1950 s rock and roll lesson
The Classic Rock Subreddit
2009.07.30 23:14 TalibanHQ The Classic Rock Subreddit
Rock and Roll from the 50s to the 80s
2011.12.18 03:11 Subreddit for Jimi Hendrix
A subreddit dedicated to the life and work of musician Jimi Hendrix. 1942 - 1970
2013.02.12 20:38 NMayfair Dungeon Masters Tips and Tricks
A group of people trying to pool the resources to help each other DM or perhaps you're looking to find an active DM, We'll try and help.
2024.06.01 13:25 ApprehensiveEvent196 lyrcis/ lyric
Not everybody was bowled over by such ‘originality’. Kirk’s former Exodus bandmate Gary Holt, for one, was distressed to discover, as he says now, that not only did the riff from an early Exodus number, ‘Impaler’, become like one of the best riffs on Ride the Lightning, on “Trapped Under Ice”’, but that the now famous line in ‘Creeping Death’ which begins ‘Die by my hand…’ was taken from Holt’s own composition ‘Dying By His Hand’. There was no question, he admits, ‘that the riffs were [Kirk’s]’. Nevertheless, it caused bad blood between the two for a while. ‘I remember calling Kirk up and giving him a great deal of grief,’ says Holt, ‘and he said, “Ah, I thought I asked you if it was okay.” I’m like, “No, you didn’t.” So I’ve had the pleasure – and I use the term loosely – of watching sixtythousand people chant that shit [at subsequent Metallica shows over the years] yet I’ve never received a penny for it. I’ve had many people say, “Man, you should have sued.” But I’m like, yeah, whatever, you know? It is
what it is. I laugh about it now. I had one conversation with Kirk about it then I let it go for ever.’
But then, as Holt also points out, while both Metallica and Exodus had become known for ‘playing like real furious shit’, Kirk’s taste was always ‘a little more leaning towards the Maiden route, you know?’ And if James lifted a lyrical phrase from Kirk’s Exodus-era songbook, he certainly added to it in ways nobody else would have done. Inspired by the band catching a TV showing of the movie The Ten Commandments, the 1956 Cecil B. DeMille epic starring Charlton Heston, the lyrics of ‘Creeping Death’ were based on the Bible story of the tenth plague bestowed upon the Ancient Egyptians – the Angel of Death sent by God to kill every first-born child. When Cliff, in a cloud of weed, exclaimed, ‘Whoa, it’s like creeping death’ the rest of them laughed so much they decided they had to write a song with that title. That James so cleverly wove the convoluted lyric together said much for his rapidly improving songwriting skills. Musically, it was also a revelation; a brutal rock monolith built on incredible finesse, from its juddering riff to the mesh of vocal and guitar harmonies in its chorus, Hammett’s concluding double-tapped solo a masterclass in itself. ‘Creeping Death’ remains an all-time rock anthem, the thrash generation’s very own ‘Paranoid’ or ‘Smoke on the Water’.
Could you please explain the diffrence in the lyrcis and lyric as used in the text? Thanks.
submitted by ApprehensiveEvent196 to ENGLISH [link] [comments]
what it is. I laugh about it now. I had one conversation with Kirk about it then I let it go for ever.’
But then, as Holt also points out, while both Metallica and Exodus had become known for ‘playing like real furious shit’, Kirk’s taste was always ‘a little more leaning towards the Maiden route, you know?’ And if James lifted a lyrical phrase from Kirk’s Exodus-era songbook, he certainly added to it in ways nobody else would have done. Inspired by the band catching a TV showing of the movie The Ten Commandments, the 1956 Cecil B. DeMille epic starring Charlton Heston, the lyrics of ‘Creeping Death’ were based on the Bible story of the tenth plague bestowed upon the Ancient Egyptians – the Angel of Death sent by God to kill every first-born child. When Cliff, in a cloud of weed, exclaimed, ‘Whoa, it’s like creeping death’ the rest of them laughed so much they decided they had to write a song with that title. That James so cleverly wove the convoluted lyric together said much for his rapidly improving songwriting skills. Musically, it was also a revelation; a brutal rock monolith built on incredible finesse, from its juddering riff to the mesh of vocal and guitar harmonies in its chorus, Hammett’s concluding double-tapped solo a masterclass in itself. ‘Creeping Death’ remains an all-time rock anthem, the thrash generation’s very own ‘Paranoid’ or ‘Smoke on the Water’.
Could you please explain the diffrence in the lyrcis and lyric as used in the text? Thanks.
2024.06.01 13:25 ilikedrumming Is it still possible, in today's industry, to be a mac-ish, live indie musician?
And no no, I don't mean copying Mac. Don't mean copying his sound and all of that. I mean: is it still possible to get your homemade music a bit popular nowadays and play some shows? This is what interests me the most - are small artists still able to play some shows to people? I don't really know how big or impactful was Rock and Roll Night Club but Mac played numerous shows with boys, there are many videos on youtube from live performances of that era.
Where do you live? Are there clubs/venues that welcome small artists? How does it look now in small-musician music industry? Do you play your music live? How many people come to your shows? I'd love to be a live musician, but gotta get out of my town an country, as very little people here give a damn nor understand music sung in english.
submitted by ilikedrumming to macdemarco [link] [comments]
Where do you live? Are there clubs/venues that welcome small artists? How does it look now in small-musician music industry? Do you play your music live? How many people come to your shows? I'd love to be a live musician, but gotta get out of my town an country, as very little people here give a damn nor understand music sung in english.
2024.06.01 13:23 TimothyMischief Avoid Notice -> Encounter Transition Management
Hey all!
Fairly Seasoned GM (across a wide range of systems both light and crunchy) with fairly seasoned players (mainly various DnD3.5/4/5).
Our main group is currently transitioning to 2e after running a couple of the Free one shots and currently working through the beginners box.
Being fairly seasoned players they’re already exploring the edges of the system. We’ve run a few Avoid Notice scenarios now and found the RAW no stealth roll til an encounter and then stealth initiative vs. passive perception. And we’ve found it a little clumsy compared to how nicely the other exploration activities have been going. Some reading on the topic suggests this isn’t a unique experience.
It’s worth noting here that both I and the players enjoy the mechanical density and structure of the game, and are also very narratively and character driven and enjoy failure, we’re not war gamers and we’re not rules-light RPers.
What we’re really loving at the moment is how well 2e’s rules enable interesting role play and bring structure to it in an interesting way.
In particular the table is really avoiding hidden rolls, I even quickly modelled and 3d printed a small dice tower so players can roll their own but only I can see the result. Using it for Recall Knowledge and Grappling Hooks in the beginners box dungeon has been a hit.
Also in both DnD and other systems I’ve always a big proponent of smoother transitions into (and out of) encounters and exploration. I don’t like a clean break from roll play/narrative land into combat encounter land, and try to keep narrative and dramatic tension through encounters. I feel like 2e has really enabled and elevated that one almost every from but this one. My least favourite thing is encounter as a failure state with combat assumed from the outset.
We’re trying to stick to RAW as much as we can before breaking things or reinventing the wheel so I’m here to ask for opinions on potential pitfalls. But this mechanic is cropping up fairly frequently and I trust from reading other people’s qualms that this isn’t just a new-to-the-system issue.
As such I’m considering the following approach to Avoid Notice, trying to keep as true to possible with RAW/RAI but trying to bring the dramatic tension and “rules cinematicness” as I’ve been calling it to the table, and looking for opinions/advice/pitfalls we may not see because of our inexperience with the system.
Worth mentioning this isn’t a recommendation for every table. It’s a little dense but should be intuitive after running it a couple times. I trust it’s within the capacity of our group. Certainly won’t be everyone’s cup of tea.
Perks: - fully stealth turn based encounters getting some mileage out of non-combat encounter mechanics mechanics and avoiding the “everything ends in combat” encounter mode. - tasty dramatic tension with the turn reveals and starting an encounter uncertain if you’ve been spotted and creatures taking turns while players are concealed plus the potential for counter-sneaking NPCs - reward players who role high stealth (they remain undetected even while other players may become detected, even if they use their whole first turn before they know someone has been spotted they start their next turn still undetected. - giving the “surprise round” style mechanic a lot of players appreciate and expect form systems as enemies remain off-guard to undetected players - makes the transition into encounter more dramatically/narratively satisfying - Mostly preserves the design ethos (I think) with all checks vs. DCs and hidden stealth roles. - No awkward everyone rolling their initiative but maybe not needing it vs perception DCs then rolling perception for initiative for creature. All of it is hidden from the player and they get a more or less seemless narrative transition staying in the land of uncertainty and tension until the moment combat breaks (if it does)
Cons: - Complicated. I reckon the current group will get it after a single encounter but it’s going to need onboarding if we bring in other players, especially ones with less experience - Will really weigh favour to PCs based on their (very buffable) Avoid Notice rolls. And if they adapt to the system and game it by playing over-cautious and readying actions vs off-guard enemies it could unbalance things. Could be offset with some kind of extra complication like each turn subtracting 1 or 2 from their stealth roll so they’re pressured to get out of the encounter quickly and not be over-cautious. but that’s another layer of complexity.
That’s only 2 cons, and only one of them is a potential dealbreaker for us, but I don’t know what else I might be missing. I’m not too averse to even heavily skewing a combat in the party’s favour (especially as bypassing encounters entirely grants the experience anyway). And if it starts to get gamed I can adapt.
I like that it eases the transition from exploration to stealth encounters without breaking flow to roll initiative and that choices and narrative moments about trying to steal something or gain an advantage can happen in encounter, making the encounter a progressive narrative device rather than a failure state.
I also know that a huge part of the reason the rules as written has been unsatisfying is because the rest of the rules (for which other systems don’t codify) have been so refreshingly satisfying and it feels like an awkward fad for a common (for our group) mechanic. And that 5e stealth rules are just as bad if not worse and have also never been satisfying, but it’s the least of our worries over there.
We’re going to test it next session regardless. But just wanted to field it here for thoughts.
submitted by TimothyMischief to Pathfinder2e [link] [comments]
Fairly Seasoned GM (across a wide range of systems both light and crunchy) with fairly seasoned players (mainly various DnD3.5/4/5).
Our main group is currently transitioning to 2e after running a couple of the Free one shots and currently working through the beginners box.
Being fairly seasoned players they’re already exploring the edges of the system. We’ve run a few Avoid Notice scenarios now and found the RAW no stealth roll til an encounter and then stealth initiative vs. passive perception. And we’ve found it a little clumsy compared to how nicely the other exploration activities have been going. Some reading on the topic suggests this isn’t a unique experience.
It’s worth noting here that both I and the players enjoy the mechanical density and structure of the game, and are also very narratively and character driven and enjoy failure, we’re not war gamers and we’re not rules-light RPers.
What we’re really loving at the moment is how well 2e’s rules enable interesting role play and bring structure to it in an interesting way.
In particular the table is really avoiding hidden rolls, I even quickly modelled and 3d printed a small dice tower so players can roll their own but only I can see the result. Using it for Recall Knowledge and Grappling Hooks in the beginners box dungeon has been a hit.
Also in both DnD and other systems I’ve always a big proponent of smoother transitions into (and out of) encounters and exploration. I don’t like a clean break from roll play/narrative land into combat encounter land, and try to keep narrative and dramatic tension through encounters. I feel like 2e has really enabled and elevated that one almost every from but this one. My least favourite thing is encounter as a failure state with combat assumed from the outset.
We’re trying to stick to RAW as much as we can before breaking things or reinventing the wheel so I’m here to ask for opinions on potential pitfalls. But this mechanic is cropping up fairly frequently and I trust from reading other people’s qualms that this isn’t just a new-to-the-system issue.
As such I’m considering the following approach to Avoid Notice, trying to keep as true to possible with RAW/RAI but trying to bring the dramatic tension and “rules cinematicness” as I’ve been calling it to the table, and looking for opinions/advice/pitfalls we may not see because of our inexperience with the system.
Worth mentioning this isn’t a recommendation for every table. It’s a little dense but should be intuitive after running it a couple times. I trust it’s within the capacity of our group. Certainly won’t be everyone’s cup of tea.
- Characters Avoid Notice
- Everyone Rolls a Hidden Stealth Check
- I note the results
- I begin narrating the sneaking and the characters are free to continue reacting/taking other actions while avoiding notice
- Should a potential encounter arise I compare their rolls to the passive perception of the potential adversaries/noticers
- If they succeed I make the executive decision whether it is more interesting to enter encounter mode or narrate the close encounter.
- If we enter encounter mode, I make it clear to the players that they still have not been noticed but we are entering initiative order using their stealth rolls (they still do not know the order) at this point I roll perception initiative for the other NPCs/creatures per usual. These are also hidden.
- The encounter begins. Each participant (player or GM pawns) has their turns announced immediately after the turn prior ends. Each player remains Unnoticed to any npc/creature they beat the passive of, and remain so so long as they don’t deliberately reveal themselves, they do not have to roll for sneak/hide these unless they become noticed.
- GM pawns who have not noticed any players continue acting as they otherwise would, doing nothing to break a character’s concealment (but able to do other things like recall knowledge, ready, seek, aid, etc.). GM pawns who have noticed players are free to act however makes sense, intelligent creatures who are unequipped may attempt to subtlety equip themselves before revealing to the players that they have been noticed using stealth/thievery or subtly seek to try to spot any characters they may have missed, an unintelligent creature might just attack as soon as its turn is reached (or even as soon as a reaction might be triggered).
Perks: - fully stealth turn based encounters getting some mileage out of non-combat encounter mechanics mechanics and avoiding the “everything ends in combat” encounter mode. - tasty dramatic tension with the turn reveals and starting an encounter uncertain if you’ve been spotted and creatures taking turns while players are concealed plus the potential for counter-sneaking NPCs - reward players who role high stealth (they remain undetected even while other players may become detected, even if they use their whole first turn before they know someone has been spotted they start their next turn still undetected. - giving the “surprise round” style mechanic a lot of players appreciate and expect form systems as enemies remain off-guard to undetected players - makes the transition into encounter more dramatically/narratively satisfying - Mostly preserves the design ethos (I think) with all checks vs. DCs and hidden stealth roles. - No awkward everyone rolling their initiative but maybe not needing it vs perception DCs then rolling perception for initiative for creature. All of it is hidden from the player and they get a more or less seemless narrative transition staying in the land of uncertainty and tension until the moment combat breaks (if it does)
Cons: - Complicated. I reckon the current group will get it after a single encounter but it’s going to need onboarding if we bring in other players, especially ones with less experience - Will really weigh favour to PCs based on their (very buffable) Avoid Notice rolls. And if they adapt to the system and game it by playing over-cautious and readying actions vs off-guard enemies it could unbalance things. Could be offset with some kind of extra complication like each turn subtracting 1 or 2 from their stealth roll so they’re pressured to get out of the encounter quickly and not be over-cautious. but that’s another layer of complexity.
That’s only 2 cons, and only one of them is a potential dealbreaker for us, but I don’t know what else I might be missing. I’m not too averse to even heavily skewing a combat in the party’s favour (especially as bypassing encounters entirely grants the experience anyway). And if it starts to get gamed I can adapt.
I like that it eases the transition from exploration to stealth encounters without breaking flow to roll initiative and that choices and narrative moments about trying to steal something or gain an advantage can happen in encounter, making the encounter a progressive narrative device rather than a failure state.
I also know that a huge part of the reason the rules as written has been unsatisfying is because the rest of the rules (for which other systems don’t codify) have been so refreshingly satisfying and it feels like an awkward fad for a common (for our group) mechanic. And that 5e stealth rules are just as bad if not worse and have also never been satisfying, but it’s the least of our worries over there.
We’re going to test it next session regardless. But just wanted to field it here for thoughts.
2024.06.01 13:21 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 100.000$+ INVENTORY. BFK Lore, Gloves Amphibious, Skeleton Fade, Bowie Emerald, BFK Auto, Gloves MF, Talon Doppler, Gloves POW, Bayo Tiger, Gut Sapphire, Stiletto MF, M9 Ultra, Ursus Doppler, Flip Doppler, M9 Stained, Nomad CW, Paracord CW, AK-47 X-Ray & A Lot 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 Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77
★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87
★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41
★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39
⎯★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28
★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15
⎯★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93
★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18
★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83
★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41
★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25
★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80
★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96
★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79
⎯★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11
★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78
★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88
★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79
⎯★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05
★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24
★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42
★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37
★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66
★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18
★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13
★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83
★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02
★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44
★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54
★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81
★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81
★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82
★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46
★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08
⎯★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48
★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12
⎯★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26
★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77
★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49
★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51
★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94
★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99
★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92
★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03
★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22
★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40
★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46
⎯★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93
★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43
★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16
★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95
GLOVES
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67
★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33
★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88
★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21
⎯★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00
★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28
⎯★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29
★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73
★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32
⎯★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01
★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55
⎯★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94
★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55
WEAPONS
AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95
AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95
M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43
AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38
StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64
P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03
AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00
M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48
AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97
StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96
StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85
Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42
AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53
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2024.06.01 13:20 nighty_amy Magia Record most memorable events review (NA version)
So now that we got the EoS announcement, I thought that’s a good moment to do a review of my over 4 years playing the game. I’ve been playing since NA server launch, survived NA EoS, moved to the JP and guess now we have to face a JP EoS.
JP is surely doing a far more graceful server shutdown than NA did though, so rather than angry, I’m feeling sad about leaving all my girls behind.
But I guess 7 years for a gacha game is still something pretty impressive? And we knew for a while that the story is coming to a close…
Anyway, here’s my list of the most memorable NA events for me. JP review will be in the another thread.
Starting the game: I wanted to pull Madoka as my first character. Got spooked right at the start with Kirika though. Fortunately, a ton of people were rerolling and exchanging accounts in the first 2 months after launch, so I managed to exchange my Kirika for a Madoka account.
Best event on NA : The arc 1 finale witch raid. The number of memes people created! The cheering posts! And how happy we were when we saved Kamihama! Wonder can we do we it again with the last witch raid?
Worst event on NA : The infamous Rice event. Gosh, THIS WAS SO TIRING. I don't even remember exactly how many event items I had leftover but a lot.
Also, I skipped most of Cross Connection and Magical Halloween because of NA tempo burnout.
Best gacha luck on NA : Three slots on Fate gacha in 100 pulls. I was never much of a fan of the Nanoha franchise, but I thought Fate could be a nice replacement for Tart, who I didn’t get.
Worst gacha luck on NA: Pulled for Mitama on 4 different banners, didn't get her even once.
Most annoying spook on NA: SAYAKA. Got her 6 times over the time NA server has lasted. Kirika and Kokoro meanwhile spooked me 4 times each.
Most important lesson from NA : Grinding to clear the shops is a superfast way for burnout. And having hundreds of mats you don't even know what to do with.
Biggest WTF: The NA server EoS. I have been in a (probably) better situation than most of the fandom, because I skipped all of the swimsuit events - I was saving for The Green Jasper Diviner event, which was rumored to be late August/Early September. But I was still pretty shocked that devs had the gall to throw several expensive units on us and then announced they are closing the server.
I moved to the JP server about 2 or 3 days after the EoS announcement.
submitted by nighty_amy to magiarecord [link] [comments]
JP is surely doing a far more graceful server shutdown than NA did though, so rather than angry, I’m feeling sad about leaving all my girls behind.
But I guess 7 years for a gacha game is still something pretty impressive? And we knew for a while that the story is coming to a close…
Anyway, here’s my list of the most memorable NA events for me. JP review will be in the another thread.
Starting the game: I wanted to pull Madoka as my first character. Got spooked right at the start with Kirika though. Fortunately, a ton of people were rerolling and exchanging accounts in the first 2 months after launch, so I managed to exchange my Kirika for a Madoka account.
Best event on NA : The arc 1 finale witch raid. The number of memes people created! The cheering posts! And how happy we were when we saved Kamihama! Wonder can we do we it again with the last witch raid?
Worst event on NA : The infamous Rice event. Gosh, THIS WAS SO TIRING. I don't even remember exactly how many event items I had leftover but a lot.
Also, I skipped most of Cross Connection and Magical Halloween because of NA tempo burnout.
Best gacha luck on NA : Three slots on Fate gacha in 100 pulls. I was never much of a fan of the Nanoha franchise, but I thought Fate could be a nice replacement for Tart, who I didn’t get.
Worst gacha luck on NA: Pulled for Mitama on 4 different banners, didn't get her even once.
Most annoying spook on NA: SAYAKA. Got her 6 times over the time NA server has lasted. Kirika and Kokoro meanwhile spooked me 4 times each.
Most important lesson from NA : Grinding to clear the shops is a superfast way for burnout. And having hundreds of mats you don't even know what to do with.
Biggest WTF: The NA server EoS. I have been in a (probably) better situation than most of the fandom, because I skipped all of the swimsuit events - I was saving for The Green Jasper Diviner event, which was rumored to be late August/Early September. But I was still pretty shocked that devs had the gall to throw several expensive units on us and then announced they are closing the server.
I moved to the JP server about 2 or 3 days after the EoS announcement.
2024.06.01 13:20 Expensive_Poem_6858 Why do so many people wear reps sneakers?
Hey there! So, you’re curious about the replica sneaker scene, huh? It’s totally buzzing lately! More and more folks are snagging these fake versions of those crazy expensive, fancy brand shoes. Let’s chat about why so many people are into them and what you should know if you’re thinking of getting a pair for yourself.
Budget-Friendly Fun First off, let’s talk money. Those real-deal designer sneakers, especially the super rare ones, can cost a fortune. We’re talking hundreds, even thousands of bucks for a pair of Air Jordan 1s, for example. But guess what? You can grab a replica for a fraction of that price. Score!
Trendy on a Dime Fashion is like a rollercoaster, always changing and moving fast. It can be tough to keep up without emptying your wallet. But with replica sneakers, you can be a style icon without going broke. Mix and match with different outfits and keep up with those trendy twists – all without breaking the bank.
Lookin’ Good, Feelin’ Good Here’s the cool part – high-quality replicas can be almost identical to the real thing. Sometimes they’re even made in the same factories, using the same materials. You might not even notice the difference, except maybe in some tiny details. Not too shabby, right?
Brand Love And here’s a twist – replicas can actually make a brand more popular. When everyone’s rocking a look that’s like, “Hey, that’s a fancy brand!” it makes that brand even more desirable. So, in a way, replicas can be good for business too. Who knew?
The Ethics Thing Okay, so there’s a bit of a debate here. Some say buying replicas is not cool because it’s like, copying someone’s ideas. But others think, hey, those big companies make enough money already. It’s a tough one, but a lot of people just love the savings and the style too much to worry about it.
Spotting Fakes If you’re worried about getting tricked into buying a fake, here are some tips:
Wrap It Up So, if you’re thinking about getting replicas, just weigh the pros and cons. They’re a great way to stay stylish without spending a ton. Just keep in mind the ethical side and the small quality differences. Learn to spot the good ones, and you’re golden.
In the end, whether you go for replicas or stick with the real stuff, just find what works for you, your style, and your budget. Happy shopping!
submitted by Expensive_Poem_6858 to ColaReps_ [link] [comments]
Budget-Friendly Fun First off, let’s talk money. Those real-deal designer sneakers, especially the super rare ones, can cost a fortune. We’re talking hundreds, even thousands of bucks for a pair of Air Jordan 1s, for example. But guess what? You can grab a replica for a fraction of that price. Score!
Trendy on a Dime Fashion is like a rollercoaster, always changing and moving fast. It can be tough to keep up without emptying your wallet. But with replica sneakers, you can be a style icon without going broke. Mix and match with different outfits and keep up with those trendy twists – all without breaking the bank.
Lookin’ Good, Feelin’ Good Here’s the cool part – high-quality replicas can be almost identical to the real thing. Sometimes they’re even made in the same factories, using the same materials. You might not even notice the difference, except maybe in some tiny details. Not too shabby, right?
Brand Love And here’s a twist – replicas can actually make a brand more popular. When everyone’s rocking a look that’s like, “Hey, that’s a fancy brand!” it makes that brand even more desirable. So, in a way, replicas can be good for business too. Who knew?
The Ethics Thing Okay, so there’s a bit of a debate here. Some say buying replicas is not cool because it’s like, copying someone’s ideas. But others think, hey, those big companies make enough money already. It’s a tough one, but a lot of people just love the savings and the style too much to worry about it.
Spotting Fakes If you’re worried about getting tricked into buying a fake, here are some tips:
- Check the Tongue: Real sneakers usually have specific info on the tongue that might be missing on replicas.
- Look for a Serial Number: Genuine stuff comes with a number you can verify online.
- Price Check: If it’s super cheap, it might be too good to be true.
- Seller Rep: Buy from sellers with a good rep to avoid getting duped.
- Glue and Threads: Real sneakers tend to use top-notch materials and craftsmanship.
Wrap It Up So, if you’re thinking about getting replicas, just weigh the pros and cons. They’re a great way to stay stylish without spending a ton. Just keep in mind the ethical side and the small quality differences. Learn to spot the good ones, and you’re golden.
In the end, whether you go for replicas or stick with the real stuff, just find what works for you, your style, and your budget. Happy shopping!
2024.06.01 13:19 AidanCreatesStuff Journey of the Chosen One - Entry 4
Hail, dear phantom, I’m glad to see you again. True to my word I went back to the Undead Burg to visit the familiar residents and see if I couldn’t put some of my keys to use. Ultimately, of course, I was after the Bell of Awakening. I believe the Crestfallen Warrior mentioned one being beneath the Undead Burg, so that was what I aimed to uncover.
Instead, I found new threats and an entity that whittled my resilience down to its bare foundation.
My keys brought me to some peculiar locations. I remembered well two locked doors, one in both of the turrets that interrupt the grand wall surrounding the city. In the tower that I passed through to confront the Taurus Demon, is a door that once unlocked brings you further down.
To my surprise, at the bottom of those spiral stone steps, awaited a brute of a warrior. Donned head to toe in armor most robust, wielding a shield that he was able to comfortably hide behind and an even larger club. My initial impression was one of awe, truth be told. He appeared as though he could crush me with his thoughts alone!
As it turned out, it would be his weight and lumber that would work to my advantage. Merely a roll to the side gave me ample opportunity to launch a Soul Arrow his way, something he scarcely had the choice to avoid. So robust was he, however, that I ran out of spell slots before he fell, a very rare feat. Although my Estoc was useless against his impervious armor, some well-placed back stabs put him in the ground for good.
I was fortunate to not suffer a scratch, as I reckon that’s all it would have taken. I pilfered a ring from his corpse, to reveal his name: Havel.
Beyond Havel was a door, one that, to my sheer astonishment, led to the Darkroot Basin. The extent of the Darkroot forest was one I hadn’t anticipated. I thought I had put the verdant murk behind me for a while. And after stepping foot into the green mire and seeing beings composed purely of crystal - I turned the other way. With no spell slots and no bravery, I fled to return another time. Besides, I still had another key I wished to operate.
I decided to unlock the next door and uncover what was beyond before returning to the safety of the Bonfire. I must be growing more audacious. The next door was found just before where the large drake positioned itself, on the second turret.
Before me sprawled another descent, and I found myself in the rotten depths of the Undead Burg before long. Viscous dogs roamed the ruined streets. The path I picked first took me to a door of iron bars that led me back to a familiar spot in the Undead Burg - a location right next to the Bonfire. A very sweet relief.
It was there I readied myself for the dive into the lower Undead Burg. I imagined a sprawling street ripe with rotten ruin. And although that’s what I met, the path was very linear. After I bested an ambush of thieves and roaming dogs, I heard the cries of someone trapped.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I uncovered a fellow sorcerer! Trapped in the depths of that cesspit, of all places. We wore almost the same attire, and he said he would return to Firelink Shrine. Perhaps I was a little too eagre in our greeting, but he would sell me his sorceries all the same when I met him again.
I noticed white light blocking a small arch, and knew something foul stirred within. Before stepping foot through, I wished to uncover the rest of the streets, and my exploration took me to alleys and gutters. After dispatching more thieves, I climbed up another turret that rejoined to the filthy aqueduct that led to Firelink Shrine - just in time to meet my fellow sorcerer once more.
Finally in my wretched journey could I learn more spells. Spells that would serve me extremely well. I purchased the Heavy Soul Arrow and Magic Weapon, to elevate my abilities considerably.
With renewed fervor, I struck down the local ambling Undead with such aggression and power that I shocked myself. None would stand in my way, now, I thought to myself.
I was quickly humbled, dear phantom, when I returned to the lower Undead Burg and traversed through the white light to stand face to face with the abhorrent Capra Demon. Before I had fully stepped out of the white light, its grotesque form was already upon me. If I had moved a split second later, I would have been crushed beneath both its behemoth blades.
Despite my haste, I was not out of danger, for two dogs were quick to rip me to shreds.
Never have I been slain so quickly!
And so I ran again. Up the hill, through the aqueduct, down the spire, through the alley, and up the stairs, only to be greeted by more savage dogs. I was ripped asunder in my careless advance.
Again and again did I make that journey. If I weren’t torn apart by the guarding hounds, then I was swiftly executed by the Capra Demon and its infernal pets. So many times did I make that trip that I was almost driven to madness. Never has wrathful rage stirred so violently in me.
It was those dogs. They were the bane of my attempts to slay the Capra Demon. Too easily they penetrated my cloth garbs; with each bite I couldn’t help but recoil and cry out. Perhaps I was relying on the safety that distance brought me with my sorceries. And so I thought to seek the safety of steel, for once.
As unfamiliar am I with wearing suits of armor, any sort of piece I donned slowed me down dramatically. Nothing more Soul sacrifices to the Bonfire couldn’t remedy, however.
I’ll save you the tale of my time in Darkroot Garden slaying for Souls, although I did notice an unfamiliar sign, written by a fellow phantom. It advised me to strike the tree down in front of it, and to my surprise, the tree soon fell, revealing a long untouched expanse.
In this hidden nook of the solitary garden, resided more of those slumbering stone giants, and a slew of strange amphibian creatures with reptilian features. They fell easy enough, although their long, sharp tongues struck me some times.
At the end of this secluded space was another fortification. I couldn’t believe my luck as I found a discarded Wolf Ring. The moment I slotted it onto my finger I could feel my robustness harden. It was then I had the idea to utilize the ring found on Havel’s body, and I felt my person grow stronger. My punches didn’t hit any harder, but my body could lift things before I sweat to look at.
With these enhancements, I was able to don better armaments and still move as swiftly as I did with my sorcerer garbs.
With the helm of a Bell Gargoyle and the shoddy armor ripped from a hollow, I was ready to face the Capra Demon and its hounds. No bite shall affect me so viscerally, now, thanks to my rings.
I stepped into the white light and immediately rolled past the demon’s lunge. Although the dogs were at my heels in an instant, their clamping maws didn’t cause me to pause. With my Estoc enhanced with magic, I was able to end their miserable existence upon the stairs.
Without his hounds, the Capra Demon wasn’t such a challenge, especially as my Heavy Soul Arrows punctured deep into his ruinous hide. It wasn’t long, then, before it fell, and yet another key came into my clutches.
My victory over the Capra Demon wasn’t nearly as jubilant an occasion as I suspected, although I didn’t kill it for the thrill of the hunt.
With the key in my withered hands, I headed back into the alley and opened the door, to peer into the Depths.
I was wrong to suspect a Bonfire close by, and in exploring the dank depths, I found a quick end at the hands of a swallowing and oozing creature, something I could scarcely see before I found myself back at Firelink Shrine, here to meet you.
I shall tell you more of my adventure into the Depths another time, should you care to listen. I have prattled on long enough, have I not?
Godspeed, good phantom.
submitted by AidanCreatesStuff to darksouls [link] [comments]
Instead, I found new threats and an entity that whittled my resilience down to its bare foundation.
My keys brought me to some peculiar locations. I remembered well two locked doors, one in both of the turrets that interrupt the grand wall surrounding the city. In the tower that I passed through to confront the Taurus Demon, is a door that once unlocked brings you further down.
To my surprise, at the bottom of those spiral stone steps, awaited a brute of a warrior. Donned head to toe in armor most robust, wielding a shield that he was able to comfortably hide behind and an even larger club. My initial impression was one of awe, truth be told. He appeared as though he could crush me with his thoughts alone!
As it turned out, it would be his weight and lumber that would work to my advantage. Merely a roll to the side gave me ample opportunity to launch a Soul Arrow his way, something he scarcely had the choice to avoid. So robust was he, however, that I ran out of spell slots before he fell, a very rare feat. Although my Estoc was useless against his impervious armor, some well-placed back stabs put him in the ground for good.
I was fortunate to not suffer a scratch, as I reckon that’s all it would have taken. I pilfered a ring from his corpse, to reveal his name: Havel.
Beyond Havel was a door, one that, to my sheer astonishment, led to the Darkroot Basin. The extent of the Darkroot forest was one I hadn’t anticipated. I thought I had put the verdant murk behind me for a while. And after stepping foot into the green mire and seeing beings composed purely of crystal - I turned the other way. With no spell slots and no bravery, I fled to return another time. Besides, I still had another key I wished to operate.
I decided to unlock the next door and uncover what was beyond before returning to the safety of the Bonfire. I must be growing more audacious. The next door was found just before where the large drake positioned itself, on the second turret.
Before me sprawled another descent, and I found myself in the rotten depths of the Undead Burg before long. Viscous dogs roamed the ruined streets. The path I picked first took me to a door of iron bars that led me back to a familiar spot in the Undead Burg - a location right next to the Bonfire. A very sweet relief.
It was there I readied myself for the dive into the lower Undead Burg. I imagined a sprawling street ripe with rotten ruin. And although that’s what I met, the path was very linear. After I bested an ambush of thieves and roaming dogs, I heard the cries of someone trapped.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I uncovered a fellow sorcerer! Trapped in the depths of that cesspit, of all places. We wore almost the same attire, and he said he would return to Firelink Shrine. Perhaps I was a little too eagre in our greeting, but he would sell me his sorceries all the same when I met him again.
I noticed white light blocking a small arch, and knew something foul stirred within. Before stepping foot through, I wished to uncover the rest of the streets, and my exploration took me to alleys and gutters. After dispatching more thieves, I climbed up another turret that rejoined to the filthy aqueduct that led to Firelink Shrine - just in time to meet my fellow sorcerer once more.
Finally in my wretched journey could I learn more spells. Spells that would serve me extremely well. I purchased the Heavy Soul Arrow and Magic Weapon, to elevate my abilities considerably.
With renewed fervor, I struck down the local ambling Undead with such aggression and power that I shocked myself. None would stand in my way, now, I thought to myself.
I was quickly humbled, dear phantom, when I returned to the lower Undead Burg and traversed through the white light to stand face to face with the abhorrent Capra Demon. Before I had fully stepped out of the white light, its grotesque form was already upon me. If I had moved a split second later, I would have been crushed beneath both its behemoth blades.
Despite my haste, I was not out of danger, for two dogs were quick to rip me to shreds.
Never have I been slain so quickly!
And so I ran again. Up the hill, through the aqueduct, down the spire, through the alley, and up the stairs, only to be greeted by more savage dogs. I was ripped asunder in my careless advance.
Again and again did I make that journey. If I weren’t torn apart by the guarding hounds, then I was swiftly executed by the Capra Demon and its infernal pets. So many times did I make that trip that I was almost driven to madness. Never has wrathful rage stirred so violently in me.
It was those dogs. They were the bane of my attempts to slay the Capra Demon. Too easily they penetrated my cloth garbs; with each bite I couldn’t help but recoil and cry out. Perhaps I was relying on the safety that distance brought me with my sorceries. And so I thought to seek the safety of steel, for once.
As unfamiliar am I with wearing suits of armor, any sort of piece I donned slowed me down dramatically. Nothing more Soul sacrifices to the Bonfire couldn’t remedy, however.
I’ll save you the tale of my time in Darkroot Garden slaying for Souls, although I did notice an unfamiliar sign, written by a fellow phantom. It advised me to strike the tree down in front of it, and to my surprise, the tree soon fell, revealing a long untouched expanse.
In this hidden nook of the solitary garden, resided more of those slumbering stone giants, and a slew of strange amphibian creatures with reptilian features. They fell easy enough, although their long, sharp tongues struck me some times.
At the end of this secluded space was another fortification. I couldn’t believe my luck as I found a discarded Wolf Ring. The moment I slotted it onto my finger I could feel my robustness harden. It was then I had the idea to utilize the ring found on Havel’s body, and I felt my person grow stronger. My punches didn’t hit any harder, but my body could lift things before I sweat to look at.
With these enhancements, I was able to don better armaments and still move as swiftly as I did with my sorcerer garbs.
With the helm of a Bell Gargoyle and the shoddy armor ripped from a hollow, I was ready to face the Capra Demon and its hounds. No bite shall affect me so viscerally, now, thanks to my rings.
I stepped into the white light and immediately rolled past the demon’s lunge. Although the dogs were at my heels in an instant, their clamping maws didn’t cause me to pause. With my Estoc enhanced with magic, I was able to end their miserable existence upon the stairs.
Without his hounds, the Capra Demon wasn’t such a challenge, especially as my Heavy Soul Arrows punctured deep into his ruinous hide. It wasn’t long, then, before it fell, and yet another key came into my clutches.
My victory over the Capra Demon wasn’t nearly as jubilant an occasion as I suspected, although I didn’t kill it for the thrill of the hunt.
With the key in my withered hands, I headed back into the alley and opened the door, to peer into the Depths.
I was wrong to suspect a Bonfire close by, and in exploring the dank depths, I found a quick end at the hands of a swallowing and oozing creature, something I could scarcely see before I found myself back at Firelink Shrine, here to meet you.
I shall tell you more of my adventure into the Depths another time, should you care to listen. I have prattled on long enough, have I not?
Godspeed, good phantom.
2024.06.01 13:18 Distinct-Newspaper31 getting help?
hi, i (17f) have arfid. i’m not officially diagnosed with autism or arfid, because that’s so difficult here in the uk, but i definitely have both. my issues with food are really bad and i really hate how i am. i eat the same food every day, have a very limited diet, basically snack all day, have to take food and drink with me wherever i go, and have never been able to comfortably try new food. i want to get help for it. i’ve been in therapy for other things a few time and am on sertraline but have never been able to bring up my food issues with any of my therapists / psychiatrists. the idea of getting help is honestly terrifying and i don’t think id be able to get far but a small part of me wants to try. ive never been abroad in my life and next year my family is planning to go to spain and it sounds so cool and id love to go, but with my food issues i don’t think id be able too. the logistics id taking enough food and drink ( i struggle badly with drink too and don’t like water which is the worst thing) just doesn’t seem possible.
i will say i have been baking bread and different types of bread like garlic bread and bread rolls, and have been able to try them and eat them, but that’s only because i know ive made them and know what’s in them, and that they’re similar to food i like. i think this is a good first step but don’t know where to go from there.
if anyone could tell me what recovery is like, how to get it abs the steps it takes that would be nice. i am also busy with college but its ending soon for the summer so maybe now is an ok time to start? thanks
submitted by Distinct-Newspaper31 to ARFID [link] [comments]
i will say i have been baking bread and different types of bread like garlic bread and bread rolls, and have been able to try them and eat them, but that’s only because i know ive made them and know what’s in them, and that they’re similar to food i like. i think this is a good first step but don’t know where to go from there.
if anyone could tell me what recovery is like, how to get it abs the steps it takes that would be nice. i am also busy with college but its ending soon for the summer so maybe now is an ok time to start? thanks
2024.06.01 13:17 No_Kangaroo_7085 Dessert boot
I’m going to enter my first ever “drop” and I’m going to try to get the dessert boots (rock). How hard is it to actually be successful, should I expect to get it or don’t get my hopes up? And how do they work on the confirmed app like what do I expect do I just go on the app and try to buy them as quick as possible what’s the process?
submitted by No_Kangaroo_7085 to yeezys [link] [comments]
2024.06.01 13:17 TheDreadPirateRobots [Have Gun - Will Travel] - 1.8
[INDEX]
I banked the fire and stared into the golden eyes of Beatale before I crept into my makeshift tent.
I still had my auric vision running and couldn’t help but notice the thin silver cord that ran from me to Horse. Firming up my aura, I reached out with my hand and grabbed it. I could feel the nearly imperceptible vibration between my fingers as I used my mind to probe at the thread. I could feel a bright spark of intellect, a light at the end of a tunnel. Pushing with my mind, I slid down the thread until the spark grew larger and eventually filled my inner vision with a hazy white light. Horsey thoughts nudged at me curiously.
I slid into the haze and immediately lost all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the silver thread, I’d have no idea how to exit this shifting white fog. Horsey thoughts got stronger as I followed the thread while the haze thinned and cleared to reveal an endless prairie of green grass. I found myself standing before a naked man wearing a horse mask and I stared in shock. It was obviously me wearing a cheap costume horse mask — there was no mistaking my tattoos.
“What did you expect?” Horse neighed at me. “I am you and you are me and we are all together. Goo goo ga joob.”
Horse made a shooing motion with his hands and I accelerated backwards through the white haze and slammed into my own body with a gasp. I stared at the tarp overhead for a long minute, processing this new revelation. Horse was a part of me, a piece of my spirit. Whatever psychic stuff I did with that silver cord lead me into a house of mirrors where I got to look at myself pretending to be a horse. I can’t even deal with that right now.
Rolling into my blankets, I dropped off to sleep.
*Ding*
-=- - Welcome to the Dreamworld - Included in the Psychic Skills pack, the Inner Sanctum is your psychic domain. It is the mental fortress that you must secure and maintain to defend against psychic and spiritual assaults. All of your neurosis and fears are symbolised in this realm and must be defeated or subjugated before you can become master of the domain. Good luck. -=-
I banished the pop-up and looked around. I knew I was asleep, but everything was just as real as when I was awake. I was breathing, I could feel the floor under my feet, and if it weren’t for the pop-up, I would have sworn I had been teleported. The room I was in resembled an oversized luxury prison cell, maybe a thirty foot cube. No windows. Rough stone walls with thick mortar. Large brass wall sconces were set directly into the stone and suffused the room with a warm, golden light provided by glowing rocks. The stone floor had colourful Persian rugs tastefully placed. A high plaster ceiling was painted with a rendition of Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam’, depicting me as both Adam and God.
There was a comfy sofa in front of a large screen television that hung from one wall and an ornate grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner. It was currently 10:08 PM. Another wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, stuffed with books of varying sizes. The third wall was covered with pictures and I could see at a glance that they were images from my life. The fourth wall had a thick riveted steel door on the right side, a full sized mirror on the left, and a computer workstation in the middle.
The picture wall was my first target. A few were quite large, nearly life sized, while others were tiny prints no larger than the palm of my hand. Scenes of my life were displayed in each one. The largest was me riding Horse with a shit-scared expression, shooting at a pack of wolves. Others were smaller, each with different frames. Some ornate gold or silver, others plain wood, a few wrapped in briars or barbed wire. Nanny Ramsey holding me as a young child. My dog Jean with a red ball in his mouth. My parents, screaming at me. I turned my attention to the books. Books are safe. Books don’t judge you.
The sweet, musty scent of a used book store filled my nostrils as I drew close to the honey coloured shelves. Hundreds of volumes filled the wall from floor to ceiling, with a ladder that could be rolled along a rail to access the top. I smiled at the sight. I had always wanted a library like this. I pulled a book at random and read the title, “Confused Fantasies about Joseph Harris, part XXIV of the Middle School Years”.
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Let’s see what’s on TV.
The remote was a slim, futuristic looking affair with a minimum of buttons. I pointed it at the television and moments later the huge screen came to life and presented me with a simple menu for movies, divided into six categories: Happy, Surprised, Afraid, Disgusted, Angry, and Sad. I scrolled through the offerings for a minute, reading the titles and reviews about the movies of my life. It really bothered me that there were so few selections in the Happy section.
The number of Sad movies increased by one.
I walked over to the mirror and noticed there was a small sticky note pasted to it. “Astral Realm. Experienced users only.” I shoved the note in my pocket and stared at my image. Sturdy black boots, black denim jeans and shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, deep brown gun belt slung at my hip, red bandanna and black felt hat. All I needed was a pencil moustache and I would look like the stereotypical villain in any spaghetti western. At that very moment I decided to grow out a goatee. I’d rather be mistaken for a bad guy than a victim.
So how does this astral realm thing work?
The mirror appeared to be nothing more than a mirror. It was cold, smooth glass surrounded by a wrought iron frame, and reflected my image. I didn’t necessarily want to go walking into danger, but I wanted to know how it worked. I pushed and prodded the glass in frustration until I noticed my image grinning at me. I jumped back in surprise and it doubled over in silent laughter.
“Hilarious, dude. You got me,” I huffed. “So how do I get in?”
My mirror-self tipped his hat and stepped to side.
I reached up to the mirror again and my hand passed through, vanishing as if cut off. Okay, just a quick peek and we’ll explore the rest of the room. I stepped through and the world shifted around me. I was standing back at the campsite. My body was insubstantial as a ghost and the tarp was a wisp of substance running straight through me. Non living things don’t seem to have much presence in this realm. Glancing down, I saw my sleeping body rolled up in the blankets, a thin silver thread running from it to me, and another thread running to Horse.
Looking around, I surveyed the campsite. My astral vision seemed to be on and had an unlimited range. I could see the life all around me, the distant forest was a sea of greenish-gold, grasses and brush nearby glowed with spectral light. Tiny ghost insects scurried while ghost mice nibbled at whatever ghost mice nibble on. Ghost seeds and ghost insects, I suppose. I turned my attention overhead and gaped at the sight of a monstrous serpentine spirit flying through the inky void. I dropped back through the tent and rolled inside my body. That was plenty enough for now.
I rolled through the mirror and landed flat on my back, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. Vinnie-God winked at me and Vinnie-Adam grinned. Climbing to my knees, I brushed non-existent dust from my trousers and watched mirror-me doubled over in soundless laughter.
“Hey, laughing-boy!” I yelled at him. “You’re like the guardian or something, right? You got it covered?”
Mirror-me stood and saluted with a smile, then gave me two thumbs up. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression and he wriggled his right hand in the ‘maybe’ motion. Then he pointed at me, tapped his wrist, and then a finger to his head.
It all depends on how fast I learn stuff, I guess.
Two thumbs up and a winning smile reflected back to me.
A large cork board was mounted to the wall over the computer and a small note was pinned to it. “Note to self: Don’t fuck with the Elvish womens.”
The computer screen featured a screensaver of me as Vitruvian Man doing callisthenics over the words ‘HumanOS’. I tapped the spacebar and was rewarded with the sound of powerful fans kicking to life as the computer emerged from sleep mode and prompted me for a password. Should I assume it’s the same as the password on the computer I pawned in my previous life?
Password: *******esi
I was rewarded with a sweet R&M desktop and a couple of icons. System, NeuralNet, My-Tunes, My-Movies, My-Office.
System was just what I expected, lots of .dna files and other confusing scariness that allowed me to tweak my physical body and mental state. My-Tunes was a collection of every song I’d ever heard and My-Movies was a collection of every movie I’d ever seen. Not that I’m complaining, but it would have been nice to have “My-Games” so I could play RDR. My-Office was a clone of the popular software by a similar name. I have no idea what I’ll ever need a spreadsheet for in this world.
NuralNet opened up a search engine called Me-Seeks, featuring a familiar blue guy.
I typed in “beer” and several thousand results were displayed, anything I’d ever read, heard, or watched about beer, including how to make it. This right here made the price of admission totally worth it, access to an exact copy of everything I’d ever read, and I was a voracious reader. Sadly, most of the stuff I read was futurology — solar panels, electronics, biotech advancements, quantum computing. The material for steam engines, blacksmithing, farming and the like, were slim pickings. That’s okay though, I could still reproduce the Gutenberg press, the cotton gin, simple internal combustion engines, and basic batteries along with some sketchy knowledge of metal alloys, acids, bases, and other things I had read over the years. All that wasted time watching “How Things Work” was finally going to pay off. I copied a few likely money makers to My-Office, saved the file, and exported to my Notes, just in case they didn’t exist on Aerth.
A popup covered the screen.
📱 [New Upgrade Available!] 📱
🎉 Enhance Your Experience with the Latest HumanOS Features! 🎉
🌟 Features Include:
[Upgrade Now ✅] [Remind Me Later ❌]
Apparently I could upgrade myself, which reduced the cost of using my Utilities while providing other minor benefits. My Utilities would level up as I used them, which would increase their battery cost, so if I didn’t keep pace with an update to the OS they could become prohibitively expensive to operate.
Stupid pay-to-win world.
So, do I pay 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0?
I selected version 3.0 and klicked [Install]. After watching it download the update, it popped up another screen that asked if I wanted to update now, or wait until Midnight for the mandatory update.
I selected [No] just as the grandfather clock chimed 10:30 PM. I wondered if time ran slower in here, because it seemed like I had spent a lot more time on the computer than 15 minutes. Walking over to the imposing steel door, I noticed a bronze key with a thin chain in the lock. There was another sticky note on the door. “Subconscious. Please keep the key with you at all times.”
That’s not scary at all, is it?
I unlocked the door with a loud clunk and pulled it open to reveal a bedroom straight out of some royal castle. I could tell immediately that it had seen better days. The tapestries on the wall were frayed and fading. The canopy over the bed had a few holes in it. A thin layer of dust covered the mantle of a small fireplace set into the wall. There was a window letting in bright sunlight and I moved over to look outside.
I was on the third floor of a keep surrounded by the walls and turrets of a modest castle. A castle that had fallen into serious disrepair. Did this represent the state of my inner mind? One tower was shattered and the curtain wall under it damaged. The lower bailey was full of litter. I could see a few soldiers walking around the allure, keeping watch.
I have people in my subconscious?
Someone behind me cleared their throat.
Whirling, I discovered a familiar old man standing in the door of the bedroom. What was left of his hair formed a white halo around his head, his face was unshaven and covered with several days of growth. He was dressed like a poor and tattered manservant, but carried himself with a dignified air.
“Woodhouse?”
“It’s nice to see the master at home,” He said with a proper English accent. “There are many matters that require the master’s attention.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, hanging the key around my neck and tucking it in my shirt. “And who are you again?”
“Your personal manservant, of course” he said with a slight bow. Walking over to the steel door, he pulled it closed and it locked with a solid thunk. “Master should always keep his inner sanctum closed. One never knows if something nasty will creep in.”
“Thank you, uh, Woodhouse. I’ll remember that,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “So what needs tending and how do things work around here?”
He smiled and beckoned me with a white gloved hand. “If master would be so kind as to follow me, I’ll introduce him to the staff and explain the duties and obligations of his domain.”
I’m 99.9% certain that everyone here is just me wearing a mask, so I shrugged and followed Woodhouse out of the bedroom and into the rest of my subconscious.
Five minutes later I was on the ground floor and seated on a shabby throne with the cast of a popular —and probably very copyright protected— animation in front of me. Woodhouse was the head butler and my personal manservant. Pam was the cook and demanded that I start importing sugar and alcohol before she was shushed by Woodhouse. Carol was a maid. Krieger was chancellor and Cyril was the steward. Archer and Lana were in charge of security. Ray was the marshal in charge of everything from the stables to the blacksmith.
I stared in disbelief at the motley crew kneeling in front of me. No wonder my inner mind was in such shambles. I was overcome with an irrational sense of anger at myself.
“Arright, listen up,” I barked, my voice echoing around the room. “I swear to God that I will fire every single one of you and hire circus clowns to replace you if you keep fucking things up. No joke. Circus clowns, got it?”
I ran a hand over my face as Ray pissed himself. “The only reason I’m not putting a boot in your asses right now is because I realise that you’re aspects of me, and the people you represent are pretty damn good at their jobs when they give enough of a shit to actually do them. As a team, you’re dysfunctionally fantastic and always seem to come out ahead no matter the odds.”
Heaving a sigh, I continued. “Things have changed and I need to get my shit together. I’m going to need every one of you to pull your weight and help me help you. Get back to your duties, I’ll meet you one on one later.”
My subconscious caretakers scurried out of the room.
“I’ll have one of the maids tend to the piss,” Woodhouse assured me.
“Never mind that,” I snapped. “I honestly had no idea my mind was such a shit show. I’m very disappointed in myself.” I pictured the Angry, Sad, and Disgusted counters on my personal movies clicking up. “Show me what needs to be done and let’s get started.”
During Woodhouse’s walking tour, everything clicked into place. This was some altered version of Bodiam castle, a location that was on my bucket list of places to visit. The royal council room, located behind the throne room, contained a “living” tapestry on the wall that showed the castle and surrounding land in real time. The castle was located in the middle of a small lake, and a single wood bridge led to the mainland. A small town surrounded the lake and a wall encircled the town. Outside the wall, the land was an irregular patchwork of forest and field, with a stinking swamp to the south. The entire “kingdom” was maybe ten miles across, surrounded by impassable mountains with innumerable creeks that fed the lake which drained into the southern swamp.
“Zombies are the problem, sir.” Woodhouse said, as I surveyed the living tapestry of my mental domain.
“Zombies?” I prompted.
“Yes sir, Zombies” Woodhouse continued. “Nasty bitey things that come in from the mountains and harass the peasants. They’ve gotten especially worse over the last few months. The soldiers do what they can, but they seem to have lost all motivation. Probably because they haven’t been paid.”
“And who pays them?”
“Typically chancellor Krieger is in charge of financial matters, although Steward Figgis has taken over the duty, sir.”
“Then let’s make Figgis our first stop.”
“Very good, sir.”
The office of the steward was run by Cyril Figgis, who managed the kingdom in my absence. It was overflowing with paperwork and charts, books and scrolls piled high on every flat surface. Cyril was desperately attempting to tidy things when Woodhouse and I walked in.
“Yo..you..your majesty,” Cyril stuttered, bowing low. Scrolls fell from his overloaded arms, spilling across the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to gather them up. “I didn’t expect you to visit so soon. Please forgive the mess, housekeeping has been slacking…”
This was the guy who ran things while I was conscious.
“Shut up, Cyril” I said. “You’re responsible for everything in this office. That includes keeping it organised and tidy.”
“Y..yes milord.”
“It’s my understanding that you’re in charge of making sure everyone gets paid. So why aren’t we paying people?” I asked.
“We’re nearly out of Fuks, your majesty. I’ve been saving them for emergencies.”
“Fucks?”
“Fuks,” Cyril explained, pushing a pile of books off a large chest and opening it. Reaching inside he pulled out two small bags and emptied them on top of his cluttered desk. “Gold and Silver Fuks, the currency of the kingdom. I can’t maintain the kingdom when I have no Fuks to give.”
Behold the subconscious kingdom of Vincent J. Carter, it runs on Fuks.
“So how do I get more fuks?” I asked, examining one of the coins. It had an image of me on one side and symbol on the other that could be interpreted as “peace among worlds”.
“You kill the zombies, your majesty.”
Of course I do.
Woodhouse and I left Cyril’s office and headed towards the office of the chancellor where Krieger worked. It seemed that Cyril took over financial matters when Krieger became erratic and proposed luring all the zombies into the city and setting it on fire. Not sure how that corresponds to my own self-destructive behaviour, but I’ve had some dark thoughts over the last couple of months and I’m sure they’re reflected here.
Krieger’s office was much neater in comparison to Cyril’s, but it wasn’t by much. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with an array of questionable items, including a still snapping zombie head in a jar. While the office of the chancellor was supposed to be in charge of financial matters, it looked more like a dodgy rummage sale.
Krieger was launching sword blades at a pig carcass when we walked in.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
“Hm? Oh, your majesty!” he said, turning around and bowing deeply. “I’m testing a new invention. It’s a spring loaded hilt that shoots sword blades. Very useful for our soldiers.”
“Stupidest idea ever,” I snapped. “I hate everything about it.”
“Okay,” Krieger said, tossing the hilt into a nearby pile of junk. “But don’t blame me when you need to shoot a sword at a zombie and don’t have one.”
“So why aren’t you managing the financial affairs? Collecting taxes, paying people, stuff like that?”
“Because the population has declined so much none of that matters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Wellll, the population represents things you care about,” Krieger said, going into lecture mode. “And the zombies and other monsters are real or imagined problems in your way. Since you don’t care about too many things the population has shrunk to just what’s needed to keep everything running on the bare minimum of fuks. And since you don’t seem to have any long or short term goals, there’s no need to kill off the zombies and get more fuks. Everything is fine just the way it is.”
“No, it’s not Krieger” I said, grinding my teeth. “My mind is in a shambles. It’s a joke. I want it fixed. No, I want it better than fixed. I want it improved.”
“Oh! I’ve got just the thing for that!” He said, digging around in his pockets, “It’s a spring-loaded hilt that shoots swords!”
Pam and Cheryl were hanging out a gallery window jeering at Archer and Lana sparring in the inner courtyard.
“What the hell are you doing!” I snapped
They whirled in surprise and then dropped into deep curtseys.
“Your majesty!”
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my centre. “Get to work cleaning this place up. Find a room, clean it, and move on to the next. Start with my bedroom, then the throne room and the council chamber, then everything else.”
Cheryl spoke up. “Can’t do it. We got no fuks to clean with.”
“You need fuks to clean?”
“Gotta buy stuff,” Pam said. “Cleaning supplies, food. You wanna eat, you’re gonna have to spend some fuks.”
“Talk to Cyril,” I ordered. “Tell him I said to get you supplied.”
They ran off in the direction of the stewards office.
I watched Archer and Lana bashing each other enthusiastically through the window.
Several minutes later the sparring couple stopped and bowed when Woodhouse and I stepped into the inner courtyard.
“Your majesty”
“My liege”
“Enough,” I said. “If you have enough energy to smash each other, you have enough energy to smash zombies. Tell me what I need to know so I can start gathering fuks.”
Archer shrugged and spoke first. “You just kill the zombies and other monsters. They drop fuks.”
“Anything special about the zombies?” I asked. “Are they fast? Do people get turned into zombies when bitten?”
“Nope,” Lana said, resting her wooden sword on her shoulder. “Most of them are slow shamblers and just need a good wack to the head to kill them.”
“Some are special,” Archer interjected. “Occasionally you’ll have some fast ones, or those that need holy water to kill. They’re just bad memories, figments of your personality that need to be eliminated. Some are worse than others.”
“The zombies are bad memories?” I asked, imagining all the bad memories that I had.
“Memories, thoughts, insecurities, metaphysical mumbo-jumbo,” Woodhouse supplied. “They are endless, but constant vigilance can keep them under control.”
“So let’s get started,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Lana and Archer lead me up to the parapet over the front gate where I looked over at the dozens of zombies milling about aimlessly in front of the entrance to my mind. Pulling out my gun, I began to pick them off, easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The crack of my spell pistol attracted more zombies and I dispatched them with ease until no more were left around the gate. As I fired each shot I could feel some sort of existential energy flowing from me, draining some hidden reserve.
“Gather up the Fuks,” I commanded. “And Lana?”
“Mi’lord?”
“There’s no excuse for this. From now on, I expect the walls to be clear of all zombies.”
“Yes mi’lord,” she said, giving me a small bow.
Turning to Archer, I shook my head. “You’re obviously my personal narcissism, so just try to stay out of Lana’s way, or better yet - try to kill more zombies than her. If you think you can.”
Archer scoffed. “No contest. I took top marks in sharpshooting.”
“That means I should expect to see results by tomorrow. I look forward to it.”
Archer looked panicked for a moment then smiled. “Sure, I can give you results.”
Turning back to Woodhouse I said “Show me what else need attending.”
Woodhouse led me through the town that represented my mind, pointing out each business that had fallen into disrepair, suggested others that needed improvements, and additions that would benefit me. In the distance, I could hear Lana and Archer shooting at the crowd of zombies and with each echoing shot I felt a tiny bit better about everything.
[INDEX]
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I banked the fire and stared into the golden eyes of Beatale before I crept into my makeshift tent.
I still had my auric vision running and couldn’t help but notice the thin silver cord that ran from me to Horse. Firming up my aura, I reached out with my hand and grabbed it. I could feel the nearly imperceptible vibration between my fingers as I used my mind to probe at the thread. I could feel a bright spark of intellect, a light at the end of a tunnel. Pushing with my mind, I slid down the thread until the spark grew larger and eventually filled my inner vision with a hazy white light. Horsey thoughts nudged at me curiously.
I slid into the haze and immediately lost all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the silver thread, I’d have no idea how to exit this shifting white fog. Horsey thoughts got stronger as I followed the thread while the haze thinned and cleared to reveal an endless prairie of green grass. I found myself standing before a naked man wearing a horse mask and I stared in shock. It was obviously me wearing a cheap costume horse mask — there was no mistaking my tattoos.
“What did you expect?” Horse neighed at me. “I am you and you are me and we are all together. Goo goo ga joob.”
Horse made a shooing motion with his hands and I accelerated backwards through the white haze and slammed into my own body with a gasp. I stared at the tarp overhead for a long minute, processing this new revelation. Horse was a part of me, a piece of my spirit. Whatever psychic stuff I did with that silver cord lead me into a house of mirrors where I got to look at myself pretending to be a horse. I can’t even deal with that right now.
Rolling into my blankets, I dropped off to sleep.
*Ding*
-=- - Welcome to the Dreamworld - Included in the Psychic Skills pack, the Inner Sanctum is your psychic domain. It is the mental fortress that you must secure and maintain to defend against psychic and spiritual assaults. All of your neurosis and fears are symbolised in this realm and must be defeated or subjugated before you can become master of the domain. Good luck. -=-
I banished the pop-up and looked around. I knew I was asleep, but everything was just as real as when I was awake. I was breathing, I could feel the floor under my feet, and if it weren’t for the pop-up, I would have sworn I had been teleported. The room I was in resembled an oversized luxury prison cell, maybe a thirty foot cube. No windows. Rough stone walls with thick mortar. Large brass wall sconces were set directly into the stone and suffused the room with a warm, golden light provided by glowing rocks. The stone floor had colourful Persian rugs tastefully placed. A high plaster ceiling was painted with a rendition of Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam’, depicting me as both Adam and God.
There was a comfy sofa in front of a large screen television that hung from one wall and an ornate grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner. It was currently 10:08 PM. Another wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, stuffed with books of varying sizes. The third wall was covered with pictures and I could see at a glance that they were images from my life. The fourth wall had a thick riveted steel door on the right side, a full sized mirror on the left, and a computer workstation in the middle.
The picture wall was my first target. A few were quite large, nearly life sized, while others were tiny prints no larger than the palm of my hand. Scenes of my life were displayed in each one. The largest was me riding Horse with a shit-scared expression, shooting at a pack of wolves. Others were smaller, each with different frames. Some ornate gold or silver, others plain wood, a few wrapped in briars or barbed wire. Nanny Ramsey holding me as a young child. My dog Jean with a red ball in his mouth. My parents, screaming at me. I turned my attention to the books. Books are safe. Books don’t judge you.
The sweet, musty scent of a used book store filled my nostrils as I drew close to the honey coloured shelves. Hundreds of volumes filled the wall from floor to ceiling, with a ladder that could be rolled along a rail to access the top. I smiled at the sight. I had always wanted a library like this. I pulled a book at random and read the title, “Confused Fantasies about Joseph Harris, part XXIV of the Middle School Years”.
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Let’s see what’s on TV.
The remote was a slim, futuristic looking affair with a minimum of buttons. I pointed it at the television and moments later the huge screen came to life and presented me with a simple menu for movies, divided into six categories: Happy, Surprised, Afraid, Disgusted, Angry, and Sad. I scrolled through the offerings for a minute, reading the titles and reviews about the movies of my life. It really bothered me that there were so few selections in the Happy section.
The number of Sad movies increased by one.
I walked over to the mirror and noticed there was a small sticky note pasted to it. “Astral Realm. Experienced users only.” I shoved the note in my pocket and stared at my image. Sturdy black boots, black denim jeans and shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, deep brown gun belt slung at my hip, red bandanna and black felt hat. All I needed was a pencil moustache and I would look like the stereotypical villain in any spaghetti western. At that very moment I decided to grow out a goatee. I’d rather be mistaken for a bad guy than a victim.
So how does this astral realm thing work?
The mirror appeared to be nothing more than a mirror. It was cold, smooth glass surrounded by a wrought iron frame, and reflected my image. I didn’t necessarily want to go walking into danger, but I wanted to know how it worked. I pushed and prodded the glass in frustration until I noticed my image grinning at me. I jumped back in surprise and it doubled over in silent laughter.
“Hilarious, dude. You got me,” I huffed. “So how do I get in?”
My mirror-self tipped his hat and stepped to side.
I reached up to the mirror again and my hand passed through, vanishing as if cut off. Okay, just a quick peek and we’ll explore the rest of the room. I stepped through and the world shifted around me. I was standing back at the campsite. My body was insubstantial as a ghost and the tarp was a wisp of substance running straight through me. Non living things don’t seem to have much presence in this realm. Glancing down, I saw my sleeping body rolled up in the blankets, a thin silver thread running from it to me, and another thread running to Horse.
Looking around, I surveyed the campsite. My astral vision seemed to be on and had an unlimited range. I could see the life all around me, the distant forest was a sea of greenish-gold, grasses and brush nearby glowed with spectral light. Tiny ghost insects scurried while ghost mice nibbled at whatever ghost mice nibble on. Ghost seeds and ghost insects, I suppose. I turned my attention overhead and gaped at the sight of a monstrous serpentine spirit flying through the inky void. I dropped back through the tent and rolled inside my body. That was plenty enough for now.
I rolled through the mirror and landed flat on my back, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. Vinnie-God winked at me and Vinnie-Adam grinned. Climbing to my knees, I brushed non-existent dust from my trousers and watched mirror-me doubled over in soundless laughter.
“Hey, laughing-boy!” I yelled at him. “You’re like the guardian or something, right? You got it covered?”
Mirror-me stood and saluted with a smile, then gave me two thumbs up. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression and he wriggled his right hand in the ‘maybe’ motion. Then he pointed at me, tapped his wrist, and then a finger to his head.
It all depends on how fast I learn stuff, I guess.
Two thumbs up and a winning smile reflected back to me.
A large cork board was mounted to the wall over the computer and a small note was pinned to it. “Note to self: Don’t fuck with the Elvish womens.”
The computer screen featured a screensaver of me as Vitruvian Man doing callisthenics over the words ‘HumanOS’. I tapped the spacebar and was rewarded with the sound of powerful fans kicking to life as the computer emerged from sleep mode and prompted me for a password. Should I assume it’s the same as the password on the computer I pawned in my previous life?
Password: *******esi
I was rewarded with a sweet R&M desktop and a couple of icons. System, NeuralNet, My-Tunes, My-Movies, My-Office.
System was just what I expected, lots of .dna files and other confusing scariness that allowed me to tweak my physical body and mental state. My-Tunes was a collection of every song I’d ever heard and My-Movies was a collection of every movie I’d ever seen. Not that I’m complaining, but it would have been nice to have “My-Games” so I could play RDR. My-Office was a clone of the popular software by a similar name. I have no idea what I’ll ever need a spreadsheet for in this world.
NuralNet opened up a search engine called Me-Seeks, featuring a familiar blue guy.
I typed in “beer” and several thousand results were displayed, anything I’d ever read, heard, or watched about beer, including how to make it. This right here made the price of admission totally worth it, access to an exact copy of everything I’d ever read, and I was a voracious reader. Sadly, most of the stuff I read was futurology — solar panels, electronics, biotech advancements, quantum computing. The material for steam engines, blacksmithing, farming and the like, were slim pickings. That’s okay though, I could still reproduce the Gutenberg press, the cotton gin, simple internal combustion engines, and basic batteries along with some sketchy knowledge of metal alloys, acids, bases, and other things I had read over the years. All that wasted time watching “How Things Work” was finally going to pay off. I copied a few likely money makers to My-Office, saved the file, and exported to my Notes, just in case they didn’t exist on Aerth.
A popup covered the screen.
📱 [New Upgrade Available!] 📱
🎉 Enhance Your Experience with the Latest HumanOS Features! 🎉
🌟 Features Include:
- 🧠 Memory Booster: Increase your Memory for smoother multitasking and improved performance.
- 🔋 Energy Optimizer: Extend your battery life with advanced power-saving techniques.
- 🛠️ Utility Upgrades: Access new apps and utilities to enhance your daily life and adventures.
- 🗺️ Advanced Mapping: Never get lost again with enhanced GPS and location tracking.
[Upgrade Now ✅] [Remind Me Later ❌]
Apparently I could upgrade myself, which reduced the cost of using my Utilities while providing other minor benefits. My Utilities would level up as I used them, which would increase their battery cost, so if I didn’t keep pace with an update to the OS they could become prohibitively expensive to operate.
Stupid pay-to-win world.
So, do I pay 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0?
I selected version 3.0 and klicked [Install]. After watching it download the update, it popped up another screen that asked if I wanted to update now, or wait until Midnight for the mandatory update.
I selected [No] just as the grandfather clock chimed 10:30 PM. I wondered if time ran slower in here, because it seemed like I had spent a lot more time on the computer than 15 minutes. Walking over to the imposing steel door, I noticed a bronze key with a thin chain in the lock. There was another sticky note on the door. “Subconscious. Please keep the key with you at all times.”
That’s not scary at all, is it?
I unlocked the door with a loud clunk and pulled it open to reveal a bedroom straight out of some royal castle. I could tell immediately that it had seen better days. The tapestries on the wall were frayed and fading. The canopy over the bed had a few holes in it. A thin layer of dust covered the mantle of a small fireplace set into the wall. There was a window letting in bright sunlight and I moved over to look outside.
I was on the third floor of a keep surrounded by the walls and turrets of a modest castle. A castle that had fallen into serious disrepair. Did this represent the state of my inner mind? One tower was shattered and the curtain wall under it damaged. The lower bailey was full of litter. I could see a few soldiers walking around the allure, keeping watch.
I have people in my subconscious?
Someone behind me cleared their throat.
Whirling, I discovered a familiar old man standing in the door of the bedroom. What was left of his hair formed a white halo around his head, his face was unshaven and covered with several days of growth. He was dressed like a poor and tattered manservant, but carried himself with a dignified air.
“Woodhouse?”
“It’s nice to see the master at home,” He said with a proper English accent. “There are many matters that require the master’s attention.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, hanging the key around my neck and tucking it in my shirt. “And who are you again?”
“Your personal manservant, of course” he said with a slight bow. Walking over to the steel door, he pulled it closed and it locked with a solid thunk. “Master should always keep his inner sanctum closed. One never knows if something nasty will creep in.”
“Thank you, uh, Woodhouse. I’ll remember that,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “So what needs tending and how do things work around here?”
He smiled and beckoned me with a white gloved hand. “If master would be so kind as to follow me, I’ll introduce him to the staff and explain the duties and obligations of his domain.”
I’m 99.9% certain that everyone here is just me wearing a mask, so I shrugged and followed Woodhouse out of the bedroom and into the rest of my subconscious.
Five minutes later I was on the ground floor and seated on a shabby throne with the cast of a popular —and probably very copyright protected— animation in front of me. Woodhouse was the head butler and my personal manservant. Pam was the cook and demanded that I start importing sugar and alcohol before she was shushed by Woodhouse. Carol was a maid. Krieger was chancellor and Cyril was the steward. Archer and Lana were in charge of security. Ray was the marshal in charge of everything from the stables to the blacksmith.
I stared in disbelief at the motley crew kneeling in front of me. No wonder my inner mind was in such shambles. I was overcome with an irrational sense of anger at myself.
“Arright, listen up,” I barked, my voice echoing around the room. “I swear to God that I will fire every single one of you and hire circus clowns to replace you if you keep fucking things up. No joke. Circus clowns, got it?”
I ran a hand over my face as Ray pissed himself. “The only reason I’m not putting a boot in your asses right now is because I realise that you’re aspects of me, and the people you represent are pretty damn good at their jobs when they give enough of a shit to actually do them. As a team, you’re dysfunctionally fantastic and always seem to come out ahead no matter the odds.”
Heaving a sigh, I continued. “Things have changed and I need to get my shit together. I’m going to need every one of you to pull your weight and help me help you. Get back to your duties, I’ll meet you one on one later.”
My subconscious caretakers scurried out of the room.
“I’ll have one of the maids tend to the piss,” Woodhouse assured me.
“Never mind that,” I snapped. “I honestly had no idea my mind was such a shit show. I’m very disappointed in myself.” I pictured the Angry, Sad, and Disgusted counters on my personal movies clicking up. “Show me what needs to be done and let’s get started.”
During Woodhouse’s walking tour, everything clicked into place. This was some altered version of Bodiam castle, a location that was on my bucket list of places to visit. The royal council room, located behind the throne room, contained a “living” tapestry on the wall that showed the castle and surrounding land in real time. The castle was located in the middle of a small lake, and a single wood bridge led to the mainland. A small town surrounded the lake and a wall encircled the town. Outside the wall, the land was an irregular patchwork of forest and field, with a stinking swamp to the south. The entire “kingdom” was maybe ten miles across, surrounded by impassable mountains with innumerable creeks that fed the lake which drained into the southern swamp.
“Zombies are the problem, sir.” Woodhouse said, as I surveyed the living tapestry of my mental domain.
“Zombies?” I prompted.
“Yes sir, Zombies” Woodhouse continued. “Nasty bitey things that come in from the mountains and harass the peasants. They’ve gotten especially worse over the last few months. The soldiers do what they can, but they seem to have lost all motivation. Probably because they haven’t been paid.”
“And who pays them?”
“Typically chancellor Krieger is in charge of financial matters, although Steward Figgis has taken over the duty, sir.”
“Then let’s make Figgis our first stop.”
“Very good, sir.”
The office of the steward was run by Cyril Figgis, who managed the kingdom in my absence. It was overflowing with paperwork and charts, books and scrolls piled high on every flat surface. Cyril was desperately attempting to tidy things when Woodhouse and I walked in.
“Yo..you..your majesty,” Cyril stuttered, bowing low. Scrolls fell from his overloaded arms, spilling across the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to gather them up. “I didn’t expect you to visit so soon. Please forgive the mess, housekeeping has been slacking…”
This was the guy who ran things while I was conscious.
“Shut up, Cyril” I said. “You’re responsible for everything in this office. That includes keeping it organised and tidy.”
“Y..yes milord.”
“It’s my understanding that you’re in charge of making sure everyone gets paid. So why aren’t we paying people?” I asked.
“We’re nearly out of Fuks, your majesty. I’ve been saving them for emergencies.”
“Fucks?”
“Fuks,” Cyril explained, pushing a pile of books off a large chest and opening it. Reaching inside he pulled out two small bags and emptied them on top of his cluttered desk. “Gold and Silver Fuks, the currency of the kingdom. I can’t maintain the kingdom when I have no Fuks to give.”
Behold the subconscious kingdom of Vincent J. Carter, it runs on Fuks.
“So how do I get more fuks?” I asked, examining one of the coins. It had an image of me on one side and symbol on the other that could be interpreted as “peace among worlds”.
“You kill the zombies, your majesty.”
Of course I do.
Woodhouse and I left Cyril’s office and headed towards the office of the chancellor where Krieger worked. It seemed that Cyril took over financial matters when Krieger became erratic and proposed luring all the zombies into the city and setting it on fire. Not sure how that corresponds to my own self-destructive behaviour, but I’ve had some dark thoughts over the last couple of months and I’m sure they’re reflected here.
Krieger’s office was much neater in comparison to Cyril’s, but it wasn’t by much. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with an array of questionable items, including a still snapping zombie head in a jar. While the office of the chancellor was supposed to be in charge of financial matters, it looked more like a dodgy rummage sale.
Krieger was launching sword blades at a pig carcass when we walked in.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
“Hm? Oh, your majesty!” he said, turning around and bowing deeply. “I’m testing a new invention. It’s a spring loaded hilt that shoots sword blades. Very useful for our soldiers.”
“Stupidest idea ever,” I snapped. “I hate everything about it.”
“Okay,” Krieger said, tossing the hilt into a nearby pile of junk. “But don’t blame me when you need to shoot a sword at a zombie and don’t have one.”
“So why aren’t you managing the financial affairs? Collecting taxes, paying people, stuff like that?”
“Because the population has declined so much none of that matters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Wellll, the population represents things you care about,” Krieger said, going into lecture mode. “And the zombies and other monsters are real or imagined problems in your way. Since you don’t care about too many things the population has shrunk to just what’s needed to keep everything running on the bare minimum of fuks. And since you don’t seem to have any long or short term goals, there’s no need to kill off the zombies and get more fuks. Everything is fine just the way it is.”
“No, it’s not Krieger” I said, grinding my teeth. “My mind is in a shambles. It’s a joke. I want it fixed. No, I want it better than fixed. I want it improved.”
“Oh! I’ve got just the thing for that!” He said, digging around in his pockets, “It’s a spring-loaded hilt that shoots swords!”
Pam and Cheryl were hanging out a gallery window jeering at Archer and Lana sparring in the inner courtyard.
“What the hell are you doing!” I snapped
They whirled in surprise and then dropped into deep curtseys.
“Your majesty!”
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my centre. “Get to work cleaning this place up. Find a room, clean it, and move on to the next. Start with my bedroom, then the throne room and the council chamber, then everything else.”
Cheryl spoke up. “Can’t do it. We got no fuks to clean with.”
“You need fuks to clean?”
“Gotta buy stuff,” Pam said. “Cleaning supplies, food. You wanna eat, you’re gonna have to spend some fuks.”
“Talk to Cyril,” I ordered. “Tell him I said to get you supplied.”
They ran off in the direction of the stewards office.
I watched Archer and Lana bashing each other enthusiastically through the window.
Several minutes later the sparring couple stopped and bowed when Woodhouse and I stepped into the inner courtyard.
“Your majesty”
“My liege”
“Enough,” I said. “If you have enough energy to smash each other, you have enough energy to smash zombies. Tell me what I need to know so I can start gathering fuks.”
Archer shrugged and spoke first. “You just kill the zombies and other monsters. They drop fuks.”
“Anything special about the zombies?” I asked. “Are they fast? Do people get turned into zombies when bitten?”
“Nope,” Lana said, resting her wooden sword on her shoulder. “Most of them are slow shamblers and just need a good wack to the head to kill them.”
“Some are special,” Archer interjected. “Occasionally you’ll have some fast ones, or those that need holy water to kill. They’re just bad memories, figments of your personality that need to be eliminated. Some are worse than others.”
“The zombies are bad memories?” I asked, imagining all the bad memories that I had.
“Memories, thoughts, insecurities, metaphysical mumbo-jumbo,” Woodhouse supplied. “They are endless, but constant vigilance can keep them under control.”
“So let’s get started,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Lana and Archer lead me up to the parapet over the front gate where I looked over at the dozens of zombies milling about aimlessly in front of the entrance to my mind. Pulling out my gun, I began to pick them off, easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The crack of my spell pistol attracted more zombies and I dispatched them with ease until no more were left around the gate. As I fired each shot I could feel some sort of existential energy flowing from me, draining some hidden reserve.
“Gather up the Fuks,” I commanded. “And Lana?”
“Mi’lord?”
“There’s no excuse for this. From now on, I expect the walls to be clear of all zombies.”
“Yes mi’lord,” she said, giving me a small bow.
Turning to Archer, I shook my head. “You’re obviously my personal narcissism, so just try to stay out of Lana’s way, or better yet - try to kill more zombies than her. If you think you can.”
Archer scoffed. “No contest. I took top marks in sharpshooting.”
“That means I should expect to see results by tomorrow. I look forward to it.”
Archer looked panicked for a moment then smiled. “Sure, I can give you results.”
Turning back to Woodhouse I said “Show me what else need attending.”
Woodhouse led me through the town that represented my mind, pointing out each business that had fallen into disrepair, suggested others that needed improvements, and additions that would benefit me. In the distance, I could hear Lana and Archer shooting at the crowd of zombies and with each echoing shot I felt a tiny bit better about everything.
[INDEX]
2024.06.01 13:13 Single_Earth_2973 7 and a half months in and…
It’s true what everyone said on this forum, 7 and a half months/8 months really is the huge turning point
It’s funny, I still wake up crying often. But crying has always been something beautiful to me. It’s a sign that things are moving, things are healing.
I’m not frozen in fear. Hypervigilant and having rolling panic attacks for days on end.
PTSD is literally the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I wish there was some bullshit silver lining in that but there’s not. It’s fucking awful, but I’m so thankful and relieved that we have amazing, powerful therapies like EMDR. We don’t have to suffer in pain for months and decades of our lives. We can heal, we can grow, we can recover.
I’m feeling lighter and happier. I have more perspective. I realize what happened to me is not my fault. My panic attacks have switched from three day long anxiety fests to like an evening after I get triggered, and I’m not done yet.
I’m feeling so hopeful and optimistic about the future. I’m excited for the summer, I’m planning things, I have so much love in my heart for my friends. Small things like hot chocolate and bubble baths and yellow roses make my heart so happy.
I never thought I would get here. I felt stuck and broken. I was terrified I’d be terrified forever. But we can always heal.
“Trauma is a fact of life but it doesn’t have to be a life sentence.”
My life has been full of trauma but it’s also been full of growth, healing and self discovery. I work through the pain and I heal myself everyday, I don’t give up on myself, I don’t abandon myself when sometimes all I want to do is not exist (when I’m in the middle of that pain) and if you’re here - neither do you.
And you should be so proud of yourself for that. You are an amazing human being that you are so resilient and you try so hard for yourself when it would be so fucking easy to just give up. Well fuck that coz that’s just what our abusers and perpetrators want us to do. Let’s heal and move forward and leave them to rot in their self-imposed misery and pain.
One thing I’ve been thinking about is I wonder if people with PTSD/CPTSD have more sensitive nervous systems. I believe that “mental illness” is a natural response to awful circumstances and that most people in one way or another have struggles with and anxiety and depression. Because we have been through so much, we suffer more.
Sometimes it is so unfair that we get “stuck” with PTSD and CPTSD after our trauma (with PTSD being statistically unlikely for many) but I also wonder if our sensitivity is also a gift, we feel our pain and our fear more deeply than others but we also feel things like love, joy and gratitude more deeply than others too. We are so sensitive to the world and the beauty in it (as well as all that is awful) because we understand how fragile and vulnerable it is. We know life can be taken in a second. Many people are asleep to that and they never know and realize the preciousness of life and all those little moments until they’re on their deathbed. We’ve already been there in a way. We brushed with death in one form or another and survived. And our life is a tragic gift because of it. And there’s so much bittersweet growth and insight to be found in that. I’d most definitely give it back ;) but there is no back, so what is the lesson? What is the beauty? It’s hard to see where you’re suffering so acutely, but it’s easier to see once you get out onto the other side a little.
I felt so hopeless even a month or two ago but now I’m seeing so much goodness and growth and recovery
Maybe tomorrow I might feel differently. Maybe I’ll want to die again. But maybe I won’t. 😊😉
Keep going 💛
submitted by Single_Earth_2973 to EMDR [link] [comments]
It’s funny, I still wake up crying often. But crying has always been something beautiful to me. It’s a sign that things are moving, things are healing.
I’m not frozen in fear. Hypervigilant and having rolling panic attacks for days on end.
PTSD is literally the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I wish there was some bullshit silver lining in that but there’s not. It’s fucking awful, but I’m so thankful and relieved that we have amazing, powerful therapies like EMDR. We don’t have to suffer in pain for months and decades of our lives. We can heal, we can grow, we can recover.
I’m feeling lighter and happier. I have more perspective. I realize what happened to me is not my fault. My panic attacks have switched from three day long anxiety fests to like an evening after I get triggered, and I’m not done yet.
I’m feeling so hopeful and optimistic about the future. I’m excited for the summer, I’m planning things, I have so much love in my heart for my friends. Small things like hot chocolate and bubble baths and yellow roses make my heart so happy.
I never thought I would get here. I felt stuck and broken. I was terrified I’d be terrified forever. But we can always heal.
“Trauma is a fact of life but it doesn’t have to be a life sentence.”
My life has been full of trauma but it’s also been full of growth, healing and self discovery. I work through the pain and I heal myself everyday, I don’t give up on myself, I don’t abandon myself when sometimes all I want to do is not exist (when I’m in the middle of that pain) and if you’re here - neither do you.
And you should be so proud of yourself for that. You are an amazing human being that you are so resilient and you try so hard for yourself when it would be so fucking easy to just give up. Well fuck that coz that’s just what our abusers and perpetrators want us to do. Let’s heal and move forward and leave them to rot in their self-imposed misery and pain.
One thing I’ve been thinking about is I wonder if people with PTSD/CPTSD have more sensitive nervous systems. I believe that “mental illness” is a natural response to awful circumstances and that most people in one way or another have struggles with and anxiety and depression. Because we have been through so much, we suffer more.
Sometimes it is so unfair that we get “stuck” with PTSD and CPTSD after our trauma (with PTSD being statistically unlikely for many) but I also wonder if our sensitivity is also a gift, we feel our pain and our fear more deeply than others but we also feel things like love, joy and gratitude more deeply than others too. We are so sensitive to the world and the beauty in it (as well as all that is awful) because we understand how fragile and vulnerable it is. We know life can be taken in a second. Many people are asleep to that and they never know and realize the preciousness of life and all those little moments until they’re on their deathbed. We’ve already been there in a way. We brushed with death in one form or another and survived. And our life is a tragic gift because of it. And there’s so much bittersweet growth and insight to be found in that. I’d most definitely give it back ;) but there is no back, so what is the lesson? What is the beauty? It’s hard to see where you’re suffering so acutely, but it’s easier to see once you get out onto the other side a little.
I felt so hopeless even a month or two ago but now I’m seeing so much goodness and growth and recovery
Maybe tomorrow I might feel differently. Maybe I’ll want to die again. But maybe I won’t. 😊😉
Keep going 💛
2024.06.01 13:13 p4tx Im building a PC. Is hardware industry going backwards?
I'm now trying to build a new pc, after rocking mine for 8 years straight. And what I'm finding is a bit disturbing.
First of all, I am planning to run some local LLM on the machine (so, planning to max out on RAM) and to have multiple NVMe disks to have kind of and embedded NAS in the computer, but I want it also for gaming and I'm not willing to compromise any performance. And that's when I'm finding some issues.
Apparently, now top tier consumer CPU's like i9 14900K have at most RAM Dual Channel and 20 PCI lanes, while my i7 6800k from 2016 had 28 PCI lanes and Quadruple Channel. Why??
Also, I would like to have a main NVMe disk PCI Gen 5 with 14000MB/s and active cooling, but I haven't found a single motherboard that can have both a PCI 5.0 x16 and a PCI 5.0 x4 at the same time. They all seem to share the lines, which would downgrade any GPU to a x8. Again, why???
To end, this is not a complaint but mostly a question. Over the years I have got some old files corrupted (some pictures, a document, etc) and having backups on the cloud does not save me because the corrupted file propagates to the backups. By the time I notice, it's gone on all copies. I like having my files locally, especially because I access them constantly, so I was planning to mount 3 NVMes.
* Main NVMe 4TB PCI 5.0 x4 14000 MB/s * 2 Side NVMe 4TB PCI 4.0 x4 each, configured as RAID 1, to have the data replicated in both, but still locally accessible.
Is that possible? how would that affect performance? This all combined consumes 28 PCI lanes which is what I thought I would find on top tier CPU's but it doesn't seem like it now.
I used to be a computer geek, but I have been out of the loop for 8 years so I'm now a bit outdated. I would like any ideas, opinions and so on of those of you who are still in the game, because I don't like what I'm seeing.
submitted by p4tx to buildapc [link] [comments]
First of all, I am planning to run some local LLM on the machine (so, planning to max out on RAM) and to have multiple NVMe disks to have kind of and embedded NAS in the computer, but I want it also for gaming and I'm not willing to compromise any performance. And that's when I'm finding some issues.
Apparently, now top tier consumer CPU's like i9 14900K have at most RAM Dual Channel and 20 PCI lanes, while my i7 6800k from 2016 had 28 PCI lanes and Quadruple Channel. Why??
Also, I would like to have a main NVMe disk PCI Gen 5 with 14000MB/s and active cooling, but I haven't found a single motherboard that can have both a PCI 5.0 x16 and a PCI 5.0 x4 at the same time. They all seem to share the lines, which would downgrade any GPU to a x8. Again, why???
To end, this is not a complaint but mostly a question. Over the years I have got some old files corrupted (some pictures, a document, etc) and having backups on the cloud does not save me because the corrupted file propagates to the backups. By the time I notice, it's gone on all copies. I like having my files locally, especially because I access them constantly, so I was planning to mount 3 NVMes.
* Main NVMe 4TB PCI 5.0 x4 14000 MB/s * 2 Side NVMe 4TB PCI 4.0 x4 each, configured as RAID 1, to have the data replicated in both, but still locally accessible.
Is that possible? how would that affect performance? This all combined consumes 28 PCI lanes which is what I thought I would find on top tier CPU's but it doesn't seem like it now.
I used to be a computer geek, but I have been out of the loop for 8 years so I'm now a bit outdated. I would like any ideas, opinions and so on of those of you who are still in the game, because I don't like what I'm seeing.
2024.06.01 13:12 Spooneater69 I think I have a love-hate relationship with one of my friends
Ok so, I (14F) have known this boy (14M) who I will call “A” since I was in third grade, and we are obviously in the same middle school. We are both incredibly intelligent and good at writing, however people always put him above me. I feel like he isn’t more successful than me academically though. Infact I am more successful than him, i’m in the gifted program and in student council neither of which he is in.
Anyways, I have always resented him because he gets more praise for the same writing and work that I do. I think we’re both funny, I always make him laugh and he makes me laugh. However, I can’t help but to resent him even though I think we both have the same qualities; hes attractive and i’m very sure I am aswell, hes smart and I know I am aswell and we’re both popular and funny; adults are always saying so.
Its just like hes so perfect and I would give anything to recieve the same kind of praise he does. I mean even I adore him but like not in a romantic way, its just like hes always been someone who likes classical literature even though nobody else in our grade is intrigued by it and its just heinous knowing I probably won’t be able to speak to him in highschool because he’s one of my favorite people. I’m not really sure if how I feel about him is romantic, like sometimes I just want to hug him if that makes sense lmao. Oh I included our writing from sixth grade when we did a group project together copy pasted ↓
Mine: As soon as the recollection of the three bodies came cascading upon Bass in a choking flood of stinging details, Bass began to perspire and tremble. Something that was a recurrence in this impeccable novel is the mention of the Comanches- a belligerent indigenous group of people to America. The name was sure to bring fear to even the brawniest of men, Comanche had tolled in them like a portentous gong. There was a sinister and unlikely coincidence between the violent happening around the Native American territory that made the Comanche one of the most hideous of omens. In reality though the Comanches were a brutal community, bring treated with a biblical veneration. However I would like to take a mature and systematic evaluation of why they may do these things. For one, us Americans drove them out if the land they had lived in for centuries, brutally burning down their communities and making them walk grueling trails and rough rocks to arrive at a territory riddled with mediocrity. Overall I believed that the Comanches were a symbol or vim and freedom throughout this novel.
His: There are several prominent names that have established themselves as important threads upon the rich tapestry of Western History; Several Outlaws and desperados are recalled for the formidable forced they possessed upon their communities. Billy the Kid, Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday- all of these names have been of flourishing recognition, yet there are only mere vestiges of traces upon a true legend; a figure of immaculate morals (a trait that was a rare rose within a grotesque haven of weeds.) This very man that I speak of was born into slavery and- at the age of seventeen- relinquished the clutches of his owner prerequisite to venturing into the sibylline, crime-riddled depths of the Indian Territory where he would elude the treacherous dangers amidst his path to grow older to be a man of law; a valiant marshal in which turned a horrendous domain (the indian territory) into a place of order. This man went by the name of Bass Reeves.
submitted by Spooneater69 to offmychest [link] [comments]
Anyways, I have always resented him because he gets more praise for the same writing and work that I do. I think we’re both funny, I always make him laugh and he makes me laugh. However, I can’t help but to resent him even though I think we both have the same qualities; hes attractive and i’m very sure I am aswell, hes smart and I know I am aswell and we’re both popular and funny; adults are always saying so.
Its just like hes so perfect and I would give anything to recieve the same kind of praise he does. I mean even I adore him but like not in a romantic way, its just like hes always been someone who likes classical literature even though nobody else in our grade is intrigued by it and its just heinous knowing I probably won’t be able to speak to him in highschool because he’s one of my favorite people. I’m not really sure if how I feel about him is romantic, like sometimes I just want to hug him if that makes sense lmao. Oh I included our writing from sixth grade when we did a group project together copy pasted ↓
Mine: As soon as the recollection of the three bodies came cascading upon Bass in a choking flood of stinging details, Bass began to perspire and tremble. Something that was a recurrence in this impeccable novel is the mention of the Comanches- a belligerent indigenous group of people to America. The name was sure to bring fear to even the brawniest of men, Comanche had tolled in them like a portentous gong. There was a sinister and unlikely coincidence between the violent happening around the Native American territory that made the Comanche one of the most hideous of omens. In reality though the Comanches were a brutal community, bring treated with a biblical veneration. However I would like to take a mature and systematic evaluation of why they may do these things. For one, us Americans drove them out if the land they had lived in for centuries, brutally burning down their communities and making them walk grueling trails and rough rocks to arrive at a territory riddled with mediocrity. Overall I believed that the Comanches were a symbol or vim and freedom throughout this novel.
His: There are several prominent names that have established themselves as important threads upon the rich tapestry of Western History; Several Outlaws and desperados are recalled for the formidable forced they possessed upon their communities. Billy the Kid, Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday- all of these names have been of flourishing recognition, yet there are only mere vestiges of traces upon a true legend; a figure of immaculate morals (a trait that was a rare rose within a grotesque haven of weeds.) This very man that I speak of was born into slavery and- at the age of seventeen- relinquished the clutches of his owner prerequisite to venturing into the sibylline, crime-riddled depths of the Indian Territory where he would elude the treacherous dangers amidst his path to grow older to be a man of law; a valiant marshal in which turned a horrendous domain (the indian territory) into a place of order. This man went by the name of Bass Reeves.
2024.06.01 13:12 tescogaff Song recommendations
I’m a bit new to Led Zeppelin and I do really like them. I’m looking for song recommendations, and who better to ask than you lot? based on the songs that I’ve discovered so far:
Babe I’m gonna leave you Going to California Good times bad times When the levee breakss Black dog Rock n roll Stairway
Cheers
submitted by tescogaff to ledzeppelin [link] [comments]
Babe I’m gonna leave you Going to California Good times bad times When the levee breakss Black dog Rock n roll Stairway
Cheers
2024.06.01 13:09 gannen60 Random debt letter from 2017 CARS.
Hi folks just looking for a bit of advice really. Recieved a debt letter on behalf of talk talk for £192 I phoned the company instantly, they had all the correct details except an old email address I no longer have access to. After giving them everything they required I asked which company was chasing me and from when. I fell into a bit of debt around that time 2015-2018 and got it all sorted out. We DID have talk talk but that was part of the debt I sorted out all those years ago. The customer rep I spoke with stated it’s a fraudulent claim on my name and to contact the fraud team and then call them back
Scotland based btw just if anyone needs to know
submitted by gannen60 to UKPersonalFinance [link] [comments]
- It feels it may just be an error not necessarily a fraud issue but where do I go so I can look back at my credit history to check.
- Why has it taken so long for this to come to the correct address, I’ve always been on the electoral roll?
- We had a random debt in my wife’s name for 3 however it was in her mothers maiden name not her birth or married name which only her mum, dad and us knew she didn’t share her nums last name. ( not accusing but knowing my sister in law flashing a brand new iPhone around the same time)
Scotland based btw just if anyone needs to know
2024.06.01 13:06 A_Scr1bble #Technoblade25 art development
 | Hi Reddit! I’ve been a lurker here on this subreddit for a long time but I never actually made an account and/or posted anything but when Mr TechnoDad brought up #Technoblade25 I knew I wanted to get involved somehow. submitted by A_Scr1bble to Technoblade [link] [comments] After Techno’s passing, I had just started to get into drawing so I decided to draw him. When his 24th birthday rolled around in 2023, I decided from then I was going to draw him every year on 1st June to honour his memory and to monitor my art progress. So here it is! I think I’ve definitely improved these last two years. ❤️Technoblade never dies❤️ |
2024.06.01 13:02 rangernumberx Respect Gold (Pokemon Adventures)
"I wanted to nab the thief while Exbo here wanted to get his buddy back. Although it was our first meeting, we fought together. That guy may have escaped, but we've decided to battle together from now on. Even if I meet new Pokemon along the way, I will still treat them the same way, because to me...Pokemon are my partners! We work alongside for the same goals, because...we are partners!"
Gold was raised around Pokemon, his home having so many it was known as the Poké House to those in the community. But after a chance encounter leads to his Pokemon being stolen and being the sole witness to a boy stealing Professor Elm's Totodile, Gold gives the police a false description of the thief before setting out with a Pokedex and a Cyndaquil to hunt him down himself. Along the way, Gold demonstrates a deceptive fighting style, often using his cue to send Pokeballs in strange directions and using other members of his team to hide the key play another Pokemon is performing, as well as an ability to nurture the full potential out of any Pokemon from as early as them being in an egg, earning him the moniker of 'the Hatcher'. With these skills, Gold would prove a key player as he faced off against the likes of a revived Team Rocket, a masked man seeking to rewrite time, and even Arceus themselves.
All feats are tagged with the chapter they appear in.
Durability - Blunt Force
Other
Moves
Moves
Other
Other
Physicals
Moves
Moves
Other
Moves
submitted by rangernumberx to respectthreads [link] [comments]
Gold was raised around Pokemon, his home having so many it was known as the Poké House to those in the community. But after a chance encounter leads to his Pokemon being stolen and being the sole witness to a boy stealing Professor Elm's Totodile, Gold gives the police a false description of the thief before setting out with a Pokedex and a Cyndaquil to hunt him down himself. Along the way, Gold demonstrates a deceptive fighting style, often using his cue to send Pokeballs in strange directions and using other members of his team to hide the key play another Pokemon is performing, as well as an ability to nurture the full potential out of any Pokemon from as early as them being in an egg, earning him the moniker of 'the Hatcher'. With these skills, Gold would prove a key player as he faced off against the likes of a revived Team Rocket, a masked man seeking to rewrite time, and even Arceus themselves.
All feats are tagged with the chapter they appear in.
Gold
Physicals
StrengthDurability - Blunt Force
- Kicked in the face by Crystal460
- Struck in the back by Whitney's Miltank105
- Kicked away by Sapphire while in a suit of armour328
- Hit back by the Masked Man172
- Slammed into the ground by Ho-Oh166
- Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them453
- Hit away by Arceus454
- Kicked by Arceus459
- Thrown about by water as an island sized water construct strikes the Battle Tower329
- Sent flying into a distant wall by Guile334
- Bitten on the hand by Silver's Totodile98
- Falls a distance onto a beach after his Mantine was struck out of the air by Lugia148
- Struck by Masked Man's Deliberd's Icy Wind113
- Caught in Masked Man's Deliberd's Blizzard113
- Seemingly caught in Jirachi's Doom Desire334
- Seemingly knocked back by a beam from Arceus459
- Dodges an attack from a group of Bellsprout97
- Dodges a beam from a Gyarados112
- Dodges a beam from Arceus453
- Dodges a spike trap suddenly appearing from a wall98
- Saves a girl from an Ursaring strike101
Skill
Cue Shots - Regular- Curves a Pokeball behind an opponent93
- Hits Aipom's ball to the top of a tree, where they're then released91
- Hits a fleeing Pokemon with enough force to relocate its jaw101
- While being swept away in a river in a storm, hits Exbo's ball so it rebounds off of two surfaces and gets him safely to shore95
- Bounces a pokeball repeatedly between the walls, ceiling, and floor of a room with a single strike to make several Yanma dizzy154
- Ricochets a Friend Ball repeatedly around two Pokemon before hitting a Heavy Ball at their two feet, sending both pokeballs to Gold's and Silver's hands respectively101
- Throws his cue to block a pair of shutters from closing on Emerald328
- Drops a distance onto a board on a rough sea, maintaining balance for a short distance due to it being 'not so different' from skateboarding146
Intelligence
Battles- On numerous occasions has used a Pokemon as a distraction while a second Pokemon enacts his actual strategy in secret111
- Returns Aibo before curving his ball around an opponent, allowing him to strike their behind93
- Has the other Pokedex holders withdraw their Pokemon before having Aibo ride his skateboard with them at Guile Hideout, allowing all the Pokemon to be released directly on top of him329
- Throws Aibo in front of a charging Donphan before he uses his tail to pull himself to safety, in that brief moment successfully confusing the Pokemon and causing them to charge into a wall96
- Goads a team of Bellsprout into stacking on top of each other, allowing Cyndaquil to take them all out at once97
- Has a school of Remoraid attack Lugia's mouth, stopping the legendary from closing it and being able to use Aeroblast148
- Calculates how long a Pokeball could endure a Dragonite's Hyper Beam, uses the fact that said Hyper Beam is not changing direction in midair to tell that its trainer isn't present to give it orders, and uses this to get the Dragonite to attack in a specific direction and allow Togbo to attack them from behind444
- Drops a straw doll from a tree as a decoy, allowing him to get behind the Masked Man to attack him104
- Disappears in a smokescreen, intending to drive the Masked Man into pursuing him through a forest, while he had actually climbed a tree so he could climb back down when the coast was clear to save a trainer and his Pokemon104
- Modifies his skateboard with bike parts105
- Hits Aipom's ball up a tree to release him before using a heavy pack as a counterweight to lift him up91
- Uses the fact Yanma have 360 degree vision in a plan to make them dizzy and have one drop a baby154
- Has Aipom strike the centre of a stack of blocks, allowing the rest of his team to easily smash through the entire stack while they previously were only able to break through a few, winning him the round against a Machamp which could easily smash through stacks on his own443
- Memorizes all the obstacles on a course by going along it the wrong way on his skateboard, allowing him to guide his Togepi around it flawlessly when the Pokemon was blinded442
- Had the foresight to hold onto Emerald's broken mechanical hand, causing Archie to grab hold of it and allowing Gold to let him drop335
Gear
Pokedex- His Pokedex shows a Pokemon's strength and attacks95
- Identifies four Pokemon at once103
- Identifies an attack as the Pokemon is lunging towards him103
- Can perform trades with other Pokedex owners109
- Is capable of tracking the energy of a specific Pokemon the owner has made contact with149
- When three Pokedexes in possession of their true owners are close to each other, all of them make a noise146
- Pokemon are held in pokeballs, which have a translucent top which Gold can see Pokemon through93
- They and their Pokemon can return to Gold's hand as he wishes93
- Protect Pokemon from attacks, though they can be destroyed444
- Pokemon can move their balls from the inside107
- A cue, which he uses to perform trick shots with his pokeballs93
- Clashes with Guile Hideout's sword329
- Used to quickly change his direction on a skateboard96
- Throws it to stop metal shutters from closing on Emerald328
- Is collapsible328
- Holds it in his clothes, not his bag145
- His pokegear allows him to make and take calls95
- A pair of goggles, used to protect him from the likes of Exbo's Smokescreen98
- Carries rope to climb up a pagoda97
- Uses a skateboard to get around95
Other
- Is given the title of 'The Hatcher' by Professor Oak, with him causing a Pichu egg to hatch the instant he touched it178
- Guides his team into winning the Skill, Jump, Stamina, Speed, and Power Pokeathlon courses442-443
- Despite all his skill, still cheats at pool at a games corner107
Aibo the Ambipom
As An Aipom
Physicals- Breaks a block with his tail443
- Holds up Gold while clutching a branch with his tail91 https://imgur.com/a/0NPzvXW
- Lifts up and throws an enormous Snowball442
- Thrown about by water as an island sized water construct strikes the Battle Tower329
- Struck away by a Donphan's Horn Attack96
- Catches a nearby Sunkern in his tail so that Gold can catch them99
- Reacts fast enough to catch Gold after the floor's broken beneath them97
- Rapidly spins Gold's cue with his tail to enhance Exbo's fire328
- Scratch - Aibo repeatedly scratches a foe91
- Swagger - Confuses a Hoothoot, causing it to attack its trainer instead of falsely calling out that a timer's up92
- Double Team - Creates an illusionary duplicate, allowing him to dodge an attack113
- Agility - Greatly increases Aibo's speed172
- Baton Pass - Passes stat increases, such as that gained through Agility, to another of Gold's Pokemon172
- Double Hit - Allows him to attack opponents on opposite sides of him at the same time with his tail, and immediately causes him to evolve448
As An Ambipom
Physicals- Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them453
- Poked back by Arceus451
- Hit by a beam from Arceus459
Other
Exbo the Typhlosion
As A Cyndaquil
Physicals- Breaks through a wooden floor97
- Gets bitten and scratched by Silver's Totodile98
- Intercepts an attack which is about to hit Gold103
- Ember - Shoots a tall pillar of fire from his back, burning Silver's hand while he's hanging on to a tall branch94
- Tackle - Exbo charges into an opponent98
- Smokescreen - Covers an area in obscuring smoke98
- Used to cook food for Gold, though he increases the heat and quickly burns it100
- Can't emit fire while bound up100
As A Quilava
Physicals- Alongside Silver's Croconaw and Crystal's Bayleef, stops Lugia's wing from crushing their trainers and hold it up before evolving148
- Struck by Silver's Croconaw's Water Gun111
- Ember - Works alongside Silver's Croconaw and Crystal's Bayleef to slightly deflect Lugia's Aeroblast147
- Double Team - Creates an illusory duplicate, making Croconaw bite down on nothing111
- Flame Wheel - Creates a wheel of fire around him, catching several Pokemon114
As A Typhlosion
Physicals- Breaks three blocks with a punch443
- Alongside Silver's Croconaw and Crystal's Bayleef, continues to hold up Lugia's wing to stop it from crushing their trainers148
- Thrown about by water as an island sized water construct strikes the Battle Tower329
- Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them453
- Hit by a beam from Arceus459
- Blast Burn - A stream of fire which, alongside eleven other Pokemon, destroys an island-sized water construct335-336
- With an unnamed fire attack enhanced by Aibo rapidly spinning Gold's cue, creates a powerful blast of fire which knocks back Guile Hideout328
Sunbo the Sunflora
As A Sunkern
PhysicalsMoves
- Flash - Emits a bright light which blinds several Team Rocket grunts and their Pokemon100
- Growth - Presumably increases Sunbo's strength, though its effect has not been clearly shown103
- Mega Drain - Presumably absorbs energy from an opponent, but it's not seen in use104
- Sunny Day - Increases the power of nearby fire-type moves108
- Giga Drain - Absorbs the energy of a Magcargo and a Sloking alongside Crystal's Parasect164
As A Sunflora
PhysicalsMoves
Other
Polibo the Politoed
As A Poliwag
MovesOther
As A Politoed
Physicals- Breaks a block with a punch443
- Alongside Red's Poliwrath, breaks apart Archie's armour335
- Struck with Guile's knee335
- Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them453
- Hit by a beam from Arceus459
- Struck by Masked Man's Deliberd's Icy Wind113
- Caught in Masked Man's Deliberd's Blizzard113
- Dodges a beam from a Gyarados112
- Dodges a beam from Arceus453
- Water Gun - Harms Tyranitar with a stream of water, possibly shooting three streams at once though this could simply be representing how fast Silver's Murkrow is moving to block it111
- Whirlpool - Creates a whirlpool at the Lake of Rage to stun a Gyarados112
- Double Slap - Repeatedly hits an opponent112
- Dynamic Punch - Polibo lunges forwards with a powerful punch113
- Hypnosis - Puts a crowd of Pokemon to sleep at once166
- Perish Song - Instantly knocks out Masked Man's Delibird, but also knocks out Polibo himself172
- Bounce - Used off-screen459
Sudobo the Sudowoodo
- Lifts up a large piece of rubble166
- No-sells Whitney's Miltank's Tackle and Exbo's Ember105
- Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them453
- Hit by Silver's Ursaring's Fury Swipes111
- Bitten by Ho-Oh166
- Hit by a beam from Arceus459
- Focus Punch - Strikes a Rhydon, knocking it out106
- Low Kick - He extends his leg forwards at crazy angles, tripping up an opponent111
- Dynamic Punch - Lunges forwards with a powerful strike which breaks stone111
- Mimic - Sudobo uses the move his opponent's most recently used, allowing him to trade Fury Swipe blows with Silver's Ursaring111
- Mud Slap - Throws up mud in a failed attempt to hold off Ho-Oh166
- Flail - After being bitten by Ho-Oh, sends the legendary flying away166
- Rock Tomb - Used off-screen459
- Is level 78 with the ability Sturdy456
- Is capable of growing to create a highly convincing tree disguise, shrinking when revealing himself106
Togebo the Togekiss
As A Togepi
Physicals- Immediately after hatching knocks Gligar back a short distance before getting hit away107
- Seemingly endures part of a Dragonite's Hyper Beam after the Pokeball took the brunt of the attack (with said beam being able to destroy stone), then takes out the Dragonite with an attack to the back of the head444
- Struck away by a Dotrio442
- Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them453
- Struck away by Arceus before being hit point-blank by a beam459
- Hit by a beam from Arceus459
- Metronome - Uses a random move, in its debut appearance hitting a Gligar with a beam strong enough to knock them out107
- Double Edge - Pierces into a Tyranitar's foot, taking it down111
- Is level 81 with the ability Hustle456
- Runs at full pelt around an obstacle course, following Gold's commands to dodge obstacles442
- Is a delinquent from birth due to Gold taking them to Game Corners while they were still an egg107
As a Togekiss
PhysicalsMoves
Tibo the Mantine and 20 Remoraid
Other
Pibu the Pichu
2024.06.01 13:02 FelicitySmoak_ On This Day In Michael Jackson HIStory - June 1st
 | Disclaimer: Some of these events have unknown June dates. They are identified with a '*' submitted by FelicitySmoak_ to WhereWasMJToday [link] [comments] 1974- The Jacksons play their 6th of seven nights at the Sahara Tahoe Hotel in Lake Tahoe, Nevada 1977\* - The Jackson go back to Sigma Sound Studios in Philidalphia to record their new album, Goin' Places, with Gamble & Huff 1978\* - The Jacksons record the Destiny album in Los Angeles after recording song demos at their Hayvenhurst home studio 1979 - The Jackson perform at Milwaukee County Stadium (closed- 2000) in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on their Destiny tour 1979 - (June 1 -3) Michael, Quincy Jones & Bruce Swedien complete the recording & mixing of the Off The Wall album Westlake Studios in Los Angeles. 1979* - The Jacksons start recording the Triumph Album. 1982\* - Michael would come across a studio demo produced by John Barnes and request a meeting. In an interview with The MJCast podcast, John recalled their first meeting: “Michael said I heard you can make your own sounds and play them. How many sounds can you make? And, I responded, ‘How much time do you have?’”The meeting lasted a few hours and was the beginning of a friendship and musical partnership with Barnes being hired as a core member of Michael Jackson’s team. Their partnership would continue until Michael's passing in 2009 1984* - Michael meets with other supporters of Camp Good Times, a non-profit organization founded by parents of children with cancer, in Malibu such as OJ Simpson, Dustin Hoffman, David Soul, Neil Diamond & Richard Chamberlain https://preview.redd.it/4x9kul6utl3d1.jpg?width=604&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=858e0ae773b2b13af0aaa747ba26d437a5b3dd47 The first Camp Goodtimes event would be held in Vashon Island at Camp Sealth in August of 1984. Ninety-three children, cancer patients and siblings attended and twenty-five American Cancer Society volunteers, who staffed the camp along with the summer staff at Camp Sealth https://preview.redd.it/xtzmm1dxtl3d1.jpg?width=492&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e7799537391bec1d6d8fb915a87e8229d11379e0 1985\* - Michael starts rehearsing for an upcoming 3D science fiction musical short film named Captain EO to be shown exclusively at Disneyland and Disney World. Francis Ford Coppola will direct and George Lucas will produce the film https://reddit.com/link/1d5khy4/video/72l7t6xztl3d1/player 1986\*- Michael & Corey Feldman go to Disneyland . Michael is seen for the 1st time wearing a surgical mask in public In Moonwalk, he says he was initially given a mask by a dentist to keep germs out after having his wisdom teeth pulled 1987\* - Michael shoots the “The Way You Make Me Feel” short film at Skid Row, Los Angeles. It was directed by Joe Pytka and choreographed by Vincent Paterson & Michael. It featured Tatiana Thumbtzen & Latoya Jackson 1988\* - Michael Jackson : The Legend Continues is released on home video. 1988 - Michael sets another record as the first artist ever to have three albums with US sales of more than six million copies each as Bad & Off The Wall were both certified 6x platinum by the RIAA 1989\- Michael goes back to Westlake studio with Matt Forger and Bill Bottrell. He meets Brad Buxer who will work with him until 2008. Together they work on new songs for a compilation named *DECADE 1979-1989 Quincy Jones is not part of this project. "Black Or White" and "Heal The World" are among the first songs worked on. 1991 - David Ruffin, a member of The Temptations, dies of a drug overdose https://preview.redd.it/9vssz6p4ul3d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=467d78db412c27f2bcccc750fc07a205dca12e8f It was found that Ruffin was peniniless and Jackson contacted Swanson Funeral Home in Detroit to make arrangements to cover a large portion of the June 10th funeral costs. He also sends a heart-shaped arrangement of carnations to the New Bethel Baptist Church in Detroit with the note, "With Love, from Michael Jackson" https://preview.redd.it/wm7yokl7ul3d1.jpg?width=115&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bf6269399685e90265bcaa7a6c393d77ae7aebc9 Jackson was a big admirer of The Temptations. He would not attend the funeral ceremony to not divert attention from it (it was however reported that he did attend but in disguise) 1991\* - The Sun publishes leaked pictures from a photo session of Michael by Herb Ritts. It had been rumored that multiple photographers were battling in out to shoot Michael's new video & album cover. Steve Meisel, Bruce Weber and Herb Ritts had been in the running to give Michael a new "sexier" look https://preview.redd.it/5jg8a6xaul3d1.jpg?width=325&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f5d4484fa0d172b0aae632402f1ab9fd317f2ae5 https://preview.redd.it/ex22ut6dul3d1.jpg?width=250&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2ecc704465423cd6d78e56ae951c344e0b0d2406 1991* - Michael enlists the help of producers L.A Reid & Babyface for his new album, which deeply upsets Jermaine who is also working with them. Jermaine is quoted in the tabloids as saying: "I could have been Michael. It's all a matter of timing, a matter of luck"1992*- Michael rehearses for his new tour & shoot the video for “Who Is It” 1994\* - This summer Heal The World Foundation, in partnership with Los Angeles Unified School District, "I Have A Dream Foundation", "Best Buddies", "Overcoming Obstacles" & "California One To One", provide 2000 children with tickets to see Janet Jackson, the L.A. Laker Jam and The Beach Boys in concert 1995\* - Issue #2 of History Magazine reveals that Travis Thomas, a 5-year old boy who suffers from cystic fibrosis, wished to meet Michael. https://preview.redd.it/11pinibiul3d1.jpg?width=591&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=46f58fbcd03b6d9e73354092d1fabb9419de842e “One evening, we were watching TV and Travis hadn’t eaten for a couple of days. He was on TV”, the boy's mother recalls, “and we came across the American Music Awards and Michael Jackson… Travis sat up and wanted to eat… He said, ‘I love Michael Jackson, Mama!”His wish comes true in June through Jackson and the Make A Wish Foundation.Travis and his family, along with 20 other seriously ill children, spent a weekend at Neverland Ranch and were allowed to roam around the compound’s private amusement park. Travis’ mother: “The love this man has on his face when he is with these special children is unbelievable. He is one of the kindest and most gentle men I have ever met"https://preview.redd.it/xr603i8lul3d1.jpg?width=300&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ef81c6bb963147099671b014e9a41960894641bd 1999 - Michael cancels his participation in the Pavarotti & Friends Charity Concert in Modena, scheduled for tonight. Jonathan Morrish of Sony Music issues a statement informing the media, that Michael will not be performing due to the illness of his son, Prince: "Prince suffered a seizure early Saturday due to a high temperature. This is the third seizure over the last year"He added that the concert meant so much to Michael but, "he is an artist like the others, but also a parent"and that he waited until the last moment to cancel because he was still hopeful about making it. Michael is reportedly constantly at Prince's bedside 2000\* - Concert promoter,Marcel Avram, sues Michael for breach of contract for the Millenium Concerts and asks for $21 million https://preview.redd.it/rz0pl0wnul3d1.jpg?width=400&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9975e1d6693daf47bf35f911a1c7341dc00955a4 2001\* - Michael hires Marc Schaffel and they create a new company,Neverland Valley Entertainment, with a common bank account. 2004\* - Randy Jackson fires Bob Jones, vice president of MJJ Productions since 1987, after discovering that he is writing a tell all book on Michael. He also stops paying Marc Schaffel. 2005 - Trial Day 64 Michael goes to court with Katherine, Joe & Randy. Judge Melville gives the Jury the rules of Jury Deliberations https://preview.redd.it/ph42eghrul3d1.jpg?width=460&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=98185613a6f1d6e6dc53aacf2f31a539db9108e4 https://preview.redd.it/hqr89ghrul3d1.jpg?width=503&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e9d24bb8ca7556d5914d1a5ef5053237430d2c7b 2005\* - Michael allows visits from fans inside his home while awaiting the verdict. They're impressed by his generosity given the circumstances https://preview.redd.it/8pg5cb2uul3d1.jpg?width=612&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=87c700da00a607390f5b598a580c6c350cd2a496 2007 - A glittery jacket once worn onstage by Michael, his MTV Music Award for "We Are The World", as well as gold discs for his album Off the Wall and the Jackson 5 single "I Want You Back", all sell at an auction in the Hard Rock Café in Las Vegas, Nevada. The total raised from the sale of Michael related artifacts at the auction is reported as $1-$2million Michael's bullet proof vest Sculptural prototypes from the movies E.T. & Alien 2007\* - Michael, Grace and the kids leave their Las Vegas house and fly to Middleburg, Virginia. They check into the Goodstone Inn, a 640-acre estate of open pastures, for a summer vacation. They are welcomed by Raymone Bain. 2007\* - Michael “Brother Michael” Amir Williams is hired as Michael’s new assistant. 2008\* - Michael and producer Neff-U start working on songs at 'Thriller Villa', his 2710 Palomino Lane home, in Las Vegas. They work on a new version of “A Place With No Name”. 2008\* - Late in the month, Michael's duet with Akon, "Hold My Hand" is leaked online. Michael is devastated Longtime recording engineer, Michael Prince, who was working with Jackson at the time “Hold My Hand” leaked, recalls: “He was truly upset when the song he did with Akon leaked. He would just get this sad look on his face like, how could this happen? Because 20 years ago this would not have happened. And somehow everybody in the world has a copy of it. And that really upset him because he liked that song a lot.”Akon gave a detailed account of the events surrounding the leak during an appearance on Tavis Smiley’s PBS television show in January 2009: “Me and Mike did this incredible record called Hold My Hand and the record is amazing. Phenomenal. And the concept was that this would be Mike’s first release off of his new album, and then I would stripe it on my album – on my following release. That way we could have the outlets open for everyone to be able to receive the record. You know, Mike came up with this brilliant marketing launch for the record. You know, he’s the best at launching a record.”Akon continues: “He’d have the whole world paying attention in two minutes… And before we could get to that point, the record got leaked over the internet. And we got over 15 million downloads on the song for free. So we couldn’t [release it]. You can’t at that point. Everybody already has the record. But in a way, you gotta look at it like… that’s just a gift to the fans.”2008\* - (Late June) Michael hires Dr Thome Thome as his new manager and president of MJJ Productions. As a result of a financial reorganiation of the Neverland Valley Ranch, all of Michael’s personal belongings have to be removed from the property. Dr Tohme contacts Darren Julien of Julien’s Auction House 2009 - The This Is It team leaves Center Staging for a bigger place : The Forum in Inglewood, California. 2009 - (June 1-11) At Culver Studios in Culver City, Michael shoots “The Dome” Project which consists of seven works:
|
2024.06.01 13:00 SouljaMimz504 Urzikstan is an absolute nightmare.
Topic: My goodness, Battle Royale on Urzikstan is unbearable. It’s entirely too many buy back options to the point, regardless of how many gunfights I(we) win. The map is just…idk like blow something up devs, night ops? Something ….
Buy back options : Redeploy packs, u can BUY gulag coins now, etc. I have to face the same SOBs I sweated to get out the game beforehand. there’s damned near 60 people at the 5th circle after a good steam roll 10+kill, no gulag game.
Sniping:
It’s impossible not to get 3rd party sniped by camping Kar98k SOBs and winning battle royale is luck of the draw. This is coming from a kar98k user. too many head glitch spots. Bring back rocket launcher meta. 🤷🏾♂️
There’s no dynamic circles. No actual viable strategy for placement. No foresight. The heavy helicopter is insignificant. I mean it’s an ok map I guess but bland. it’s no pizazz to it.
Idk what else to do. I average 8 kills a game and at some point they need to either change the fucking BR map or lower to head count on Uzbekistan or whatever tf they want this map to be.
Urzikstan thoughts?
submitted by SouljaMimz504 to Warzone [link] [comments]
Buy back options : Redeploy packs, u can BUY gulag coins now, etc. I have to face the same SOBs I sweated to get out the game beforehand. there’s damned near 60 people at the 5th circle after a good steam roll 10+kill, no gulag game.
Sniping:
It’s impossible not to get 3rd party sniped by camping Kar98k SOBs and winning battle royale is luck of the draw. This is coming from a kar98k user. too many head glitch spots. Bring back rocket launcher meta. 🤷🏾♂️
There’s no dynamic circles. No actual viable strategy for placement. No foresight. The heavy helicopter is insignificant. I mean it’s an ok map I guess but bland. it’s no pizazz to it.
Idk what else to do. I average 8 kills a game and at some point they need to either change the fucking BR map or lower to head count on Uzbekistan or whatever tf they want this map to be.
Urzikstan thoughts?
2024.06.01 13:00 AutoModerator Daily Discussion Thread: spray/memes/chat/whatever allowed
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submitted by AutoModerator to climbing [link] [comments]
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2024.06.01 13:00 WaveOfWire This is (not) a Dungeon - Chapter 2
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PRs: u/anakist & u/BroDogIsMyName
- - - - -
Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
—
A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!
submitted by WaveOfWire to HFY [link] [comments]
PRs: u/anakist & u/BroDogIsMyName
- - - - -
Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
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A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!
2024.06.01 12:58 Victoriantitbicycle Do people actually get excited by scotch eggs and cold cocktail sausages at buffets?
Exactly what the title says really.
Whether the office you work at puts on a “spread” to show gratitude to the staff, you’re at a wedding or an elderly person’s birthday party. Do any of you walk into the room and see the spread consisting of scotch eggs (and not nice large ones handmade by a farm shop. The shit miniature ones in a plastic container from Tesco), cold sausage rolls, cold cocktail sausages, egg and cress sandwiches, cheese sandwiches and breadsticks and think “I could not of asked for a better or more imaginative spread of food. I’ve hit the jackpot here”?
So to be black and white, the question isn’t do you get excited at the fact there is a spread full stop and think “great, food! I’m most grateful” but do the contents of that particular spread I’ve mentioned give you a real bounce in your step and an injection of arousal?
submitted by Victoriantitbicycle to AskUK [link] [comments]
Whether the office you work at puts on a “spread” to show gratitude to the staff, you’re at a wedding or an elderly person’s birthday party. Do any of you walk into the room and see the spread consisting of scotch eggs (and not nice large ones handmade by a farm shop. The shit miniature ones in a plastic container from Tesco), cold sausage rolls, cold cocktail sausages, egg and cress sandwiches, cheese sandwiches and breadsticks and think “I could not of asked for a better or more imaginative spread of food. I’ve hit the jackpot here”?
So to be black and white, the question isn’t do you get excited at the fact there is a spread full stop and think “great, food! I’m most grateful” but do the contents of that particular spread I’ve mentioned give you a real bounce in your step and an injection of arousal?