickly be switched out in order to suck up ghosts
- By sucking up different elemental ghosts, the Poltergust can spit out said element
Poltergust 5000
An later version of the Poltergust 3000 from Luigi's Mansion 2. It can be further upgraded to the Super Poltergust, which increases its capabilities to suck up ghostsLM-2Strength
- Carries around a filled bucket of waterLM-2
- Shoots a spiked plant, causing it to shatter a wooden pictureLM-2
- Lifts a Toad by the head and shoots them a distanceLM-2
- Pulls down a wall with three pulls of a vineLM-2
- Pulls down a wall with three pulls of a chainLM-2
- Sucks up a sheet covering a doorLM-2
- Sucks up a tablecloth, throwing items into the air slightly but not moving them otherwiseLM-2
- Makes a rug roll up by sucking itLM-2
- Causes the handle of a safe to spin, opening it, by suckingLM-2
- Makes a large fan on a stone statue spin, causing it to lift and reveal a hidden compartment underneathLM-2
- The Strobulb releases bright light that disorientates ghosts and people. It can be immediately activated, or charged up for a much larger cone of lightLM-2
- The Dark-Light creates a rainbow beam of light which reveals illusions. When used on object made to appear invisible, it forced the things causing said illusions outLM-2
- Can fire objects held by a ghosts it sucks upLM-2
- Can inflate balloon-like objects and let Luigi fly aroundLM-2
Poletergust G-00
The Poltergust Luigi obtained from E. Gadd's car in Luigi's Mansion 3 which has a range of abilities on top of the basic functions presented with earlier models.Strength
- Spins the handle of a vault doorLM-3
- Sucks up mannequin heads and wigsLM-3
- Sucks up a duvet and pillowsLM-3
- Sends explosive barrels rolling forwardsLM-3
- Carries around a Toad and shoots them over a wallLM-3
- With the Super Suction upgrade, the Poltergust can be plugged into special outlets to greatly increase its power. Like this, it breaks apart the front half of a ship as well as the front of the wall behind it to suck it upLM-3
- By charging up its light, releases a bright burst which stuns ghostsLM-3
- Can swap between a regular torch lens and a special one capable of revealing things trapped in portraits, be it people or itemsLM-3
- Shoots a burst of air at the ground, lifting Luigi into the air and shaking a nearby car and wagonLM-3
- Fires a plunger to grab on to objectsLM-3
- A Luigi made of goo that can pass through small gaps through the likes of fences which Luigi can directly control or leave stationary while he himself does somethingLM-3
- With Luigi lifts and slams King Boo, cracking the roof of a hotelLM-3
- Splatters after a fall but quickly reformsLM-3
- Is fully capable of using his Poltergust like Luigi can, such as with capturing ghostsLM-3
- Holds an item inside of himLM-3
- Made of a substance which reacts to the presence of BoosLM-3
- Will instantly disintegrate when he gets wet, returning to the PoltergustLM-3
Other
Game Boy HorrorA modified Game Boy Colour, given to Luigi by Professor E. Gadd to help him through Luigi's Mansion.
- Contains a map of the mansionLM
- Has a Boo radar, which flashes and changes colour depending on how close a Boo isLM
- Has a functioning camera with good qualityLM
- Allows for video calls with E. GaddLM
- Keeps track of all the money and gems Luigi collects throughout the nightLM
In Luigi's Mansion 2, E. Gadd changes with the times and this time gives Luigi a modified DS. It would be later dubbed the Dual Scream.
- Contains a map of the mansions, which actively updates to marks E. Gadd makesLM-2
- Can make video callsLM-2
Luigi's Mansion 3's communication device modelled after the Virtual Boy, complete with red-coloured holographic imagery.
Other
- Is unaffected by a giant portrait which causes trees at the bottom of the hotel he's standing on to uproot and fly upLM-3
- With Mario, quickly fixes a clear pipe3DW
- Through the 'bond between twins' can tell where Mario isW2
- Can put himself in a bubble to float around, though he needs someone outside of a bubble to pop him outNew-W
- Has his entire body spin after entering a tornado, slowing his descent, though his head doesn't move at allG
- Uses three swipes of a large mop to seemingly erase a tower, leaving only a white flag behindW
2023.06.04 12:11 Thick_Mick_Chick Windows to the Soul:Shiloh's Final Battle
It'd been a busy week. She'd practically begged the clock to go faster at work this afternoon, knowing full well she had the weekend off. Being a police dispatcher? You needed those "mental health breaks" that so many sing virtues about. It'd been a rough mental health week, for sure.
Tish recognized the number on the caller I.D. lt was Ol Shiloh. He'd been a paratrooper in Vietnam, and he came back stateside without so much of a scratch on him physically. Mentally? He saw "gooks" (Ol Shiloh's completely politically incorrect term for the Viet Cong as well as the eponymous Charlie) at the bottom of the basement stairs and in the shower waiting for him to enter the bathroom. As a little girl, Tish knew Ol Shiloh had a good heart but a feeble mind. His visual and auditory hallucinations made him the laughing stock of many of Eerie's child residents who pointed, snickered, and rolled their finger at the side of their temple, indicating he was crazier than a shithouse rat. Ol Shiloh sounded legitimately scared when he called, though. This was not an emotion Tish was familiar with. Nothing rattled Ol Shiloh even with his advanced case of post-traumatic stress disorder. He'd known Tish's parents, and? Oddities aside? Ol Shiloh was a good man. So? Speaking to him had never presented a challenge until today, and, Oh, what a challenge it was...
"Eerie 911. Will this be police, fire, or medical?" Tish had picked up on the 2nd ring. "Ginny? Ginny Lynn? Is that you? " The normally loquacious Shiloh queried. "Shiloh? Hey! Is everything okay?" Tish inquired. Tish was the nickname given to her by her boyfriend, Craig, who Ginny never called by that name. His nickname was Gomez. They were the local Halloween decorating contest champions and adored everything scary, thus the nicknames given to each: Gomez and Morticia from Addams family fame. "Naw, Ginny girl. Ain't okay at all." Ol Shiloh was not himself. "What's happening?" Tish's mounting concern was palpable. "Nothing right now. It was last night." Ol Shiloh spoke, barely above a whisper. Remaining ever so patient, Tish replied, "What happened last night, Shiloh? You don't sound like yourself, and it's worrying me." "Ginny, don't you worry your pretty lil head about me. Harry & Virginia did a fine job raising you. Guess it didn't take in your lil sister, considering she turned out to be the town doorknob. Everybody's had a turn at that girl." Granted, Ol Shiloh was never known to mince his words, but this was strong even for him. What was even worse? He wasn't wrong. Time to get him reigned back in. "Well, I don't think you called to talk to me about my sister's promiscuity. What's going on with you, Shiloh?" Tish was sensing his reluctance to just "spit it out. " It was as if he was having 2nd thoughts about placing the call to begin with. "I had visitors last night." Shiloh barely spoke above a whisper. "Visitors?" Tish queried. Ol Shiloh never had visitors. Hell, he'd been living all by himself every sense Rose died. His saintly wife was married to him 50 years, only a month before she passed away from a fatal heart attack. To say Ol Shiloh was lost? That was an understatement. Shiloh was nothing without Rose. He met her in August of 68, right after he came back stateside from Vietnam in May of that same year. It was love at 1st sight for Ol Shiloh, but Rose needed convincing. She mistakenly thought Shiloh was "a Mama's boy" because he worshipped the ground Rose walked on. He was not. He was simply in love for the 1st and last time. Tish was really surprised with how well Ol Shiloh was able to pull through the 2nd roughest time in his life with the aid of Eerie's townsfolk. And? As Elton John famously quoted? When it comes to Ol Shiloh? I'm still standing. This? This was different. This was not the Shiloh she'd known for the last 53 years of her life. "Ginny, they were kids. Well, they looked like kids, but..." Ol Shiloh trailed off. He shut down again. "Looked like kids? What made you think they weren't kids, Shiloh?" Tish was nervous and ancy. This felt wrong. Something was off. "There were 2 of them. A boy, dark hair, pale skin, and probably about 12 years old. He had a lil girl with him about 7, also dark hair & pale skin." Shiloh was intrepid. Tish quietly listened as Gomez and some of the other deputies were laughing in the office behind her. She gave them a scornful look, and the guys piped down. "They'd knocked at my front door about an hour after the sun went down. I didn't have the porch light on. The screen door was shut and locked, but the wooden door was open. I turned the porch light on so I could see them better. They were both looking down at their feet. The boy whispered something but I couldn't hear, so I asked him to speak up," Shiloh let the flood gates burst forward. "Sir? May we use your phone? We've gotten lost and are scared. We need to call our mother. Please, let us in." The dark-haired boy requested. "I've not seen you kids around here before in my life. Who's your parents?" Shiloh knew everyone in Eerie, Indiana, but he'd never seen these odd looking kids. "Sir? Please, let us in. We need to call our mother. She'll be so worried." The dark-haired boy practically recited word for word what he'd already previously said, which really riled Shiloh up. "Boy, you deaf?", I asked, "Who's your folks?" Shiloh continued to give Tish the play by play. "Sir? Please. We are cold. We are hungry and we are scared. Please, let us in." The dark-haired boy sounded rehearsed and mechanical. "NO! There's something not right here." Ol Shiloh didn't survive a hot tour in the jungle because he didn't have good instincts. "Sir, please, if you could just let us in." The little dark-haired girl then chimed in. Ol Shiloh knew instinctively not to trust these 2 but found himself being drawn to them paradoxically. His hand reached for the storm door to open it even though every fiber in his being told him not to. "What the hell are you kids cause you ain't human?!" Ol Shiloh was more nervous now than when he was a tunnel rat. Both children looked up and to Shiloh simultaneously. What he saw scared him worse than any night he'd spent in jungle. Their eyes were black, not just the pupil. The Iris, cornea, and pupil were all black but not just any black. The deepest black, pure obsidian. The answers to all of the galaxy's most burning questions were in those pitch black bottomless depth eyes. "Shiloh Svengaard, let us IN!" both children stared into Shiloh's pale milky blue eyes as he stared back into their black ones. "NO. NO, NOW GO AWAY!" Shiloh slammed the wooden door and locked it. He watched as the black eyed children walked to the end of his driveway and onto James Dean Boulevard. They went off into the night and Ol Shiloh didn't see them anymore. "So, you thought they'd return?" Tish was a tad overwhelmed. Ol Shiloh had audio and visual hallucinations but it was always fellow soldiers, the Viet Cong or the North Vietnamese Army. It sure as hell wasn't black eyed tweens. "Ginny girl, I don't think they'll return. I know it. They're coming for me. I know they are." Delusions of persecution certainly isn't anything new to Tish when it came to Ol Shiloh but this was different. Shiloh was full of doubt and self defeat. Never in his life had Ol Shiloh backed down from a fight. This? This was uncharted territory. "Want Don to swing by on patrol tonight? Craig and I are having a lil evening out so he won't be on. Don would be glad to do it, Shiloh. Really." Comforting and reassuring Ol Shiloh was Tish's main concern at the moment. "Yeah, Ginny Girl. Have Don cruise by my place if he would. Maybe a patrol car will keep these evil fucking little bastards away from me and my house. Best part of those lil sons a bitches dripped down their Mama's leg when she was getting pregnant with 'em!" Ol Shiloh always had a way with words. "Okay. I'll tell him but remember to use the non emergency line next time, Shiloh. Can't tie 911 up with non emergent calls." Tish gently scolded. "Fuck that non emergency number, Ginny girl! It prompts me to press 1 for English and 2 for the ESPENOIL (pronounced ESPN OIL) and bullshit! I just call 911 and get ahold of you!" Shiloh wasn't about to call an automated line. That just wasn't how he did things. Tish was the one that could handle his problems. She was the good sister. "Okay, okay, Shiloh. I'll tell Don. You just take it from me. Rose wouldn't want to see you like this." Tish was truly concerned. "Ginny girl, my Rosie can't see anything anymore." And with that? He hung up the phone. The guys were still hanging out in the office, albeit much quieter. "Sorry 'bout that. We didn't know you were on the phone. We wouldn't have been telling jokes if we knew you were on the phone." Gomez sheepishly looked down at the table where he was seated with 2 other deputies, Don & Bubba. "It wouldn't have mattered. Ol Shiloh was ranting so much he didn't even hear you guys." Tish dismissed. "Ol Shiloh? What put a hair across his ass?" Don asked. "He said 2 kids came by last night about an hour after dark, wanting to be let in the house. He was uncharacteristically afraid. He said they just kept repeating to let them in so they could call their mother. He felt something was off, something wasn't right." Tish trailed off. "Kids? Whose kids?" Gomez spoke up. "He didn't know. He even asked the kids who their parents were but they just kept asking to come in the house." Tish replied. "Anyway, he said when he really got scared was when both kids looked up at him and their eyes were black. Their eyes were completely black." Tish kept relaying everything Ol Shiloh told her. Gomez, Don & Bubba looked at her as if she'd grown a 2nd head. "I'm just telling you what he said." Tish defended. "When he saw those black eyes? He panicked, slammed and locked the wooden door and told them to go away. They did." Tish finished. "So what does Lt. Dan want us to do with a couple of kids with colored contacts pranking the local crazy Vietnam Vet?" Don sighed. "I offered for you to swing by his place on patrol tonight. He was pleased with that." Tish informed. "FFS. Fine. Bubba and I can swing by a few times tonight as long as it shuts that old crazy bastard up." Don resigned to his fate. "You know, Don? No one will ever accuse you of being too caring." Tish just rolled her eyes. "BTW? What was the joke you guys were laughing at?" Tish suddenly remembered. "There was a young Indian warrior who asked the tribe's chief one day how he decided on all of the babies' names when they were born since he was given the honor of naming all of the children"... Bubba began. "He said, "My son, if there is an eagle flying over when a child is being born? I call that child Eagle Flying Over. If there is snow gently falling when a child is being born? I call that child Snow Gently Falling, but tell me, Two Dogs Fucking, why do you ask?" Bubba finished to a 2nd round of uproarious laughter. "For Christ's sake, Bubba. You ain't got a lick of sense!" Gomez wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and proceeded to leave he and Don in charge while he and Tish left for the day.
They got into the SUV and headed towards the Blue Bayou Creole restaurant. Most quaint and quirky hometowns have that one little restaurant everyone loves. The Blue Bayou was Eerie, Indiana's version. The seafood buffet on Friday nights were always a hit. As much as Tish & Gomez were home bodies? They did enjoy an occasional night at the Blue Bayou.
Bubba and Don drank coffee and told more dirty jokes. Swinging by Ol Shiloh's place a few times tonight will help break up the monotony. Poor ol bastard didn't mean any harm. He was just messed up in the head. Kids with all black eyes? What the hell was that all about, anyway?
Ol Shiloh really wanted to believe Tish. He really did. He knew, deep down inside, if Ginny, Craig and the boys at Eerie PD couldn't help him? No one could. Well, he has his shot gun on the rack, but who would threaten to shoot children? He saw enough of that shit cleaning out villages of their denizens back in jungle. He never intended to live that kind of hell, again. Strange looking kids or not, they still at least looked like kids. He just couldn't bring himself to shoot a child.
He was nodding off in his recliner. The sun was dipping below the horizon.
Tish & Gomez sat and ate and caught up with the day's activities. "Ol Shiloh was really that scared, huh?" Gomez asked Tish in a low voice so others couldn't overhear. "Yeah. Yeah, he was. It was unsettling." Tish was clearly still bothered. "I'll remind Don later on tonight when I check in, I promise." Gomez reassured. "Please, do. I've never heard fear in his voice before. It's really got me shook." Tish slowly relaxed and let the stress melt away as she took another spoonful of gumbo. "Consider it done." Gomez smiled and began eating as well.
Was it a knock? He couldn't be sure. The house was dark but Shiloh knew his own home. He slowly got up from the recliner and proceeded to the door. Could it be? He hoped not. Even as much as he knew those little demons were going to return? He had really hoped he'd be wrong. One quick look through the glass of the wooden door proved he was not. There they were: same dark-haired pale boy and girl but there was something different this time. There was a 3rd party out there but the darkness prevented him from making out who it was. This 3rd party was taller and bigger, clearly an adult but that was the only clear thing.
"Please, Shiloh, let us in. We're cold. We're hungry. Our mother is worried." Both children said in unison. The 3rd party waited in the wings. "I don't know you little mother fuckers so how did you know my name?" Shiloh raged. He was still scared but more angry now.
"Rosie told us." Both children simultaneously chirped happily.
Wait, what? Rosie? Rosie as in my Rosie? The Rosie I cruelly lost just 4 January's ago? "ROSIE? What the hell you mean Rosie?" Ol Shiloh thought that he'd lost what little mind he had left. Just then? Something happened that flipped Ol Shiloh's world upside down.
"Shiloh Shenandoah? Is that you, my love?" Rosie. It was Rosie. Bigger than shit, it was his beloved wife of over 50 years. How, though? It couldn't be. He saw her on the slab in the morgue when he had to identify her. It couldn't be. She was 4 years in the ground! Yet, there she stood behind the black eyed children looking at him with the same set of obsidian black eyes.
"Rosie? That can't be you. You died a month after our 50th wedding anniversary! You've been gone 4 years!" Ol Shiloh's mind was reeling and he didn't know what to do.
"Don't you love me, anymore, my dear? I thought you'd be so happy to see me." Rosie smiled a smile that would have otherwise been beautiful if it weren't sitting below 2 pitch black eyes.
"Don't ask silly questions, Rosie. You're the only one for me. You always have been. You always will be." Shiloh was opening the screen door. The dark-haired pale children grabbed the storm door from the other side and pulled, Rosie with her sinister grin and black eyes moved forward.
"Let us in, Shiloh." The children and Rosie crossed the threshold and, immediately afterwards? Shiloh let out a scream coming from the death throws. As painful as it was? At least the ripping out of his throat by the children's mouths was, mercifully, quick.
"Bubba! You are one redneck, peckerwood cracker!" Don rolled his eyes as he drove along at a steady pace patrolling. "You know I'm right! You just don't want to admit it!" Bubba was getting equally irritated with Don in his response. Don's wife, Allison, was, indeed, Tish's little sister. She was also "the town doorknob" as Old Shiloh not so eloquently called her. She was well known to everyone as Eerie's town slut even though she married Don 10 years ago. Guess it's true what the song says, you can't turn a ho into a housewife.
"Dude, I know you love her but she's always gonna be the town whore, Man" Bubba tried backpedaling at least some.
"Will you shut up? Will you just shut the fuck up? I'm tired of hearing this shit!" Don lost it and blew up on Bubba. Bubba, in turn, shut down and stopped speaking.
They rolled onto James Dean Boulevard and proceeded to Ol Shiloh's place. It was dark, lonely and isolated. Shiloh was never one for neighbors, but something seemed even more off. Something just didn't seem right. Isn't that what Tish described earlier when Shiloh spoke to her on the phone? She said she heard fear. They'd never known Ol Shiloh to be fearful. Today? All of that changed.
Don & Bubba slowly crept up Shiloh's long driveway. Don tried rolling the spotlight on the cruiser up onto Shiloh's front porch. It was still a weak beam of light but was getting brighter. "What the fuck?" Don hit the brakes. "What is it?" Bubba looked at Don like he was absolutely crazy. "The door is open. Actually? Both of them are." Don shone the spotlight onto the open screen and wooden doors. They could tell both doors were open but could see nothing else due to the darkness.
"I don't like this, Bubba." Don was intrepid and softly pressed on the accelerator.
"Don, should we call Tish & Gomez? I mean, I know it's their night out but..." Bubba trailed off.
They sat in the driveway next to Ol Shiloh's porch. Other than both front doors being open? They couldn't see a thing.
Don and Bubba slowly approached the porch, guns drawn. It was dark but something was lying just inside the open front doors. As they advanced? It was boots. Jump boots that had a high polish shine. Those boots were connected to legs. Shiloh's legs.
"Jesus Christ, call for a bus!" Don yelled for Bubba to radio in for an ambulance.
Shiloh laid at the entrance to his home, flat on his back, staring with dead cold wide open eyes straight to and through the ceiling. A look of abject horror plastered all over his face. His throat was ripped out almost to his spinal cord.
"Oh, God, I'm gonna puke!" Bubba ran back outside where the evening's coffee went all over the sidewalk.
"Call the coroner, too. This is gonna be a God damn circus!" Don didn't attempt to get a pulse considering Shiloh's carotid arteries and jugular veins had been viciously ripped out.
Bubba wiped his mouth and started calling all of the necessary people. Don stood next to Shiloh with his hands holding his head in disbelief.
"Our 1st kill was a success." The dark-haired pale boy said to the creature that looked like Rosie.
"It was this time. We must improve. We must refine. If we don't evolve? We wither and die. What would the point be to just stop at the 1st kill? The colony could never advance if we never pursued other avenues to further our agenda." The creature that looked like Rosie opined.
The dark-haired pale boy and girl nodded in sync with everything the creature that looked like Rosie said. Is this how their occupation of Terra was really going to commence? Given everything the Alliance taught them? They thought the humans would be more violent and aggressive. Perhaps? The distant study of the Terrestrials proved incorrect in practice in comparison to theory. Perhaps the Terrestrials will gladly cease resistance when they realize just how futile it will be.
PART 1: The Windows to the Soul: Shiloh's final battle END
submitted by Thick_Mick_Chick to DrCreepensVault [link] [comments]
Tish recognized the number on the caller I.D. lt was Ol Shiloh. He'd been a paratrooper in Vietnam, and he came back stateside without so much of a scratch on him physically. Mentally? He saw "gooks" (Ol Shiloh's completely politically incorrect term for the Viet Cong as well as the eponymous Charlie) at the bottom of the basement stairs and in the shower waiting for him to enter the bathroom. As a little girl, Tish knew Ol Shiloh had a good heart but a feeble mind. His visual and auditory hallucinations made him the laughing stock of many of Eerie's child residents who pointed, snickered, and rolled their finger at the side of their temple, indicating he was crazier than a shithouse rat. Ol Shiloh sounded legitimately scared when he called, though. This was not an emotion Tish was familiar with. Nothing rattled Ol Shiloh even with his advanced case of post-traumatic stress disorder. He'd known Tish's parents, and? Oddities aside? Ol Shiloh was a good man. So? Speaking to him had never presented a challenge until today, and, Oh, what a challenge it was...
"Eerie 911. Will this be police, fire, or medical?" Tish had picked up on the 2nd ring. "Ginny? Ginny Lynn? Is that you? " The normally loquacious Shiloh queried. "Shiloh? Hey! Is everything okay?" Tish inquired. Tish was the nickname given to her by her boyfriend, Craig, who Ginny never called by that name. His nickname was Gomez. They were the local Halloween decorating contest champions and adored everything scary, thus the nicknames given to each: Gomez and Morticia from Addams family fame. "Naw, Ginny girl. Ain't okay at all." Ol Shiloh was not himself. "What's happening?" Tish's mounting concern was palpable. "Nothing right now. It was last night." Ol Shiloh spoke, barely above a whisper. Remaining ever so patient, Tish replied, "What happened last night, Shiloh? You don't sound like yourself, and it's worrying me." "Ginny, don't you worry your pretty lil head about me. Harry & Virginia did a fine job raising you. Guess it didn't take in your lil sister, considering she turned out to be the town doorknob. Everybody's had a turn at that girl." Granted, Ol Shiloh was never known to mince his words, but this was strong even for him. What was even worse? He wasn't wrong. Time to get him reigned back in. "Well, I don't think you called to talk to me about my sister's promiscuity. What's going on with you, Shiloh?" Tish was sensing his reluctance to just "spit it out. " It was as if he was having 2nd thoughts about placing the call to begin with. "I had visitors last night." Shiloh barely spoke above a whisper. "Visitors?" Tish queried. Ol Shiloh never had visitors. Hell, he'd been living all by himself every sense Rose died. His saintly wife was married to him 50 years, only a month before she passed away from a fatal heart attack. To say Ol Shiloh was lost? That was an understatement. Shiloh was nothing without Rose. He met her in August of 68, right after he came back stateside from Vietnam in May of that same year. It was love at 1st sight for Ol Shiloh, but Rose needed convincing. She mistakenly thought Shiloh was "a Mama's boy" because he worshipped the ground Rose walked on. He was not. He was simply in love for the 1st and last time. Tish was really surprised with how well Ol Shiloh was able to pull through the 2nd roughest time in his life with the aid of Eerie's townsfolk. And? As Elton John famously quoted? When it comes to Ol Shiloh? I'm still standing. This? This was different. This was not the Shiloh she'd known for the last 53 years of her life. "Ginny, they were kids. Well, they looked like kids, but..." Ol Shiloh trailed off. He shut down again. "Looked like kids? What made you think they weren't kids, Shiloh?" Tish was nervous and ancy. This felt wrong. Something was off. "There were 2 of them. A boy, dark hair, pale skin, and probably about 12 years old. He had a lil girl with him about 7, also dark hair & pale skin." Shiloh was intrepid. Tish quietly listened as Gomez and some of the other deputies were laughing in the office behind her. She gave them a scornful look, and the guys piped down. "They'd knocked at my front door about an hour after the sun went down. I didn't have the porch light on. The screen door was shut and locked, but the wooden door was open. I turned the porch light on so I could see them better. They were both looking down at their feet. The boy whispered something but I couldn't hear, so I asked him to speak up," Shiloh let the flood gates burst forward. "Sir? May we use your phone? We've gotten lost and are scared. We need to call our mother. Please, let us in." The dark-haired boy requested. "I've not seen you kids around here before in my life. Who's your parents?" Shiloh knew everyone in Eerie, Indiana, but he'd never seen these odd looking kids. "Sir? Please, let us in. We need to call our mother. She'll be so worried." The dark-haired boy practically recited word for word what he'd already previously said, which really riled Shiloh up. "Boy, you deaf?", I asked, "Who's your folks?" Shiloh continued to give Tish the play by play. "Sir? Please. We are cold. We are hungry and we are scared. Please, let us in." The dark-haired boy sounded rehearsed and mechanical. "NO! There's something not right here." Ol Shiloh didn't survive a hot tour in the jungle because he didn't have good instincts. "Sir, please, if you could just let us in." The little dark-haired girl then chimed in. Ol Shiloh knew instinctively not to trust these 2 but found himself being drawn to them paradoxically. His hand reached for the storm door to open it even though every fiber in his being told him not to. "What the hell are you kids cause you ain't human?!" Ol Shiloh was more nervous now than when he was a tunnel rat. Both children looked up and to Shiloh simultaneously. What he saw scared him worse than any night he'd spent in jungle. Their eyes were black, not just the pupil. The Iris, cornea, and pupil were all black but not just any black. The deepest black, pure obsidian. The answers to all of the galaxy's most burning questions were in those pitch black bottomless depth eyes. "Shiloh Svengaard, let us IN!" both children stared into Shiloh's pale milky blue eyes as he stared back into their black ones. "NO. NO, NOW GO AWAY!" Shiloh slammed the wooden door and locked it. He watched as the black eyed children walked to the end of his driveway and onto James Dean Boulevard. They went off into the night and Ol Shiloh didn't see them anymore. "So, you thought they'd return?" Tish was a tad overwhelmed. Ol Shiloh had audio and visual hallucinations but it was always fellow soldiers, the Viet Cong or the North Vietnamese Army. It sure as hell wasn't black eyed tweens. "Ginny girl, I don't think they'll return. I know it. They're coming for me. I know they are." Delusions of persecution certainly isn't anything new to Tish when it came to Ol Shiloh but this was different. Shiloh was full of doubt and self defeat. Never in his life had Ol Shiloh backed down from a fight. This? This was uncharted territory. "Want Don to swing by on patrol tonight? Craig and I are having a lil evening out so he won't be on. Don would be glad to do it, Shiloh. Really." Comforting and reassuring Ol Shiloh was Tish's main concern at the moment. "Yeah, Ginny Girl. Have Don cruise by my place if he would. Maybe a patrol car will keep these evil fucking little bastards away from me and my house. Best part of those lil sons a bitches dripped down their Mama's leg when she was getting pregnant with 'em!" Ol Shiloh always had a way with words. "Okay. I'll tell him but remember to use the non emergency line next time, Shiloh. Can't tie 911 up with non emergent calls." Tish gently scolded. "Fuck that non emergency number, Ginny girl! It prompts me to press 1 for English and 2 for the ESPENOIL (pronounced ESPN OIL) and bullshit! I just call 911 and get ahold of you!" Shiloh wasn't about to call an automated line. That just wasn't how he did things. Tish was the one that could handle his problems. She was the good sister. "Okay, okay, Shiloh. I'll tell Don. You just take it from me. Rose wouldn't want to see you like this." Tish was truly concerned. "Ginny girl, my Rosie can't see anything anymore." And with that? He hung up the phone. The guys were still hanging out in the office, albeit much quieter. "Sorry 'bout that. We didn't know you were on the phone. We wouldn't have been telling jokes if we knew you were on the phone." Gomez sheepishly looked down at the table where he was seated with 2 other deputies, Don & Bubba. "It wouldn't have mattered. Ol Shiloh was ranting so much he didn't even hear you guys." Tish dismissed. "Ol Shiloh? What put a hair across his ass?" Don asked. "He said 2 kids came by last night about an hour after dark, wanting to be let in the house. He was uncharacteristically afraid. He said they just kept repeating to let them in so they could call their mother. He felt something was off, something wasn't right." Tish trailed off. "Kids? Whose kids?" Gomez spoke up. "He didn't know. He even asked the kids who their parents were but they just kept asking to come in the house." Tish replied. "Anyway, he said when he really got scared was when both kids looked up at him and their eyes were black. Their eyes were completely black." Tish kept relaying everything Ol Shiloh told her. Gomez, Don & Bubba looked at her as if she'd grown a 2nd head. "I'm just telling you what he said." Tish defended. "When he saw those black eyes? He panicked, slammed and locked the wooden door and told them to go away. They did." Tish finished. "So what does Lt. Dan want us to do with a couple of kids with colored contacts pranking the local crazy Vietnam Vet?" Don sighed. "I offered for you to swing by his place on patrol tonight. He was pleased with that." Tish informed. "FFS. Fine. Bubba and I can swing by a few times tonight as long as it shuts that old crazy bastard up." Don resigned to his fate. "You know, Don? No one will ever accuse you of being too caring." Tish just rolled her eyes. "BTW? What was the joke you guys were laughing at?" Tish suddenly remembered. "There was a young Indian warrior who asked the tribe's chief one day how he decided on all of the babies' names when they were born since he was given the honor of naming all of the children"... Bubba began. "He said, "My son, if there is an eagle flying over when a child is being born? I call that child Eagle Flying Over. If there is snow gently falling when a child is being born? I call that child Snow Gently Falling, but tell me, Two Dogs Fucking, why do you ask?" Bubba finished to a 2nd round of uproarious laughter. "For Christ's sake, Bubba. You ain't got a lick of sense!" Gomez wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and proceeded to leave he and Don in charge while he and Tish left for the day.
They got into the SUV and headed towards the Blue Bayou Creole restaurant. Most quaint and quirky hometowns have that one little restaurant everyone loves. The Blue Bayou was Eerie, Indiana's version. The seafood buffet on Friday nights were always a hit. As much as Tish & Gomez were home bodies? They did enjoy an occasional night at the Blue Bayou.
Bubba and Don drank coffee and told more dirty jokes. Swinging by Ol Shiloh's place a few times tonight will help break up the monotony. Poor ol bastard didn't mean any harm. He was just messed up in the head. Kids with all black eyes? What the hell was that all about, anyway?
Ol Shiloh really wanted to believe Tish. He really did. He knew, deep down inside, if Ginny, Craig and the boys at Eerie PD couldn't help him? No one could. Well, he has his shot gun on the rack, but who would threaten to shoot children? He saw enough of that shit cleaning out villages of their denizens back in jungle. He never intended to live that kind of hell, again. Strange looking kids or not, they still at least looked like kids. He just couldn't bring himself to shoot a child.
He was nodding off in his recliner. The sun was dipping below the horizon.
Tish & Gomez sat and ate and caught up with the day's activities. "Ol Shiloh was really that scared, huh?" Gomez asked Tish in a low voice so others couldn't overhear. "Yeah. Yeah, he was. It was unsettling." Tish was clearly still bothered. "I'll remind Don later on tonight when I check in, I promise." Gomez reassured. "Please, do. I've never heard fear in his voice before. It's really got me shook." Tish slowly relaxed and let the stress melt away as she took another spoonful of gumbo. "Consider it done." Gomez smiled and began eating as well.
Was it a knock? He couldn't be sure. The house was dark but Shiloh knew his own home. He slowly got up from the recliner and proceeded to the door. Could it be? He hoped not. Even as much as he knew those little demons were going to return? He had really hoped he'd be wrong. One quick look through the glass of the wooden door proved he was not. There they were: same dark-haired pale boy and girl but there was something different this time. There was a 3rd party out there but the darkness prevented him from making out who it was. This 3rd party was taller and bigger, clearly an adult but that was the only clear thing.
"Please, Shiloh, let us in. We're cold. We're hungry. Our mother is worried." Both children said in unison. The 3rd party waited in the wings. "I don't know you little mother fuckers so how did you know my name?" Shiloh raged. He was still scared but more angry now.
"Rosie told us." Both children simultaneously chirped happily.
Wait, what? Rosie? Rosie as in my Rosie? The Rosie I cruelly lost just 4 January's ago? "ROSIE? What the hell you mean Rosie?" Ol Shiloh thought that he'd lost what little mind he had left. Just then? Something happened that flipped Ol Shiloh's world upside down.
"Shiloh Shenandoah? Is that you, my love?" Rosie. It was Rosie. Bigger than shit, it was his beloved wife of over 50 years. How, though? It couldn't be. He saw her on the slab in the morgue when he had to identify her. It couldn't be. She was 4 years in the ground! Yet, there she stood behind the black eyed children looking at him with the same set of obsidian black eyes.
"Rosie? That can't be you. You died a month after our 50th wedding anniversary! You've been gone 4 years!" Ol Shiloh's mind was reeling and he didn't know what to do.
"Don't you love me, anymore, my dear? I thought you'd be so happy to see me." Rosie smiled a smile that would have otherwise been beautiful if it weren't sitting below 2 pitch black eyes.
"Don't ask silly questions, Rosie. You're the only one for me. You always have been. You always will be." Shiloh was opening the screen door. The dark-haired pale children grabbed the storm door from the other side and pulled, Rosie with her sinister grin and black eyes moved forward.
"Let us in, Shiloh." The children and Rosie crossed the threshold and, immediately afterwards? Shiloh let out a scream coming from the death throws. As painful as it was? At least the ripping out of his throat by the children's mouths was, mercifully, quick.
"Bubba! You are one redneck, peckerwood cracker!" Don rolled his eyes as he drove along at a steady pace patrolling. "You know I'm right! You just don't want to admit it!" Bubba was getting equally irritated with Don in his response. Don's wife, Allison, was, indeed, Tish's little sister. She was also "the town doorknob" as Old Shiloh not so eloquently called her. She was well known to everyone as Eerie's town slut even though she married Don 10 years ago. Guess it's true what the song says, you can't turn a ho into a housewife.
"Dude, I know you love her but she's always gonna be the town whore, Man" Bubba tried backpedaling at least some.
"Will you shut up? Will you just shut the fuck up? I'm tired of hearing this shit!" Don lost it and blew up on Bubba. Bubba, in turn, shut down and stopped speaking.
They rolled onto James Dean Boulevard and proceeded to Ol Shiloh's place. It was dark, lonely and isolated. Shiloh was never one for neighbors, but something seemed even more off. Something just didn't seem right. Isn't that what Tish described earlier when Shiloh spoke to her on the phone? She said she heard fear. They'd never known Ol Shiloh to be fearful. Today? All of that changed.
Don & Bubba slowly crept up Shiloh's long driveway. Don tried rolling the spotlight on the cruiser up onto Shiloh's front porch. It was still a weak beam of light but was getting brighter. "What the fuck?" Don hit the brakes. "What is it?" Bubba looked at Don like he was absolutely crazy. "The door is open. Actually? Both of them are." Don shone the spotlight onto the open screen and wooden doors. They could tell both doors were open but could see nothing else due to the darkness.
"I don't like this, Bubba." Don was intrepid and softly pressed on the accelerator.
"Don, should we call Tish & Gomez? I mean, I know it's their night out but..." Bubba trailed off.
They sat in the driveway next to Ol Shiloh's porch. Other than both front doors being open? They couldn't see a thing.
Don and Bubba slowly approached the porch, guns drawn. It was dark but something was lying just inside the open front doors. As they advanced? It was boots. Jump boots that had a high polish shine. Those boots were connected to legs. Shiloh's legs.
"Jesus Christ, call for a bus!" Don yelled for Bubba to radio in for an ambulance.
Shiloh laid at the entrance to his home, flat on his back, staring with dead cold wide open eyes straight to and through the ceiling. A look of abject horror plastered all over his face. His throat was ripped out almost to his spinal cord.
"Oh, God, I'm gonna puke!" Bubba ran back outside where the evening's coffee went all over the sidewalk.
"Call the coroner, too. This is gonna be a God damn circus!" Don didn't attempt to get a pulse considering Shiloh's carotid arteries and jugular veins had been viciously ripped out.
Bubba wiped his mouth and started calling all of the necessary people. Don stood next to Shiloh with his hands holding his head in disbelief.
"Our 1st kill was a success." The dark-haired pale boy said to the creature that looked like Rosie.
"It was this time. We must improve. We must refine. If we don't evolve? We wither and die. What would the point be to just stop at the 1st kill? The colony could never advance if we never pursued other avenues to further our agenda." The creature that looked like Rosie opined.
The dark-haired pale boy and girl nodded in sync with everything the creature that looked like Rosie said. Is this how their occupation of Terra was really going to commence? Given everything the Alliance taught them? They thought the humans would be more violent and aggressive. Perhaps? The distant study of the Terrestrials proved incorrect in practice in comparison to theory. Perhaps the Terrestrials will gladly cease resistance when they realize just how futile it will be.
PART 1: The Windows to the Soul: Shiloh's final battle END
2023.06.04 11:54 Indigo_Azure Just......meh. I need to get out of my head.
Hello beautiful people. I need some outside perspective/assistance/help/to give my head a wobble. I'm going to try to condense this as much as possible.
I was in a 9 year relationship (PERSON A we will call him) (from the ages of 21 and 25, him being 4 years younger. We're now 31 and 35) with a wonderful man, we broke up last year. We worked together, travelled together, created together and had very similar ways of doing all of these things. We also lived together for 7 of those 9 years. No children and we both agreed that marriage wasn't really our vibe. We created a very deep bond and I genuinely thought he would be by my side until the day I died. Mutual friends - lots of very very close mutual friends. We were that couple that would host the dinner parties and have people stay over, the couple that hung out at the local park on a sunny day, sent a few texts out and all of our nearest and dearest friends (that have become family) would suddenly be there with us. Unfortunately, he also had a very unhealthy relationship with weed - it affected every aspect of us. We had a completely dead sex life, engaging sexually with one another once every few months (this lasted the last few years of our relationship, I had no desire to sleep with him, when he was high it was a turn off and we just didn't have that kind of desire towards each other too much, no experimenting, etc). We could go days without conversing, he would be sat on his laptop getting stoned in the kitchen, and I'd be in the living room - just there. Bored. We never dated or things like that. Zero romance (which to be fair I am shit at also and cringe at most of the time). So the negative aspects are the reasons why I brought up the break up, but we did eventually mutually agree, it was after a conversation where I say, "Hey, maybe we can work through the issues, but we both need clear minds going into this if we are to truly put the work in, so could you lay off the weed while we do that?" - to which he replied, "I'm not ready to give up the weed" (LOL I thought he was going to say "I'm not ready to lose you"). SIDE NOTE - I had raised the weed issue with him so many times during our relationship, so many conversations and tears were had. He just became too dependent and wasn't willing to address it. We are now both in our 30's. We broke up last year.
During the end of my relationship with PERSON A, I met a guy at work (NOTHING HAPPENED), it was platonic but oh my god - I felt like a ton of bricks had fallen onto me. This person (PERSON B) was so open, communicative, chilled, loved doing things like hiking (which PERSON A WOULD NEVER ENGAGE IN WITH ME - NOT ONCE), and we had loads in common. I felt like I fell in love immediately. I was just besotted (and I know a lot of that is to do with boredom in relationship at the time with PERSON A). So a friendship grew witH PERSON B and I yearned for him, my friends were convinced I'd fallen in love with this guy but I denied it and denied it and denied it because I was in a relationship - and a very long term one at that. There was something special about PERSON B though, the gentleness and the instant attraction I have never experienced before.
So, one year ago I break up from PERSON A. I move out, live my life, figure out how the fuck I will live my life without PERSON A and keep myself busy. Adamant to be single forever. About 3/4 months after the break up from my 9 year relationship, I bump into PERSON B, we have some beers and after a looooooooooong chat or three over many hours, we end up back at his place. I wake up the next morning ELATED. Can't believe this is happening with HIM. Can't believe he feels the same. Bla bla bla. Anyway, I tell him I'm not ready for a relationship. He waits. I can't wait because it's HIM. We date, he is amazing, he shows me what it is to be in an adult, mature, communicative relatonship. I feel like a goddess. . I have never felt such a strong attraction, it felt almost like fate and the sex is mind blowing. He is so romantic - almost too much.......and this is where the cracks start to show a little. I am still friends with PERSON A by the way and we still very much work together creatively, we are friends because our friendship group is a family.
TODAY: 8 months into a relationship with PERSON B, and the rose tinted glasses are off. I can't help but feel something is missing and all of a sudden I am yearning for PERSON A. I feel like I'm grieving a death. I understand I may be experiencing delayed grief of the relationship, but recently I have learnt a lot about weed addiction, and counselling/therapy, and how it may mask mental health issues, and how I could have tried to support PERSON A in that way and maybe we could have worked on it. I am annoyingly forgetting the bad parts. BUT, we were the same kind of human and had a gorgeous, bohemian, mixed cultured life together. Free, full of love and full of laughter, food and wine.
My relationship with PERSON B feels dull. We are not the same. He has no friends, I have my tribe. He is anti social, I love being out. I can't even imagine him involving himself in my group of friends so much and it hurts. But he loves me so much and really wants to put effort in to us, he wants a future. But whenever I think of growing old...............it's PERSON A that I can see myself with as a wrinkley old woman.......and I don't even know what to do with that.
That's all, thank you for reading and your patience :)
submitted by Indigo_Azure to RelationshipsOver35 [link] [comments]
I was in a 9 year relationship (PERSON A we will call him) (from the ages of 21 and 25, him being 4 years younger. We're now 31 and 35) with a wonderful man, we broke up last year. We worked together, travelled together, created together and had very similar ways of doing all of these things. We also lived together for 7 of those 9 years. No children and we both agreed that marriage wasn't really our vibe. We created a very deep bond and I genuinely thought he would be by my side until the day I died. Mutual friends - lots of very very close mutual friends. We were that couple that would host the dinner parties and have people stay over, the couple that hung out at the local park on a sunny day, sent a few texts out and all of our nearest and dearest friends (that have become family) would suddenly be there with us. Unfortunately, he also had a very unhealthy relationship with weed - it affected every aspect of us. We had a completely dead sex life, engaging sexually with one another once every few months (this lasted the last few years of our relationship, I had no desire to sleep with him, when he was high it was a turn off and we just didn't have that kind of desire towards each other too much, no experimenting, etc). We could go days without conversing, he would be sat on his laptop getting stoned in the kitchen, and I'd be in the living room - just there. Bored. We never dated or things like that. Zero romance (which to be fair I am shit at also and cringe at most of the time). So the negative aspects are the reasons why I brought up the break up, but we did eventually mutually agree, it was after a conversation where I say, "Hey, maybe we can work through the issues, but we both need clear minds going into this if we are to truly put the work in, so could you lay off the weed while we do that?" - to which he replied, "I'm not ready to give up the weed" (LOL I thought he was going to say "I'm not ready to lose you"). SIDE NOTE - I had raised the weed issue with him so many times during our relationship, so many conversations and tears were had. He just became too dependent and wasn't willing to address it. We are now both in our 30's. We broke up last year.
During the end of my relationship with PERSON A, I met a guy at work (NOTHING HAPPENED), it was platonic but oh my god - I felt like a ton of bricks had fallen onto me. This person (PERSON B) was so open, communicative, chilled, loved doing things like hiking (which PERSON A WOULD NEVER ENGAGE IN WITH ME - NOT ONCE), and we had loads in common. I felt like I fell in love immediately. I was just besotted (and I know a lot of that is to do with boredom in relationship at the time with PERSON A). So a friendship grew witH PERSON B and I yearned for him, my friends were convinced I'd fallen in love with this guy but I denied it and denied it and denied it because I was in a relationship - and a very long term one at that. There was something special about PERSON B though, the gentleness and the instant attraction I have never experienced before.
So, one year ago I break up from PERSON A. I move out, live my life, figure out how the fuck I will live my life without PERSON A and keep myself busy. Adamant to be single forever. About 3/4 months after the break up from my 9 year relationship, I bump into PERSON B, we have some beers and after a looooooooooong chat or three over many hours, we end up back at his place. I wake up the next morning ELATED. Can't believe this is happening with HIM. Can't believe he feels the same. Bla bla bla. Anyway, I tell him I'm not ready for a relationship. He waits. I can't wait because it's HIM. We date, he is amazing, he shows me what it is to be in an adult, mature, communicative relatonship. I feel like a goddess. . I have never felt such a strong attraction, it felt almost like fate and the sex is mind blowing. He is so romantic - almost too much.......and this is where the cracks start to show a little. I am still friends with PERSON A by the way and we still very much work together creatively, we are friends because our friendship group is a family.
TODAY: 8 months into a relationship with PERSON B, and the rose tinted glasses are off. I can't help but feel something is missing and all of a sudden I am yearning for PERSON A. I feel like I'm grieving a death. I understand I may be experiencing delayed grief of the relationship, but recently I have learnt a lot about weed addiction, and counselling/therapy, and how it may mask mental health issues, and how I could have tried to support PERSON A in that way and maybe we could have worked on it. I am annoyingly forgetting the bad parts. BUT, we were the same kind of human and had a gorgeous, bohemian, mixed cultured life together. Free, full of love and full of laughter, food and wine.
My relationship with PERSON B feels dull. We are not the same. He has no friends, I have my tribe. He is anti social, I love being out. I can't even imagine him involving himself in my group of friends so much and it hurts. But he loves me so much and really wants to put effort in to us, he wants a future. But whenever I think of growing old...............it's PERSON A that I can see myself with as a wrinkley old woman.......and I don't even know what to do with that.
That's all, thank you for reading and your patience :)
2023.06.04 11:47 HamDogsAndHotBurgers Rui Sasaki
Holy shit, there is an amazing art exhibit at the Japanese gardens right now.
Flora pressed in glass and turned to ash.
The air that escapes bubbles through glass.
submitted by HamDogsAndHotBurgers to Portland [link] [comments]
Flora pressed in glass and turned to ash.
The air that escapes bubbles through glass.
2023.06.04 11:45 Ok_Elk_4333 Eli5 - how does CO2 diffusion work?
I shoot soda guns into glasses of ice for a living, as I work in a restaurant, and it’s very annoying how the bubbles form on the top - meaning I have to wait for them to subside every time so its full to the top.
I reasoned that if I shot the soda from high up above and aimed the Coca Cola stream in the glass from far, it wouldn’t have as many bubbles, because there would be a greater surface area along the Coke stream for carbon dioxide to diffuse out of.
I was very wrong and when I shot the soda gun from high above it bubbled much more. What was my mistake?
submitted by Ok_Elk_4333 to explainlikeimfive [link] [comments]
I reasoned that if I shot the soda from high up above and aimed the Coca Cola stream in the glass from far, it wouldn’t have as many bubbles, because there would be a greater surface area along the Coke stream for carbon dioxide to diffuse out of.
I was very wrong and when I shot the soda gun from high above it bubbled much more. What was my mistake?
2023.06.04 10:29 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $2500
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $822
★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $616
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $1300
★ Bayonet Autotronic FN, B/O: $1050
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW, B/O: $629
★ Bayonet Bright Water FT, B/O: $326
★ Bayonet Safari Mesh BS, B/O: $233
⎯★ Karambit Lore FT, B/O: $1110
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $840
★ Karambit Freehand MW, B/O: $784
★ Karambit Bright Water MW, B/O: $759
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $751
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1156
★ Nomad Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $544
★ Nomad Knife Blue Steel WW, B/O: $318
⎯★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $646
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $574
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $552
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $257
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $255
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $287
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Lore FN, B/O: $461
★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $436
★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $353
★ Huntsman Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $212
★ Huntsman Knife Bright Water FT, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT MW, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT BS, B/O: $123
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $375
★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $363
★ Bowie Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $269
★ Bowie Knife Crimson Web WW, B/O: $192
★ Bowie Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $159
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $126
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $616
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $412
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe FT, B/O: $227
⎯★ Falchion Knife Lore FT, B/O: $214
★ Falchion Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $192
★ Falchion Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $105
⎯★ Survival Knife Crimson Web BS, B/O: $216
★ Survival Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $198
★ Survival Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $111
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $368
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $228
★ Shadow Daggers, B/O: $201
★ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $108
★ Shadow Daggers Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $105
★ Shadow Daggers Black Laminate FT, B/O: $99
★ Shadow Daggers Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $85
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $1700
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $223
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $203
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $191
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $138
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $111
⎯★ Classic Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $146
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $168
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $476
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $375
⎯★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $1137
★ Talon Knife, B/O: $608
★ Paracord Knife, B/O: $305
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $204
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $142
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1215
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $672
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $305
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander BS, B/O: $140
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web BS, B/O: $137
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot FT, B/O: $75
⎯★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $359
★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid BS, B/O: $229
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $77
★ Driver Gloves Racing Green FT, B/O: $48
⎯★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $739
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $733
★ Sport Gloves Arid BS, B/O: $292
⎯★ Hand Wraps Giraffe MW, B/O: $212
★ Hand Wraps Leather FT, B/O: $160
★ Hand Wraps Desert Shamagh MW, B/O: $101
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Yellow-banded MW, B/O: $185
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point FT, B/O: $67
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point WW, B/O: $59
⎯★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened BS, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald FT, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald BS, B/O: $62
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge FT, B/O: $72
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $1039
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Wildfire MW, B/O: $95
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP Duality FN, B/O: $81
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Electric Hive FT, B/O: $55
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $623
Desert Eagle Emerald Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $241
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Printstream FT, B/O: $54
⎯M4A1-S Blue Phosphor FN, B/O: $434
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Bright Water MW, B/O: $55
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1465
M4A4 Asiimov BS, B/O: $55
M4A4 Hellfire MW, B/O: $50
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $72
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $139
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $234
P90 Run and Hide FT, B/O: $147
Five-SeveN Candy Apple FN, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.06.04 10:18 crabless Lolli from Purebreds Plus Cat Rescue in Sacramento, California
Click here for pictures of Lolli!
Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help!
Lolli sees the world from rose-colored glasses. She proves that nothing can stop you if you want to do it and Lolli has got plenty of love and adoring looks to give! Lolli came to us with a congenital deformity in her shoulders which impairs her hind end mobility somewhat but that doesn’t stop her from doing everything her foster mates do, including climbing the tall cat tree and stealing toys if she so desires. Her lack of hind end strength doesn’t stop this girl from living her best life, appreciating every happy life has!
This girl is full of personality and very outgoing. You can expect Lolli to be close to you and nuzzle up to you for love and play most of the time! She loves playing with all sorts of toys, sliding into home base, having other kitty friends who are a bit on the softer side of playful and just getting her happy on, and with a face like hers who could resist?!
As with most precious things, this gem does require some special care, Lolli, while she can defecate on her own, does best when expressed at least twice daily. While that can be intimidating, it’s much easier than most think.
While Scottish fold cats are known for their signature folded ears, they’re actually born with straight ears. The fold begins to develop when the kitten is between 18 and 24 days old, but only if they have the gene that is responsible for the fold. Lolli does not have the folder ear gene.
Lolli is an adorable, happy, affectionate, sweet, silly girl who will make a purr-fect companion for some lucky family.
submitted by crabless to catsofcalifornia [link] [comments]
Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help!
Lolli sees the world from rose-colored glasses. She proves that nothing can stop you if you want to do it and Lolli has got plenty of love and adoring looks to give! Lolli came to us with a congenital deformity in her shoulders which impairs her hind end mobility somewhat but that doesn’t stop her from doing everything her foster mates do, including climbing the tall cat tree and stealing toys if she so desires. Her lack of hind end strength doesn’t stop this girl from living her best life, appreciating every happy life has!
This girl is full of personality and very outgoing. You can expect Lolli to be close to you and nuzzle up to you for love and play most of the time! She loves playing with all sorts of toys, sliding into home base, having other kitty friends who are a bit on the softer side of playful and just getting her happy on, and with a face like hers who could resist?!
As with most precious things, this gem does require some special care, Lolli, while she can defecate on her own, does best when expressed at least twice daily. While that can be intimidating, it’s much easier than most think.
While Scottish fold cats are known for their signature folded ears, they’re actually born with straight ears. The fold begins to develop when the kitten is between 18 and 24 days old, but only if they have the gene that is responsible for the fold. Lolli does not have the folder ear gene.
Lolli is an adorable, happy, affectionate, sweet, silly girl who will make a purr-fect companion for some lucky family.
2023.06.04 09:57 spooder2077 About a girl
She is not just a girl. It was the way she talked about things she had watched and read. For in her childlike essence, her wonder is infinite. As she unravels tales, she’d paint a vivid image by her words. So I let her speak, let her words mesmerize Like listening to bedtime stories as a kid all over again.
She is not just a girl. It was the way she talked about things she had gone through. For in her experience, I see a saint, a pure and beautiful soul who are broken. A guy from her past who she saw from rose-tinted glasses that had deliberately hurt her How could him? Things he did I would never has the gut to do. So I'll always let her speak, and listen with rapt attention and place of empathy.
She is not just a girl. It was the way how she crack and laugh at her own jokes. In these moments, I see her truest glow. A reflection of the happiness she bestows. So, I let her talk, for it's her laughter I crave.
submitted by spooder2077 to Poems [link] [comments]
She is not just a girl. It was the way she talked about things she had gone through. For in her experience, I see a saint, a pure and beautiful soul who are broken. A guy from her past who she saw from rose-tinted glasses that had deliberately hurt her How could him? Things he did I would never has the gut to do. So I'll always let her speak, and listen with rapt attention and place of empathy.
She is not just a girl. It was the way how she crack and laugh at her own jokes. In these moments, I see her truest glow. A reflection of the happiness she bestows. So, I let her talk, for it's her laughter I crave.
2023.06.04 08:35 InkDiamond [PI] They’d scrounged up what little they had, but neither knew what to do next. They had never been in a situation like this before—never attended such an event. What the Archives called: a par-ty
--
--
Marc gave it another go. He tipped his hand forward. The silver patty rolled off him, dropping toward the cave floor.
It stopped short of hitting the path. The shiny disc halted in the air, dangling at the end of a thin white line.
He watched the small wheel spin. It might have been the most fun he’d had all year. Even more fun than that mud puddle he’d found the other day.
How does it keep going? Marc thought to himself. And without any power??
Marc assumed the disc was some sort of technological marvel from the past. But the Archives had little information on it, only a name. It was called a “yo-yo.”
They all must have had one of these, he posited.
As Marc walked down the stone ramp, he cast the yo-yo again. The toy’s quiet spin was the only sound in the cavern. The soft hiss of string versus metal reverberated gently in the spacious cave.
Marc focused all his attention on the little gadget. He was determined to enjoy every last minute of the universe, no matter what. And that evening, the yo-yo more than accomplished that goal.
The shimmering yo-yo, however, couldn’t prevent the world around him from crumbling. The ground started to rumble. The rest of the cave shook with it. The underground city shook as the plasma storm above battered it—and the rest of the planet.
Marc’s home broke down. Cracks appeared in the ceiling. Waterfalls of dust poured out of them. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing collapsed. That is, if the plasma storm didn’t swallow it whole first.
Whatever.
A few clumps of dirt wouldn’t ruin Marc’s fun. He pulled the hood of his shawl over his head and extended his ragged sleeves toward each hand. His clothes shielded him from the falling dust; the gritty particles made themselves at home on his messy shawl. And Marc was free to perfect his newest trick.
The rumbling died down though as Marc descended the ramp. The yo-yo string didn’t wobble so much, and he didn't have to watch his steps as carefully. He just hoped the quaking wouldn’t come back to ruin his event.
Speaking of which, Marc glanced ahead toward his destination below. What he saw rocked him even harder than the earthquake had.
What in the sinkpits…?
Marc stopped in his tracks. He even started to reach for his knife. All because he’d detected a speck of something suspicious. Something he didn't see much of every day: color.
Showy landmarks weren’t something endemic to his home. The Outpost was more of a dusty gray-and-brown sort of place. The walls were sandstone. The floor was sandstone. And the ceiling? …Granite?
No, sandstone. All under the faint glow of a string of depressed lightbulbs.
The intriguing blip in the gray-and-tan collage was farther up the path. Ahead of the ramp, on Level 8, Marc saw the same three steel doors he was used to seeing. The front doors of underground homes, lined up in a row, each closed into the cave wall.
However, there was something different about the third door. It looked… alive. Like it didn’t belong in a dreary place like the Outpost. But it was too far away to tell what exactly had been done to it.
Marc squinted at it suspiciously. The third door happened to be his destination. And now it was weird.
He considered waiting and observing the mutated door. A child of the Outpost, Marc had developed a healthy fear of the unusual.
These habits, along with his instincts, kept him safe. They’d specifically preserved him while the rest of humanity perished.
But he shrugged off the instinct to wait. Something new and “different” was ahead, and he wanted to see it.
But just as a precaution, it was time for his yo-yo’s last trick. He got in one final throw then placed the toy into his satchel. He dropped it on top of his arsenal of cables, wrenches, and screwdrivers.
And by the time he’d snapped the satchel shut, the long ramp had bottomed out. He’d made it to the next level.
To his left, the wall had been spray-painted. Scrawled-out black letters stood against the sandy background. They stated, “Now Level 8.”
Marc followed the sign. He stayed close to the wall, crossing to the stone pedestrian path. He passed one untouched steel door with a dusted-over mail slot in the wall beside it. Then he passed a second home—abandoned like the first. And finally, he arrived at his friend’s place and the mysterious blip on Level 8.
To his surprise, the steel door elicited a flush of emotion. His heart floated upward. And the portrait before him drew his focus in like an otherworldly beacon.
How did it get so…?
Marc pulled back his hood. The ground popped with the sandy grains he released.
He could hardly believe the difference. The door used to blend in with the others: another ridged steel face that spent most of its time rusting or collecting dirt.
But it was no longer muffled by the dust and dirt that had built up over the years.
Today, it sung. Paint streaks flew across its visage. They swirled and spiraled, forming stars and other shapes. Where previously gray and rust dominated, colors sprang forth—colors that Marc didn't even have the names for. They were many, and they were warm, like the evening sky just after sunset. Marc could hardly wrap his head around the entire image.
He swelled with gratitude.
Only you could have pulled this off. He thought of his friend, the painter. The one person in the colony who’d ever been any fun. The one other person in the colony who was left…
The artist had done the unthinkable. Foraging the garden below for something other than food. Spending work time measuring and concocting the perfect blends of paint. And then slathering their fingers across the giant door, until its old face was but a memory. And all that effort for only a single other person to appreciate.
Newly inspired, Marc searched for an unpainted space on the metal canvas. He found one and knocked on the door.
He took a step back and waited. The outside of the Outpost was lively. Excited wind rushed through the canyon.
By contrast, the Outpost itself was silent. If there was anyone left to say anything, they may have even called it “dead.”
Or nearly dead, anyway. The last morsel of it came to life as the door in front of Marc groaned.
It floated off the ground, inching upward. On the other side, Marc could hear a hand crank clicking away.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The corrugated door lifted, and the door rolled up. The tip of the artist’s painting started to slip from view.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
Behind the door, chains reeled at a slow clip. The heavy curtain was halfway up. Marc could now see his best friend's lower half. Buff Lenorkian legs pumped back and forth with each crank.
The door unveiled even more of the owner. A torso in a metal suit appeared. Four ripped arms stretched out of it. They rotated, moving to the clicking beats of the door.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The door raised a few inches further, uncovering the bottom half of a cobalt blue face. Two rows of razor-sharp teeth smiled from ear to ear. A few inches more, and Marc could see the whole of the Lenorkian’s face.
Sid greeted Marc as the last of the door raised.
“Finally!” he said.
Marc didn’t get a chance to respond. His body lurched forward involuntarily. He slammed into Sid’s metal suit.
Crrrrrick!
The armor squealed as Sid’s upper two arms squeezed him tighter. The lower set of arms had reeled Marc in.
Marc hated hugs. Stupid mushy emotional wraparounds. But just this one final time, Marc returned the gesture. He squeezed Sid back.
“Happy Worlds’ End!” Sid said from the other side of the embrace.
“Yeah,” Marc replied, “Happy Worlds’ End.”
The two separated.
“Cool painting, by the way,” Marc said. He pointed at the rolled-up door. “I didn’t think you’d top the one in the garden.”
“You think so?” Sid sheepishly smiled. “Well I’ve had more time to practice since… you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Marc said. “Me too. That’s how I actually got you something.”
Marc swung his heavy satchel around. He rifled through it, squeezing through cables, knocking handles and parts out of the way. And then—ah.
He fished out a crumpled rag. Holding it in one hand, he began to gently unfold it.
“I found this a few days ago in the garden,” he said. The edges of the cloth fell. They revealed a small, glass object. It sparkled.
Marc continued, “I think it fits your style—I mean, I know it’s a little smudged and chipped but...”
He swirled the crystal trinket around. The cavern’s incandescent light flittered across its clear edges.
He touched it too, tracing the slender portion of it with his thumb. It was the neck of the crystal swan.
“It’s yours,” Marc said, offering up the bird.
Sid cupped two shovel-sized hands and accepted the gift.
“It’s beautiful…” he said, examining it. “I can’t believe anything like this could have survived this long.” He looked up at Marc and smiled, “Thank you so much. I just wish I had a little longer to could enjoy it.”
They chuckled lightly about their impending obliteration.
“Well, come on in,” Sid said. He extended both of his left arms. They gestured toward the cave interior. “We’ll finish off this universe how it started,” he said. He mashed his upper two fists together. “With a bang!”
“I hear that!” Marc nodded. He crossed over into Sid’s house.
As Marc passed Sid, a wave of discomfort hit him. Sid had switched out his usual t-shirt and jeans. He wore old armor instead. And the metal plating taunted Marc.
Marc’s next question came out more accusatory than curious.
“So… a Lenorkian throwback, huh?” he asked Sid.
Sid had just finished finding the perfect home for his swan. He left it on a shelf next to the front door.
He turned to face Marc. He hid his embarrassment behind a jagged smile.
“Oh!” he said. “Uhhh…” Three of Sid’s arms disappeared behind his back. The cone-shaped cuffs at the end of each wrist clanked against the back of his chest armor. The fourth arm nervously scratched his blue head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It's stupid, I guess. I can take it off… if you want.”
Marc didn’t want to address the topic head-on. He stopped in the cave’s entry. He pretended to admire the walls—as if he’d never seen sandstone before.
“No, leave it on,” he said. “You look… like a true Lenorkian.” He turn around and forced a smile.
It wasn’t enough.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” Sid said. He marched up to Marc.
Sid took a deep breath before he spoke.
“Tonight's really important to me,” he continued. “This is the last impression anyone’s going to make on the universe. So I need you on board.” He continued staring down at Marc. “Can you do that? For me?”
Marc didn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a couple of best friends hanging out.
“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. “End it the way it started.”
The exchange turned into awkward silence. Neither knew what to do next. They had never been in a situation like this before—never attended such an event. What the Archives called: a par-ty.
Sid shook off the figurative mask he’d been wearing—one that was uncharacteristically dour. His eyes lightened, and he bobbed his head knowingly.
“I went through the Archives to see how this works,” he said. He walked toward the long horizontal counter against the wall—the kitchen.
On the counter, chaos ran wild. Bowls and kitchenware spread across the surface. And the insides of his pots and pans resembled the dirty mouth of a garbage chute.
Marc wasn’t sure what to think. Was cleaning the host’s kitchen a staple of ancient parties?
Sid too seemed a bit confused. His next words came out robotically, as if he was practicing a new word he’d learned.
“’Can-I-offer-you-a-drink?’” Sid asked. He stood nervously in front of the counter.
Looking closer at it, three unusual objects stood apart from the kitchenware mess. It took Marc a while to remember what their outdated, bendy material was called.
Plastic. Three pink and plastic cups sat equidistant from one another.
“I got these from here,” Sid reached under the counter and pulled up some sort of transparent bag. Pink cups just liked the others were stacked on top of each other inside.
Sid packed the bag back under the counter.
“So?” he asked after he finished. He held all four hands together in anticipation. His smile may have looked like an industrial-grade rock shredder, but it was hard to resist his innocent blue face and big wide eyes.
Marc eyed the pink cups one last time.
“This better not kill me,” he said.
Sid wasted no time. He excitedly grabbed a cup and walked over to a large pot sitting on the counter.
Using a nearby ladle, he plunged into the vat. An unappetizing sloshing sound resulted. And Sid, as strong as he was, seemed to struggle with scooping out some of the mystery liquid. But in the end, he pulled back the ladle and unloaded an opaque, muddy liquid into the cup.
“It's a homeworld classic called fludge,” Sid said as he finished pouring.
He treaded over to his reluctant friend and handed off the plastic cup.
“Did you say ‘fludge’?” Marc asked. He swished the cup around cautiously. The earthy liquid hardly budged.
“Yeah, fludge! Us Lenorkians invented it. It’s kind of the only tasty thing we ever bothered to make.”
Marc sniffed it. It smelled… burnt? Maybe a little dusty, too? But he could have just been smelling the cave.
Sid left Marc alone with Marc’s questionable new assignment. He returned to the pot to pour himself a drink.
“Just try it!” he said.
Marc looked down again at the dark soup. It could kill him. Or maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, it was his last drink.
He took a timid sip and waited to be repulsed. The fludge trickled to the back of his tongue. As it hit, Marc’s eyes widened. But not with regret.
He swallowed.
“Now wait a minute…” he said. He smacked his lips together. Then he took another, larger sip.
This curious dark liquid had a unique taste to it. The taste was earthen—but unoffending. It also had a subtle undercurrent of sweetness to it, combined with a spicy kick. It was delicious.
“This might be the best drink in the entire Outpost!” Marc exclaimed.
Pure joy bloomed on Sid’s face. “See! I told you: the greatest thing we ever made.”
He held his own cup above his open jaws. The falling fludge was no match for the alien. He guzzled it down, licked his lips, and then went back for more.
As Sid fashioned himself another drink, Marc noticed something a tad unsettling. A third pink cup stared back at him. It prompted an uncomfortable thought, but he shoved the thought back down.
The Lenorkian carried back his second drink. Though this time, he took it in small, human-sized sips.
But he quickly reanimated. In the middle of a sip, Sid got a wild look in his eyes. His irises turned from their natural violet to scarlet. He yanked the cup from his face and swallowed.
“Argh, how did I forget?” he said. “I got music!”
Marc cut his sip short too. “No way. You got music?”
“I think so!”
Sid did an about face. He slammed the half-empty cup on the counter. Then he shuffled toward a giant metal column protruding from the far wall. Four ink-blue hands wrapped around the cover of the vent. And he went for it.
Sid struggled to pull off the cover of the vent at first. His armor ballooned around his biceps as his muscles bulged outward. Yet the cover wouldn't budge.
But it seemed like an important part of his evening plans. He scolded the stubborn vent, banging on its top.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” he said. He latched onto the vent again.
This time, he put even more effort in. To the point where Marc sensed that Sid was losing a grip on his own body. Out of his forehead, two thumb-sized cones began to rise. His breathing turned low and raspy. And his whole body seemed to expand as he repositioned himself for leverage. Then with one final pull, like a wild beast, he let out of a deep, guttural roar.
“HAWRRRRRRRRRRRGGH!” The roar echoed off the cave walls.
And with that, the stubborn vent cover finally popped off. A breath of wind pulsed through the room as the air pressure equalized itself.
But the wind wasn’t finished. After the initial pulse exited, a mighty gust picked up where the original pulse left off. The vent shot more wind into the room, but rapidly, like a storm. Tiny coarse particles rattled inside the duct. And in the room, a rush of wind whipped past Marc’s face. He felt little nips across his exposed skin as it passed him.
Both partiers shielded their faces from the most direct blasts of air. Sid smiled nervously as he looked to Marc. He raised his voice over the whining airstream.
“It’s from the sandplains above!” he said in an elevated voice. “I thought we’d use the sandstorm for music! Do you like it?”
Music… Marc wasn’t exactly an expert. Even though humans were said to be naturals at it, not much on the subject had made it into the Archives. The Outpost didn’t have much of it either. The closest he got was the occasional chant, stray birds twittering about, or maybe someone banging on rocks.
But Marc did know one thing on the subject. Where there was music, there was dancing.
That said, he had never danced before either. But a long time ago, his parents told him it was something all humans could do. It was something they carried in their blood. Once humans found a pattern in music, they could match it to their body language. And once they’d synced melody and movement, they could ride that wave to a whole new experience.
Might as well give it a shot, he thought. Marc too put his cup on the counter.
With his hands free, Marc backed up toward the middle of the room. He closed his eyes, felt the wind. It filled his ears with its gusty energy. It hit him in pumps as the storm raged above.
Though not totally predictable, the wind did hit him consistently. There was some sort of kinetic pattern to it.
Yes, a pattern.
Well actually, he’d heard it called by another name. What was that word his mother had used? He opened his eyes when he remembered: rhythm.
Marc stretched out his arms. He relaxed his hips. He felt the wind’s whips and waves across his arms. He let his arms follow them, swaying with the current. Not long after, his hips joined in. They too gyrated, trying to match the energetic gusts. He kept at it. And the first time Marc felt both himself and the wind moving together, he grinned.
“This is amazing!” he said. Around them, the wind crooned.
Sid was entranced. He nodded back while staring at Marc’s strange movements. He’d never really seen dancing either. But he figured he would give it a shot too. He loosened up his arms and walked onto the dance floor with Marc.
Before dancing himself, he studied Marc first. He watched how the scavenger moved his arms—and when the scavenger moved his arms.
Sid’s limbs followed. Four muscular arms rose in the air, like fighter jets on their way to a dogfight. And on a one or two second delay, they swayed after Marc’s.
For a while, they followed Marc completely. Then Sid went down his own path. The Lenorkian’s movements grew aggressive and battle-like. He punched at the wind swiping across him. He shuffled his feet as if swapping battle stances.
He caught Marc’s curiosity. Even as a novice, Marc could tell Sid’s movements weren’t traditional by any means. But to Marc, it was dancing all the same.
The two danced to the chorus of the air above. They laughed occasionally as changes in the rhythm of the wind tripped them up. In his head, Marc compared it to the painting on Sid’s door. The colony had never seen anything like this either.
Then something interrupted their dancing. The ground beneath them shook, throwing them off their feet. Heavy gray dirt trickled from the ceiling as the entire cave rumbled. And outside, the distant sky flashed and crackled. Its light illuminated the cave in violent spurts as the boys struggled to stand back up.
Eventually, the violent quaking and frightening flashes died down. The plasma storm held its breath once again.
The boys got back on their feet, but all the joy had seeped out of Sid’s face. He just stared at the floor in deep contemplation. Even as the windy music started back up.
Marc figured he would rescue his friend from whatever dark thoughts had turned up. Naturally, the end of the universe was a real bummer.
“End of the world got you down, huh?” He tried to laugh it off. The whole situation was pretty sad. Especially when they were having so much fun. But it was best to end the universe on a high note, right?
Nevertheless, Sid seemed dejected. He mumbled something inaudible.
“Dude, I can’t hear over the song!” Marc said in an elevated voice.
Sid spoke up over the wind. “That’s not what I’m upset about,” he said, his voice still fairly low.
“Then what are you upset about?”
Sid blurted out his response. “Because I invited Tōn-E, okay?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look Marc in the eye. Because he knew what was coming.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Marc shouted over the music. Marc himself stomped over to the vent. He picked the cover off the floor—though he struggled quite a bit with it. It was heavier than Sid made it look. But he hoisted it back into the mouth of the vent. The music shut off. The steady drop of sand on the cave floor ceased.
“Say that again,” he leveled in Sid’s direction.
“What was I supposed to do?” Sid remade eye contact. “Not invite the only other intelligent being to the last party the universe will ever have?”
Marc needed no time to answer. He nodded insistently. “Yes. That was exactly what you were supposed to do. What the hell, Sid?” Marc would have continued, but there was another disturbance outside. He caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway.
--
Thanks for reading some of my words :) I’m trying stuff out, so let me know what you think.
The rest of the story is here
Based on this prompt
submitted by InkDiamond to WritingPrompts [link] [comments]
--
Marc gave it another go. He tipped his hand forward. The silver patty rolled off him, dropping toward the cave floor.
It stopped short of hitting the path. The shiny disc halted in the air, dangling at the end of a thin white line.
He watched the small wheel spin. It might have been the most fun he’d had all year. Even more fun than that mud puddle he’d found the other day.
How does it keep going? Marc thought to himself. And without any power??
Marc assumed the disc was some sort of technological marvel from the past. But the Archives had little information on it, only a name. It was called a “yo-yo.”
They all must have had one of these, he posited.
As Marc walked down the stone ramp, he cast the yo-yo again. The toy’s quiet spin was the only sound in the cavern. The soft hiss of string versus metal reverberated gently in the spacious cave.
Marc focused all his attention on the little gadget. He was determined to enjoy every last minute of the universe, no matter what. And that evening, the yo-yo more than accomplished that goal.
The shimmering yo-yo, however, couldn’t prevent the world around him from crumbling. The ground started to rumble. The rest of the cave shook with it. The underground city shook as the plasma storm above battered it—and the rest of the planet.
Marc’s home broke down. Cracks appeared in the ceiling. Waterfalls of dust poured out of them. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing collapsed. That is, if the plasma storm didn’t swallow it whole first.
Whatever.
A few clumps of dirt wouldn’t ruin Marc’s fun. He pulled the hood of his shawl over his head and extended his ragged sleeves toward each hand. His clothes shielded him from the falling dust; the gritty particles made themselves at home on his messy shawl. And Marc was free to perfect his newest trick.
The rumbling died down though as Marc descended the ramp. The yo-yo string didn’t wobble so much, and he didn't have to watch his steps as carefully. He just hoped the quaking wouldn’t come back to ruin his event.
Speaking of which, Marc glanced ahead toward his destination below. What he saw rocked him even harder than the earthquake had.
What in the sinkpits…?
Marc stopped in his tracks. He even started to reach for his knife. All because he’d detected a speck of something suspicious. Something he didn't see much of every day: color.
Showy landmarks weren’t something endemic to his home. The Outpost was more of a dusty gray-and-brown sort of place. The walls were sandstone. The floor was sandstone. And the ceiling? …Granite?
No, sandstone. All under the faint glow of a string of depressed lightbulbs.
The intriguing blip in the gray-and-tan collage was farther up the path. Ahead of the ramp, on Level 8, Marc saw the same three steel doors he was used to seeing. The front doors of underground homes, lined up in a row, each closed into the cave wall.
However, there was something different about the third door. It looked… alive. Like it didn’t belong in a dreary place like the Outpost. But it was too far away to tell what exactly had been done to it.
Marc squinted at it suspiciously. The third door happened to be his destination. And now it was weird.
He considered waiting and observing the mutated door. A child of the Outpost, Marc had developed a healthy fear of the unusual.
These habits, along with his instincts, kept him safe. They’d specifically preserved him while the rest of humanity perished.
But he shrugged off the instinct to wait. Something new and “different” was ahead, and he wanted to see it.
But just as a precaution, it was time for his yo-yo’s last trick. He got in one final throw then placed the toy into his satchel. He dropped it on top of his arsenal of cables, wrenches, and screwdrivers.
And by the time he’d snapped the satchel shut, the long ramp had bottomed out. He’d made it to the next level.
To his left, the wall had been spray-painted. Scrawled-out black letters stood against the sandy background. They stated, “Now Level 8.”
Marc followed the sign. He stayed close to the wall, crossing to the stone pedestrian path. He passed one untouched steel door with a dusted-over mail slot in the wall beside it. Then he passed a second home—abandoned like the first. And finally, he arrived at his friend’s place and the mysterious blip on Level 8.
To his surprise, the steel door elicited a flush of emotion. His heart floated upward. And the portrait before him drew his focus in like an otherworldly beacon.
How did it get so…?
Marc pulled back his hood. The ground popped with the sandy grains he released.
He could hardly believe the difference. The door used to blend in with the others: another ridged steel face that spent most of its time rusting or collecting dirt.
But it was no longer muffled by the dust and dirt that had built up over the years.
Today, it sung. Paint streaks flew across its visage. They swirled and spiraled, forming stars and other shapes. Where previously gray and rust dominated, colors sprang forth—colors that Marc didn't even have the names for. They were many, and they were warm, like the evening sky just after sunset. Marc could hardly wrap his head around the entire image.
He swelled with gratitude.
Only you could have pulled this off. He thought of his friend, the painter. The one person in the colony who’d ever been any fun. The one other person in the colony who was left…
The artist had done the unthinkable. Foraging the garden below for something other than food. Spending work time measuring and concocting the perfect blends of paint. And then slathering their fingers across the giant door, until its old face was but a memory. And all that effort for only a single other person to appreciate.
Newly inspired, Marc searched for an unpainted space on the metal canvas. He found one and knocked on the door.
He took a step back and waited. The outside of the Outpost was lively. Excited wind rushed through the canyon.
By contrast, the Outpost itself was silent. If there was anyone left to say anything, they may have even called it “dead.”
Or nearly dead, anyway. The last morsel of it came to life as the door in front of Marc groaned.
It floated off the ground, inching upward. On the other side, Marc could hear a hand crank clicking away.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The corrugated door lifted, and the door rolled up. The tip of the artist’s painting started to slip from view.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
Behind the door, chains reeled at a slow clip. The heavy curtain was halfway up. Marc could now see his best friend's lower half. Buff Lenorkian legs pumped back and forth with each crank.
The door unveiled even more of the owner. A torso in a metal suit appeared. Four ripped arms stretched out of it. They rotated, moving to the clicking beats of the door.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The door raised a few inches further, uncovering the bottom half of a cobalt blue face. Two rows of razor-sharp teeth smiled from ear to ear. A few inches more, and Marc could see the whole of the Lenorkian’s face.
Sid greeted Marc as the last of the door raised.
“Finally!” he said.
Marc didn’t get a chance to respond. His body lurched forward involuntarily. He slammed into Sid’s metal suit.
Crrrrrick!
The armor squealed as Sid’s upper two arms squeezed him tighter. The lower set of arms had reeled Marc in.
Marc hated hugs. Stupid mushy emotional wraparounds. But just this one final time, Marc returned the gesture. He squeezed Sid back.
“Happy Worlds’ End!” Sid said from the other side of the embrace.
“Yeah,” Marc replied, “Happy Worlds’ End.”
The two separated.
“Cool painting, by the way,” Marc said. He pointed at the rolled-up door. “I didn’t think you’d top the one in the garden.”
“You think so?” Sid sheepishly smiled. “Well I’ve had more time to practice since… you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Marc said. “Me too. That’s how I actually got you something.”
Marc swung his heavy satchel around. He rifled through it, squeezing through cables, knocking handles and parts out of the way. And then—ah.
He fished out a crumpled rag. Holding it in one hand, he began to gently unfold it.
“I found this a few days ago in the garden,” he said. The edges of the cloth fell. They revealed a small, glass object. It sparkled.
Marc continued, “I think it fits your style—I mean, I know it’s a little smudged and chipped but...”
He swirled the crystal trinket around. The cavern’s incandescent light flittered across its clear edges.
He touched it too, tracing the slender portion of it with his thumb. It was the neck of the crystal swan.
“It’s yours,” Marc said, offering up the bird.
Sid cupped two shovel-sized hands and accepted the gift.
“It’s beautiful…” he said, examining it. “I can’t believe anything like this could have survived this long.” He looked up at Marc and smiled, “Thank you so much. I just wish I had a little longer to could enjoy it.”
They chuckled lightly about their impending obliteration.
“Well, come on in,” Sid said. He extended both of his left arms. They gestured toward the cave interior. “We’ll finish off this universe how it started,” he said. He mashed his upper two fists together. “With a bang!”
“I hear that!” Marc nodded. He crossed over into Sid’s house.
As Marc passed Sid, a wave of discomfort hit him. Sid had switched out his usual t-shirt and jeans. He wore old armor instead. And the metal plating taunted Marc.
Marc’s next question came out more accusatory than curious.
“So… a Lenorkian throwback, huh?” he asked Sid.
Sid had just finished finding the perfect home for his swan. He left it on a shelf next to the front door.
He turned to face Marc. He hid his embarrassment behind a jagged smile.
“Oh!” he said. “Uhhh…” Three of Sid’s arms disappeared behind his back. The cone-shaped cuffs at the end of each wrist clanked against the back of his chest armor. The fourth arm nervously scratched his blue head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It's stupid, I guess. I can take it off… if you want.”
Marc didn’t want to address the topic head-on. He stopped in the cave’s entry. He pretended to admire the walls—as if he’d never seen sandstone before.
“No, leave it on,” he said. “You look… like a true Lenorkian.” He turn around and forced a smile.
It wasn’t enough.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” Sid said. He marched up to Marc.
Sid took a deep breath before he spoke.
“Tonight's really important to me,” he continued. “This is the last impression anyone’s going to make on the universe. So I need you on board.” He continued staring down at Marc. “Can you do that? For me?”
Marc didn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a couple of best friends hanging out.
“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. “End it the way it started.”
The exchange turned into awkward silence. Neither knew what to do next. They had never been in a situation like this before—never attended such an event. What the Archives called: a par-ty.
Sid shook off the figurative mask he’d been wearing—one that was uncharacteristically dour. His eyes lightened, and he bobbed his head knowingly.
“I went through the Archives to see how this works,” he said. He walked toward the long horizontal counter against the wall—the kitchen.
On the counter, chaos ran wild. Bowls and kitchenware spread across the surface. And the insides of his pots and pans resembled the dirty mouth of a garbage chute.
Marc wasn’t sure what to think. Was cleaning the host’s kitchen a staple of ancient parties?
Sid too seemed a bit confused. His next words came out robotically, as if he was practicing a new word he’d learned.
“’Can-I-offer-you-a-drink?’” Sid asked. He stood nervously in front of the counter.
Looking closer at it, three unusual objects stood apart from the kitchenware mess. It took Marc a while to remember what their outdated, bendy material was called.
Plastic. Three pink and plastic cups sat equidistant from one another.
“I got these from here,” Sid reached under the counter and pulled up some sort of transparent bag. Pink cups just liked the others were stacked on top of each other inside.
Sid packed the bag back under the counter.
“So?” he asked after he finished. He held all four hands together in anticipation. His smile may have looked like an industrial-grade rock shredder, but it was hard to resist his innocent blue face and big wide eyes.
Marc eyed the pink cups one last time.
“This better not kill me,” he said.
Sid wasted no time. He excitedly grabbed a cup and walked over to a large pot sitting on the counter.
Using a nearby ladle, he plunged into the vat. An unappetizing sloshing sound resulted. And Sid, as strong as he was, seemed to struggle with scooping out some of the mystery liquid. But in the end, he pulled back the ladle and unloaded an opaque, muddy liquid into the cup.
“It's a homeworld classic called fludge,” Sid said as he finished pouring.
He treaded over to his reluctant friend and handed off the plastic cup.
“Did you say ‘fludge’?” Marc asked. He swished the cup around cautiously. The earthy liquid hardly budged.
“Yeah, fludge! Us Lenorkians invented it. It’s kind of the only tasty thing we ever bothered to make.”
Marc sniffed it. It smelled… burnt? Maybe a little dusty, too? But he could have just been smelling the cave.
Sid left Marc alone with Marc’s questionable new assignment. He returned to the pot to pour himself a drink.
“Just try it!” he said.
Marc looked down again at the dark soup. It could kill him. Or maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, it was his last drink.
He took a timid sip and waited to be repulsed. The fludge trickled to the back of his tongue. As it hit, Marc’s eyes widened. But not with regret.
He swallowed.
“Now wait a minute…” he said. He smacked his lips together. Then he took another, larger sip.
This curious dark liquid had a unique taste to it. The taste was earthen—but unoffending. It also had a subtle undercurrent of sweetness to it, combined with a spicy kick. It was delicious.
“This might be the best drink in the entire Outpost!” Marc exclaimed.
Pure joy bloomed on Sid’s face. “See! I told you: the greatest thing we ever made.”
He held his own cup above his open jaws. The falling fludge was no match for the alien. He guzzled it down, licked his lips, and then went back for more.
As Sid fashioned himself another drink, Marc noticed something a tad unsettling. A third pink cup stared back at him. It prompted an uncomfortable thought, but he shoved the thought back down.
The Lenorkian carried back his second drink. Though this time, he took it in small, human-sized sips.
But he quickly reanimated. In the middle of a sip, Sid got a wild look in his eyes. His irises turned from their natural violet to scarlet. He yanked the cup from his face and swallowed.
“Argh, how did I forget?” he said. “I got music!”
Marc cut his sip short too. “No way. You got music?”
“I think so!”
Sid did an about face. He slammed the half-empty cup on the counter. Then he shuffled toward a giant metal column protruding from the far wall. Four ink-blue hands wrapped around the cover of the vent. And he went for it.
Sid struggled to pull off the cover of the vent at first. His armor ballooned around his biceps as his muscles bulged outward. Yet the cover wouldn't budge.
But it seemed like an important part of his evening plans. He scolded the stubborn vent, banging on its top.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” he said. He latched onto the vent again.
This time, he put even more effort in. To the point where Marc sensed that Sid was losing a grip on his own body. Out of his forehead, two thumb-sized cones began to rise. His breathing turned low and raspy. And his whole body seemed to expand as he repositioned himself for leverage. Then with one final pull, like a wild beast, he let out of a deep, guttural roar.
“HAWRRRRRRRRRRRGGH!” The roar echoed off the cave walls.
And with that, the stubborn vent cover finally popped off. A breath of wind pulsed through the room as the air pressure equalized itself.
But the wind wasn’t finished. After the initial pulse exited, a mighty gust picked up where the original pulse left off. The vent shot more wind into the room, but rapidly, like a storm. Tiny coarse particles rattled inside the duct. And in the room, a rush of wind whipped past Marc’s face. He felt little nips across his exposed skin as it passed him.
Both partiers shielded their faces from the most direct blasts of air. Sid smiled nervously as he looked to Marc. He raised his voice over the whining airstream.
“It’s from the sandplains above!” he said in an elevated voice. “I thought we’d use the sandstorm for music! Do you like it?”
Music… Marc wasn’t exactly an expert. Even though humans were said to be naturals at it, not much on the subject had made it into the Archives. The Outpost didn’t have much of it either. The closest he got was the occasional chant, stray birds twittering about, or maybe someone banging on rocks.
But Marc did know one thing on the subject. Where there was music, there was dancing.
That said, he had never danced before either. But a long time ago, his parents told him it was something all humans could do. It was something they carried in their blood. Once humans found a pattern in music, they could match it to their body language. And once they’d synced melody and movement, they could ride that wave to a whole new experience.
Might as well give it a shot, he thought. Marc too put his cup on the counter.
With his hands free, Marc backed up toward the middle of the room. He closed his eyes, felt the wind. It filled his ears with its gusty energy. It hit him in pumps as the storm raged above.
Though not totally predictable, the wind did hit him consistently. There was some sort of kinetic pattern to it.
Yes, a pattern.
Well actually, he’d heard it called by another name. What was that word his mother had used? He opened his eyes when he remembered: rhythm.
Marc stretched out his arms. He relaxed his hips. He felt the wind’s whips and waves across his arms. He let his arms follow them, swaying with the current. Not long after, his hips joined in. They too gyrated, trying to match the energetic gusts. He kept at it. And the first time Marc felt both himself and the wind moving together, he grinned.
“This is amazing!” he said. Around them, the wind crooned.
Sid was entranced. He nodded back while staring at Marc’s strange movements. He’d never really seen dancing either. But he figured he would give it a shot too. He loosened up his arms and walked onto the dance floor with Marc.
Before dancing himself, he studied Marc first. He watched how the scavenger moved his arms—and when the scavenger moved his arms.
Sid’s limbs followed. Four muscular arms rose in the air, like fighter jets on their way to a dogfight. And on a one or two second delay, they swayed after Marc’s.
For a while, they followed Marc completely. Then Sid went down his own path. The Lenorkian’s movements grew aggressive and battle-like. He punched at the wind swiping across him. He shuffled his feet as if swapping battle stances.
He caught Marc’s curiosity. Even as a novice, Marc could tell Sid’s movements weren’t traditional by any means. But to Marc, it was dancing all the same.
The two danced to the chorus of the air above. They laughed occasionally as changes in the rhythm of the wind tripped them up. In his head, Marc compared it to the painting on Sid’s door. The colony had never seen anything like this either.
Then something interrupted their dancing. The ground beneath them shook, throwing them off their feet. Heavy gray dirt trickled from the ceiling as the entire cave rumbled. And outside, the distant sky flashed and crackled. Its light illuminated the cave in violent spurts as the boys struggled to stand back up.
Eventually, the violent quaking and frightening flashes died down. The plasma storm held its breath once again.
The boys got back on their feet, but all the joy had seeped out of Sid’s face. He just stared at the floor in deep contemplation. Even as the windy music started back up.
Marc figured he would rescue his friend from whatever dark thoughts had turned up. Naturally, the end of the universe was a real bummer.
“End of the world got you down, huh?” He tried to laugh it off. The whole situation was pretty sad. Especially when they were having so much fun. But it was best to end the universe on a high note, right?
Nevertheless, Sid seemed dejected. He mumbled something inaudible.
“Dude, I can’t hear over the song!” Marc said in an elevated voice.
Sid spoke up over the wind. “That’s not what I’m upset about,” he said, his voice still fairly low.
“Then what are you upset about?”
Sid blurted out his response. “Because I invited Tōn-E, okay?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look Marc in the eye. Because he knew what was coming.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Marc shouted over the music. Marc himself stomped over to the vent. He picked the cover off the floor—though he struggled quite a bit with it. It was heavier than Sid made it look. But he hoisted it back into the mouth of the vent. The music shut off. The steady drop of sand on the cave floor ceased.
“Say that again,” he leveled in Sid’s direction.
“What was I supposed to do?” Sid remade eye contact. “Not invite the only other intelligent being to the last party the universe will ever have?”
Marc needed no time to answer. He nodded insistently. “Yes. That was exactly what you were supposed to do. What the hell, Sid?” Marc would have continued, but there was another disturbance outside. He caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway.
--
Thanks for reading some of my words :) I’m trying stuff out, so let me know what you think.
The rest of the story is here
Based on this prompt
2023.06.04 08:23 Beepboopquietly Nostalgia hurts.
Most likely I’m looking back at the past with rose colored glasses, but I can’t help it. In my mind, the old me —before the diagnosis and meds— will forever be “the real me.” The me before meds. The me before being muzzled. I have happier memories of myself from that time — I remember the feelings of self confidence, deep emotions, the feeling of certainty. Who knows? Maybe it’s all an internal movie I’ve created, all stories I’ve told myself about who I was and who I am.
I used to obsess about what it all meant — the decision to accept lifelong medication. Were there a thousand different versions of what life would have ended up like for me, had I not chosen meds? I won’t fool myself into pretending things would somehow have been better. Still. I remember the real me with a smile and a longing. And a big, What if I just try… to let myself go? Just let my mind do what it’s going to do. Dark alternate versions of life be damned. Or who knows, maybe there might have been a version where all turns out fine.
I’ve combed this forum but never found a single bipolar person who quit meds completely, stayed off, and didn’t regret it. Can you prove me wrong? Did anyone here stop meds and it all turned out fine?
submitted by Beepboopquietly to BipolarReddit [link] [comments]
I used to obsess about what it all meant — the decision to accept lifelong medication. Were there a thousand different versions of what life would have ended up like for me, had I not chosen meds? I won’t fool myself into pretending things would somehow have been better. Still. I remember the real me with a smile and a longing. And a big, What if I just try… to let myself go? Just let my mind do what it’s going to do. Dark alternate versions of life be damned. Or who knows, maybe there might have been a version where all turns out fine.
I’ve combed this forum but never found a single bipolar person who quit meds completely, stayed off, and didn’t regret it. Can you prove me wrong? Did anyone here stop meds and it all turned out fine?
2023.06.04 08:17 justinwrite2 Criticize my first chapter please!
Totally new to this, would love critique on my first chapter. Give it to me real. I want to improve: this may just be a hobby but I love it!
What you see on Page One.
A Slip Away from Death
Like most boys, Jake chose snoring in the pews over memorizing the Church’s proverbs. A clear mistake, he realized, as the Pastor's warning that “prayer follows danger” proved true. Hanging precipitously from the cliff’s edge, Jake recited every Creed he could remember in a futile attempt to appease any watching Gods.
“Prosper in his light, heathentry outside his sight,” he prayed, feet kicking in a desperate search for better footing.
It was a stowaways’ stanza, a tenet meant to share wisdom in ways the thickest of Port Cardica’s orphan dockboys could understand but, like most doctrine, its religious meaning was lost in translation.
Instead, the impoverished boys interpreted it as a practical warning to keep their heads down. Everyone knew the city’s Nobles revered the Book and claimed their prosperity was proof of Gods’ favor. Of course, beggars knew better: one downward glance at them revealed the decay fueling Cardica’s burgeoning wealth. Still, the poor learned to philosophize quietly. Someone was to blame for the hoveltowns, bird droppings, and penetrating seafood stink, and it better not be you.
For his part, Jake blamed himself. If he’d scaled the cliff wall with just a bit more care and a bit less haste he’d never have slipped. Instead he’d been forced to violently slow his descent, bruising bones and trading skin for friction on the vertical slope. It wasn’t a graceful maneuver by any means, but it beat falling hundreds of feet into the freezing current below. Thankfully, years as a guttersnipe had honed his reflexes – his gangly arms lacked the strength of a Swordsquire or the coordination of a Majpupil, but his daily dance with starvation demanded nimble fingers and quick wit.
That experience wasn’t paying off. As Jake shuffled his feet around to find better purchase, his hands slipped on the accruing condensation from the ongoing manastorm. His grip flagged, then failed, and he had neither the magic nor the strength to escape the weight of gravity.
“It isn't written, it isn’t written” Jake recited frantically as he began to plummet. The other dockboys would laugh at his superstition, but he didn’t care. Many claimed the Creeds were lucky, and Jake desperately needed some luck. Instinctively he spread his arms out as wide as possible, hoping to extend his reach and grip onto something.
By some miracle, It worked. The resounding sound of cloth ripping accompanied Jake as he slammed into the stone cliff, teetering to a stop. He hung like a rag doll, held up only by the hem of his matted, brown tunic; the cheap weavings had snagged and torn on an outcropping of stone.
“Aughhh” he mumbled.
He had survived, but everything hurt. Looking down to inspect the damage, Jake saw that his calloused hands were raw and pebbled, but a quick flex confirmed he hadn’t broken any fingerbones. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gasped at the telltale sting every kicked streetrat knew so well.
“Po-Poet’s hand,” Jake swore.
He grabbed the cliff wall to stabilize himself and, seeing as it had worked so far, continued reciting the few Creeds he could remember. A minute passed before he was able to think clearly, but slowly Jake got his breathing under control and continued his self-assessment.
Overall, he felt like things couldn’t have gone much worse. His cracked ribs hurt and continuing the heist would only exacerbate the damage, leading to scarring or permanent hobbling. Jake had seen many dockbeggars with similar injuries from fights or beatings, unable to walk straight without being plagued by the stitchers cough.
For this reason alone, Jake briefly considered giving up. He quickly dismissed the idea – it might be madness to continue climbing in his condition, but he’d come too far to back out now. He’d planned this heist for months, obsessively pathing his break-in while waiting for a night when security would be light. In retrospect, he’d been a fool; his overly cautious preparations left no possibility for a second attempt before his 15th birthday.
No, despite his injury tonight was still his best hope to successfully steal a Scriptors’ Grimoire before Binding Day. Failure would mean enslavement as a Ruddite or worse, full Automation. He’d just have to trust the windy weather to mute his movements and the harvest moons to light his way.
So, teeth chattering with cold and fear, Jake resumed the ascent. His ribs sang in agony as he put one hand in front of the other, slowly turning small divots into handholds, footholds and leverage. Each bouldering movement made him wince, but over the years he’d honed the art of turning sweat and grit into capillary action. He’d had no other choice; richmen shared a passion for building impenetrable estates, forcing thieves to develop an unshaking hand at scaling them.
Five painstaking minutes of climbing later and Jake regained his original position. Salty sweat matted his brow and stinged his eyes but he persevered. He blinked slowly to clear his vision and shuffled his feet left over right, shivering his way across an inch-wide protrusion. Just a few meters above him stood the lip of the granite outcropping and access to the marble fortress built upon it. Jake tasted copper as he bit the inside of his cheek in anticipation – If the heist went well he’d finally change his destiny and be able to swear upon the Sermon’s Book on his own terms.
But first he had to finish the climb. He knew the manor’s sentries rotated hourly, eyes glued to the sky as they watched for flyingmen and attacks from above. He also knew that all these guards would be literate, but none especially gifted. After all, no one powerful enough to be a Writer would stand watch over another man's fortune. The chartered Maji Wordlings, on the other hand, could easily detect Jake if he hadn’t planned for them in advance. He chose tonight because it was the season’s Lenting, meaning the majority of Maji would be in communion until the sun rose.
“What is written” a gruff voice proclaimed, startling Jake.
It was muffled by the wind, so it took him a moment to realize it was coming from directly above him. Jake craned his neck and peered up; to his horror he could see the silhouette of a guard's shadow on the cliff wall.
Petrified, Jake hugged his body to the cold granite, hoping the darkness of the windy night would hide his form. His entire plan hung on the simple thesis that in a world of magidetectors and magflight, no one would expect an unbound to scale the walls. Great in theory, but what if a guard just happened to look down?
“Is Foretold and Forbidden,” another voice chanted, completing the customary greeting. “All safe on the watch?”
“All is safe and silent, as usual,” the first man grunted.
“Don’t sound so upset,” the second laughed. ”We chose this job because it’s easy, remember? No more treading through the mud, no more war with those blasted barren beasts and their infernal warlocks.”
“That’s true, althou..”
The men’s voices were swept up in the wind as they paced further down the stone perimeter. They hadn’t seen him, but, just to be safe, Jake stayed low until he could no longer hear the stamping of metal-toed boots on stone. Then, fingers white and aching in trepidation, he waited another 30 seconds.
Finishing his count, Jake peaked over the edge. It took all the courage he had earned as a thief and every bit of boldness he had learned as a beggar, but he managed it.
The coast was clear.
Jake carefully pulled himself over the ledge before falling into a crouch. He looked around and exhaled painfully, releasing a breath he had not realized he was holding.
In front of him lay an outdoor walkway culminating in a rippling fountain circumscribed by five basalt pillars of progressively increasing height. Everflowing torches adorned each of the columns and burned despite the rain, casting rings of golden light throughout the open atrium. At the foot of the fountain rose a gold-leafed speaker's lectern, a pure white sculpture of the Sermon Book chiseled open upon it.
Jake stared openmouthed at the power radiating from the fountain before abruptly coming to his senses. Without a doubt this artifact was a Magisma, an extremely expensive construct meant to amplify its controller’s magic. Leaving it outside was a casual display of wealth and power meant to shock and impress, but Jake didn’t have time for that.
Instead Jake blended into the shadows cast by the monument as he sneaked his way across the grounds. After passing the walkway the torchlight dimmed considerably, forcing him to hobble his way in the dark. A bright flash startled him, but the acid smell of tobacco that accompanied it indicated the guards he’d seen earlier were smoking to pass the time. Realizing they were distracted, Jake sped up and almost tripped on the jutting crystals of an emerald rock garden. Embarrassed, he paused to listen for anyone approaching.
Everything was quiet except for the constant pitter, patter and hiss of rain from the manastorm. It seemed his home-invasion had so far gone unnoticed, but the hair on Jake’s neck rose. An unsettling feeling of being watched set in and every few seconds he reflexively looked over his shoulder.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, he made it to the Manor wall. Keeping to the shadows, Jake hid behind the tallest thing he could find; a towering yellow flower with leaves the size of platters that he had never seen before. Staying low, he muddied his knees and toes on the damp ground, but thankfully the foliage protected him from the rain. As his eyes adjusted to less light, Jake noticed all sorts of exotic fruits surrounding him; blood red berries in the shape of teardrops levitated inches off the ground, while turquoise bubbles floated up from vibrant greenery, collapsing quickly into little orange stones that looked remarkably like candy. Jake’s belly growled at the idea of tasting these treats, but he dismissed his urges. Stanzas warned that “those who leave riches unread become starving men” but Jake knew hunger well. He would jeopardize his mission by eating something that might make him sick tonight.
Instead, he focused on gaining entry to the manor. Searching his surroundings, Jake located the iron front doors about 6 meters to his right. They were guarded by life-like statues on either side, one a Korai of the Poet, hand outstretched in greeting, the other a two headed wolf, with both snarling maws crying out to the moons. The door itself was blacked with age and inscribed by a massive oval spellwork that glinted in the light cast by a hanging lantern.
Listening closely, Jake groaned at the buzz of silverscripting coming from the insignia. Every thief knew that spellworks grew more powerful over time, and anything audible would be too powerful for any Unbound to lockpick.
submitted by justinwrite2 to writers [link] [comments]
What you see on Page One.
Read Seekers, until daytime fades to candlelight, For magic is found when ink breathes life to parchment, When bookbindings break and cradled words take flight. It’s the safety of cozying up near the warming hearth, And the rising steam from a wellworn mug It’s that smile when you turn the page in delight.That cool little quote thing before a chapter starts that gives you background.
West of the Citadel Clouds, Bordering Mountain Pines and fickle Seashine Lies the renowned Port Cardica Where sailors sing and blight-born orphans dream.Chapter 1
A Slip Away from Death
Like most boys, Jake chose snoring in the pews over memorizing the Church’s proverbs. A clear mistake, he realized, as the Pastor's warning that “prayer follows danger” proved true. Hanging precipitously from the cliff’s edge, Jake recited every Creed he could remember in a futile attempt to appease any watching Gods.
“Prosper in his light, heathentry outside his sight,” he prayed, feet kicking in a desperate search for better footing.
It was a stowaways’ stanza, a tenet meant to share wisdom in ways the thickest of Port Cardica’s orphan dockboys could understand but, like most doctrine, its religious meaning was lost in translation.
Instead, the impoverished boys interpreted it as a practical warning to keep their heads down. Everyone knew the city’s Nobles revered the Book and claimed their prosperity was proof of Gods’ favor. Of course, beggars knew better: one downward glance at them revealed the decay fueling Cardica’s burgeoning wealth. Still, the poor learned to philosophize quietly. Someone was to blame for the hoveltowns, bird droppings, and penetrating seafood stink, and it better not be you.
For his part, Jake blamed himself. If he’d scaled the cliff wall with just a bit more care and a bit less haste he’d never have slipped. Instead he’d been forced to violently slow his descent, bruising bones and trading skin for friction on the vertical slope. It wasn’t a graceful maneuver by any means, but it beat falling hundreds of feet into the freezing current below. Thankfully, years as a guttersnipe had honed his reflexes – his gangly arms lacked the strength of a Swordsquire or the coordination of a Majpupil, but his daily dance with starvation demanded nimble fingers and quick wit.
That experience wasn’t paying off. As Jake shuffled his feet around to find better purchase, his hands slipped on the accruing condensation from the ongoing manastorm. His grip flagged, then failed, and he had neither the magic nor the strength to escape the weight of gravity.
“It isn't written, it isn’t written” Jake recited frantically as he began to plummet. The other dockboys would laugh at his superstition, but he didn’t care. Many claimed the Creeds were lucky, and Jake desperately needed some luck. Instinctively he spread his arms out as wide as possible, hoping to extend his reach and grip onto something.
By some miracle, It worked. The resounding sound of cloth ripping accompanied Jake as he slammed into the stone cliff, teetering to a stop. He hung like a rag doll, held up only by the hem of his matted, brown tunic; the cheap weavings had snagged and torn on an outcropping of stone.
“Aughhh” he mumbled.
He had survived, but everything hurt. Looking down to inspect the damage, Jake saw that his calloused hands were raw and pebbled, but a quick flex confirmed he hadn’t broken any fingerbones. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gasped at the telltale sting every kicked streetrat knew so well.
“Po-Poet’s hand,” Jake swore.
He grabbed the cliff wall to stabilize himself and, seeing as it had worked so far, continued reciting the few Creeds he could remember. A minute passed before he was able to think clearly, but slowly Jake got his breathing under control and continued his self-assessment.
Overall, he felt like things couldn’t have gone much worse. His cracked ribs hurt and continuing the heist would only exacerbate the damage, leading to scarring or permanent hobbling. Jake had seen many dockbeggars with similar injuries from fights or beatings, unable to walk straight without being plagued by the stitchers cough.
For this reason alone, Jake briefly considered giving up. He quickly dismissed the idea – it might be madness to continue climbing in his condition, but he’d come too far to back out now. He’d planned this heist for months, obsessively pathing his break-in while waiting for a night when security would be light. In retrospect, he’d been a fool; his overly cautious preparations left no possibility for a second attempt before his 15th birthday.
No, despite his injury tonight was still his best hope to successfully steal a Scriptors’ Grimoire before Binding Day. Failure would mean enslavement as a Ruddite or worse, full Automation. He’d just have to trust the windy weather to mute his movements and the harvest moons to light his way.
So, teeth chattering with cold and fear, Jake resumed the ascent. His ribs sang in agony as he put one hand in front of the other, slowly turning small divots into handholds, footholds and leverage. Each bouldering movement made him wince, but over the years he’d honed the art of turning sweat and grit into capillary action. He’d had no other choice; richmen shared a passion for building impenetrable estates, forcing thieves to develop an unshaking hand at scaling them.
Five painstaking minutes of climbing later and Jake regained his original position. Salty sweat matted his brow and stinged his eyes but he persevered. He blinked slowly to clear his vision and shuffled his feet left over right, shivering his way across an inch-wide protrusion. Just a few meters above him stood the lip of the granite outcropping and access to the marble fortress built upon it. Jake tasted copper as he bit the inside of his cheek in anticipation – If the heist went well he’d finally change his destiny and be able to swear upon the Sermon’s Book on his own terms.
But first he had to finish the climb. He knew the manor’s sentries rotated hourly, eyes glued to the sky as they watched for flyingmen and attacks from above. He also knew that all these guards would be literate, but none especially gifted. After all, no one powerful enough to be a Writer would stand watch over another man's fortune. The chartered Maji Wordlings, on the other hand, could easily detect Jake if he hadn’t planned for them in advance. He chose tonight because it was the season’s Lenting, meaning the majority of Maji would be in communion until the sun rose.
“What is written” a gruff voice proclaimed, startling Jake.
It was muffled by the wind, so it took him a moment to realize it was coming from directly above him. Jake craned his neck and peered up; to his horror he could see the silhouette of a guard's shadow on the cliff wall.
Petrified, Jake hugged his body to the cold granite, hoping the darkness of the windy night would hide his form. His entire plan hung on the simple thesis that in a world of magidetectors and magflight, no one would expect an unbound to scale the walls. Great in theory, but what if a guard just happened to look down?
“Is Foretold and Forbidden,” another voice chanted, completing the customary greeting. “All safe on the watch?”
“All is safe and silent, as usual,” the first man grunted.
“Don’t sound so upset,” the second laughed. ”We chose this job because it’s easy, remember? No more treading through the mud, no more war with those blasted barren beasts and their infernal warlocks.”
“That’s true, althou..”
The men’s voices were swept up in the wind as they paced further down the stone perimeter. They hadn’t seen him, but, just to be safe, Jake stayed low until he could no longer hear the stamping of metal-toed boots on stone. Then, fingers white and aching in trepidation, he waited another 30 seconds.
Finishing his count, Jake peaked over the edge. It took all the courage he had earned as a thief and every bit of boldness he had learned as a beggar, but he managed it.
The coast was clear.
Jake carefully pulled himself over the ledge before falling into a crouch. He looked around and exhaled painfully, releasing a breath he had not realized he was holding.
In front of him lay an outdoor walkway culminating in a rippling fountain circumscribed by five basalt pillars of progressively increasing height. Everflowing torches adorned each of the columns and burned despite the rain, casting rings of golden light throughout the open atrium. At the foot of the fountain rose a gold-leafed speaker's lectern, a pure white sculpture of the Sermon Book chiseled open upon it.
Jake stared openmouthed at the power radiating from the fountain before abruptly coming to his senses. Without a doubt this artifact was a Magisma, an extremely expensive construct meant to amplify its controller’s magic. Leaving it outside was a casual display of wealth and power meant to shock and impress, but Jake didn’t have time for that.
Instead Jake blended into the shadows cast by the monument as he sneaked his way across the grounds. After passing the walkway the torchlight dimmed considerably, forcing him to hobble his way in the dark. A bright flash startled him, but the acid smell of tobacco that accompanied it indicated the guards he’d seen earlier were smoking to pass the time. Realizing they were distracted, Jake sped up and almost tripped on the jutting crystals of an emerald rock garden. Embarrassed, he paused to listen for anyone approaching.
Everything was quiet except for the constant pitter, patter and hiss of rain from the manastorm. It seemed his home-invasion had so far gone unnoticed, but the hair on Jake’s neck rose. An unsettling feeling of being watched set in and every few seconds he reflexively looked over his shoulder.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, he made it to the Manor wall. Keeping to the shadows, Jake hid behind the tallest thing he could find; a towering yellow flower with leaves the size of platters that he had never seen before. Staying low, he muddied his knees and toes on the damp ground, but thankfully the foliage protected him from the rain. As his eyes adjusted to less light, Jake noticed all sorts of exotic fruits surrounding him; blood red berries in the shape of teardrops levitated inches off the ground, while turquoise bubbles floated up from vibrant greenery, collapsing quickly into little orange stones that looked remarkably like candy. Jake’s belly growled at the idea of tasting these treats, but he dismissed his urges. Stanzas warned that “those who leave riches unread become starving men” but Jake knew hunger well. He would jeopardize his mission by eating something that might make him sick tonight.
Instead, he focused on gaining entry to the manor. Searching his surroundings, Jake located the iron front doors about 6 meters to his right. They were guarded by life-like statues on either side, one a Korai of the Poet, hand outstretched in greeting, the other a two headed wolf, with both snarling maws crying out to the moons. The door itself was blacked with age and inscribed by a massive oval spellwork that glinted in the light cast by a hanging lantern.
Listening closely, Jake groaned at the buzz of silverscripting coming from the insignia. Every thief knew that spellworks grew more powerful over time, and anything audible would be too powerful for any Unbound to lockpick.
2023.06.04 07:53 verasev The World of Ghost Gasket
Here's the pitch. It's very much a work in progress. This is the intended setting for this tabletop RPG: https://www.reddit.com/RPGcreation/comments/13v5iw4/does_this_sound_in_any_way_promising_or_does_it/
The Old World
The truth is, no one remembers much about the old world. People have recorded dreams, visions, and flickers of memory but no concrete picture emerges, just a sense of vastness that would swallow the new world whole. All anyone is sure of is that there was a world before and that much of the language and basic concepts came from that place. How those ideas truly fit together is a mystery.
The Breach
The Breach happened 273 year cycles ago. Something truly strange had happened, some event that cut the folk of Ghost Gasket off from the previous world. The memories are nearly as dim as the memories of the old world. Shifting chaos and strangeness and a fracturing of the known rules. Madness. Screaming. And then people woke up, finding themselves in Neo Victoria, a city built in a suspended bubble of glass that's harder than steel. And around the bubble, only an endless maze of airless pipes and tunnels.
Neo Victoria
A stack of blocks built by a child. A ramshackle collection of mismatched styles. Gilt and poverty are scattered with no discernable pattern. The City seems both familiar and strange to those who found themselves in it. There are baroque stone mansions, tenement buildings, factories, temples, and workhouses. Clockwork abounds. The city seems to function as a vast machine designed to support life in the claustrophobic emptiness of the Tunnels.
The city was stratified from the very beginning. Some found themselves seemingly in possession of vast wealth while others woke up in small shacks with leaky roofs. People picked up from the Breach as best as they could, trying to find a life in the new world.
Humans and Abhumans
Humans aren't the only denizen of the city. Altered humans known as Abhumans exist and seem to be a melding of "normal" humans and stranger lifeforms. They have unusual biologies and strange powers. There are five main types: Changelings, Dhampir, Werebeasts, Nephilim, and Warpspawn. They seem familiar as if they were created to be similar to myths of the old world, but no one is sure why some people woke up altered. Many people find Abhumans repellant, that they inspire hate and superstitious fear. Others see them as just another flavor person. Abhumans usually find themselves in the lower classes regardless of their origins after the breach. Society in general is often rigged against them, with the majority of normal humans controlling them through social rules and outright laws.
Old Herald
Old Herald lies at the very center of the city, an intricate clock tower. The awoken citizens built a whole new system and calendar based on the machinations of the tower. There are 50 seconds in a minute, 78 minutes in an hour, and two 13-hour shifts. The months consist of 23 days and the year cycle consists of 13 months. During the Day Shift, the city's lights come on and a drizzle of "rain" spills down from plumbing built into the top of Neo Victoria. At night, the lights and rain turn themselves off and darkness reigns. Work is done during Day Shift, with the various poor and working class toiling to build or farm the products needed by the city. The rich control the factories and universities, spending their time managing the flock or trying to puzzle out the mysteries of the New World.
The Tesseract Mall
The Tesseract Mall can be found below Old Herald. This ornate cube-shaped building is bigger on the inside than on the outside. It has become the de-facto marketplace for the city. Costermongers, hawkers, hucksters, merchants, and snake oil salesmen ply their wares.
Amorphotech - The New Science
As time has passed, the folk of New Victoria have begun to learn the rules of this world. The overall system of thought is called Amorphotech. Matter and energy behave in unusual ways. They have an inner essence that can be separated and distilled known as Amorpho. It is a kind of formless non-substance. Amorpho can, in turn, be transformed into new matter and energy, both the types familiar to Old World memory and new forms wholly unknown to that world.
Amorphotech takes two main forms: Alchemy and Amorphic Engineering. Alchemy deals with creating special substances out of Amorpho that have special properties. The known forms of Amorphic Matter are Phlogiston (amorphic gas), Alkahest (amorphic liquid), Manacite (amorphic stone), Orichalcum (amorphic metal), and Bio-Iliaster (an unusual substance that can meld with biological beings).
Amorphic Engineering is taking alchemical substances and building devices that take advantage of their properties: pipeships, rayguns, and stranger devices.
Sorcery - Words of Power
Amorpho can also be manipulated with True Speech, a kind of formulaic language that mixes word concepts with what's called Amorphic Math to create effects. These are called spells and rituals, simply because that's the closest thing New Victorians are familiar with.
True Speech can be inscribed on objects and charged with Amorpho to create Relics, magical objects with strange powers. Those who wish to use these activities must attune to them, letting the Amorpho in their bodies and minds flow into the objects and back to form a metaphysical circuit that allows them to use Relics.
The Tunnels - A Cosmic Sewer
There are airlocks built into New Victoria. People have been curious about them for some time but had no way to survive an exploration into The Tunnels, the name for the labyrinth outside of New Victoria. Gradually, techniques and technology for exploring beyond the glass emerged. Pipeships are flying ships created using Amorphotech, sealed from the void, and able to traverse the empty spaces of The Tunnels using burning Phlogiston for propulsion.
The Tunnels aren't as empty as they seem at first glance. Created artifacts and constructions have been found formed by some form of beings who once lived in the Tunnels but seemingly vanished. These beings have been named the Precursors. Other creatures and entities have been discovered, some hostile, some mere animals, and others so strange that their mere presence is dangerous. There are even gardens and forests nestled within the pipes, made of plants, fungi, and more unusual sessile lifeforms.
The Precursor Civilizations
The Precursors don't seem to have been human at all. Sentient, certainly, but the things they left behind seem to be built by alien minds. Many people believe they created The Tunnels and New Victoria, that they are indeed responsible for the folk of the old world finding themselves here.
Much of what they created breaks conventional logic and even the new sciences of Amorphotech. They seemed to be able to warp time, space, flesh, and minds into wholly new forms.
Cults and Faiths
Strange beliefs abound in New Victoria. Many have formed different faiths and philosophies based on the mysteries of this new world. There are three main faiths in New Victoria: the Universal Pipists, the Exit Seekers, and the Wall Burners.
The Universal Pipists believe that there is nothing else but the pipes. That is, the Tunnels extend to infinity, a whole universe of pipes. The Exit Seekers, conversely, think there is something beyond, that an exit can be found out of the Tunnels entirely and into a whole other world or worlds that are much less constricted. The Wall Burners are an offshoot of the Exit Seekers. They believe that an exit will have to be built, that the walls of this universe will have to be breached in order to escape.
Political Movements and Social Clubs
There are several other, more political philosophies that formed during the arguments over the years on how to run New Victoria. There are utopian socialists, merchant capitalists, conservative monarchists, technoccult fascists (who believe those who master Amorphotech should rule through authoritarianism), and amorpho-transcendental anarchists. That last group believes that advances in Amorphotech will discover whole new ways to organize society.
Others have formed social clubs, ad-hoc organizations formed around some idea or hobby. There are detective clubs, journalism clubs, adventure societies, and amorphotech hobby clubs. These may have connections with other, larger factions in the city or they may be smaller, independent organizations.
Finally, there are a few secret societies that are similar to social clubs, except that their membership is closed and hidden. The Hidden Lodge is the oldest. No one is sure what pursuits they engage in but there are rumors that they have ears in every quarter and that they infiltrated their members all over the city.
Another secret society is the Raven's Wing, a criminal organization that controls most crime in the city, including illegal vices like drugs, gambling, and prostitution.
The final secret society of note is the Toy Breakers, an anti-technology group that is seemingly behind several acts of sabotage, assassination, and other forms of terrorism meant to stop the proliferation of Amorphotech.
submitted by verasev to worldbuilding [link] [comments]
The Old World
The truth is, no one remembers much about the old world. People have recorded dreams, visions, and flickers of memory but no concrete picture emerges, just a sense of vastness that would swallow the new world whole. All anyone is sure of is that there was a world before and that much of the language and basic concepts came from that place. How those ideas truly fit together is a mystery.
The Breach
The Breach happened 273 year cycles ago. Something truly strange had happened, some event that cut the folk of Ghost Gasket off from the previous world. The memories are nearly as dim as the memories of the old world. Shifting chaos and strangeness and a fracturing of the known rules. Madness. Screaming. And then people woke up, finding themselves in Neo Victoria, a city built in a suspended bubble of glass that's harder than steel. And around the bubble, only an endless maze of airless pipes and tunnels.
Neo Victoria
A stack of blocks built by a child. A ramshackle collection of mismatched styles. Gilt and poverty are scattered with no discernable pattern. The City seems both familiar and strange to those who found themselves in it. There are baroque stone mansions, tenement buildings, factories, temples, and workhouses. Clockwork abounds. The city seems to function as a vast machine designed to support life in the claustrophobic emptiness of the Tunnels.
The city was stratified from the very beginning. Some found themselves seemingly in possession of vast wealth while others woke up in small shacks with leaky roofs. People picked up from the Breach as best as they could, trying to find a life in the new world.
Humans and Abhumans
Humans aren't the only denizen of the city. Altered humans known as Abhumans exist and seem to be a melding of "normal" humans and stranger lifeforms. They have unusual biologies and strange powers. There are five main types: Changelings, Dhampir, Werebeasts, Nephilim, and Warpspawn. They seem familiar as if they were created to be similar to myths of the old world, but no one is sure why some people woke up altered. Many people find Abhumans repellant, that they inspire hate and superstitious fear. Others see them as just another flavor person. Abhumans usually find themselves in the lower classes regardless of their origins after the breach. Society in general is often rigged against them, with the majority of normal humans controlling them through social rules and outright laws.
Old Herald
Old Herald lies at the very center of the city, an intricate clock tower. The awoken citizens built a whole new system and calendar based on the machinations of the tower. There are 50 seconds in a minute, 78 minutes in an hour, and two 13-hour shifts. The months consist of 23 days and the year cycle consists of 13 months. During the Day Shift, the city's lights come on and a drizzle of "rain" spills down from plumbing built into the top of Neo Victoria. At night, the lights and rain turn themselves off and darkness reigns. Work is done during Day Shift, with the various poor and working class toiling to build or farm the products needed by the city. The rich control the factories and universities, spending their time managing the flock or trying to puzzle out the mysteries of the New World.
The Tesseract Mall
The Tesseract Mall can be found below Old Herald. This ornate cube-shaped building is bigger on the inside than on the outside. It has become the de-facto marketplace for the city. Costermongers, hawkers, hucksters, merchants, and snake oil salesmen ply their wares.
Amorphotech - The New Science
As time has passed, the folk of New Victoria have begun to learn the rules of this world. The overall system of thought is called Amorphotech. Matter and energy behave in unusual ways. They have an inner essence that can be separated and distilled known as Amorpho. It is a kind of formless non-substance. Amorpho can, in turn, be transformed into new matter and energy, both the types familiar to Old World memory and new forms wholly unknown to that world.
Amorphotech takes two main forms: Alchemy and Amorphic Engineering. Alchemy deals with creating special substances out of Amorpho that have special properties. The known forms of Amorphic Matter are Phlogiston (amorphic gas), Alkahest (amorphic liquid), Manacite (amorphic stone), Orichalcum (amorphic metal), and Bio-Iliaster (an unusual substance that can meld with biological beings).
Amorphic Engineering is taking alchemical substances and building devices that take advantage of their properties: pipeships, rayguns, and stranger devices.
Sorcery - Words of Power
Amorpho can also be manipulated with True Speech, a kind of formulaic language that mixes word concepts with what's called Amorphic Math to create effects. These are called spells and rituals, simply because that's the closest thing New Victorians are familiar with.
True Speech can be inscribed on objects and charged with Amorpho to create Relics, magical objects with strange powers. Those who wish to use these activities must attune to them, letting the Amorpho in their bodies and minds flow into the objects and back to form a metaphysical circuit that allows them to use Relics.
The Tunnels - A Cosmic Sewer
There are airlocks built into New Victoria. People have been curious about them for some time but had no way to survive an exploration into The Tunnels, the name for the labyrinth outside of New Victoria. Gradually, techniques and technology for exploring beyond the glass emerged. Pipeships are flying ships created using Amorphotech, sealed from the void, and able to traverse the empty spaces of The Tunnels using burning Phlogiston for propulsion.
The Tunnels aren't as empty as they seem at first glance. Created artifacts and constructions have been found formed by some form of beings who once lived in the Tunnels but seemingly vanished. These beings have been named the Precursors. Other creatures and entities have been discovered, some hostile, some mere animals, and others so strange that their mere presence is dangerous. There are even gardens and forests nestled within the pipes, made of plants, fungi, and more unusual sessile lifeforms.
The Precursor Civilizations
The Precursors don't seem to have been human at all. Sentient, certainly, but the things they left behind seem to be built by alien minds. Many people believe they created The Tunnels and New Victoria, that they are indeed responsible for the folk of the old world finding themselves here.
Much of what they created breaks conventional logic and even the new sciences of Amorphotech. They seemed to be able to warp time, space, flesh, and minds into wholly new forms.
Cults and Faiths
Strange beliefs abound in New Victoria. Many have formed different faiths and philosophies based on the mysteries of this new world. There are three main faiths in New Victoria: the Universal Pipists, the Exit Seekers, and the Wall Burners.
The Universal Pipists believe that there is nothing else but the pipes. That is, the Tunnels extend to infinity, a whole universe of pipes. The Exit Seekers, conversely, think there is something beyond, that an exit can be found out of the Tunnels entirely and into a whole other world or worlds that are much less constricted. The Wall Burners are an offshoot of the Exit Seekers. They believe that an exit will have to be built, that the walls of this universe will have to be breached in order to escape.
Political Movements and Social Clubs
There are several other, more political philosophies that formed during the arguments over the years on how to run New Victoria. There are utopian socialists, merchant capitalists, conservative monarchists, technoccult fascists (who believe those who master Amorphotech should rule through authoritarianism), and amorpho-transcendental anarchists. That last group believes that advances in Amorphotech will discover whole new ways to organize society.
Others have formed social clubs, ad-hoc organizations formed around some idea or hobby. There are detective clubs, journalism clubs, adventure societies, and amorphotech hobby clubs. These may have connections with other, larger factions in the city or they may be smaller, independent organizations.
Finally, there are a few secret societies that are similar to social clubs, except that their membership is closed and hidden. The Hidden Lodge is the oldest. No one is sure what pursuits they engage in but there are rumors that they have ears in every quarter and that they infiltrated their members all over the city.
Another secret society is the Raven's Wing, a criminal organization that controls most crime in the city, including illegal vices like drugs, gambling, and prostitution.
The final secret society of note is the Toy Breakers, an anti-technology group that is seemingly behind several acts of sabotage, assassination, and other forms of terrorism meant to stop the proliferation of Amorphotech.
2023.06.04 07:52 Justhuman963 Killer 60s
I started renting this house a few weeks ago. It was a nice 2 bedroom bathroom house with a 2 car garage and a sizable driveway. The grass was in very good health and the wooden fence was always painted a very bright and clean shade of white every few weeks. It was like a house from the 50s because it was. There was something charming about it, the wooden paneling, the porch with the backyard deck, the grill, the cozy little shack out back full of tools, and the lawnmower. I was allowed to rent this out for as long as I needed so I could write a report about a murder. One that happened in this very house in fact. All those years ago a couple lived here, they were crazy about each other. And some of the neighbors as well. For over 2 decades they poisoned, stabbed, and shot various other families. It was never clear why they did it or what motives they had.
In the very end, it was chalked up as pure insanity, a pair of psychopaths married together. They had a son and daughter, but the grandparents had taken them out of that household after finding out about the first murder, they kept quiet. This house has been turned into a sort of museum and rental space over the past few years. It was closed off to the public for over 3 decades but recently opened back up for people to look at. Turns out that renting out and giving tours of a haunted house was profitable.
Oh, I forgot to mention that it was haunted by the souls of the couple who killed those families back in the day. This was something I was having a hard time documenting in the report I was writing. I mean, come on, a haunted house? What the hell is this, a horror novel? I was dead wrong about it though. It all started one night when this one song started playing on a phonograph in the living room. It was Put Your Head On My Shoulder by Paul Anka. I can't get it out of my head. It played over and over every night.
The nights would go the same way over and over. I would go to bed at around 10 PM. After that, the house would fall into an odd silence. The lights came on in the living room and that song would start playing itself. The movement of footsteps could be heard as they creaked against the hardwood floors.
"Please, come out and join us. It's quite a fine night.", a female voice would call out.
"Come now, be our guest, and take a seat out here. We'll drink tea and listen to the radio.", a male voice would soon follow up with the woman's voice.
It was not safe to get up and check it out, despite their words of assurance. Doing so could bring unknown results. It may have been safe, but something in my body told me otherwise. I would stay in bed until 6 AM, that's the time everything would fade away and turn to normal. Their little dance and music would go on all night, but I would still be able to sleep. While dozing off it seems like the music would go silent despite still playing. I guess their only goal at first is to draw you out.
It's been a few days of this before things took a step up. I've been hearing...people? It's almost like a party happened during the night hours. Again I find that I cease to hear it once I fall asleep. I guess these little events are mere attempts at giving incentives for me to leave the room rather than to torture me. Although every so often there'll be a knock on the door asking me to come out. It only lasts a second before the person walks away. They're very polite about it though and they don't stick around, merely ask me and then vanish once they don't hear an answer in 5 seconds.
During the daytime, I've been logging this information into my reports. I feel like I'm going insane slightly, these can't be real, right? I must be breathing some sort of hallucinogenic gas being pumped in here. Got the vents checked out, nothing wrong with them. They did need to be cleaned though so at least I had an excuse to get them worked on without looking like a crazy person. I never find a trace of this couple during the day. No shoes, footprints, altered objects, nothing. Not a single thing moved out of place or touched. Hell, things seem slightly cleaner in the morning. It may be the fact that I try to keep things as they are though.
I spend my days walking around the neighborhood. The people living around here are mostly millennials. The ones who either inherited these houses and chose to rent them out or live in them instead of selling them. Or renting them to cut down certain parts of the mortgage. I drive into the city and head to a coffee shop I like for a few hours. I leech off the free wifi so I can get my things done. There's free wifi at the house, but it's a gamble on the speeds and connection. I also like starting my day off with coffee and going about my hours getting cake and a few sandwiches.
It's now week 3 and I'm almost done. I was given 4 weeks before the deadline to make a report on this house so the people I work for can get some info. They're not exactly well informed since most of the people have either died, "killed themselves", or simply walked out after a few days. The only reason I've survived this long is that I read every last bit of data I could from both historical records and the half-assed papers people put together before throwing their badges to the side and working for another newspaper. I'm barely getting anything interesting so far aside from the fever dream of a stay I'm getting from this place.
These days during the third week have been weird. I wake up at the same time only to hear humming. Musical humming, no particular song, just random notes. This is the wife humming while making some sort of breakfast. Her name is Rose, and her husband is Clark. Can't believe I've been referring to them as the husband and the wife all this time. It changes during these days but it ranges from bacon and eggs to cereal and orange juice with toast to a full pancake breakfast. They got bigger and bigger every day. On day one I stayed in my room until the humming stopped. Only lasted for about 15-20 minutes. After that, I would check the kitchen to find a freshly cooked breakfast. Rose wasn't anywhere in sight though.
I was hesitant to eat it at first since I wasn't sure what would happen. But I was hungry that morning and didn't feel like making the drive to the city so early in the morning. The food was good and I didn't feel poisoned or anything. I would set the dishes in the sink and take a shower. Not even 15 minutes later after getting out of the shower and getting dressed, the dishes were washed, dry, and sitting in the cupboards. I'm honestly not sure why people have been dying or quitting this trip. So far I've stayed out of their way and never really messed with anything. I feel like a guest here and act as one which is probably the key here. You can't live here, merely stay for a certain amount of time. I don't know how long that time frame is though.
Week 4, these last 7 days are my final chances to wrap this up before the deadline. I am nowhere closer to finding out how these past journalists died, why this couple did what they did, or anything like that. The best I'm going to do is probably pump out a short guide on how not to die here. This week was the hardest. The haunting extends all day. You see, the morning would start off as normal like last week. Waking up, hearing the humming, waiting for it to stop, eating breakfast, putting the dishes in the sink, etc. The real difference is that they are now visible and active all day and night.
Clark spends his day sitting on an armchair reading a newspaper, funny detail is that the date of the newspaper follows our date, Only the month and day, not the year. He is always dressed in a white dress shirt with the top button left undone. Simple ironed black dress pants with a leather belt neatly wrapped around them. Brown leather shoes, more like loafers actually. The kind of dress shoes you slip on. They were always shined and clean. His right leg is on the floor with his left leg stretched over his right. The newspaper covered his face. The only thing that could be seen from the other side was the occasional cigarette smoke puffing up.
The cigarette never had a scent though, phantom tobacco, funny. Rose would be sitting on the couch most of the time either knitting, reading a magazine, or watching the TV. It was a large black and white tv, the outside made of hardwood, the thick glass of the display, and the antenna sticking out of the top. Can't miss those two large dials on it. There was always something different on TV, one moment it was a cooking show, the news, and even a Western movie. The volume was always able to be heard but sort of faint as well. Kind of like a sort of background noise you barely notice after a while.
It was not a good idea to verbally or physically interact with them in any way. Not even looking at them was an option. I've never seen either of their face outside of photos because I'm always staring at my phone, or laptop, even intentionally staring at the floor. The carpet was very pleasant to look at. They never spoke during the day. Rose would sometimes clean the house. Sometimes dusting, vacuuming, and even washing the dishes. I lied, I've caught small glimpses of their faces from reflections. They are in their young age from the 60s, the prime of their life right before the major kill streak.
I can't even explain any of this. This house could slowly be turning into a self-contained instance of time. But that wouldn't make sense since the wifi here works, my money is up to date, and my tech can be charged. A few of the outlets were swapped out for more modern ones. Only the ones not already connected to appliances or the TV itself. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner would always appear on the table at different times of the day. Breakfast at 6 AM, lunch at noon, and dinner at 6 PM. I would always eat in silence and put the dishes in the sink. I've tried rinsing the dishes before at least but the water never touched them. I don't know how to explain it, but I would turn on the water and it would just phase through the dishware. I gave up after one day.
Well, this is the final day. I'll be scheduling this report to send itself in a few hours. I don't even want to manually do it since I'm rinsing my hands off this worthless paperwork once I leave. There was one thing I wanted to check out though. I'm going to continue this bit on my phone.
I always wanted to check out the basement. I forgot that it even existed this whole time. The door wasn't blocked or locked at all luckily. The door opened just fine, but the lightbulb turned on for about a second before blowing out. It didn't actually explode, but the light sort of just flashed and burned out like a flashbang. The steps are quite loud as they creak. I'm not sure what this smell is, it's like a mixture of gas and...rotten meat?
The door just closed itself, the only light I have down here is from my phone flashlight. There's some kind of red puddle leading to a room down here. I'm not liking it. I'm writing this live so my boss can read this. Yes, I know, hard to believe I'm actually being productive.
This...this is blood. There's a body in here. No wait, multiple bodies down here. I can see dozens or even hundreds of flies just covering these bodies. I think I recognize some of the badges around the necks. All of these bodies smell fresh. Is time frozen down here or something?
...shit. There are footsteps coming down here. I'm squeezed behind a broken-down fridge, perhaps Clark will just give up his search in a few minutes. My 911 alert just failed. This one message will probably be the last thing that'll automatically upload. I think I just made a horrible mistake. I wasn't supposed to come down here. If you're reading this, please call for hel---
*Connection lost*
*Report upload incoming*
I recently got to rent out a home from the 60s. This house is famous because of a couple that used to live here from the 60s to the 80s. They were known for killing people and families during this time period before finally being caught by the police. These were the things I've learned during my stay in this house:
- During the first week there will be dancing. From 10 PM to 6 AM there will be activity in the living room. The couple will appear out there and dance to a song called Put Your Head On My Shoulder along with a few others.
- They will assure you that it's fine to come out and join them. Don't do it. I've never attempted so I don't know if anything happens, but trust your gut.
- During week 2 they will start hosting a "party". The sound of many people will come from the living room as if people have come over for the evening. Every few hours the door will knock as someone on the other end will invite you to join everyone.
- During week 3 the haunting will break into the day. During the morning the wife will be in the kitchen making breakfast, do not leave your room until she is done. You can use the bathroom, just don't look or enter the kitchen. You will hear her humming for about 20 minutes. Once it stops, you can go about your day. The food is perfectly fine to eat and is actually encouraged. Make sure you put your dishes in the sink.
- During week 4, if you've survived this long, they will roam the house 24/7. Do not make eye contact with either of them. They'll mainly stay in the living room. The husband sitting on the armchair reading a newspaper and the wife reading a magazine or knitting. Occasionally she'll clean the house. If you are going to be in the living room, keep your eyes low and do not verbally interact with them.
- If you do...I'm not sure. There have been reports of them killing people during this time. Acting hostile at them or trying to kill them will not end well. Many have rented this place out and almost all of them have died. Some were filled with stab wounds, some were in the tub, drowned, and others were framed as if it were suicide. You may wonder why the government hasn't merely torn the house down. I'm not sure. It seems like the money they make from this place keeps it running longer.
- They will not force themselves into the room during the night. Unless you interact with them, they will not attack or come your way. Any food or snacks prepared is fully safe and encouraged to consume. Make sure you set dishes and silverware in the sink. They'll be cleaned when you're not working. Staying outside of the house is your best chance to live. Follow these rules.
submitted by Justhuman963 to StoryLaboratory [link] [comments]
In the very end, it was chalked up as pure insanity, a pair of psychopaths married together. They had a son and daughter, but the grandparents had taken them out of that household after finding out about the first murder, they kept quiet. This house has been turned into a sort of museum and rental space over the past few years. It was closed off to the public for over 3 decades but recently opened back up for people to look at. Turns out that renting out and giving tours of a haunted house was profitable.
Oh, I forgot to mention that it was haunted by the souls of the couple who killed those families back in the day. This was something I was having a hard time documenting in the report I was writing. I mean, come on, a haunted house? What the hell is this, a horror novel? I was dead wrong about it though. It all started one night when this one song started playing on a phonograph in the living room. It was Put Your Head On My Shoulder by Paul Anka. I can't get it out of my head. It played over and over every night.
The nights would go the same way over and over. I would go to bed at around 10 PM. After that, the house would fall into an odd silence. The lights came on in the living room and that song would start playing itself. The movement of footsteps could be heard as they creaked against the hardwood floors.
"Please, come out and join us. It's quite a fine night.", a female voice would call out.
"Come now, be our guest, and take a seat out here. We'll drink tea and listen to the radio.", a male voice would soon follow up with the woman's voice.
It was not safe to get up and check it out, despite their words of assurance. Doing so could bring unknown results. It may have been safe, but something in my body told me otherwise. I would stay in bed until 6 AM, that's the time everything would fade away and turn to normal. Their little dance and music would go on all night, but I would still be able to sleep. While dozing off it seems like the music would go silent despite still playing. I guess their only goal at first is to draw you out.
It's been a few days of this before things took a step up. I've been hearing...people? It's almost like a party happened during the night hours. Again I find that I cease to hear it once I fall asleep. I guess these little events are mere attempts at giving incentives for me to leave the room rather than to torture me. Although every so often there'll be a knock on the door asking me to come out. It only lasts a second before the person walks away. They're very polite about it though and they don't stick around, merely ask me and then vanish once they don't hear an answer in 5 seconds.
During the daytime, I've been logging this information into my reports. I feel like I'm going insane slightly, these can't be real, right? I must be breathing some sort of hallucinogenic gas being pumped in here. Got the vents checked out, nothing wrong with them. They did need to be cleaned though so at least I had an excuse to get them worked on without looking like a crazy person. I never find a trace of this couple during the day. No shoes, footprints, altered objects, nothing. Not a single thing moved out of place or touched. Hell, things seem slightly cleaner in the morning. It may be the fact that I try to keep things as they are though.
I spend my days walking around the neighborhood. The people living around here are mostly millennials. The ones who either inherited these houses and chose to rent them out or live in them instead of selling them. Or renting them to cut down certain parts of the mortgage. I drive into the city and head to a coffee shop I like for a few hours. I leech off the free wifi so I can get my things done. There's free wifi at the house, but it's a gamble on the speeds and connection. I also like starting my day off with coffee and going about my hours getting cake and a few sandwiches.
It's now week 3 and I'm almost done. I was given 4 weeks before the deadline to make a report on this house so the people I work for can get some info. They're not exactly well informed since most of the people have either died, "killed themselves", or simply walked out after a few days. The only reason I've survived this long is that I read every last bit of data I could from both historical records and the half-assed papers people put together before throwing their badges to the side and working for another newspaper. I'm barely getting anything interesting so far aside from the fever dream of a stay I'm getting from this place.
These days during the third week have been weird. I wake up at the same time only to hear humming. Musical humming, no particular song, just random notes. This is the wife humming while making some sort of breakfast. Her name is Rose, and her husband is Clark. Can't believe I've been referring to them as the husband and the wife all this time. It changes during these days but it ranges from bacon and eggs to cereal and orange juice with toast to a full pancake breakfast. They got bigger and bigger every day. On day one I stayed in my room until the humming stopped. Only lasted for about 15-20 minutes. After that, I would check the kitchen to find a freshly cooked breakfast. Rose wasn't anywhere in sight though.
I was hesitant to eat it at first since I wasn't sure what would happen. But I was hungry that morning and didn't feel like making the drive to the city so early in the morning. The food was good and I didn't feel poisoned or anything. I would set the dishes in the sink and take a shower. Not even 15 minutes later after getting out of the shower and getting dressed, the dishes were washed, dry, and sitting in the cupboards. I'm honestly not sure why people have been dying or quitting this trip. So far I've stayed out of their way and never really messed with anything. I feel like a guest here and act as one which is probably the key here. You can't live here, merely stay for a certain amount of time. I don't know how long that time frame is though.
Week 4, these last 7 days are my final chances to wrap this up before the deadline. I am nowhere closer to finding out how these past journalists died, why this couple did what they did, or anything like that. The best I'm going to do is probably pump out a short guide on how not to die here. This week was the hardest. The haunting extends all day. You see, the morning would start off as normal like last week. Waking up, hearing the humming, waiting for it to stop, eating breakfast, putting the dishes in the sink, etc. The real difference is that they are now visible and active all day and night.
Clark spends his day sitting on an armchair reading a newspaper, funny detail is that the date of the newspaper follows our date, Only the month and day, not the year. He is always dressed in a white dress shirt with the top button left undone. Simple ironed black dress pants with a leather belt neatly wrapped around them. Brown leather shoes, more like loafers actually. The kind of dress shoes you slip on. They were always shined and clean. His right leg is on the floor with his left leg stretched over his right. The newspaper covered his face. The only thing that could be seen from the other side was the occasional cigarette smoke puffing up.
The cigarette never had a scent though, phantom tobacco, funny. Rose would be sitting on the couch most of the time either knitting, reading a magazine, or watching the TV. It was a large black and white tv, the outside made of hardwood, the thick glass of the display, and the antenna sticking out of the top. Can't miss those two large dials on it. There was always something different on TV, one moment it was a cooking show, the news, and even a Western movie. The volume was always able to be heard but sort of faint as well. Kind of like a sort of background noise you barely notice after a while.
It was not a good idea to verbally or physically interact with them in any way. Not even looking at them was an option. I've never seen either of their face outside of photos because I'm always staring at my phone, or laptop, even intentionally staring at the floor. The carpet was very pleasant to look at. They never spoke during the day. Rose would sometimes clean the house. Sometimes dusting, vacuuming, and even washing the dishes. I lied, I've caught small glimpses of their faces from reflections. They are in their young age from the 60s, the prime of their life right before the major kill streak.
I can't even explain any of this. This house could slowly be turning into a self-contained instance of time. But that wouldn't make sense since the wifi here works, my money is up to date, and my tech can be charged. A few of the outlets were swapped out for more modern ones. Only the ones not already connected to appliances or the TV itself. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner would always appear on the table at different times of the day. Breakfast at 6 AM, lunch at noon, and dinner at 6 PM. I would always eat in silence and put the dishes in the sink. I've tried rinsing the dishes before at least but the water never touched them. I don't know how to explain it, but I would turn on the water and it would just phase through the dishware. I gave up after one day.
Well, this is the final day. I'll be scheduling this report to send itself in a few hours. I don't even want to manually do it since I'm rinsing my hands off this worthless paperwork once I leave. There was one thing I wanted to check out though. I'm going to continue this bit on my phone.
I always wanted to check out the basement. I forgot that it even existed this whole time. The door wasn't blocked or locked at all luckily. The door opened just fine, but the lightbulb turned on for about a second before blowing out. It didn't actually explode, but the light sort of just flashed and burned out like a flashbang. The steps are quite loud as they creak. I'm not sure what this smell is, it's like a mixture of gas and...rotten meat?
The door just closed itself, the only light I have down here is from my phone flashlight. There's some kind of red puddle leading to a room down here. I'm not liking it. I'm writing this live so my boss can read this. Yes, I know, hard to believe I'm actually being productive.
This...this is blood. There's a body in here. No wait, multiple bodies down here. I can see dozens or even hundreds of flies just covering these bodies. I think I recognize some of the badges around the necks. All of these bodies smell fresh. Is time frozen down here or something?
...shit. There are footsteps coming down here. I'm squeezed behind a broken-down fridge, perhaps Clark will just give up his search in a few minutes. My 911 alert just failed. This one message will probably be the last thing that'll automatically upload. I think I just made a horrible mistake. I wasn't supposed to come down here. If you're reading this, please call for hel---
*Connection lost*
*Report upload incoming*
I recently got to rent out a home from the 60s. This house is famous because of a couple that used to live here from the 60s to the 80s. They were known for killing people and families during this time period before finally being caught by the police. These were the things I've learned during my stay in this house:
- During the first week there will be dancing. From 10 PM to 6 AM there will be activity in the living room. The couple will appear out there and dance to a song called Put Your Head On My Shoulder along with a few others.
- They will assure you that it's fine to come out and join them. Don't do it. I've never attempted so I don't know if anything happens, but trust your gut.
- During week 2 they will start hosting a "party". The sound of many people will come from the living room as if people have come over for the evening. Every few hours the door will knock as someone on the other end will invite you to join everyone.
- During week 3 the haunting will break into the day. During the morning the wife will be in the kitchen making breakfast, do not leave your room until she is done. You can use the bathroom, just don't look or enter the kitchen. You will hear her humming for about 20 minutes. Once it stops, you can go about your day. The food is perfectly fine to eat and is actually encouraged. Make sure you put your dishes in the sink.
- During week 4, if you've survived this long, they will roam the house 24/7. Do not make eye contact with either of them. They'll mainly stay in the living room. The husband sitting on the armchair reading a newspaper and the wife reading a magazine or knitting. Occasionally she'll clean the house. If you are going to be in the living room, keep your eyes low and do not verbally interact with them.
- If you do...I'm not sure. There have been reports of them killing people during this time. Acting hostile at them or trying to kill them will not end well. Many have rented this place out and almost all of them have died. Some were filled with stab wounds, some were in the tub, drowned, and others were framed as if it were suicide. You may wonder why the government hasn't merely torn the house down. I'm not sure. It seems like the money they make from this place keeps it running longer.
- They will not force themselves into the room during the night. Unless you interact with them, they will not attack or come your way. Any food or snacks prepared is fully safe and encouraged to consume. Make sure you set dishes and silverware in the sink. They'll be cleaned when you're not working. Staying outside of the house is your best chance to live. Follow these rules.
2023.06.04 07:42 Edwardthecrazyman Hiraeth or Where the Children Play: Dog-meat and the Whipping Boy [6]
Previous
If I were to guess, I’d imagine they took Andrew to Boss Harold before anyone else and the rumors around Golgotha seemed to support this supposition; the Bosses enjoyed their personal retribution away from the eyes of citizens, maybe it was talking or maybe more, and although there were whispers of the boy being strung up on the wall or maybe he’d be violated in the stocks for all to see, I imagined that the council I held with Boss Harold might’ve had something to do with that never materializing. When I was allowed to the boy’s cell, it was dark, and his face was bruised and the bandaging I’d applied to his severed wrist had been removed probably for amusement. The room was small and there were no windows and only a single doorway let out into the hallway which contained other cells and further, near the exit, there was the office of wall men. The guard that’d let me in locked the door behind me and Andrew sat on a metallic cot without cushioning, and he stared at the grimy floor through swollen eyes.
“Hello,” he said. And I was taken aback by the comment because he spoke it as quickly as he might passing a person in the street. He'd been through so much that the word was abrupt, skittish. I nodded and moved to him, reaching for his arm where he’d been nearly fatally wounded. It was infected. Without fighting me, he allowed me to tend to it without even a question; I wiped it and applied salve. Once it was cleaned and rewrapped and only after I’d settled on the cot beside him, he spoke again, “I heard stories about the cells, but I never thought they’d smell.”
I withdrew a handful of antibiotics, and he took them without putting them to his mouth. “You should have them,” I said, “You might lose the whole arm if not.”
“I might lose my life.”
“Maybe not,” I offered a grim smile and water with for the pills. “You’re alive still.”
“How much longer though?” He took the medicine and grimaced hard. The boy looked older than he was. “It smells like blood here. I can smell the people that’ve been here before.”
I patted him on the back and removed myself from the cell and he did not call after me, not even to ask for the return of his hand and I hoped that I could stave off whatever tortures the Bosses might have in store for him.
It’d been two days since I’d returned with Dave and Andrew and quickly after our arrival, I’d tried departing from the man and hoped he’d drop whatever revenge he believed I could assist him with, but it was to no avail for he attended everywhere with me since our return to Golgotha. Although he’d not been allowed to enter the cells alongside me, he was waiting for me outside as I stepped through the wall men’s office and into the noonday sun; I deftly plucked a pre-rolled cigarette from my pocket and tried at lighting it but before I’d even gotten the chance, he was there at the stoop of the office, pestering, “We should go somewhere quiet,” he said.
“What do you take me for exactly?” I asked while maintaining eye contact with the flame off a match.
“You’re capable enough. You could be a hero. I’d do it with you. We could scrounge up a handful of people and change things. We really could.” Dave was casting sidelong glances at those that passed us in the dirt street just off the stoop, but nary one seemed to care about our conversation.
“Leave it.”
“I won’t.”
I sighed.
He put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.
Felina’s was a structure partially built from ancient shipping containers directly in the heart of the hydroponics towers in the center of town; the chicken shit smell from the base of the towers came with nauseating stagnation and could make a passerby sick, but upon entering Felina’s, the smell subsided and was replaced with the smell of body sweat. The older barwoman stood behind the counter and me and Dave took up on the far corner where we sat around an old card table, using crates as chairs; no one else was there—the smell of the hydro towers probably had some hand in that.
Dave took in close to me so that I could feel the moisture off his breath, “I’ve been talking to a few others over at the towers and they feel the same way I feel—but with you—well without you I don’t think I’d want to do it.”
“No, please go on without me,” I slanted my body across the table to push my face away from Dave’s; with me positioned with my back against the wall, I spied Felina beyond the counter, arms across her chest and watching us with an air of suspicion. She came to our table, slowly with her club foot and upon reaching us, she used our table for mild support with her big hands and greeted us without excitement.
Dave asked for water and her gaze shifted to me and I dismissed her, and we were alone till she limped back over with a pitcher and glass and Dave drank it greedily while Felina watched on from beyond the counter—her eyes suspicious but pretty blue too. She kept the haft from a dismembered axe behind the counter and was known to throttle unruly patrons with it.
Although some might have called Felina’s a bar, it was just short of it because of the rarity of spirits—besides, it was the upstairs brothel portion that the establishment owed to its popularity. Anyone might brave the smell from the street for companionship and if the noises from the rusted overhead support beams were anything to measure, the clientele was content indeed. A man descended from the stairs by the bar, gave a brief nod to Felina then to us and disappeared through the front door; a waft of the outside air rushed in, and Dave scrunched his nose.
“It’s a funny thing, I’ve passed by here all the time, but I don’t think I’ve been inside since before—” he paused, “Well, since before anyway.” He took a drink of water and rubbed his palms against his cheeks. “I know someone that works underground and could get us some gunpowder.”
I merely laughed at this. “Gunpowder, huh?”
“Well sure. The Bosses have reserves in the basements. We could blow them sky high.”
“More likely that you’d blow your hands off.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you?”
I thought, “Could you promise no one would die?”
Dave seemed baffled at the question. “Who cares?”
“These things hardly ever happen quietly—or without collateral. How’s this? Could you promise that no innocents get caught in stray fire?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are as ill prepared as I’d imagined.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The meek are intended to inherit, but many will die before all that.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I wish you’d leave it be.”
Another patron stumbled down the stairs, a scrawny tall man with a thin beard came charging into the chamber without clothes and a voice followed him, crying loudly, “Sonofabitch tried choking me!” A pair of arms and legs came stumbling down after—the source of the cries. There was a topless woman, a belt secured around one of her wrists and a pink mark around her throat. The naked man protested and put up his hands as the woman swung the arm with the belt and whipped at him with it, striking across the forearm he’d shielded himself with.
Felina moved carefully from around the counter, raised the haft, then brought it down across the man’s back. He stumbled to his knees, pleading. The barwoman raised the weapon once more and the sound was like wood against wood as it met the man’s head and his body was taken to the ground completely, perhaps dead, perhaps unconscious. The two women lifted the man out the door and Felina spat through the opening. Outside wind came again and Dave scrunched his nose once more before the door shut. The topless woman removed the belt from around her wrist, tossed it to the floor, then secured an arm across her chest before hurrying upstairs.
“So, gunpowder?” I asked Dave.
He nodded and took another drink of water while eyeing Felina as she took herself back to the counter and stowed the makeshift club into whatever place she kept it. “Yeah.”
“Go for it then and leave me out of it.” I fiddled with my thumbs across the table. “I’ll even make you a deal for when you come running to me for help later. If you blow your fingers off, I’ll try and help you find them. How’s about that?”
“I’ll wear you down.”
Another gust of wind came from the far door and I half expected to see the man that’d been removed there in the doorway, standing on his feet and ready for another round of punishment, but there was no one there in the hollow spot; as my gaze drifted from person-face level, I saw a medium sized mutt there in gray fur, pushing the door in with its nose and then sliding the rest of its starved body through—each of its yellowy sad eyes peered in and I could not tell the breed but Dave lifted himself from his seat and Felina went to the dog too.
“No dogs,” stated the woman.
Dave, the indomitable sweetheart that he was knelt to the dog’s face and touched its snout; it licked his hand and Dave said to Felina, “He’s not mine, but have you got some water for him?”
“No dogs inside. I don’t like repeating it.”
“Fair enough,” said Dave, “I don’t know who he—” he froze and then examined the rear of the dog before petting the dog on the head, “She belongs to, but I’ll take her outside. Just. Please some water, won’t you?”
The barwoman first drummed her fingers against her leg then went to the counter and I noticed Dave flinch as she reached under there, but she came back with a bowl and he took it and ushered the dog out; as he exited, he called to me, and I sighed and moved with him.
Remaining in the street was the man that’d been tossed out, face up, half-opened eyes, and flies buzzed about, and I touched him with my foot, but he didn’t move. Blood leaked from his ears. “Dead,” I said.
Dave took the dog from the body around to the side of the building and the feces smell was strong with the hydro towers, but he sat the water down and the dog went at it quickly, without restraint and spilt half before the man went to steady it with his hand; he knelt by the dog and pushed a shoulder against the wall of the brothel.
“There you go,” I told him, “You’ve found someone dumb enough and maybe loyal enough to follow through with your little gunpowder plan. Strap a handful of dynamite to him and watch him go boom in the Boss’s faces.” I genuinely did try it as a joke.
“You can be very mean,” said Dave.
Once the bowl was dry besides dog spit, he returned it to Felina, reentering briefly, and it was just me and the dog and the dog looked up at me and I turned away while its voice whined in the back of its throat and I took a piece of hardtack from my pocket and tossed it on the ground—the dog went after it, assuredly snapping up dirt in the process. Then the creature made a dry and throaty sound from swallowing too quickly, but moments after the thick cracker was gone. It licked my hand gently, and I scratched its chin and Dave returned and upon seeing me with the dog, he gave me a look and then brought himself to the height of the dog in a hunker.
“Hey there,” he said to it, “Someone’s beat you up pretty bad, huh?” It was true; scars stood out in places where the dog had no fur.
In response, the weathered mutt hoisted its forepaws onto his knees and pushed its nose into his.
“Yeah, girl,” he took one of the dog’s ears between his forefinger and thumb and rubbed it gently and the animal looked up, sad eyed, “What’s a good name for you?”
“Dog-meat?” I proposed.
Dave shook his head. “What sort of sick joke is that?” but he was smiling, “No. I’ll come up with something to call her. Isn’t that right?” He asked the dog, massaging the face of the animal with his thumbs; the dog stared dumbly at him. “Maybe a Beth or a Patty might suit you. How do you like them?”
The dog licked his face but couldn’t speak.
“Well,” I said, “It’s a shame it got you, you’ll pick a person name for it and that’s strange. Why not call her Mary if you want a person name?”
“Bah,” said Dave, rising to a full stand; momentarily, even with the other folks passing us in the street, he took a moment to see the dead man we’d passed on our way out of Felina’s and for a moment he remained quiet. “I’ll come to you again Harlan. Maybe when I’ve got more of a plan. I only hope you’ll listen to the stuff I’ve said about it. I really do. I really hope you’ll be on the right side of this thing.”
“Sides are overrated.”
Dave put a hand on my shoulder, “Of course,” he nodded, “Whatever you say.”
He left with his new friend—the dog following him traced from left to right close behind Dave and I watched him take off and around the nearest hydro tower and I was alone on the street and evening wouldn’t be far away, so I took to home while staring at my moving feet and speaking to no one. A few people along the way tried nodding at me or saying a small greeting here or there, but I was absorbed in my own head, and nothing took me from it once I got going. Maybe that was one of the reasons I enjoyed the wastes; there were no pretenses out there and with the constant thought of death there was no other thing to think about than each passing moment. I could not shut my thoughts up. I could ramble more about the motivations of a scavver, but I don’t think I should—leave that for someone that cares.
Upon taking the catwalks where I could look out on a swatch of Golgotha with the sun beating down and the constant hum of people going about their business, I was frozen on the railing and wishing I’d taken my own life and wishing that Dave had not found me out there; maybe if I was faster or smarter or better in whatever way that mattered.
I pushed into the door into my small abode and cool blood pushed through my body on seeing the robed girl there on my mattress, holding a shotgun with its barrel angled directly at me; she donned a flowy mess of dresses and kept her head wrapped in garb so that only her eyes shone through, but her arms stuck from the mess of cloth and I could see they were skinny with long scab marks like a blade had drawn across the flesh.
“Harlan?” asked the girl.
“Is that mine?” I nodded at the pump-shotgun in her hands. The slowness of the world was gone, and I could think again; if things were different, I’d have been a dead man, but it was unloaded, and I knew it.
“It was hanging on the wall—I don’t know how to use the thing anyway. I don’t know what I was doing with it,” she said, “You just scared me, and I didn’t know who you might’ve been.”
“This is my place.”
She laid the shotgun on the bed and unwrapped her face; it was Gemma, “You were with Andrew.”
“I was.”
“You said he was dead.”
I brought in air slowly through my nose. “I did.”
“You lied.”
I nodded, letting the air come out.
“Why?”
“I needed to find you.”
“But you found us both then, I guess.”
“Not on purpose.” A thought occurred to me, “Does you father know where you are right now?”
She shook her head; although rest had done her good, there was still a fair amount of fatigue present on her. “I snuck out.”
“Would’a though you learned your lesson on that front.”
“Is Andrew okay? No one will tell me anything about it.”
“He’s locked up right now, but he is alive. For how long? I don’t know. I figured your pop paid a visit to him already—wouldn’t you know about that?”
She shook her head again. “Woo,” Gemma slumped onto the side of my mattress and gathered the robes around her, “I’m feeling faint.”
I moved to the bed and gathered the shotgun, putting it back on the hooks in the wall. “You shouldn’t break into people’s homes.”
Cupping her brow in a hand so that I could only see her mouth and the bottom of her nose, she said, “I just needed to know he was alive. These past days I’ve been so worried about him. I knew you told me he was dead, but I knew you were a liar too. So, I had bad thoughts about what might’ve happened to him out there. If what happened to me was anything to go off.” Her voice broke for a moment and then she pulled her hand from her face and blinked a few sudden times. “I just.”
“I get it. You love the boy.”
She nodded without looking at me.
“So, beg your dad to let him go.”
“Everyone’s so mad at him. It’s funny that everyone’s so mad at him, but it was my idea, and they all treat me like a darling little flower. Like I couldn’t have been the one with the idea of running away. I had more reason to run than he ever did.”
“You should leave.”
“I don’t want to. Can’t you see that’s what I’ve been saying? Judge all you like. Call me rich all you like, but I can tell you this: I don’t feel like it.” Gemma grabbed the edge of the bed as her head wavered on her shoulders. “Dizzy spells are awful.” She shook her head. “Like no sickness ever.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Help me.”
“I’ve already tried convincing them not to kill him.” Taking a pause, I thought to add, “And I personally saw to his injuries. Please go and leave me be.”
“Oh, but you’ve asked for it,” she said, “You put yourself in the business of it.”
“Look. All’s I wanted was to save you if I could and get the water running again. That’s it. Now go.” I put my arm up to wave her out the door and she stood to make her way there, catching herself on the frame, then out on the catwalk railing before turning and looking at me over her shoulder.
“Bastard.” she said.
“Yes.” The door shut between us, and I took myself to sitting on the bed’s edge and reminiscing over how Dave reminded me so much of Jackson. Jackson was a real tough one; whatever happened he always kept a cool head (so I reckon him and Dave would be different in that way) and the idea of being a hero was so big for him. It’s a curious thought: whether Dave would have such ideas if hadn’t been for the tragic loss of his family.
The shotgun sat on there on the wall, and I took it and looked over it, putting the stock in my left hand then my right and laid it across my legs; the woven strap on it had gone thin so that the place I’d once worn it over my shoulder was mostly threadbare. I moved to the cabinet by the sink where I kept a few essentials and in the very back there was an old box of shells—it was a surprise they still seemed good, but with old ammo you never could tell, and the shells were just as likely to fire true as they might be to never send pellets from the barrel. I took a knife and began whittling into a shell I’d plucked from the box. Pellets spilled between my feet as I sat on the bed and they rolled across the floor and then I found the gunpowder and rose again, sprinkling it onto the cabinet top into a neat pile. Dave said he had a fella’ he knew that worked in the underground—the sort of person that could get him all the gunpowder he needed. Was he familiar with its destructive force; had he ever fired a gun? He promised me no one innocent would die and I knew that was a lie and there’s surely a piece of him that knew it was a lie just as well.
It was just then as I took a forefinger and thumb and pinched up a bit from the gunpowder splat that I remembered a thing that Jackson told me all the time when he thought none of the others were listening. The gunpowder rained from my fingertips as I rubbed them together and I sniffed the place where they’d become sooty, taking in a smell I’d not smelled in a long time. Jackson would say, “Whoever fights monsters should be sure that he don’t become a monster.” It wouldn’t be for a long time—after I’d visited the libraries in Alexandria or Babylon (take your preference)—till I realized it was a quote that Jackson stole from some guy named Neet-chee. It seemed like a good thing to adhere to, and it was certainly something I wasn’t good at keeping with and if I couldn’t then there was little certainty that Dave would keep to it either. Maybe I had become a monster; morally dubious anyway.
Jackson was a hero, and he was dead as was Sibylle as was Billy as was John and all of them. We’d tried heroing and it got all of us dead. Almost all of us.
I hung the shotgun on the wall and left it there and swept the gunpowder into the floor with a flat palm where the pellets were and chucked the box of old shells into the cabinet again.
Ringing of bells came from the hall of the Bosses and it was time for a display. Denizens gathered in the front square by the gates and awaited while they trotted out Andrew; perhaps the words I’d passed to Boss Harold rang hollow after all. The Bosses were there just as always, drinking their wine on the platform, and Maron was out front with his wall men in the semicircle of gathered Golgotha residents. Of the population, only a hundred or two gathered for this poor boy’s execution. The guards had, at some point after my departure, removed the bandage on his empty wrist and he looked more sickly in the face than before and his cheeks were swollen and he wept, seemingly not from the terror of it but from the skin around his eyes having been so damaged; tears came through swelled eyelids and a wall man kept him by the elbow and Maron marched to the boy and lifted the boy’s face with his hand to look into it and maybe he whispered something to him.
I weaved through the crowd, moving to the steps that led to the stage where the Bosses stood with their foods and wines and their plenty and upon approach, I was stopped by a wall men, but upon catching Boss Harold’s eye, he told the guard to let me through and I took the stairs and from the platform, I could see over the crowd—Dave was far in the rear of those gathered, totally disconnected from the others for he hunkered by a set of crates, patting the head of the dog we’d found just earlier in the day. For a moment, I wished I was there with him and not on the stage at all.
“Dear boy!” Boss Harold shouted at me over the excited jeers of the others, “It’s so good to see you again. You are quite the hero, and it’s always good to be in the company of those.”
I nodded at him and within a flash, he’d slammed his cup of wine into my hand, telling me to drink, and only moments passed before his own cup was replaced by a nearby servant. “We spoke about this?” I tried.
His face was red, and I could just make out the miniscule veins vibrant along the corners of his nose; the man was far gone drunk. “That boy’s been a thorn in my side for too long, so I know you understand it when I say that he needs punishment. I took all that you said into account,” his words slurred, and the sweet sick came off him in a breath of hot air when he pulled me in, resting his ear on my shoulder. “Nobody dies today, but ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’,” the Boss paused. “You’re not a father yourself, are you?”
I shook my head.
“Ah! Then you might not be familiar with that proverb required in bringing a child up in this world.” Boss Harold laughed. “I’d never take my sweet Gemma out in the square like this, but God there’s been times I’ve wanted it. ‘Spare the rod’.” He repeated. “But we’ve something a fair bit more interesting than a rod for that boy.” Boss Harold swayed on his feet and took the fist containing his cup of wine, pointing with his index finger at the open place by the wall where Maron and Andrew and the wall men were. “Speaking of!” Boss Harold was giddy, and he took a magnificent gulp from his cup, throwing his head far back. “You’re a learned man, yes?”
“What?”
“You know how to read? Maron said something about your reading. That’s a rare quality! I’d love to talk about books with you sometime. I’ve my own personal collection.”
The wall men stripped Andrew of his clothes then threw them to the ground and a gasp escaped the audience and the boy shouted and Maron moved to a nearby bucket and reached into the mouth of the container, coming back to a full stand; a whip was coiled around his arm. The Bosses didn’t even look on. The punishment was for the benefit of Boss Harold, and not even he looked on. He jabbered on about how he’d like to speak with me over an old philosophy called Objectivism then he went on about how he’d learned long ago the greatest achievement of man was his own happiness and I listened to the drunk man and when the whip broke skin the first time, I’m sure Andrew felt every bit.
Blood exploded in violent dew off his back and the crack of the whip struck the boy till he couldn’t stand and then several times more. Splatter reached onlookers each time Maron lifted the whip over his head, and it was only once the boy stopped moving that the Boss Sheriff swaggered over to inspect him; Andrew had fallen face down and Maron took his boot to the boy’s side so that the boy rolled onto his back and seconds passed without movement and even Boss Harold quit with his talking. The prone body just lay there and for a moment Andrew looked like the body I’d seen earlier out front of Felina’s. Then the boy spasmed and gasped air and Maron shouted about how he was still alive before giving the toe of his boot to Andrew’s ribs.
“What a show,” said the Bosses—what a show indeed.
The crowd dispersed in clumps, taking back to their jobs or leisure and I left the platform only after agreeing that Objectivism sounded good and Boss Harold laughed and stumbled in pivoting to take on in conversation with the other Bosses and I briefly imagined giving him a nudge, so he’d fall off the stage, but refrained from doing so.
When I met the boy lying in the dirt there, there was me and Dave moved in too and Maron had taken to his station where there was a table by sandbags, and he was engrossed in a game of solitaire; it seemed the man was totally unfazed by the justice he’d dealt. There was a time when that body could’ve been a hero and yet there he was, poisoned.
I called out to the Boss Sheriff, “Ain’t you going to put him back to his cell?”
Without even looking over, Maron swept his mustache with his fingers and waved me off, “Harold was real clear on letting the boy out of custody once it was done.” He lifted his cowboy hat and scratched his head while looking at the cards on the table then he laughed. “He’s a free man. I’ve heard that was your meddlin’ that did it.”
I moved to the boy and snatched up the clothes they ripped from him and Dave, not saying a word with his new mutt by his side, helped me to return some dignity to the boy.
We took him to my small apartment and washed him and tended over him while he lay in my bed.
Gemma came soon after Andrew had been draped in a sheet—she was there in disguise as she’d been earlier and upon me opening the doorway, she began to ask me if the boy was with me. I merely stepped aside, and she rushed to Andrew’s side; if he was aware of her presence, there was no way to tell.
“They killed him.” She’d taken to her knees to be nearer his level. “Oh. Oh, he’s dead.” She touched him and he shivered at the touch. Gemma removed the wrappings of cloth around her head and looked at her sweetie closer and she put a hand to her mouth. “They took his hand!”
“No,” said Dave, “He’s going to live.” The man looked to me and I shrugged. “Yeah,” his voice didn’t sound sure, “He’ll live.”
I moved to the catwalk and Dave came with me, the dog following behind him—the timid mutt looked over the edge of the catwalk to the city below then stepped away and returned to my room. When Dave took up beside me, leaning over the railing, and the sun hit his face just so, he looked exactly like Jackson and maybe that was why when he raised eyebrows then cut his eyes at me with a question—the question was everything and I finally nodded.
Previous
RoyalRoad
Neovel
submitted by Edwardthecrazyman to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]
If I were to guess, I’d imagine they took Andrew to Boss Harold before anyone else and the rumors around Golgotha seemed to support this supposition; the Bosses enjoyed their personal retribution away from the eyes of citizens, maybe it was talking or maybe more, and although there were whispers of the boy being strung up on the wall or maybe he’d be violated in the stocks for all to see, I imagined that the council I held with Boss Harold might’ve had something to do with that never materializing. When I was allowed to the boy’s cell, it was dark, and his face was bruised and the bandaging I’d applied to his severed wrist had been removed probably for amusement. The room was small and there were no windows and only a single doorway let out into the hallway which contained other cells and further, near the exit, there was the office of wall men. The guard that’d let me in locked the door behind me and Andrew sat on a metallic cot without cushioning, and he stared at the grimy floor through swollen eyes.
“Hello,” he said. And I was taken aback by the comment because he spoke it as quickly as he might passing a person in the street. He'd been through so much that the word was abrupt, skittish. I nodded and moved to him, reaching for his arm where he’d been nearly fatally wounded. It was infected. Without fighting me, he allowed me to tend to it without even a question; I wiped it and applied salve. Once it was cleaned and rewrapped and only after I’d settled on the cot beside him, he spoke again, “I heard stories about the cells, but I never thought they’d smell.”
I withdrew a handful of antibiotics, and he took them without putting them to his mouth. “You should have them,” I said, “You might lose the whole arm if not.”
“I might lose my life.”
“Maybe not,” I offered a grim smile and water with for the pills. “You’re alive still.”
“How much longer though?” He took the medicine and grimaced hard. The boy looked older than he was. “It smells like blood here. I can smell the people that’ve been here before.”
I patted him on the back and removed myself from the cell and he did not call after me, not even to ask for the return of his hand and I hoped that I could stave off whatever tortures the Bosses might have in store for him.
It’d been two days since I’d returned with Dave and Andrew and quickly after our arrival, I’d tried departing from the man and hoped he’d drop whatever revenge he believed I could assist him with, but it was to no avail for he attended everywhere with me since our return to Golgotha. Although he’d not been allowed to enter the cells alongside me, he was waiting for me outside as I stepped through the wall men’s office and into the noonday sun; I deftly plucked a pre-rolled cigarette from my pocket and tried at lighting it but before I’d even gotten the chance, he was there at the stoop of the office, pestering, “We should go somewhere quiet,” he said.
“What do you take me for exactly?” I asked while maintaining eye contact with the flame off a match.
“You’re capable enough. You could be a hero. I’d do it with you. We could scrounge up a handful of people and change things. We really could.” Dave was casting sidelong glances at those that passed us in the dirt street just off the stoop, but nary one seemed to care about our conversation.
“Leave it.”
“I won’t.”
I sighed.
He put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.
Felina’s was a structure partially built from ancient shipping containers directly in the heart of the hydroponics towers in the center of town; the chicken shit smell from the base of the towers came with nauseating stagnation and could make a passerby sick, but upon entering Felina’s, the smell subsided and was replaced with the smell of body sweat. The older barwoman stood behind the counter and me and Dave took up on the far corner where we sat around an old card table, using crates as chairs; no one else was there—the smell of the hydro towers probably had some hand in that.
Dave took in close to me so that I could feel the moisture off his breath, “I’ve been talking to a few others over at the towers and they feel the same way I feel—but with you—well without you I don’t think I’d want to do it.”
“No, please go on without me,” I slanted my body across the table to push my face away from Dave’s; with me positioned with my back against the wall, I spied Felina beyond the counter, arms across her chest and watching us with an air of suspicion. She came to our table, slowly with her club foot and upon reaching us, she used our table for mild support with her big hands and greeted us without excitement.
Dave asked for water and her gaze shifted to me and I dismissed her, and we were alone till she limped back over with a pitcher and glass and Dave drank it greedily while Felina watched on from beyond the counter—her eyes suspicious but pretty blue too. She kept the haft from a dismembered axe behind the counter and was known to throttle unruly patrons with it.
Although some might have called Felina’s a bar, it was just short of it because of the rarity of spirits—besides, it was the upstairs brothel portion that the establishment owed to its popularity. Anyone might brave the smell from the street for companionship and if the noises from the rusted overhead support beams were anything to measure, the clientele was content indeed. A man descended from the stairs by the bar, gave a brief nod to Felina then to us and disappeared through the front door; a waft of the outside air rushed in, and Dave scrunched his nose.
“It’s a funny thing, I’ve passed by here all the time, but I don’t think I’ve been inside since before—” he paused, “Well, since before anyway.” He took a drink of water and rubbed his palms against his cheeks. “I know someone that works underground and could get us some gunpowder.”
I merely laughed at this. “Gunpowder, huh?”
“Well sure. The Bosses have reserves in the basements. We could blow them sky high.”
“More likely that you’d blow your hands off.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you?”
I thought, “Could you promise no one would die?”
Dave seemed baffled at the question. “Who cares?”
“These things hardly ever happen quietly—or without collateral. How’s this? Could you promise that no innocents get caught in stray fire?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are as ill prepared as I’d imagined.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The meek are intended to inherit, but many will die before all that.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I wish you’d leave it be.”
Another patron stumbled down the stairs, a scrawny tall man with a thin beard came charging into the chamber without clothes and a voice followed him, crying loudly, “Sonofabitch tried choking me!” A pair of arms and legs came stumbling down after—the source of the cries. There was a topless woman, a belt secured around one of her wrists and a pink mark around her throat. The naked man protested and put up his hands as the woman swung the arm with the belt and whipped at him with it, striking across the forearm he’d shielded himself with.
Felina moved carefully from around the counter, raised the haft, then brought it down across the man’s back. He stumbled to his knees, pleading. The barwoman raised the weapon once more and the sound was like wood against wood as it met the man’s head and his body was taken to the ground completely, perhaps dead, perhaps unconscious. The two women lifted the man out the door and Felina spat through the opening. Outside wind came again and Dave scrunched his nose once more before the door shut. The topless woman removed the belt from around her wrist, tossed it to the floor, then secured an arm across her chest before hurrying upstairs.
“So, gunpowder?” I asked Dave.
He nodded and took another drink of water while eyeing Felina as she took herself back to the counter and stowed the makeshift club into whatever place she kept it. “Yeah.”
“Go for it then and leave me out of it.” I fiddled with my thumbs across the table. “I’ll even make you a deal for when you come running to me for help later. If you blow your fingers off, I’ll try and help you find them. How’s about that?”
“I’ll wear you down.”
Another gust of wind came from the far door and I half expected to see the man that’d been removed there in the doorway, standing on his feet and ready for another round of punishment, but there was no one there in the hollow spot; as my gaze drifted from person-face level, I saw a medium sized mutt there in gray fur, pushing the door in with its nose and then sliding the rest of its starved body through—each of its yellowy sad eyes peered in and I could not tell the breed but Dave lifted himself from his seat and Felina went to the dog too.
“No dogs,” stated the woman.
Dave, the indomitable sweetheart that he was knelt to the dog’s face and touched its snout; it licked his hand and Dave said to Felina, “He’s not mine, but have you got some water for him?”
“No dogs inside. I don’t like repeating it.”
“Fair enough,” said Dave, “I don’t know who he—” he froze and then examined the rear of the dog before petting the dog on the head, “She belongs to, but I’ll take her outside. Just. Please some water, won’t you?”
The barwoman first drummed her fingers against her leg then went to the counter and I noticed Dave flinch as she reached under there, but she came back with a bowl and he took it and ushered the dog out; as he exited, he called to me, and I sighed and moved with him.
Remaining in the street was the man that’d been tossed out, face up, half-opened eyes, and flies buzzed about, and I touched him with my foot, but he didn’t move. Blood leaked from his ears. “Dead,” I said.
Dave took the dog from the body around to the side of the building and the feces smell was strong with the hydro towers, but he sat the water down and the dog went at it quickly, without restraint and spilt half before the man went to steady it with his hand; he knelt by the dog and pushed a shoulder against the wall of the brothel.
“There you go,” I told him, “You’ve found someone dumb enough and maybe loyal enough to follow through with your little gunpowder plan. Strap a handful of dynamite to him and watch him go boom in the Boss’s faces.” I genuinely did try it as a joke.
“You can be very mean,” said Dave.
Once the bowl was dry besides dog spit, he returned it to Felina, reentering briefly, and it was just me and the dog and the dog looked up at me and I turned away while its voice whined in the back of its throat and I took a piece of hardtack from my pocket and tossed it on the ground—the dog went after it, assuredly snapping up dirt in the process. Then the creature made a dry and throaty sound from swallowing too quickly, but moments after the thick cracker was gone. It licked my hand gently, and I scratched its chin and Dave returned and upon seeing me with the dog, he gave me a look and then brought himself to the height of the dog in a hunker.
“Hey there,” he said to it, “Someone’s beat you up pretty bad, huh?” It was true; scars stood out in places where the dog had no fur.
In response, the weathered mutt hoisted its forepaws onto his knees and pushed its nose into his.
“Yeah, girl,” he took one of the dog’s ears between his forefinger and thumb and rubbed it gently and the animal looked up, sad eyed, “What’s a good name for you?”
“Dog-meat?” I proposed.
Dave shook his head. “What sort of sick joke is that?” but he was smiling, “No. I’ll come up with something to call her. Isn’t that right?” He asked the dog, massaging the face of the animal with his thumbs; the dog stared dumbly at him. “Maybe a Beth or a Patty might suit you. How do you like them?”
The dog licked his face but couldn’t speak.
“Well,” I said, “It’s a shame it got you, you’ll pick a person name for it and that’s strange. Why not call her Mary if you want a person name?”
“Bah,” said Dave, rising to a full stand; momentarily, even with the other folks passing us in the street, he took a moment to see the dead man we’d passed on our way out of Felina’s and for a moment he remained quiet. “I’ll come to you again Harlan. Maybe when I’ve got more of a plan. I only hope you’ll listen to the stuff I’ve said about it. I really do. I really hope you’ll be on the right side of this thing.”
“Sides are overrated.”
Dave put a hand on my shoulder, “Of course,” he nodded, “Whatever you say.”
He left with his new friend—the dog following him traced from left to right close behind Dave and I watched him take off and around the nearest hydro tower and I was alone on the street and evening wouldn’t be far away, so I took to home while staring at my moving feet and speaking to no one. A few people along the way tried nodding at me or saying a small greeting here or there, but I was absorbed in my own head, and nothing took me from it once I got going. Maybe that was one of the reasons I enjoyed the wastes; there were no pretenses out there and with the constant thought of death there was no other thing to think about than each passing moment. I could not shut my thoughts up. I could ramble more about the motivations of a scavver, but I don’t think I should—leave that for someone that cares.
Upon taking the catwalks where I could look out on a swatch of Golgotha with the sun beating down and the constant hum of people going about their business, I was frozen on the railing and wishing I’d taken my own life and wishing that Dave had not found me out there; maybe if I was faster or smarter or better in whatever way that mattered.
I pushed into the door into my small abode and cool blood pushed through my body on seeing the robed girl there on my mattress, holding a shotgun with its barrel angled directly at me; she donned a flowy mess of dresses and kept her head wrapped in garb so that only her eyes shone through, but her arms stuck from the mess of cloth and I could see they were skinny with long scab marks like a blade had drawn across the flesh.
“Harlan?” asked the girl.
“Is that mine?” I nodded at the pump-shotgun in her hands. The slowness of the world was gone, and I could think again; if things were different, I’d have been a dead man, but it was unloaded, and I knew it.
“It was hanging on the wall—I don’t know how to use the thing anyway. I don’t know what I was doing with it,” she said, “You just scared me, and I didn’t know who you might’ve been.”
“This is my place.”
She laid the shotgun on the bed and unwrapped her face; it was Gemma, “You were with Andrew.”
“I was.”
“You said he was dead.”
I brought in air slowly through my nose. “I did.”
“You lied.”
I nodded, letting the air come out.
“Why?”
“I needed to find you.”
“But you found us both then, I guess.”
“Not on purpose.” A thought occurred to me, “Does you father know where you are right now?”
She shook her head; although rest had done her good, there was still a fair amount of fatigue present on her. “I snuck out.”
“Would’a though you learned your lesson on that front.”
“Is Andrew okay? No one will tell me anything about it.”
“He’s locked up right now, but he is alive. For how long? I don’t know. I figured your pop paid a visit to him already—wouldn’t you know about that?”
She shook her head again. “Woo,” Gemma slumped onto the side of my mattress and gathered the robes around her, “I’m feeling faint.”
I moved to the bed and gathered the shotgun, putting it back on the hooks in the wall. “You shouldn’t break into people’s homes.”
Cupping her brow in a hand so that I could only see her mouth and the bottom of her nose, she said, “I just needed to know he was alive. These past days I’ve been so worried about him. I knew you told me he was dead, but I knew you were a liar too. So, I had bad thoughts about what might’ve happened to him out there. If what happened to me was anything to go off.” Her voice broke for a moment and then she pulled her hand from her face and blinked a few sudden times. “I just.”
“I get it. You love the boy.”
She nodded without looking at me.
“So, beg your dad to let him go.”
“Everyone’s so mad at him. It’s funny that everyone’s so mad at him, but it was my idea, and they all treat me like a darling little flower. Like I couldn’t have been the one with the idea of running away. I had more reason to run than he ever did.”
“You should leave.”
“I don’t want to. Can’t you see that’s what I’ve been saying? Judge all you like. Call me rich all you like, but I can tell you this: I don’t feel like it.” Gemma grabbed the edge of the bed as her head wavered on her shoulders. “Dizzy spells are awful.” She shook her head. “Like no sickness ever.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Help me.”
“I’ve already tried convincing them not to kill him.” Taking a pause, I thought to add, “And I personally saw to his injuries. Please go and leave me be.”
“Oh, but you’ve asked for it,” she said, “You put yourself in the business of it.”
“Look. All’s I wanted was to save you if I could and get the water running again. That’s it. Now go.” I put my arm up to wave her out the door and she stood to make her way there, catching herself on the frame, then out on the catwalk railing before turning and looking at me over her shoulder.
“Bastard.” she said.
“Yes.” The door shut between us, and I took myself to sitting on the bed’s edge and reminiscing over how Dave reminded me so much of Jackson. Jackson was a real tough one; whatever happened he always kept a cool head (so I reckon him and Dave would be different in that way) and the idea of being a hero was so big for him. It’s a curious thought: whether Dave would have such ideas if hadn’t been for the tragic loss of his family.
The shotgun sat on there on the wall, and I took it and looked over it, putting the stock in my left hand then my right and laid it across my legs; the woven strap on it had gone thin so that the place I’d once worn it over my shoulder was mostly threadbare. I moved to the cabinet by the sink where I kept a few essentials and in the very back there was an old box of shells—it was a surprise they still seemed good, but with old ammo you never could tell, and the shells were just as likely to fire true as they might be to never send pellets from the barrel. I took a knife and began whittling into a shell I’d plucked from the box. Pellets spilled between my feet as I sat on the bed and they rolled across the floor and then I found the gunpowder and rose again, sprinkling it onto the cabinet top into a neat pile. Dave said he had a fella’ he knew that worked in the underground—the sort of person that could get him all the gunpowder he needed. Was he familiar with its destructive force; had he ever fired a gun? He promised me no one innocent would die and I knew that was a lie and there’s surely a piece of him that knew it was a lie just as well.
It was just then as I took a forefinger and thumb and pinched up a bit from the gunpowder splat that I remembered a thing that Jackson told me all the time when he thought none of the others were listening. The gunpowder rained from my fingertips as I rubbed them together and I sniffed the place where they’d become sooty, taking in a smell I’d not smelled in a long time. Jackson would say, “Whoever fights monsters should be sure that he don’t become a monster.” It wouldn’t be for a long time—after I’d visited the libraries in Alexandria or Babylon (take your preference)—till I realized it was a quote that Jackson stole from some guy named Neet-chee. It seemed like a good thing to adhere to, and it was certainly something I wasn’t good at keeping with and if I couldn’t then there was little certainty that Dave would keep to it either. Maybe I had become a monster; morally dubious anyway.
Jackson was a hero, and he was dead as was Sibylle as was Billy as was John and all of them. We’d tried heroing and it got all of us dead. Almost all of us.
I hung the shotgun on the wall and left it there and swept the gunpowder into the floor with a flat palm where the pellets were and chucked the box of old shells into the cabinet again.
Ringing of bells came from the hall of the Bosses and it was time for a display. Denizens gathered in the front square by the gates and awaited while they trotted out Andrew; perhaps the words I’d passed to Boss Harold rang hollow after all. The Bosses were there just as always, drinking their wine on the platform, and Maron was out front with his wall men in the semicircle of gathered Golgotha residents. Of the population, only a hundred or two gathered for this poor boy’s execution. The guards had, at some point after my departure, removed the bandage on his empty wrist and he looked more sickly in the face than before and his cheeks were swollen and he wept, seemingly not from the terror of it but from the skin around his eyes having been so damaged; tears came through swelled eyelids and a wall man kept him by the elbow and Maron marched to the boy and lifted the boy’s face with his hand to look into it and maybe he whispered something to him.
I weaved through the crowd, moving to the steps that led to the stage where the Bosses stood with their foods and wines and their plenty and upon approach, I was stopped by a wall men, but upon catching Boss Harold’s eye, he told the guard to let me through and I took the stairs and from the platform, I could see over the crowd—Dave was far in the rear of those gathered, totally disconnected from the others for he hunkered by a set of crates, patting the head of the dog we’d found just earlier in the day. For a moment, I wished I was there with him and not on the stage at all.
“Dear boy!” Boss Harold shouted at me over the excited jeers of the others, “It’s so good to see you again. You are quite the hero, and it’s always good to be in the company of those.”
I nodded at him and within a flash, he’d slammed his cup of wine into my hand, telling me to drink, and only moments passed before his own cup was replaced by a nearby servant. “We spoke about this?” I tried.
His face was red, and I could just make out the miniscule veins vibrant along the corners of his nose; the man was far gone drunk. “That boy’s been a thorn in my side for too long, so I know you understand it when I say that he needs punishment. I took all that you said into account,” his words slurred, and the sweet sick came off him in a breath of hot air when he pulled me in, resting his ear on my shoulder. “Nobody dies today, but ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’,” the Boss paused. “You’re not a father yourself, are you?”
I shook my head.
“Ah! Then you might not be familiar with that proverb required in bringing a child up in this world.” Boss Harold laughed. “I’d never take my sweet Gemma out in the square like this, but God there’s been times I’ve wanted it. ‘Spare the rod’.” He repeated. “But we’ve something a fair bit more interesting than a rod for that boy.” Boss Harold swayed on his feet and took the fist containing his cup of wine, pointing with his index finger at the open place by the wall where Maron and Andrew and the wall men were. “Speaking of!” Boss Harold was giddy, and he took a magnificent gulp from his cup, throwing his head far back. “You’re a learned man, yes?”
“What?”
“You know how to read? Maron said something about your reading. That’s a rare quality! I’d love to talk about books with you sometime. I’ve my own personal collection.”
The wall men stripped Andrew of his clothes then threw them to the ground and a gasp escaped the audience and the boy shouted and Maron moved to a nearby bucket and reached into the mouth of the container, coming back to a full stand; a whip was coiled around his arm. The Bosses didn’t even look on. The punishment was for the benefit of Boss Harold, and not even he looked on. He jabbered on about how he’d like to speak with me over an old philosophy called Objectivism then he went on about how he’d learned long ago the greatest achievement of man was his own happiness and I listened to the drunk man and when the whip broke skin the first time, I’m sure Andrew felt every bit.
Blood exploded in violent dew off his back and the crack of the whip struck the boy till he couldn’t stand and then several times more. Splatter reached onlookers each time Maron lifted the whip over his head, and it was only once the boy stopped moving that the Boss Sheriff swaggered over to inspect him; Andrew had fallen face down and Maron took his boot to the boy’s side so that the boy rolled onto his back and seconds passed without movement and even Boss Harold quit with his talking. The prone body just lay there and for a moment Andrew looked like the body I’d seen earlier out front of Felina’s. Then the boy spasmed and gasped air and Maron shouted about how he was still alive before giving the toe of his boot to Andrew’s ribs.
“What a show,” said the Bosses—what a show indeed.
The crowd dispersed in clumps, taking back to their jobs or leisure and I left the platform only after agreeing that Objectivism sounded good and Boss Harold laughed and stumbled in pivoting to take on in conversation with the other Bosses and I briefly imagined giving him a nudge, so he’d fall off the stage, but refrained from doing so.
When I met the boy lying in the dirt there, there was me and Dave moved in too and Maron had taken to his station where there was a table by sandbags, and he was engrossed in a game of solitaire; it seemed the man was totally unfazed by the justice he’d dealt. There was a time when that body could’ve been a hero and yet there he was, poisoned.
I called out to the Boss Sheriff, “Ain’t you going to put him back to his cell?”
Without even looking over, Maron swept his mustache with his fingers and waved me off, “Harold was real clear on letting the boy out of custody once it was done.” He lifted his cowboy hat and scratched his head while looking at the cards on the table then he laughed. “He’s a free man. I’ve heard that was your meddlin’ that did it.”
I moved to the boy and snatched up the clothes they ripped from him and Dave, not saying a word with his new mutt by his side, helped me to return some dignity to the boy.
We took him to my small apartment and washed him and tended over him while he lay in my bed.
Gemma came soon after Andrew had been draped in a sheet—she was there in disguise as she’d been earlier and upon me opening the doorway, she began to ask me if the boy was with me. I merely stepped aside, and she rushed to Andrew’s side; if he was aware of her presence, there was no way to tell.
“They killed him.” She’d taken to her knees to be nearer his level. “Oh. Oh, he’s dead.” She touched him and he shivered at the touch. Gemma removed the wrappings of cloth around her head and looked at her sweetie closer and she put a hand to her mouth. “They took his hand!”
“No,” said Dave, “He’s going to live.” The man looked to me and I shrugged. “Yeah,” his voice didn’t sound sure, “He’ll live.”
I moved to the catwalk and Dave came with me, the dog following behind him—the timid mutt looked over the edge of the catwalk to the city below then stepped away and returned to my room. When Dave took up beside me, leaning over the railing, and the sun hit his face just so, he looked exactly like Jackson and maybe that was why when he raised eyebrows then cut his eyes at me with a question—the question was everything and I finally nodded.
Previous
RoyalRoad
Neovel