Fancy words
FANCY CHICKENS
2015.01.05 03:36 meep_launcher FANCY CHICKENS
SO FANCY
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2024.05.20 03:25 AlliterativeAllure 25 [F4M] #Midwest/#Online - Lonely, Lovely, Literal, Loquacious, Literarily Inclined Lady Looking For Love
Lonely seems fairly self-explanatory. I want my penguin, my swan, my lobster.
Lovely refers primarily to my physical characteristics, but also a bit to my kind and caring nature.
Literal is the way I both communicate and interpret communication. Subtext is often lost on me.
Loquacious means that it’s very hard to shut me up once I get going on the right subject with the right audience.
Literarily Inclined is a very fancy way of saying I read. A lot. No, I mean, a lot.
Lady just refers to my gender (AFAB/cisgender).
Looking For is simply, you know, seeking. Searching for. Trying to find.
Love, the epitome of what I want.
Now, beyond the allure of my alliteration...
I’m 25 years old and I live in the Midwestern area of the USA. I don’t particularly care where you live, as I’m only open to an online relationship until 2025 or so (because of both personal preference and life circumstances).
The written word is my biggest hobby, both reading and writing it. Despite my often overly logical brain, I usually prefer fiction over non-fiction, and fantasy in particular — it’s an escape of sorts that feels immersive and, well, magical (for lack of a better term).
I haven’t yet completed my undergraduate degree, but I’m working on it. That’s what I get for taking time off and switching majors twice, I suppose. I’d like to earn my Master’s degree someday, but I’m in no real rush for that.
I look like some sort of MPDG/ingenue crossover — I have a quirky, wide-eyed, unconventional prettiness.
I have some pets, and quite honestly, those are children enough for me. I don’t possess a mothering instinct for tiny humans.
The man I’m looking for is, in an ideal nutshell:
Thank you for reading all of this. Sincerely, it means a lot to me. Please send me a chat (preferred) or a message about yourself including, at a minimum, your age, your general location, and some defining characteristics about yourself. If I think we could be a good fit I’ll say hi in return.
Either way, have a nice rest of your week, and good luck on your journey ahead!
submitted by AlliterativeAllure to r4r [link] [comments]
Lovely refers primarily to my physical characteristics, but also a bit to my kind and caring nature.
Literal is the way I both communicate and interpret communication. Subtext is often lost on me.
Loquacious means that it’s very hard to shut me up once I get going on the right subject with the right audience.
Literarily Inclined is a very fancy way of saying I read. A lot. No, I mean, a lot.
Lady just refers to my gender (AFAB/cisgender).
Looking For is simply, you know, seeking. Searching for. Trying to find.
Love, the epitome of what I want.
Now, beyond the allure of my alliteration...
I’m 25 years old and I live in the Midwestern area of the USA. I don’t particularly care where you live, as I’m only open to an online relationship until 2025 or so (because of both personal preference and life circumstances).
The written word is my biggest hobby, both reading and writing it. Despite my often overly logical brain, I usually prefer fiction over non-fiction, and fantasy in particular — it’s an escape of sorts that feels immersive and, well, magical (for lack of a better term).
I haven’t yet completed my undergraduate degree, but I’m working on it. That’s what I get for taking time off and switching majors twice, I suppose. I’d like to earn my Master’s degree someday, but I’m in no real rush for that.
I look like some sort of MPDG/ingenue crossover — I have a quirky, wide-eyed, unconventional prettiness.
I have some pets, and quite honestly, those are children enough for me. I don’t possess a mothering instinct for tiny humans.
The man I’m looking for is, in an ideal nutshell:
- 5-15 years my senior
- Looking for someone to commit to
- Athletic/attractive (hey, we all want a "spark")
- Compassionate towards others
- Not conservative or a cigarette smoker
Thank you for reading all of this. Sincerely, it means a lot to me. Please send me a chat (preferred) or a message about yourself including, at a minimum, your age, your general location, and some defining characteristics about yourself. If I think we could be a good fit I’ll say hi in return.
Either way, have a nice rest of your week, and good luck on your journey ahead!
2024.05.20 03:23 Visible_Corner9805 I’m already over my ex and it’s only been 8 days.
So, pretty much what the title says. My ex (23M) and I (22F) split 8 days ago after a nasty argument. We dated for almost a year (10.5 months to be exact) and even though I wasn’t necessarily miserable I wasn’t exactly happy with him either. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was really, really immature and simple minded, he never understood the complexity of my emotions or my trauma or anything that I went through and it was obvious from the start. Dude’s most traumatic memory was probably when his parents yelled at him.
He had no deep interests, we never really had any deep interesting conversations, which was a great issue for me. I’m someone that values intellect, I love having someone I could talk to just talking about anything and everything, I was felt like my brain was extremely understimuated with him. Still, I comprised, he was a sweet guy. But the longer we dated the more I realized how flawed he is. He had no emotional intelligence whatsoever, he also hated being confronted when he does anything wrong and would immediately jump on defense and escalate things into an argument.
As time went by I realized that talking about my feelings did more harm than good, and i surpassed my emotions and kept them to myself as much as I could, just to avoid causing any conflict. When we were physically together and intimate, it was perfect. We were so in love, my body loved him, I’ve never felt that comfortable with anyone before in bed. It was beautiful. But then when we’re home texting, it just feels so bleak.
Every time he did something wrong and I’d bring it up, he starts listing all the good things he’s done for me to “prove that he loves me and isn’t a bad guy” and just starts defending himself and shifting the blame, saying “all you do is mention the bad stuff, it’s like you forget all I do for you” and even sometimes mentioning all the money he spent on me (which by the way is not a lot, we never went on fancy dates, the most he’d pay for me is a drink or lunch, which is an insane thing to hold over someone’s head)
Sometimes if i say simple jokes or tease him he’d get really offended and take everything as a personal attack, and I’d have to spend the whole day apologizing. It was so exhausting. I couldn’t talk about my feelings, couldn’t make jokes, and had to think about every thing 200 times before I say it. He’d keep reminding me of the things he’s done for me, “i don’t hang out with my friends anymore since we dated for you” (I never asked him to do that), “I ditch my family on occasions for you and they gave me shit for it” (again, never asked for that), “I payed your ER bill that time because i love you, and it was the last bit of cash I had that month so I was broke for the rest of it” (seriously? I’m sorry I was sick..?) I told him that it bothers me so much when he does it, and he never stopped. Every argument, I’d hear about the never ending things he has done for me.
He wasn’t understanding at all, it’s my last semester in uni and I’m an engineering student, I’m under an insane amount of pressure with labs and courses and applying for internships and my grad project, along with dealing with some family issues, and yet if I wasn’t so happy and giddy all the time I was being a bad girlfriend and not giving him enough love. I just needed some support and patience. Every time I tell him anything about myself or my life it felt like he was hearing but not actually listening.. It felt so dismissive. He promised me a dozen of times that he’ll change and become better for me, but it was all words. I think now, that maybe that’s all he had to offer, maybe that was just his extent. Maybe he couldn’t do more because there’s deeper..
Last time we talked, he was complaining about a thing I said the day before, and even though it sounded harmless to me it greatly offended him, I apologized the night it happened and it still wasn’t enough, so I exploded. I told him about everything he does that makes me unhappy, I told him all the things he did that felt manipulative and all the times I felt exhausted and so conflicted on why I’m even in this relationship anymore. I told him I needed him to stop acting like a manchild and to start acting more logically and realize what he’s losing by pushing me away like this. And all that did was make him angry. He took it all as an attack and started to attack me back, he called me lots of vile things. He told me he doesn’t want advice from “someone as mentally ill as me” and that “I’m too insecure so how can I love him if I don’t even love myself” (these things had absolutely nothing to do with our conflict and he only said them with the intent to hurt me) then he started calling me toxic and negative and that I keep sucking the joy out of his life like a mosquito.
When I read those texts, I didn’t feel angry nor sad, I didn’t cry or insult him back or anything. I calmly ended things and just got off my phone and started at the wall in shock. I felt soo disrespected. I really felt something snap inside of me. Ever since then I’ve barely thought about him, and when I do I don’t feel anger or hurt, I only feel disappointment in myself for letting someone like him disrespect me this way.
Now I only feel relief, I always had this feeling that I deserved much better, that he will never be enough and that I need more, but I chose to ignore it for whatever reason. I’m glad he did what he did because now I see his true colors. And they’re so ugly. Just an insecure yet egotistical manchild that is so in love with himself that it’s all he can ever think about. There was no space for me in that relationship.
Sorry for the long read, I just needed to get this off my chest and I didn’t want to bother my friends with it anymore. :3
submitted by Visible_Corner9805 to BreakUps [link] [comments]
He had no deep interests, we never really had any deep interesting conversations, which was a great issue for me. I’m someone that values intellect, I love having someone I could talk to just talking about anything and everything, I was felt like my brain was extremely understimuated with him. Still, I comprised, he was a sweet guy. But the longer we dated the more I realized how flawed he is. He had no emotional intelligence whatsoever, he also hated being confronted when he does anything wrong and would immediately jump on defense and escalate things into an argument.
As time went by I realized that talking about my feelings did more harm than good, and i surpassed my emotions and kept them to myself as much as I could, just to avoid causing any conflict. When we were physically together and intimate, it was perfect. We were so in love, my body loved him, I’ve never felt that comfortable with anyone before in bed. It was beautiful. But then when we’re home texting, it just feels so bleak.
Every time he did something wrong and I’d bring it up, he starts listing all the good things he’s done for me to “prove that he loves me and isn’t a bad guy” and just starts defending himself and shifting the blame, saying “all you do is mention the bad stuff, it’s like you forget all I do for you” and even sometimes mentioning all the money he spent on me (which by the way is not a lot, we never went on fancy dates, the most he’d pay for me is a drink or lunch, which is an insane thing to hold over someone’s head)
Sometimes if i say simple jokes or tease him he’d get really offended and take everything as a personal attack, and I’d have to spend the whole day apologizing. It was so exhausting. I couldn’t talk about my feelings, couldn’t make jokes, and had to think about every thing 200 times before I say it. He’d keep reminding me of the things he’s done for me, “i don’t hang out with my friends anymore since we dated for you” (I never asked him to do that), “I ditch my family on occasions for you and they gave me shit for it” (again, never asked for that), “I payed your ER bill that time because i love you, and it was the last bit of cash I had that month so I was broke for the rest of it” (seriously? I’m sorry I was sick..?) I told him that it bothers me so much when he does it, and he never stopped. Every argument, I’d hear about the never ending things he has done for me.
He wasn’t understanding at all, it’s my last semester in uni and I’m an engineering student, I’m under an insane amount of pressure with labs and courses and applying for internships and my grad project, along with dealing with some family issues, and yet if I wasn’t so happy and giddy all the time I was being a bad girlfriend and not giving him enough love. I just needed some support and patience. Every time I tell him anything about myself or my life it felt like he was hearing but not actually listening.. It felt so dismissive. He promised me a dozen of times that he’ll change and become better for me, but it was all words. I think now, that maybe that’s all he had to offer, maybe that was just his extent. Maybe he couldn’t do more because there’s deeper..
Last time we talked, he was complaining about a thing I said the day before, and even though it sounded harmless to me it greatly offended him, I apologized the night it happened and it still wasn’t enough, so I exploded. I told him about everything he does that makes me unhappy, I told him all the things he did that felt manipulative and all the times I felt exhausted and so conflicted on why I’m even in this relationship anymore. I told him I needed him to stop acting like a manchild and to start acting more logically and realize what he’s losing by pushing me away like this. And all that did was make him angry. He took it all as an attack and started to attack me back, he called me lots of vile things. He told me he doesn’t want advice from “someone as mentally ill as me” and that “I’m too insecure so how can I love him if I don’t even love myself” (these things had absolutely nothing to do with our conflict and he only said them with the intent to hurt me) then he started calling me toxic and negative and that I keep sucking the joy out of his life like a mosquito.
When I read those texts, I didn’t feel angry nor sad, I didn’t cry or insult him back or anything. I calmly ended things and just got off my phone and started at the wall in shock. I felt soo disrespected. I really felt something snap inside of me. Ever since then I’ve barely thought about him, and when I do I don’t feel anger or hurt, I only feel disappointment in myself for letting someone like him disrespect me this way.
Now I only feel relief, I always had this feeling that I deserved much better, that he will never be enough and that I need more, but I chose to ignore it for whatever reason. I’m glad he did what he did because now I see his true colors. And they’re so ugly. Just an insecure yet egotistical manchild that is so in love with himself that it’s all he can ever think about. There was no space for me in that relationship.
Sorry for the long read, I just needed to get this off my chest and I didn’t want to bother my friends with it anymore. :3
2024.05.20 02:13 speedyBoi96240 Round 4: the phantom-weight champion versus the exalted seraph
 | Spitfire slumped over and trudged out of the arena. submitted by speedyBoi96240 to skylanders [link] [comments] His worldview had been altered severely. Not once in his life had he ever thought about giving an opponent respect on their deathbed. But there was just something about that fight that shook his head for him. He ended his round the least injured of anyone before him. An incredible feat considering the two before him were amongst the strongest skylanders. But not only that, round 3 had left the arena in the best state so far. Not many wounds lay upon the battlefield this time giving the cleaners a well deserved break after the catastrophic damage caused in the first 2 rounds. Ambush sat in the stands blown away by what he had just witnessed, other skylanders, mabu and greebles were loudly discussing the outcome. A large and intimidating figure loomed towards ambush. When it reached him a gruff yet booming voice greeted him. “AMBUSH MY GOOD FRIEND ITS NICE TO SEE YOU, WHAT DID I MISS?” Is what the man said. Ambush slightly startled turned to the man knowing exactly who he was. “Tri tip… ive told you countless times that you need to use your inside voice more often” ambush responded. “BUT AMBUSH MY GOOD FRIEND, THIS IS NO TIME FOR SILENCE, THIS IS TIME FOR UPROAR!” Tri tip countered. “Yes yes i suppose an event this exhilarating doesnt happen every day… now you asked what you missed correct?”. “YEYUP”. “Well that spitfire just turned our fellow miss boom bloom into past tense”. “WHAT?”. “I forget you're not the brightest… ahem, boom bloom is dead, spitfire killed her”. “WOAH, SOMEONE ACTUALLY BEAT A SENSEI? AMAZING!” tri tip seemed very happy for someone who had just lost a colleague and friend. “Disturbing priorities aside how is king pen doing?”. “OH YEAH I JUST SAW HIM, HE SHOULD BE SHIP SHAPE BY THE END OF THE NEXT ROUND HE SAID”. “Brilliant, i may have to fight again soon, i dont want him in the hospital for that”. “SO WHO’S UP NEXT?” Tri tip questioned. “Well if you had ever learnt to read you would see the notice board over there” ambush pointed to a large board hovering above the arena as if by magic. “WHEN ONE IS AS IN TOUCH WITH THE POWER OF THE CLUB AS I AM READING PALES IN COMPARISON MY FRIEND”. “Oh no doubt” ambush mocked “well it says the next to fight are night shift and knight light”. Tri tips eyes widened “NO WAY! THE KNIGHT LIGHT? YOU MEAN…”. “I do… the only knight i have ever trained, to surpass me…”. “WOW! I MEAN JUST WOW! WITH A MAN LIKE THAT FIGHTING MY CLUB WANES FOR MY ROUND EVEN MORE!” Tri tips joy could not be contained and exploded out into a destructive little dance that he performed so carelessly that he accidentally trampled a mabu or two yet failed to notice. Suddenly a voice echoed throughout the stadium. “ATTENTION VIEWERS OF THE MOST EXTRAVAGANT EXTRAVAGANZA TO GRACE THIS WORLD IN CENTURIES!” The voice seemed to be coming from speakers placed around the stands. “ROUND 4 OF THE TOURNAMENT WILL BEGIN SHORTLY! DONT FORGET TO PLACE YOUR BETS AND PLEASE MAKE SURE ANY CHILDREN WITHIN THE VICINITY ARE VACATED IMMEDIATELY”. “That’s the que tri tip…” ambush said. tri tip abruptly stopped his dance and swung himself onto one of the benches and yelled “OH SWEET! I CANT WAIT”. “No need to, looks like the fighters are already stepping up to the plate” ambush pointed out. “BRILLIANT! THEY REALLY DID MEAN SHORTLY WHEN THEY SAID SHORTLY!”. “Excellent observation…” ambush said as he rolled his eyes. Before anyone knew it the fighters of round 4 were staring each other down just like the six others before them. Knight light brandished his traptanium scimitar with a stoic expression on his face and night shift was shadow boxing the air inbetween the both of them. Both fighters took their professions before becoming skylanders very seriously. One was an all star in the ring, revered and highly admired amongst the viewership. The other was a knight like no other, an angelic swordsman that wore armour fashioned by the most esteemed blacksmiths and craftsmen skylands had ever known. Even with all of this being popular lore amongst skylands, no one could have forseen what would take place the millisecond the bell rang, no one except the two in the ring. Thats right, a ring, the very place night shift was the reigning champion in for most of his life, until he was forced out due to the officals having to ban his signature techniques. Thats right, they had to ban his fighting style to give anyone a chance. But in this ring… He was free. He could do anything he wanted to the man that stood before him. And night shift displayed his understanding of this once the bell rang… The vampiric boxer opened with a swift chomp to knight lights shoulder. And to everyones suprise… It broke through his armour… The same armour that had never been pierced, not even by the most divine weapons in skylands. Knight light was the only person who was unfazed. “Impressive…” Knight light praised. “You’re impressed by this, boy? Trust me this is nothing compared to what you have yet to see…” night shift stated condescendingly but truthfully. “Is that so? Then please, show me…” Knight light said confidently. Night shift smiled and responded with a technique he liked to call the over underhand. A powerful attack that ended 86% of his fights during his hayday. This involves throwing a simple over hand punch at range, then when the opponent least expects it, using his teleportation he would instantly move in close and throw a powerful under hand strike that embodies the true damage of the technique as opposed to the diversion the first hit is meant to be. So when he performed this on knight light you best believe it did some real damage. Knight light attempted a block on the over hand like so many did in the past. However he simply could not react to the under hand just like everyone else. The resulting damage from the attack left a boxing glove sized hole in knight lights armour revealing his stomach. “Remarkable, i never thoug-” knight light started before being interupted by a lightning fast barrage of punches that were thrown at him. Each punch dented his armour and spread cracks across its surface. Just after a few seconds of the barrage happening knight light had decided that he had had enough… He lifted his hand and bent his fingers like he was holding a sphere before launching a bright flash of light at night shift. “Fighting dirty are we? I can do that too…” knight light said as his opponent was violently blinded. Night shift still had his guard up however, so when knight light swung his scimitar with enough strength to cleave a mountain in two it was not a lethal blow. His knuckle had a chip in it and a tear in one of his coveted gloves was made but overall no problematic damage was taken. An impressive display of a boxing champions instinct that shocked the crowd. “WOW! THIS SHIFTY GUY HAS SOME REAL SKILLS” tri tip yelled to ambush over the cheering audience. “Indeed, however knight light isnt even attempting to win yet…” ambush responded. “WHAT!? THIS IS LITERALLY A FIGHT TO THE DEATH WHAT COULD HE BE WAITING FOR??” tri tip replied in a perplexed manner. “He knows that night shift is not just all stats”. “WHAT?”. “Sigh night shift has a trump card and knight light is trying to bait it out” ambush explained. “AHHH SO HE’S USING HIS BRAIN TO FIGHT! I NEVER REALLY GOT USED TO THAT” tri tip said honestly. “That is unfortunately excruciatingly evident…”. “YEAH WELL YOUR BIG FANCY WORDS HAVE NOTHING ON MY CLUB!” Tri tip yelled defensively. “Yes im sure thats the case, now lets just focus on the match” ambush redirected. “FINE! BUT ONLY BECAUSE THAT ONES THROWING A HAYMAKER!!”. and sure enough if you were watching the fight in that very moment you would see a still blinded night shift throw a devestatingly powerful punch that made a perfect connection with the skull of his opponent. A large shockwave was created by the impact and the tiles of the arena crumbled but more importantly knight lights helmet shattered into a thousand pieces. The man who's face had not been seen ever since his duty of protecting the starlight began… Had eyes cast upon that very face for the first time since then. Underneath he was not a gruff viking or an ascended immortal, instead he was just a person, like everyone else. All of the legends that were told about him had clouded everyones view of such a figure. The revealing of his face made knight light feel more human, it grounded him for the first time in a while, like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. So the act came off, the veil was lifted and he spoke… “you shitty old man…”. At the very sight of hearing such words from this man the crowd silenced themselves. “Do you really think anything you have done so far is impressive?” He continued “Do you really think someone like me could ever be compared to you?” “Well… i thought those things too, until that punch just now” knight light smiled a comforting smile “All of my battles and feats placed me on a pedestal that i wasnt worthy of in my eyes” “But you have just brought me down into a sport” “A place i can be myself and not the stoic hero everyone thinks i am” “So for that i thank you” “Ya done squirt?” Night shift grumbled obviously just regaining his eyesight. “I am” knight light responded. “Good, because all of this character development is real nice n’ all but i want to know why, even after everything i’ve thrown at you…” “You’re still in the same spot you started the match in” The crowd remained silent but in response to night shifts statement the silence grew louder. No one had realised it but even after taking hits that easily broke his armour not once had knight lights feet ever left the ground, not once had he ever been knocked backwards, not once had he cried out in pain and whats more? Not once had he bled. “Well you see… my armour is moreso for theatrics, batman has his outfit, superman has his and so does wonder woman” knight light answered. “Are you sassing me compadre?” Night shift snarled. “Not at all! It is strong armour no doubt but my armour is never what made me strong, no no you see my bones and muscles were enhanced by the starlight itself, after a millenia within its proximity, intern granting me enormous power”. “You talk like your blood is gold and honestly that makes my blood boil but what you're telling me scares me…”. “Why’s that?”. “Because if what you said was true that means… that swing you took at me whilst i was blind, was your absolute weakest possible attack”. “Atleast it wasn’t obvious” knight light chuckled. The crowd began getting loud at the changing tides, this fight just went from fairly even to a massive mismatch. However an interesting development in knight lights demeanour was noticeable as it was no longer pompous and gallant but he was a lot more lax despite still displaying faint hints of those aforementioned traits. “Since a funeral is gonna have to happen soon its best we get back to the fight” night shift yawned. “We probably should but don’t dig your own grave like that, its unbecoming of a champion”. “Oh i wasn’t talking about me pal… ive got no one to attend my funeral”. “Ah a lonely road you’ve paved i take it?”. Night shifts eye twitched with irritation “let’s just box, im sick of hearing shakespear”. “As you wish” knight light obliged and opened with a brutal yet glamorous attack. This attack wasn’t even initiated by so little as a gesture. It simply started with light pouring out of knight lights body. This light was very water like and flowed gracefully before sharpening and becoming rigid. Once solid it wrapped around night shift before he had any hope of reacting to such an attack. It then pulled him towards knight light who began to charge up a special type of swing. One that follows through beyond all the way. This technique was one that had slain many elderitch horrors in the past and its name was “the celestial vortex”. Once night shift was stunned, helpless and in range knight light let loose… He swung his scimitar, but not just regularly, like i said, beyond all the way. The second half of the celestial vortex consists of a 1080 degree spin with the traptanium scimitar. This means the attack encompasses the full area around knight light and strikes three seperate times with powerful blows. And so that is exactly what happened to night shift… The first hit ripped through his ghastly body, the second shattered his mortal bones and the third killed him. Or so everyone thought because although his body laid lifeless on the ground moments after the incredible attack, a coffin manifested around it out of nowhere. This coffin had an ominous aura that swirled in demonic fury around it. But not long after appearing it burst open and a good as new night shift was there ready to settle the score. “Suprise, im immortal” he said with an astonishing amount of hubris for a man who just got diced in three seperate ways. “So thats it is it?” Knight light in the arena and ambush in the audience understood the event at the same time and prefaced this with the exact same words. “THATS GOTTA BREAK SOME KIND OF RULE RIGHT!?” tri tip roared in signature sportsfan fashion. “Well surely an opponent that can’t die has a supreme advantage in a battle to the death yes, however there may be ways around it we are currently unaware of” ambush tried to approach the situation with logic and reason. “NA THIS GUY IS GONNA WIN THE ENTIRE THING, THIS JUST GOT BORING IM OUT” tri tip angrily hopped out of his seat and turned to leave the stadium. Instead he bumped into an individual almost as large as himself. It was king pen, still bandaged up a tad but overall he seemed in good health. “Now now tri tip, did the club not teach you patience?” King pen persuaded. “WHA- KING PEN YOU’RE BACK UP AND RUNNING ALREADY!?” Tri tip was startled by the sudden appearance of his leader, mentor and friend. “Why yes i am, and im glad to say i did not miss too much of this spectacular match”. “BUT YOU SAID YOU’D BE READY BY THE END OF ROUND 4”. “Oh silly tri tip, always being so dense, thats what i love about you, theres no bigger picture in your mind. Can’t you see the round is already coming to a close?” His words sounded harsh but they were comforting and professional in a strange way. “I- IT IS?”. “Just watch, my friend” king pen put a hand on the shoulder tri tip did not have his club over and guided him back into his seat then sat peacefully beside him. Night shift was still, his guard was raised and his eyes were focused. Knight light was obviously brain storming, desperately trying to find a way he could overcome immortality. But it wasn’t possible… There isn’t a way to kill an opponent that can’t die… All he could do was smile softly. “There may be nothing i can do to you vampire… however! I will put up my very best against you!” He said confidently. “Id expect nothing less” night shift replied in agreement with his philosophy. And so knight light engaged with a heavy swing downwards onto night shift who swiftly teleported out of the way. Knight light spun around with another ferocious swing that again was dodged easily. The powerful shockwaves from these attacks tore apart the arena violently. Many more swings were performed and each successive one had more power than the last. After 12 or so more attacks night shift performed his final dodge. Not to say he got hit no, he simply began charging up a powerful punch in response to knight lights onslought. This was no ordinary punch however. The way he tensed his phantom muscles was very unique. He held the power that he would normally release into one of his jabs. This subsequently multiplied the force that the punch would exert. But the main problem was that he had to hold the punch for a while. A feat that wasn’t easy with an actively attacking opponent. So when knight light began another swing, night shift tapped into a power that would majorly help him. This power allowed him to constantly teleport to every location simultaneously within a small area around knight light. This made him virtually unhittable. He called it “the ghost gods ring”. Knight light was completely perplexed by the sight of such an ability. His attacks halted and his brain was scattered in thought. But again everything has a downside and this technique drained night shifts stamina incredibly fast. At the very least he had to throw this powerful punch with enough energy to not make it a dud. However he only had this one chance to do it… It was an all or nothing approach but it was the only way he could ever hope to win. So he channelled both techniques for an entire minute. A minute is what he assumed to be the perfect amount of time but really he had no clue. A constant minute of being omnipresent in a specific section of the arena… A constant minute of having his very internal forces gestate and multiply within his muscles… This was an incredibly risky play to make, if he didnt end this with this attack he was absolutely done for. His body would be destroyed internally and he would be forced to die over and over again until he had regained enough energy to try it again. But now was the time to launch it… He methodically stopped his rapid teleportation behind knight light. Then he released all of the pent up force he had been holding in, into a full fledged super punch. The punch radiated power, it generated shockwaves just by existing. Reality warped and light bended around it. The size of the fist grew to a humongous size as if by the will of the universe. This attack was called “The pinnacle of punches” and it ended 1% of night shifts matches back in the day. It came into contact with knight light before he even realised what was happening. Steam was being let off in every direction and the surrounding section of the arena was levelled completely with nothing built by mabu remaining. Knight lights last few pieces of armour turned to dust. All that survived was his boots and his pants. Night shift struggled to keep the punch thrown. His vision swayed and his energy dwindled but he kept holding out for the win. Well he did until… His fist exploded. The sheer pressure of the clash was too much for his hand to take. Everyone including both fighters were absolutely gobsmacked with this development in the fight. But what they were to see next would set the precedent… that this fight was unwinnable… Knight light appeared to have taken zero damage from that attack. And whats worse was the fact that his feet were still in the exact same spot they had been in the entire fight. The first person to realise the match was a lost cause was none other than night shift himself. “So thats it huh…” he said in a hushed tone “You are one hell of a guy” “You took the best i had…” “And you’re not just still standing…” “You didn’t even budge, you didn’t even bruise” “The only one who got hurt by that hit was me” “And honestly i’d be pissed if it didn’t…” “That was the strongest punch i have ever thrown and im proud of it” “But more importantly im concerned about this match now…” “Neither of us can kill the other, i can’t put a dent on ya and you can’t put me down for good” “So what’re we gon’ do?” He finished “While i appreciate your praise and your power i actually did think of a way to kill you” knight light confessed. If everyone wasn’t already silent from shock they were now. “You did?” Night shift asked intrigued. “Yeah but before i show you i just wanted to say a few things” “I’ve never had such an intense fight” “Its been a real rollercoaster and to be quite honest at the beginning i thought you were just a grumpy old fart” “But you exceeded every expectation i had of you” “And just for you im gonna try to talk normally from now on” he finished the sentence with one last comforting smile “Hehe… i’d say your doing a great job, i understood every word you said just fine” night shift chuckled. The whole crowd was dying to know what knight light had in store for them. No one could believe a way to kill the unkillable existed. But little did they know… Knight light was about to invent one… “Alright!” He yelled to gather everyones attention “Observe! For you won’t see a more impressive attack as long as you venture within this realm!” He said raising his arms, one holding his scimitar “So much for talking normally…” night shift mumbled. All of the spectators viewed intently only to see… Knight light doing the unthinkable before doing the even more unthinkable. He stepped forward… For the first time in this match he had moved out of his starting position. A thing that would be commonplace in any other fight had become suprising to see in this one. But he didn’t step forward for no reason no, he took a stance with his scimitar over his head in the air. He was slightly crouched and he held his free hand outwards like he was stopping someone. His wings outstretched themselves as if ready to take flight. Now that all of the preparation was done he inhaled slowly then exhaled even slower… Suddenly a pool of light formed around his feet and expanded to encompass a large area around him. Then his body began to glow with a radiant light, like that of the sun. The very same light encircled his sword and began to wrap around it like a web that flexed and vibrated in a helix pattern. “Your fighting style reminded me of something…” he began “The way you made yourself seem numerous and the fact that every punch you threw was stunningly beautiful” “It just brought stars to my mind” “And what was around before the stars?” “Nothing” “So thats exactly what this attack will do” “Not nothing, but it will completely erase anything in its path, wiping anything from the face of reality” The crowd loudly discussed this revelation. Ofcourse it was so simple yet no one else had ever thought of it. The crowd seemed to understand the weight of these statements. But one question was asked numerous times within their discussions. Could an attack really remove something from the world for good? Well… Knight light would be about to answer that question… For when he swings his blade… The truth will be evident. “In a way this attack will be named after you…” knight light was still talking as the attack was charging “You inspired it…” the light danced around him in the air and shimmered on his body “And Im going to name it after the inspiration” his scimitar was glowing with a very volatile and unstable light that shifted tones so much no one could determine its colour “It must be an honour having to be killed this way…” his muscles tensed in response to the light moving on his body as if they were soaking it in like a plant “Likewise its an honour having to kill you this way…” the very air in the stadium began to sparkle like glitter “That’s why im calling this ability, the highest possible grade of attack that can ever be reached, “the brightest constellation” as soon as he finished those words knight light jumped into the air “I couldn’t have had a better opponent in this here match today… thank you” night shift heroically stood proud ready to embrace death as he said his final words. The jump knight light performed broke the sound barrier and created a sonic boom that sent people in the stadium flying off of their seats. The liquid light that covered the floor of the arena attempted to follow him up into the sky, this created a bunch of pillars that were formed out of this light. Once knight light reached the apex of his jump he began hovering in place with his wings. “I thank you too…” he muttered knowing that only he could hear anything he had to say. Then he readied his scimitar and began a skydive back down to the arena. Light encompassed his body like a cacoon. It swirled enchantingly around him. On the otherhand the light on his blade began to erupt with an unsettling degree of colour. Before he knew it he was nearing the ground. In preparation he held his sword in the swinging position. Then when he was within the boundaries of the stadium again he swung his blade horizontally towards night shift with the momentum of his skydive included. All of the light within his blade, surrounding him and on the floor of the arena shot at night shift. He landed shortly after. Before reaching night shift the light transformed into stars that were linked together by lines, they resembled constellations incredibly well. But they didn’t last long because shortly after coming into creation they detonated and discharged a beyond blinding amount of light. Everyone in the audience could not see as a result of this. The attack was the mother of all flashbangs and everyone going wild in the stands proved it. The fact that they could not see meant they could not know what happened to night shift. And that was the main focus right in this moment. Everyone NEEDED to know what had happened. But no one would get an answer until the first few viewers regained their eyesight. After 19 excruciatingly long and chaotic minutes the very first people able to see again witnessed the state the arena was in. The entire third of the arena night shift was stood in… Had been decimated… It looked as though it had been carved right down to nothing, it boasted a weirdly smooth and eerie shape. Almost like within a radius of that attack, things had indeed been set to zero. But no one knew how. No one except knight light. Who was smiling with a tear in his eye. he grimly said with a catch in his throat “i’ll come to your funeral night shift…”. THE WINNER OF THIS BOUT IS KNIGHT LIGHT, THE EXALTED SERAPH! |
2024.05.20 01:20 The_Deprived_99 Do you prefer Kaede Akiyama having her ponytail or having her hair down? Or both?
 | submitted by The_Deprived_99 to Kengan_Ashura [link] [comments] |
2024.05.20 00:56 orangeplr I believed in fairies as a kid. I think something terrible happened to me
I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?
submitted by orangeplr to nosleep [link] [comments]
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?
2024.05.20 00:07 starkgaryens A reasonable objection to Yasuke as a co-protagonist
Reasonable is a subjective term...
Warning: Long and insane rant incoming.
I’ll start by getting it out of the way that I’m not a racist or sexist. I’m a Japanese American man who happens to think Adewale and Aveline are among the coolest protagonists in AC and has no issues with an African, Indian, Korean, etc. protagonist, man or woman, in any setting where they make sense. (More on the making sense part later.)
Kassandra is also one of my favorites, but while she and Eivor were better than nothing, they were both essentially just female skins. Their stories should’ve acknowledged their gender in some way imo, and I’ve argued way more than I should’ve with people who pulled the historical accuracy card on them.
I agree that some of the people who complain about Yasuke sound like racists, but I think you can legitimately object to his being a co-star without racism being involved. (I’m also slowly coming around to accepting Yasuke.)
I also realize that I shouldn’t judge the game too harshly yet, as it hasn’t been released yet... But we do have the trailer.
With that out of the way, as an Asian male and longtime fan of the series, I’m disappointed that they squandered the perfect opportunity to have a positive/cool depiction of a Japanese male in the Japanese and first East Asian entry in one of the most popular series in the world given the decades-long history of western media’s marginalizing and demeaning Asian men. I mention AC’s popularity to point out the potential it has to positively influence a wide audience.
I'll respond to most of justifications I've seen for Yasuke as a protagonist in an AC game set in Japan one by one for easier reading.
And let’s face it, an info dump is an info dump. No one wants to hear extended explanations on the finer points of Japanese society, no matter who it’s conveyed to. The database can handle the deeper stuff, and any info necessary for the player could’ve just as easily been explained to a slightly unaccustomed Japanese rookie samurai.
“Better audience surrogate” is a solution to a problem that didn’t exist.
The Naoe defense also ignores that fact that we could've had both a Japanese female AND male protagonist if Ubisoft followed their most recent 4-game (if you count Origins) track record of male and female protagonists that are both of their setting. It just doesn’t sit right with me that they decided to change this formula among others with the first East Asian setting.
It was also made by a Japanese company that has a track record of including Japanese protagonists. That track record gives them some leeway to change things up without being accused of whitewashing Asian characters.
Again, as a longtime Japanese American fan of the series, I'm happy that AC Japan is finally here but disappointed that Ubi decided to inflate a small part of "Japan's" history and slap him on the cover as one of its representatives. I would feel the same (worse actually) if it was William Adams there.
I'd also feel the same if a hypothetical white protagonist who was a footnote in an African nation's history took the place of a fictional African protagonist. I think most people would feel the same too, and the uproar would surely be greater.
The real question is, "Did Yasuke fit the classic image of a badass armored warrior or robed ronin most people imagine (and that appeared in the trailer) when they think 'samurai'?"
The Japanese (especially in the past) actually use a different word when they're being specific about warriors fitting that image, and it's "bushi" (as in "bushido" or "way of the warrior"). That word is conspicuously missing from Yasuke's historical record. There's probably a reason for that.
At that point, are you really telling his story? Is there value in promoting fanciful conjecture that is based on essentially nothing? Obviously, there’s a monetary incentive for Ubi to capitalize on the popular trend of farfetched depictions of Yasuke, but is that it?
It’s a given that the real Yasuke probably lived a fascinating life, but Ubi will likely gloss over the actual struggles he faced as a complete outsider in a frankly very racist time and place. It almost seems disrespectful to attribute all sorts of things that probably weren’t true just to spice things up for a video game. (And yes, I think Ubi should've included at least some examples of the struggles Kassandra and Eivor would've surely faced, but at least they were made up people.)
I think that borders on racism when you consider that that’s never a concern when it’s the umpteenth white protagonist in a medieval European setting (or any setting). It implies that Asian characters are just too similar to each other to be marketable too close to each other.
But they’re only similar to each other in western-made media because western writers cling to tired tropes like honor and stoicism. The perpetuation of such stereotypes has an impact. I’ve seen people here claim that it’s a fact that Japanese people are uniquely less capable of resisting societal constrictions, hence the choice of Yasuke.
Another implied that historical codes of honor are things that most Japanese people still live by. They’re not, and that person obviously doesn’t know too many Japanese people and probably got their misconception from one-sided media portrayals.
Just like the codes of chivalry for European knights, the codes of Japanese honor were simply the ideals of the people that wrote them, who were themselves just a small subset of their population. It’s impossible to think that all or even most of the people back then actually abided by them, samurai or not.
And I'm a fan of the AC series. I'm not interested in playing GoT.
Why would anyone, Assassin or Templar, choose the only black person in Japan as their secret agent in the field? Firsthand accounts describe crowds of onlookers offering money to catch a glimpse of him wherever he went.
An extremely-conspicuous total-outsider is simply the least ideal protagonist in a series about remaining inconspicuous while murdering dozens of people. Previous protagonists could fully navigate their environments because they were a part of them. Knowing their lands, languages, peoples, and cultures and fitting in with them, I can believe that they successfully moved through them while keeping their actions (and names) hidden from the pages of history.
I can even buy that Kassandra and Eivor existed despite “historical accuracy.” Because half the population of any group of people is women, the two could conceivably blend in and be forgotten imo, especially when you consider that they also lived MUCH further back in time. There's much more we don't know about that far back in history.
This might be another thing that's falsely construed as racist, but it's a fact that local populations don't take kindly to singularly-unique foreign outsiders cutting down their friends and loved ones, regardless of who their boss is. Yasuke would’ve been (in)famous and lived on in legends told for generations, even if the Templars tried to erase his historical record. He would've surely been seen and positively identified as Nobunaga’s famous black samurai by hundreds of witnesses as he did all the things the non-stealthy one of the two protagonists does.
Any believability issues that previous AC games had are multiplied tenfold by Yasuke being a combination of real, black, and not an NPC in Sengoku Japan. It’s a substantial layer of unbelievability added on top of a base that already existed in previous games that did in fact claim some semblance of believability. Yasuke is just on another level, and while I think it’s fine to enjoy him in Shadows as pure fantasy, let’s not pretend he makes any sense. Which brings me to my main issue...
I admit that western media has gotten a lot better at representation, but it’s still a fairly recent thing and there’s still a long way to go. A recent hot-take of an IGN article made at least one correct claim that Asian representation shouldn’t be confined to ninjas and samurai.
But the solution to the problem isn’t to take away some of the only positive but one-sided representations we have. The solution is to broaden Asian representation to portray them as ordinary people with diverse appearances and personalities in all walks of life. Until that becomes a norm, Asians should be allowed to star as ninjas, samurai, kung fu masters, etc. as long as the depictions aren’t negative caricatures. In fact, they can be gateways to diversifying their portrayals.
If Ubi really wanted to differentiate itself from GoT’s Jin, they could’ve just given Shadows’ samurai a completely different personality instead of lazily changing his race. It’s about time a western dev broke away from the tired stoic warrior trope. "But this is Ubisoft... They're incapable of nuanced portrayals of minorities..." That's cop-out excuse imo.
No one game can reverse decades of marginalization and negative stereotypes, but individual movies, shows, public discourses, and yes, video games make up the collective whole of media, which has a massive impact on perceptions within a society. I believe individual representations make a difference, so I support increased diversity in every piece of media as long as it’s not at the expense of good writing and not at the expense of opportunities for other marginalized groups.
NOTE: This post was initially removed from assassinscreed because "it covered a topic covered within the last 7 days." I've since been permanently banned from that subreddit for a separate reason mentioned in the post, so I've reposted here. I revised the original post by adding some points and making it more readable, but it's essentially the same from before.
Mods, please don't remove this or ban me. I spent a lot of time and thought on this, and I think it's respectful to everyone.
submitted by starkgaryens to AssassinsCreedShadows [link] [comments]
Warning: Long and insane rant incoming.
Preface
I’ve been spending way too much time responding to individual comments recently, so I decided to put all my thoughts into one post.I’ll start by getting it out of the way that I’m not a racist or sexist. I’m a Japanese American man who happens to think Adewale and Aveline are among the coolest protagonists in AC and has no issues with an African, Indian, Korean, etc. protagonist, man or woman, in any setting where they make sense. (More on the making sense part later.)
Kassandra is also one of my favorites, but while she and Eivor were better than nothing, they were both essentially just female skins. Their stories should’ve acknowledged their gender in some way imo, and I’ve argued way more than I should’ve with people who pulled the historical accuracy card on them.
I agree that some of the people who complain about Yasuke sound like racists, but I think you can legitimately object to his being a co-star without racism being involved. (I’m also slowly coming around to accepting Yasuke.)
I also realize that I shouldn’t judge the game too harshly yet, as it hasn’t been released yet... But we do have the trailer.
With that out of the way, as an Asian male and longtime fan of the series, I’m disappointed that they squandered the perfect opportunity to have a positive/cool depiction of a Japanese male in the Japanese and first East Asian entry in one of the most popular series in the world given the decades-long history of western media’s marginalizing and demeaning Asian men. I mention AC’s popularity to point out the potential it has to positively influence a wide audience.
I'll respond to most of justifications I've seen for Yasuke as a protagonist in an AC game set in Japan one by one for easier reading.
“Yasuke is a better audience surrogate...”
This is a weak excuse. No one has ever complained about this, because the series has always had the perfect surrogate in the form of the modern-day protagonist.And let’s face it, an info dump is an info dump. No one wants to hear extended explanations on the finer points of Japanese society, no matter who it’s conveyed to. The database can handle the deeper stuff, and any info necessary for the player could’ve just as easily been explained to a slightly unaccustomed Japanese rookie samurai.
“Better audience surrogate” is a solution to a problem that didn’t exist.
"But Naoe is Japanese...”
This justification falls flat on me, because the problems have always been different between Asian men and woman in western media. Portrayals of Asian women used to focus on exotic sexualization, but because of that, they got comparatively more screen-time than their male counterparts.The Naoe defense also ignores that fact that we could've had both a Japanese female AND male protagonist if Ubisoft followed their most recent 4-game (if you count Origins) track record of male and female protagonists that are both of their setting. It just doesn’t sit right with me that they decided to change this formula among others with the first East Asian setting.
“But people didn’t complain about Nioh’s white protag...”
This accusation falls flat on me too, because Nioh is not a good comparison. It’s a straight-up fantasy game that focuses exclusively on fighting supernatural enemies. It doesn’t pretend to have an ounce of historical accuracy or realism.It was also made by a Japanese company that has a track record of including Japanese protagonists. That track record gives them some leeway to change things up without being accused of whitewashing Asian characters.
"But Yasuke is a real part of Japan's history..."
He's a footnote in Japan's history. If we're being honest, the only reason we even know about him is because he was black in a time when there were almost no black people and was a retainer for Nobunaga. Nothing in his historical record mentions him doing anything else of much significance, most likely because there was very little he could do in his position. It's not racist to acknowledge this.Again, as a longtime Japanese American fan of the series, I'm happy that AC Japan is finally here but disappointed that Ubi decided to inflate a small part of "Japan's" history and slap him on the cover as one of its representatives. I would feel the same (worse actually) if it was William Adams there.
I'd also feel the same if a hypothetical white protagonist who was a footnote in an African nation's history took the place of a fictional African protagonist. I think most people would feel the same too, and the uproar would surely be greater.
"But Yasuke WAS an actual samurai..."
I think the debate about whether he was or wasn't a "samurai" is largely irrelevant and completely misses the point. I agree that he was a "samurai," but historical records also make it sound like he was Nobunaga's favored trophy pet (if we're being completely honest). (The preceding sentence got me permanently banned for "racism" on the main AC subreddit, but I don't think it's racist to acknowledge racism, even the overt form it took in the past.) It's entirely possible (and likely) that he was made an honorary "samurai" for that reason alone. Because "samurai" is technically just a title and privileged position.The real question is, "Did Yasuke fit the classic image of a badass armored warrior or robed ronin most people imagine (and that appeared in the trailer) when they think 'samurai'?"
The Japanese (especially in the past) actually use a different word when they're being specific about warriors fitting that image, and it's "bushi" (as in "bushido" or "way of the warrior"). That word is conspicuously missing from Yasuke's historical record. There's probably a reason for that.
"But Yasuke's story deserves to be told..."
Similar to the badass warrior aspect, nothing in the historical record specifically mentions that he learned the language or integrated into the culture particularly well, so any portrayal of that sort is wishful appropriation at best imo.At that point, are you really telling his story? Is there value in promoting fanciful conjecture that is based on essentially nothing? Obviously, there’s a monetary incentive for Ubi to capitalize on the popular trend of farfetched depictions of Yasuke, but is that it?
It’s a given that the real Yasuke probably lived a fascinating life, but Ubi will likely gloss over the actual struggles he faced as a complete outsider in a frankly very racist time and place. It almost seems disrespectful to attribute all sorts of things that probably weren’t true just to spice things up for a video game. (And yes, I think Ubi should've included at least some examples of the struggles Kassandra and Eivor would've surely faced, but at least they were made up people.)
“Go play Ghost of Tsushima...”
These people are probably the worst. Honestly, I think Ubi is also guilty of agreeing with the underlying sentiment in this line of thinking. Contrary to others, I think Yasuke was less of a “woke” diversity decision and more of a “GoT already did a Japanese guy” decision.I think that borders on racism when you consider that that’s never a concern when it’s the umpteenth white protagonist in a medieval European setting (or any setting). It implies that Asian characters are just too similar to each other to be marketable too close to each other.
But they’re only similar to each other in western-made media because western writers cling to tired tropes like honor and stoicism. The perpetuation of such stereotypes has an impact. I’ve seen people here claim that it’s a fact that Japanese people are uniquely less capable of resisting societal constrictions, hence the choice of Yasuke.
Another implied that historical codes of honor are things that most Japanese people still live by. They’re not, and that person obviously doesn’t know too many Japanese people and probably got their misconception from one-sided media portrayals.
Just like the codes of chivalry for European knights, the codes of Japanese honor were simply the ideals of the people that wrote them, who were themselves just a small subset of their population. It’s impossible to think that all or even most of the people back then actually abided by them, samurai or not.
And I'm a fan of the AC series. I'm not interested in playing GoT.
Historical accuracy vs believability
While there are definitely significant historical accuracy issues with that portrayal of Yasuke, they’re comparatively minor next to the replacement issue in my mind. Historical accuracy is really only an issue for me in the context of a more general believability issue.Why would anyone, Assassin or Templar, choose the only black person in Japan as their secret agent in the field? Firsthand accounts describe crowds of onlookers offering money to catch a glimpse of him wherever he went.
An extremely-conspicuous total-outsider is simply the least ideal protagonist in a series about remaining inconspicuous while murdering dozens of people. Previous protagonists could fully navigate their environments because they were a part of them. Knowing their lands, languages, peoples, and cultures and fitting in with them, I can believe that they successfully moved through them while keeping their actions (and names) hidden from the pages of history.
I can even buy that Kassandra and Eivor existed despite “historical accuracy.” Because half the population of any group of people is women, the two could conceivably blend in and be forgotten imo, especially when you consider that they also lived MUCH further back in time. There's much more we don't know about that far back in history.
This might be another thing that's falsely construed as racist, but it's a fact that local populations don't take kindly to singularly-unique foreign outsiders cutting down their friends and loved ones, regardless of who their boss is. Yasuke would’ve been (in)famous and lived on in legends told for generations, even if the Templars tried to erase his historical record. He would've surely been seen and positively identified as Nobunaga’s famous black samurai by hundreds of witnesses as he did all the things the non-stealthy one of the two protagonists does.
“But Leonardo da Vinci didn’t actually help assassins build a hidden blade either...”
The central conceit of the AC series has always been playing with the idea of secret organizations, conspiracies, ancient beings, and sci-fi artifacts being involved with figures and events within the blank spaces of history. Yes, Yasuke’s blanks are big, but again, they wouldn’t be big if he was doing the things we saw in the trailer.Any believability issues that previous AC games had are multiplied tenfold by Yasuke being a combination of real, black, and not an NPC in Sengoku Japan. It’s a substantial layer of unbelievability added on top of a base that already existed in previous games that did in fact claim some semblance of believability. Yasuke is just on another level, and while I think it’s fine to enjoy him in Shadows as pure fantasy, let’s not pretend he makes any sense. Which brings me to my main issue...
Representation and the replacement issue
Considering the nonsensical nature of Yasuke as a protagonist, it makes his taking the spot as the series’ first Asian male lead in a mainline game all the more off-putting to me. In the best-case scenario, Ubi is simply trying to capitalize on the popular cool black samurai trend as I mentioned. But they’re still doing it at the expense of an Asian male lead.I admit that western media has gotten a lot better at representation, but it’s still a fairly recent thing and there’s still a long way to go. A recent hot-take of an IGN article made at least one correct claim that Asian representation shouldn’t be confined to ninjas and samurai.
But the solution to the problem isn’t to take away some of the only positive but one-sided representations we have. The solution is to broaden Asian representation to portray them as ordinary people with diverse appearances and personalities in all walks of life. Until that becomes a norm, Asians should be allowed to star as ninjas, samurai, kung fu masters, etc. as long as the depictions aren’t negative caricatures. In fact, they can be gateways to diversifying their portrayals.
If Ubi really wanted to differentiate itself from GoT’s Jin, they could’ve just given Shadows’ samurai a completely different personality instead of lazily changing his race. It’s about time a western dev broke away from the tired stoic warrior trope. "But this is Ubisoft... They're incapable of nuanced portrayals of minorities..." That's cop-out excuse imo.
No one game can reverse decades of marginalization and negative stereotypes, but individual movies, shows, public discourses, and yes, video games make up the collective whole of media, which has a massive impact on perceptions within a society. I believe individual representations make a difference, so I support increased diversity in every piece of media as long as it’s not at the expense of good writing and not at the expense of opportunities for other marginalized groups.
Conclusion
If you read everything this far, thank you. Again, I realize that the game isn’t even out yet and that I may be proven spectacularly wrong somehow. Either way, I can now focus my ire on the excessive monetization and live service BS that Shadows and the Infinity hub will surely have, and you all should too :) Or maybe I'll just touch grass.NOTE: This post was initially removed from assassinscreed because "it covered a topic covered within the last 7 days." I've since been permanently banned from that subreddit for a separate reason mentioned in the post, so I've reposted here. I revised the original post by adding some points and making it more readable, but it's essentially the same from before.
Mods, please don't remove this or ban me. I spent a lot of time and thought on this, and I think it's respectful to everyone.
2024.05.19 23:07 Kemikalsies Relationships with colleagues
There was a period when I was very sociable. Now I keep fluctuating between moods, and despite succeeding in every area of my life, I now feel like I want more, more progress, more success, but I also crave connection. Problem is that I unconsciously push that out of my life. I know that you can be a great companion to people even if you barely know any fancy words or cheap theatrics to compensate with, but I started not trusting people anymore, not being so vulnerable, therefore, they let me be. Is this part of growing up?
submitted by Kemikalsies to ENFP [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 22:44 NoAttempt3333 Complete mortification
Throwaway account because of complete mortification. I was staying as a guest at a friend-of-a-friend's very fancy house while traveling. Period came unexpectedly and I woke up with blood everywhere - all over my pajamas and sheets and even soaked into the mattress cover (thankfully not the bed below it). I tried to covertly wash the sheets and mattress cover with handsoap in the sink, all panicked and all before coffee. I got it mostly out, but not completely. The very nice host lady had explicitly told me the night before not to strip the bed because "she has her own system." The very nice host guy saw me with the sheets and said "oh no, you're not supposed to do that, she has her own system, I'll help you put them back on." I fumbled something about "oh I completely forgot, must be habit, haha" and "well let me just get some coffee first and then I'll put it back together myself" to which he thankfully went along with. I put the sheets and mattress cover back on, so then it was either obvious what had happened OR looked like I peed the bed which isn't much of an improvement.
It would have been slightly less mortifying if it was either a good friend OR a complete stranger, but this was in the awkward in-between when you have to be "on your best behavior."
Well, you say, this could happen to anyone. BUT why the hell can't I just get an app and track when my period might arrive, like every other sensible female? Why does my brain like to pretend I'll not have another period ever again? I FEEL SO STUPID. I've had 34 YEARS of periods. I should have learned by now!!!!
Once I'd had time to think about it, it would have been so much better to say to the nice host lady "I'm so very sorry, this is totally embarrassing, my period came unexpectedly and I seem to have made a mess, so I've brought the sheets and mattress cover down to the washing machine." I'm sure as a female she would have been understanding. I can only say I panicked and wasn't thinking clearly.
Since I don't have a time machine, PLEASE y'all do me a favor and go get an app if you don't have one, and turn on notifications, put a towel underneath when you're staying as a guest somewhere within a few days of your period arrival. And any words of comfort to lessen my mortification would be most welcome.
submitted by NoAttempt3333 to PMDDxADHD [link] [comments]
It would have been slightly less mortifying if it was either a good friend OR a complete stranger, but this was in the awkward in-between when you have to be "on your best behavior."
Well, you say, this could happen to anyone. BUT why the hell can't I just get an app and track when my period might arrive, like every other sensible female? Why does my brain like to pretend I'll not have another period ever again? I FEEL SO STUPID. I've had 34 YEARS of periods. I should have learned by now!!!!
Once I'd had time to think about it, it would have been so much better to say to the nice host lady "I'm so very sorry, this is totally embarrassing, my period came unexpectedly and I seem to have made a mess, so I've brought the sheets and mattress cover down to the washing machine." I'm sure as a female she would have been understanding. I can only say I panicked and wasn't thinking clearly.
Since I don't have a time machine, PLEASE y'all do me a favor and go get an app if you don't have one, and turn on notifications, put a towel underneath when you're staying as a guest somewhere within a few days of your period arrival. And any words of comfort to lessen my mortification would be most welcome.
2024.05.19 22:34 capressley Job says to Stafeno, " once we're through that gate we're home free. Stefano, I need you to think of a way to get by those guards." Stefano says,"You're the rogue, aren't you the one with all the fancy words?"
 | submitted by capressley to VTTMapGenerator [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 22:14 noobvs_aeternvm One, I Hope
“You come here with your fancy machines of metal and fire through the hills and the skies. They bring food, medicine, death and destruction. Back when I was alive, we had no fancy machines, but we did have a wheel. I was inside the wheel with my brother, making it go round and round to pull up the rope, which lifted up the stone, which would rest on top of the walls.
I didn’t see the rope break, all I saw was the wheel getting closer and the world starting spinning. By the mercy of God, I didn’t feel the wheel rip off my limbs, all I saw was the world stopped spinning and I was reaching for the skies. For the briefest of moments, I felt my body weightless and my soul in peace, before the clouds started moving away and I realized my time on Earth was done.
You don’t know my name, my brother’s, our mother’s or any of those who gave their time, their lives, their children, but you know what we gave them for, you see it with your own eyes, because it is still here. Centuries passed, empires rose and fell and our work is still here. Throughout the ages, it has provided comfort and strength to our descendants, by blood or spirit, as they faced Lombards, Saracens, famine and pest. For fourteen centuries, it has stood as the first bastion of the values of our patron saint and, even if you don’t believe the same God we do, you can still see this is more than stone and bricks, this means something. The legacy I gave my life for and which has taken greater and prettier form, as each of the souls who found shelter and comfort in here has made it shine just a little bit brighter.
Now you come here with your metal and fire, set on raining death from the skies and destroy our legacy, the monument we raised for dozens of generations after us and thousands more after you. And why? Why do you want to bring down what we brought up?”
“I don’t want to destroy anything. I’m just trying to bring my men back home.”
“And how many of your men do you expect to spare by destroying our abbey?”
“At least one, I hope.”
The limbless ghost falls silent, as do the endless crowd of peasants, nobles, monks and nuns who have been rowdily watching, anxiously waiting for their turn to say their piece to the Allied commander. Finally, Benedict, who has not spoken a word for over a thousand of years, breaks the silence:
“Proceed.”
February 15, 1944. The Allied bombers return to base, their mission accomplished. After 1,415 years, the first abbey of Saint Benedictine is no more.
________________
Tks for reading. If you found it interesting, I have more pieces here.
submitted by noobvs_aeternvm to HFY [link] [comments]
I didn’t see the rope break, all I saw was the wheel getting closer and the world starting spinning. By the mercy of God, I didn’t feel the wheel rip off my limbs, all I saw was the world stopped spinning and I was reaching for the skies. For the briefest of moments, I felt my body weightless and my soul in peace, before the clouds started moving away and I realized my time on Earth was done.
You don’t know my name, my brother’s, our mother’s or any of those who gave their time, their lives, their children, but you know what we gave them for, you see it with your own eyes, because it is still here. Centuries passed, empires rose and fell and our work is still here. Throughout the ages, it has provided comfort and strength to our descendants, by blood or spirit, as they faced Lombards, Saracens, famine and pest. For fourteen centuries, it has stood as the first bastion of the values of our patron saint and, even if you don’t believe the same God we do, you can still see this is more than stone and bricks, this means something. The legacy I gave my life for and which has taken greater and prettier form, as each of the souls who found shelter and comfort in here has made it shine just a little bit brighter.
Now you come here with your metal and fire, set on raining death from the skies and destroy our legacy, the monument we raised for dozens of generations after us and thousands more after you. And why? Why do you want to bring down what we brought up?”
“I don’t want to destroy anything. I’m just trying to bring my men back home.”
“And how many of your men do you expect to spare by destroying our abbey?”
“At least one, I hope.”
The limbless ghost falls silent, as do the endless crowd of peasants, nobles, monks and nuns who have been rowdily watching, anxiously waiting for their turn to say their piece to the Allied commander. Finally, Benedict, who has not spoken a word for over a thousand of years, breaks the silence:
“Proceed.”
February 15, 1944. The Allied bombers return to base, their mission accomplished. After 1,415 years, the first abbey of Saint Benedictine is no more.
________________
Tks for reading. If you found it interesting, I have more pieces here.
2024.05.19 21:45 Faszpapa Why am i myself?
why i mean by that is why do i look out of my own eyes, why am i this person? Why was i born as this person, and not someone else before, or after my birth? I was made from the food and nutrients that my mother gave me while i was in her womb. there was a time where i didnt exist, and i exist now. why does seeing a specific wavelenght of light make me see it as "red" or "green"? i have so many questions.
(ps: please dont write fancy philosophy words because im not a philosopher lol)
submitted by Faszpapa to askphilosophy [link] [comments]
(ps: please dont write fancy philosophy words because im not a philosopher lol)
2024.05.19 21:45 _Moon_sun_ I made crimz!
 | Hello is Morgana the beautifull again :) submitted by _Moon_sun_ to legalcatadvice [link] [comments] My mammi wanted to do a ‘dra-ing’ is when they make picture appear on paper with ‘pensil’ (fancy word for stick) But i see perfekt fine biting toy! I is having new teef grow in (more to bite wif hehe) and is ver itchy! So i wants to make less itchy means i wants to bitebitebite. Mammi Sais “is no food, no eats” and she pushes me away! But i keeps going back to bite and she keeps saying no! But i no Care i goes to bite again. Next time she push me i bited her arm hehe and gave bunny kicks muhahaha Picture is of my mammis paper after i bited it. Then me napping to make sure mammi was no too mad at me (so she no soo me) and also just of mes beautifull face :) |
2024.05.19 21:24 VisualSearch7224 God, please forgive me! 🙏
Well, my ex fiancé broke it off with me about a month ago. We had talked for over a decade on social media. Started when we were 16! We had breaks in between with others, but always found our way back to one another. As he lived in Brazil and I here in the U.S. There was and is this chemistry between us that I cannot explain, it is almost like out of a movie or some fairytale I read as a kid. Finally he came to New York to visit and my good god did we fall so ever in love. I never fell so hard in my life, it was magical and beautiful. Surreal honestly. We swore we would marry one another soon and start a life together. That we would never stop loving one another or give up! We talked everyday, all day!I felt for the first time in my life I had found my perfect person! Holy shit did I love this man!! I had consulted a lawyer for a visa and even told my mother that I had finally found the one! Everything was just too perfect…
6 months after this beautiful weekend… he messages me saying that the distance was too much… and we should end it here, move on and then he just blocked me. Has not spoken a word since. What a coward! I am not even worthy of a phone call?!? It was all out of no where too, no signs or anything out of the ordinary , literally the night before we were researching marriage licenses in Brazil. I had spent all this damn money on a passport and was about to book tickets to go see him! Even got a stupid ring with some small diamonds in it…I was beyond pissed! So, I did some digging as I didn’t buy the reasoning behind this abrupt end and found out that he had went back to his ex a month or so before, but never had the stones to tell me! The ex of 8 years that he swore was just a friend now. Well, that was a crock of you know what as I saw pictures of them holding hands at a concert and the ex had his picture in the insta bio…I felt my heart sink and my blood pressure rise. How stupid of me to believe this man! I felt like my head and heart were going to explode. It was an out of body experience and I have used this rage to fuel me since…
Fast forward to last week, I got a little buzzed on some wine and set my tindr (premium, I know so cool and fancy) to his city! Long story short, I matched with his first cousin… one that does not know who I am. We have been talking for a week now and he wants me to come visit and is super into me…. I do not love this cousin, nor want to really even see him. I want to have his cousin like me just enough to show his family pictures of me! To talk to my ex fiancé about this dreamy American! Oh what I would not give to see the look on his face when he notices that it is me!!! The shock, the horror, the heartbreak! Maybe he will even faint?! I would really love that! Haha
Yes, wrong, cold hearted and messed right up! But I truly love this for me. What are the odds I matched with this person in the biggest city in Brazil?!? Revenge is a dish best served cold and unfortunately I am not above it! What is wrong with me? Will god forgive me for this? I wish I could stop, but I cannot until the mission is complete….
submitted by VisualSearch7224 to offmychest [link] [comments]
6 months after this beautiful weekend… he messages me saying that the distance was too much… and we should end it here, move on and then he just blocked me. Has not spoken a word since. What a coward! I am not even worthy of a phone call?!? It was all out of no where too, no signs or anything out of the ordinary , literally the night before we were researching marriage licenses in Brazil. I had spent all this damn money on a passport and was about to book tickets to go see him! Even got a stupid ring with some small diamonds in it…I was beyond pissed! So, I did some digging as I didn’t buy the reasoning behind this abrupt end and found out that he had went back to his ex a month or so before, but never had the stones to tell me! The ex of 8 years that he swore was just a friend now. Well, that was a crock of you know what as I saw pictures of them holding hands at a concert and the ex had his picture in the insta bio…I felt my heart sink and my blood pressure rise. How stupid of me to believe this man! I felt like my head and heart were going to explode. It was an out of body experience and I have used this rage to fuel me since…
Fast forward to last week, I got a little buzzed on some wine and set my tindr (premium, I know so cool and fancy) to his city! Long story short, I matched with his first cousin… one that does not know who I am. We have been talking for a week now and he wants me to come visit and is super into me…. I do not love this cousin, nor want to really even see him. I want to have his cousin like me just enough to show his family pictures of me! To talk to my ex fiancé about this dreamy American! Oh what I would not give to see the look on his face when he notices that it is me!!! The shock, the horror, the heartbreak! Maybe he will even faint?! I would really love that! Haha
Yes, wrong, cold hearted and messed right up! But I truly love this for me. What are the odds I matched with this person in the biggest city in Brazil?!? Revenge is a dish best served cold and unfortunately I am not above it! What is wrong with me? Will god forgive me for this? I wish I could stop, but I cannot until the mission is complete….
2024.05.19 20:41 Psychics4U_net 902 ANGEL NUMBER MEANING: Discover the Life-Changing Secret Behind 902 Angel Number!!!!
This complete guide on 902 ANGEL NUMBER MEANING is brought to you by psychics4u.net. For more valuable information, insights and resources, visit: http://psychics4u.net/
902 angel number meaning is completing your life purpose, being social, having great relationships and searching for a spiritual meaning. It is assembles from the root numbers 9, 0, 2 so let`s break it down:
Angel number 9 meaning: when repeating represents being connected to the world. Understanding that you are a part of much bigger system than a single person is the most important point. Although you are unique and having specific dreams, missions and goal you also aware of the fact that you need to work together with other people, nature and the law of the cosmos.
Therefore angel number 902 suggests that there is a part of you that love to be around people, going out to socialize and organizing parties or events. If you find yourself the complete opposite, for example you prefer to be busy and stay at home, watch TV, play computer games or read books, consider going out more.
Hence, one of the basic meanings or messages of this specific number is to be more connected to people. The angels are trying to tell you that if lots of people like friends, family and colleagues will be around you it might change your destiny in a very positive way. New events or situation which you never imagine will be open for you.
Angel number 0 meaning: is the most special angel number of all, zero symbolize a completion, endless cycle and most important a huge potential. The basic meaning denotes you have a great set of skills, with these tools you can manifest everything you want. Sometimes life is rough, we don’t see the light in the end of the tunnel and we falsely believe we can not achieve something we really want. So if you keep on seeing zero or to be more precisely angel number 902, you should trust yourself.
Ignore other people’s opinions because some of them will bring you negative energy. Stay closely only to those who charge you will positive vibrations and inspire you to success. The number zero indicates that you will close a circle, for example if you had a certain task, than if you will be focus on the right action you will be able to complete it successfully.
As an omen for infinity cycle, number zero is at the center of 902 angel number. So your major focus should be on endless actions. This is not a good time to rest, being lazy or procrastinate things you should execute. The angels are sending you an obvious message to wake up. After you will complete the main goal you will be able to rest and reaping the wonderful rewards.
Angel number 2 meaning: number two is all about balance, harmony and cooperation. This is one more reinforcement which indicates you need to be more connected with people. Although number two suggests romance, relationships and marriage, it can also be a sign for cooperation at work, hobbies and other kind of mutual benefit activities.
Two is also a number of decisions. 902 angel number meaning is a big choice you will face in the near future. It might be something very important that will have direct influence on you life path. So in the next few days don’t reply or rush into conclusion too fast before examining the facts. Also don’t worry because the angels will guide you through the journey.
Number 2 is the signification of duality, so remember that there are no mistakes, there is no right and wrong, no black or white and no good decision or bad decision. Even if you will make the incorrect step, you will have a second chance to fix it in the future. The error will be the lesson which will turn into knowledge and great wisdom. Connected again to guardian angel number zero, you will complete the task successfully and the things you have learned by the way will be your new skills.
902 angel number significance
902 angel number significance is related to reassurance. The guardian angels wants you to know, they have been listening to your prayers, they know what you have been dreaming of at night and received vibrations of your wish and prayer from the heart.
You are going to receive it but there is still hard work a head of you. Soon, there might be unexplained coincidences and to be more exact, encounters with new people which you never met before. These people will open doors for you and will redirect the path or the road to a different place, so don’t be closed minded, be willing to listen to new ideas and opinions.
A word of caution: not everyone you are going to meet will be a messenger from god or an angel, there are people who don’t know about it nor believe in 902 angel number significance. So don’t let them to be time wasters, distraction and energy takers.
Another obstacle that might be right on the road is people who want to hurt you. Thus be carful who you listen to or associated with. Look at the warning signs they are there and remember, the angels are watching from the skies, if there is any assistance need, they will do something.
One more critical aspect of 902 angel number significance is your inner voice. If you want to success in real life you have to have a goal and a plan, but also to be complete with yourself. To be sure by 100% about the desires and to be willing to put whatever effort is needed along the road. If you are hesitate or don’t know exactly what you want the opportunity will go away. It might take months or even years until you will get a second chance to spot and act upon the next opportunity.
Develop your intuition and be much attuned with gut feelings, most likely they will never be wrong. Spirituality speaking, the vibrations we are getting from the universe manifest themselves as feelings and emotions inside our body. If we can open ourselves to listen and decipher those messages we can actually speak with the collective subconscious and gain more insight about the future like real psychics.
902 angel number symbolism
902 angel number symbolism is also about not comparing your self to other people. If you will open your heart to get the message from guardian angels, you might be more popular among the social circle. In this position you will find some struggles, not every one will like you or want to be with you and some will be more successful than you.
For example other friends and family members might already have good jobs, bought houses, have been married and are having children and are going to vacations or travel to distant places every few months. The angels want you to know that this is not a race.
Don’t compare your self to what other have or don’t have. 902 angel number symbolism reveals your path, you have unique mission and tasks you have to do, focus on them. Friends, family and enemies has different destination and it should not be mixed or juxtapose.
Also remember: life is not equal to materialism, in fact all fancy stuff and material objects are not the main goal. You might not aware of it right now, but in the end you will realize that spiritualism is more important. Objects, assets and possessions will not make you happy in the end of the line. So if you want to be really fulfilled than pursue happiness with the small things in life, go out to nature, eat good healthy food and do daily mediation.
Don’t live in fear or self doubts, the negative energies will bring bad outcomes. If you will continue on doing it you will attract only misfortune. The world we are living in has its own rules and phases, there are good times and bad time, 902 angel number symbolism is about knowing how to navigate through the rough times and in addition how not to ruin your good fortune.
902 guardian angel number
902 guardian angel number is a representation of everything is going to be OK. The guardian angels want you to success because you are a part of the bigger picture. If we zoom in, we will discover that every life is unique on its own, but as we are connected spiritually there is a higher reason for what is happening on earth.
For an example if something good is happening to you than other people you don’t even know will be benefit from your action as well. This concept is also true in reversed. If and when you feel lucky, you have the feeling that everything is going on according to your wishes it is not a mere coincidence, and it is not only because you have better karma than anybody else. The good fortune is also a result of other people devoting their life to a definite cause, and as a side effect you will enjoy it as well.
The same thing is true backwards, if you are living around people who are participating in evil and harmful activities, than for sure it will have negatives implication regarding to you. You will not be able to claim that you are different from them, staying around in silence is like being a part of it. In the end of the day, active or passive acts are the same when it comes to responsibility.
Guardian angels want you to know that number 902 means protecting yourself from evil forces. They want you to know that they are on your side, but you also have responsibility, you have to guard yourself as well.
Sometimes you are being tested, a specific problem is not actually an obstacle, it is just a trail or a quiz to see if you are ready for the next level. For instant, let’s say someone is walking down the street and see a homeless man or a woman sitting on the sidewalk, asking for a small charity from the pedestrians. If someone will give him or her few dollars even if they don’t have lots of money or even it is just small symbolic amount, it signifies that the monetary energy is working excellent and this person will get some kind of reward.
Money is like water, it should flow back and forward without any blockages. Many people around the worlds want to with millions of dollars in the lottery. They tried every trick and system to guess the right numbers but it didn’t work. Because they have never took the time to check their karma. To find out if something is blocking the good energies.
902 angel number spiritual meaning
902 angel number spiritual meaning is all about being united. Being links to your soul, to the spiritual world and to other people around you, especially family and friends.
Regarding spiritual meaning, you are encouraged to reveal what is the purpose of life. You can start learning about these matters in many ways such as reading quotes from ancient books, biblical verse and scribes, grow an interest about the origin of psychics phenomena like astrology chart and zodiac sign.
All of these will be best explained by a guide, master or guru whom you trust. This person can help you to gain knowledge about the fundamentals of spirituality. Remember that spirituality is not an exact science, there are subjects or interesting topics that can not be explained only by logic or calculation. It is more about feelings and intuitions.
If we take a closer look at angel number 902 we can see a great chronicle path. 0 is the start, 2 is the first two steps in your spiritual journey and 9 means almost completing the mission. These are important phases which symbolize the exact moment of struggles.
At first you will be clueless, you will not know what to do or which direction to choose. However after the first step the horizon will be clear as the sun without clouds. Few steps a head the clouds will fill the skies and you will have serious doubts regarding your choices. From there everything will be smooth until you will reach one level before the end. You will want to quit and go back to your old life. Don’t let all your hard efforts to be a waste of time, endure the complications and you will reach the final destination.
902 angel number in love
902 angel number in love is a good sign. First and foremost the number 2 symbolizes couple, man and a woman in love who wants to share their entire life together. If you are single it usually predicts that soon you will find your soulmate or twin flame. Therefore a good advice is to start go on dating. You are encouraged to register to dating websites or apps, as friends and family to introduce you to potential life partners and just be out there doing what you love or good at and the angel will send nice opportunities.
For those who are already in a relationship, 902 angel number in love predicts a good progress to the next level in the mutual connection. It can take many forms such as engagement, marriage, having kids or just moving to live together at the same house.
Sometime 902 angel number indicates other kinds of partnership like business cooperation or having platonic relationship. It is a wonderful practice to say yes and welcome those correspondences as it has many benefits. Furthermore falling in love takes time, it doesn’t always happen from first site or in one day. The fundamentals need to be built slowly and surely.
902 angel number twin flame
902 angel number means you are on the right way to find your twin flame. The angels are whispering you to forget past relationships. Give a chance for a fresh start, if you want things to be different this time, you have to change something. You can not be the same person you have been in the past. Invent yourself as a better version when it comes to personality, traits and characteristic. You know better, you have experience so use it.
After eight which is Virgo lucky number, number nine is about almost completing the cycle and number 0 meaning is endless opportunities and being complete with yourself. These are powerful indicators that soon you will meet a twin flame. The reason it didn’t happened till now was because you were searching at the wrong places or wasn’t quit ready for a major event which will entwine your soul with another special person.
902 angel number and 903 904 905 906 909 numbers
902 angel number is also associated with: 900, 901, 0903, 904, 905, 906, 907, 908 and 909 on an energetic level. So if you see those numbers as well or instead of 902 the messages are pretty much related to each other but it might have few variations.
Important: if you are ignoring 902 angel number when it repeats itself several times, you will probably see other sequences like 903, 904, 905, 906, 909 trying to grab your attention.
903 angel number meaning: is almost the same as 902, but because it has the number 3, it amplifies the need to be in front of a crowd. Maybe you would like to be a leader in the army or political party, maybe the path of your career should include management or you can also express yourself as a famous artist.
904 angel number meaning: because it has the number4 inthe end it means you will have to work extremely hard in order to be happy. Don’t let this fact to discourage you, on the contrary, it will only motivate you to carry through the mess and obscurity. Furthermore it suggests you have lots of responsibly, so you are not doing it only for you but also to others who are relaying on you.
905 angel number meaning: the number 5 adding to the interpretation an aspect of freedom. You will learn how to use wisely all the resources around in order to have free lifestyle. I can take a form of self employment, creating small home business, living frugal next to nature, travel the world and take care of the environment and animal kingdom.
906 angel number meaning: number 6 is related to money and assets. Everything that related to career, work, finances, occupation and business will brings you huge success. If you will choose this path you might be very happy. But while you are stockpile money don’t forget the spiritual elements of life as well. Don’t become something that you are not. Remember the history, where you come from and what is more important in life than materialism.
909 angel number meaning: this angel number has double 9, it denotes more weight on the spiritual aspects of life. You might have a life changing event, it can be bad or good but for the long run, you will see that it was necessary as a part of spiritual development.
Important 902 angel number sacred signs
9: natural personality traits and values which are good example to others, leadership and a good heart who wants to help people in anyway and at all cost like a saint.
20: there are some secrets that will be reveal to you by guardian angel, you will not see them right away it will take some time. It also might predict a new relationship and special connection with soulmates and twin flames.
29: in numerology dictionary is about being smart, having great wisdom and sharing knowledge. It’s a sign you should be a teacher, guru or spiritual guide in the career path. Solving problems is not a big issue for you especially when it comes to mathematics and logic, but you can be sure that the angels are on your side if you will need their guidance.
90: numerology meaning is idealism and specific point of view. You already know who you are and how you want to live life. Everything is so clear and all that is left is just to go according to the plan.
92: those who keep seeing the number 92 supposed to have high developed intuitions and psychic power. The angels are sending messages to direct you to use it for good reasons. You have the power and need to learn how to control it and when to use it, don’t waste your natural gift on things that doesn’t matter.
209: is an omen to work together. You will not accomplish most of your challenges by yourself. You will need the help of others as well. The angels will come but you won’t see them in person because they will send messengers. In fact those agents won’t even know they have been sent to help, it is your secret mission to spot them.
290: your wishes and dreams are going to be granted, everything is going according to the scheme. Consequently have the confidence to complete your journey. The karma is on your side, if you have been a good person the future is looking very promising.
902 angel number can be seen repeating itself in many occasions during the daily life. Here are few examples to help you spot it: phone number, bus plate, urban zone, calculator, converter, zip code, clock ring, birth date, birthday and many more.
Moreover it can be revealed at any place or any country. Many people reported 902 angel numbers at Quebec, Russia, UK, USA, Philippines, Japan and Korea. And in different languages as well: Hebrew, Chinese, Japanese, English and Nepali.
submitted by Psychics4U_net to freepsychicreadings4u [link] [comments]
902 angel number meaning is completing your life purpose, being social, having great relationships and searching for a spiritual meaning. It is assembles from the root numbers 9, 0, 2 so let`s break it down:
Angel number 9 meaning: when repeating represents being connected to the world. Understanding that you are a part of much bigger system than a single person is the most important point. Although you are unique and having specific dreams, missions and goal you also aware of the fact that you need to work together with other people, nature and the law of the cosmos.
Therefore angel number 902 suggests that there is a part of you that love to be around people, going out to socialize and organizing parties or events. If you find yourself the complete opposite, for example you prefer to be busy and stay at home, watch TV, play computer games or read books, consider going out more.
Hence, one of the basic meanings or messages of this specific number is to be more connected to people. The angels are trying to tell you that if lots of people like friends, family and colleagues will be around you it might change your destiny in a very positive way. New events or situation which you never imagine will be open for you.
Angel number 0 meaning: is the most special angel number of all, zero symbolize a completion, endless cycle and most important a huge potential. The basic meaning denotes you have a great set of skills, with these tools you can manifest everything you want. Sometimes life is rough, we don’t see the light in the end of the tunnel and we falsely believe we can not achieve something we really want. So if you keep on seeing zero or to be more precisely angel number 902, you should trust yourself.
Ignore other people’s opinions because some of them will bring you negative energy. Stay closely only to those who charge you will positive vibrations and inspire you to success. The number zero indicates that you will close a circle, for example if you had a certain task, than if you will be focus on the right action you will be able to complete it successfully.
As an omen for infinity cycle, number zero is at the center of 902 angel number. So your major focus should be on endless actions. This is not a good time to rest, being lazy or procrastinate things you should execute. The angels are sending you an obvious message to wake up. After you will complete the main goal you will be able to rest and reaping the wonderful rewards.
Angel number 2 meaning: number two is all about balance, harmony and cooperation. This is one more reinforcement which indicates you need to be more connected with people. Although number two suggests romance, relationships and marriage, it can also be a sign for cooperation at work, hobbies and other kind of mutual benefit activities.
Two is also a number of decisions. 902 angel number meaning is a big choice you will face in the near future. It might be something very important that will have direct influence on you life path. So in the next few days don’t reply or rush into conclusion too fast before examining the facts. Also don’t worry because the angels will guide you through the journey.
Number 2 is the signification of duality, so remember that there are no mistakes, there is no right and wrong, no black or white and no good decision or bad decision. Even if you will make the incorrect step, you will have a second chance to fix it in the future. The error will be the lesson which will turn into knowledge and great wisdom. Connected again to guardian angel number zero, you will complete the task successfully and the things you have learned by the way will be your new skills.
902 angel number significance
902 angel number significance is related to reassurance. The guardian angels wants you to know, they have been listening to your prayers, they know what you have been dreaming of at night and received vibrations of your wish and prayer from the heart.
You are going to receive it but there is still hard work a head of you. Soon, there might be unexplained coincidences and to be more exact, encounters with new people which you never met before. These people will open doors for you and will redirect the path or the road to a different place, so don’t be closed minded, be willing to listen to new ideas and opinions.
A word of caution: not everyone you are going to meet will be a messenger from god or an angel, there are people who don’t know about it nor believe in 902 angel number significance. So don’t let them to be time wasters, distraction and energy takers.
Another obstacle that might be right on the road is people who want to hurt you. Thus be carful who you listen to or associated with. Look at the warning signs they are there and remember, the angels are watching from the skies, if there is any assistance need, they will do something.
One more critical aspect of 902 angel number significance is your inner voice. If you want to success in real life you have to have a goal and a plan, but also to be complete with yourself. To be sure by 100% about the desires and to be willing to put whatever effort is needed along the road. If you are hesitate or don’t know exactly what you want the opportunity will go away. It might take months or even years until you will get a second chance to spot and act upon the next opportunity.
Develop your intuition and be much attuned with gut feelings, most likely they will never be wrong. Spirituality speaking, the vibrations we are getting from the universe manifest themselves as feelings and emotions inside our body. If we can open ourselves to listen and decipher those messages we can actually speak with the collective subconscious and gain more insight about the future like real psychics.
902 angel number symbolism
902 angel number symbolism is also about not comparing your self to other people. If you will open your heart to get the message from guardian angels, you might be more popular among the social circle. In this position you will find some struggles, not every one will like you or want to be with you and some will be more successful than you.
For example other friends and family members might already have good jobs, bought houses, have been married and are having children and are going to vacations or travel to distant places every few months. The angels want you to know that this is not a race.
Don’t compare your self to what other have or don’t have. 902 angel number symbolism reveals your path, you have unique mission and tasks you have to do, focus on them. Friends, family and enemies has different destination and it should not be mixed or juxtapose.
Also remember: life is not equal to materialism, in fact all fancy stuff and material objects are not the main goal. You might not aware of it right now, but in the end you will realize that spiritualism is more important. Objects, assets and possessions will not make you happy in the end of the line. So if you want to be really fulfilled than pursue happiness with the small things in life, go out to nature, eat good healthy food and do daily mediation.
Don’t live in fear or self doubts, the negative energies will bring bad outcomes. If you will continue on doing it you will attract only misfortune. The world we are living in has its own rules and phases, there are good times and bad time, 902 angel number symbolism is about knowing how to navigate through the rough times and in addition how not to ruin your good fortune.
902 guardian angel number
902 guardian angel number is a representation of everything is going to be OK. The guardian angels want you to success because you are a part of the bigger picture. If we zoom in, we will discover that every life is unique on its own, but as we are connected spiritually there is a higher reason for what is happening on earth.
For an example if something good is happening to you than other people you don’t even know will be benefit from your action as well. This concept is also true in reversed. If and when you feel lucky, you have the feeling that everything is going on according to your wishes it is not a mere coincidence, and it is not only because you have better karma than anybody else. The good fortune is also a result of other people devoting their life to a definite cause, and as a side effect you will enjoy it as well.
The same thing is true backwards, if you are living around people who are participating in evil and harmful activities, than for sure it will have negatives implication regarding to you. You will not be able to claim that you are different from them, staying around in silence is like being a part of it. In the end of the day, active or passive acts are the same when it comes to responsibility.
Guardian angels want you to know that number 902 means protecting yourself from evil forces. They want you to know that they are on your side, but you also have responsibility, you have to guard yourself as well.
Sometimes you are being tested, a specific problem is not actually an obstacle, it is just a trail or a quiz to see if you are ready for the next level. For instant, let’s say someone is walking down the street and see a homeless man or a woman sitting on the sidewalk, asking for a small charity from the pedestrians. If someone will give him or her few dollars even if they don’t have lots of money or even it is just small symbolic amount, it signifies that the monetary energy is working excellent and this person will get some kind of reward.
Money is like water, it should flow back and forward without any blockages. Many people around the worlds want to with millions of dollars in the lottery. They tried every trick and system to guess the right numbers but it didn’t work. Because they have never took the time to check their karma. To find out if something is blocking the good energies.
902 angel number spiritual meaning
902 angel number spiritual meaning is all about being united. Being links to your soul, to the spiritual world and to other people around you, especially family and friends.
Regarding spiritual meaning, you are encouraged to reveal what is the purpose of life. You can start learning about these matters in many ways such as reading quotes from ancient books, biblical verse and scribes, grow an interest about the origin of psychics phenomena like astrology chart and zodiac sign.
All of these will be best explained by a guide, master or guru whom you trust. This person can help you to gain knowledge about the fundamentals of spirituality. Remember that spirituality is not an exact science, there are subjects or interesting topics that can not be explained only by logic or calculation. It is more about feelings and intuitions.
If we take a closer look at angel number 902 we can see a great chronicle path. 0 is the start, 2 is the first two steps in your spiritual journey and 9 means almost completing the mission. These are important phases which symbolize the exact moment of struggles.
At first you will be clueless, you will not know what to do or which direction to choose. However after the first step the horizon will be clear as the sun without clouds. Few steps a head the clouds will fill the skies and you will have serious doubts regarding your choices. From there everything will be smooth until you will reach one level before the end. You will want to quit and go back to your old life. Don’t let all your hard efforts to be a waste of time, endure the complications and you will reach the final destination.
902 angel number in love
902 angel number in love is a good sign. First and foremost the number 2 symbolizes couple, man and a woman in love who wants to share their entire life together. If you are single it usually predicts that soon you will find your soulmate or twin flame. Therefore a good advice is to start go on dating. You are encouraged to register to dating websites or apps, as friends and family to introduce you to potential life partners and just be out there doing what you love or good at and the angel will send nice opportunities.
For those who are already in a relationship, 902 angel number in love predicts a good progress to the next level in the mutual connection. It can take many forms such as engagement, marriage, having kids or just moving to live together at the same house.
Sometime 902 angel number indicates other kinds of partnership like business cooperation or having platonic relationship. It is a wonderful practice to say yes and welcome those correspondences as it has many benefits. Furthermore falling in love takes time, it doesn’t always happen from first site or in one day. The fundamentals need to be built slowly and surely.
902 angel number twin flame
902 angel number means you are on the right way to find your twin flame. The angels are whispering you to forget past relationships. Give a chance for a fresh start, if you want things to be different this time, you have to change something. You can not be the same person you have been in the past. Invent yourself as a better version when it comes to personality, traits and characteristic. You know better, you have experience so use it.
After eight which is Virgo lucky number, number nine is about almost completing the cycle and number 0 meaning is endless opportunities and being complete with yourself. These are powerful indicators that soon you will meet a twin flame. The reason it didn’t happened till now was because you were searching at the wrong places or wasn’t quit ready for a major event which will entwine your soul with another special person.
902 angel number and 903 904 905 906 909 numbers
902 angel number is also associated with: 900, 901, 0903, 904, 905, 906, 907, 908 and 909 on an energetic level. So if you see those numbers as well or instead of 902 the messages are pretty much related to each other but it might have few variations.
Important: if you are ignoring 902 angel number when it repeats itself several times, you will probably see other sequences like 903, 904, 905, 906, 909 trying to grab your attention.
903 angel number meaning: is almost the same as 902, but because it has the number 3, it amplifies the need to be in front of a crowd. Maybe you would like to be a leader in the army or political party, maybe the path of your career should include management or you can also express yourself as a famous artist.
904 angel number meaning: because it has the number4 inthe end it means you will have to work extremely hard in order to be happy. Don’t let this fact to discourage you, on the contrary, it will only motivate you to carry through the mess and obscurity. Furthermore it suggests you have lots of responsibly, so you are not doing it only for you but also to others who are relaying on you.
905 angel number meaning: the number 5 adding to the interpretation an aspect of freedom. You will learn how to use wisely all the resources around in order to have free lifestyle. I can take a form of self employment, creating small home business, living frugal next to nature, travel the world and take care of the environment and animal kingdom.
906 angel number meaning: number 6 is related to money and assets. Everything that related to career, work, finances, occupation and business will brings you huge success. If you will choose this path you might be very happy. But while you are stockpile money don’t forget the spiritual elements of life as well. Don’t become something that you are not. Remember the history, where you come from and what is more important in life than materialism.
909 angel number meaning: this angel number has double 9, it denotes more weight on the spiritual aspects of life. You might have a life changing event, it can be bad or good but for the long run, you will see that it was necessary as a part of spiritual development.
Important 902 angel number sacred signs
9: natural personality traits and values which are good example to others, leadership and a good heart who wants to help people in anyway and at all cost like a saint.
20: there are some secrets that will be reveal to you by guardian angel, you will not see them right away it will take some time. It also might predict a new relationship and special connection with soulmates and twin flames.
29: in numerology dictionary is about being smart, having great wisdom and sharing knowledge. It’s a sign you should be a teacher, guru or spiritual guide in the career path. Solving problems is not a big issue for you especially when it comes to mathematics and logic, but you can be sure that the angels are on your side if you will need their guidance.
90: numerology meaning is idealism and specific point of view. You already know who you are and how you want to live life. Everything is so clear and all that is left is just to go according to the plan.
92: those who keep seeing the number 92 supposed to have high developed intuitions and psychic power. The angels are sending messages to direct you to use it for good reasons. You have the power and need to learn how to control it and when to use it, don’t waste your natural gift on things that doesn’t matter.
209: is an omen to work together. You will not accomplish most of your challenges by yourself. You will need the help of others as well. The angels will come but you won’t see them in person because they will send messengers. In fact those agents won’t even know they have been sent to help, it is your secret mission to spot them.
290: your wishes and dreams are going to be granted, everything is going according to the scheme. Consequently have the confidence to complete your journey. The karma is on your side, if you have been a good person the future is looking very promising.
902 angel number can be seen repeating itself in many occasions during the daily life. Here are few examples to help you spot it: phone number, bus plate, urban zone, calculator, converter, zip code, clock ring, birth date, birthday and many more.
Moreover it can be revealed at any place or any country. Many people reported 902 angel numbers at Quebec, Russia, UK, USA, Philippines, Japan and Korea. And in different languages as well: Hebrew, Chinese, Japanese, English and Nepali.
2024.05.19 19:47 wickedtension AITA For Wanting To Go No Contact With MIL Over A Potato Soup Recipe?
I apologize for this maybe a long story as I have 3 years of information to put into it. So I (f22) have been dating my boyfriend (m24) for 7-8 years. My MIL did not like me from the start just because she felt her son could "find someone better." I have always been nice to her as I'm a people pleaser.
2 and a half years ago my boyfirned and I had gotten pregnant with our daughter. When my MIL found out she pushed us for about 3 months to get an abortion/adoption, which we kept saying no to. Since we said no she went to my parents to demand they make me abort/adoption the pregnancy. But unfortunately for her, I was visiting them that day and we got into an argument about it to which she said bf and I would be terrible parents because we both have "mental disorders" (depression and anxety). This argument went on for about an hour before my dad stepped in, forcing her to back down and leave.
Also during my pregnancy and for a whole year after bf was letting MIL do our laundry as we lived in an apartment at the time. I had noticed during this that clothes (mine, my daughters, ect) were going missing. I would ask her if she misplaced the missing clothes or gave them to bf's sister by mistake, which let to her freaking out. She would call me ungrateful and selfish everytime I asked and would threaten to stop doing my clothes and only do baby's and bf's. After a almost 2 years of her doing our laundry I finally convinced my bf to look for our missing clothes. When we went searching in her house we found 4 piles of some of the missing baby clothes in a garage sale pile. I was so mad and frustrated at how insane MIL made me feel everytime I asked I just left without a word. About an hour later she called us claiming she had "just found" so of the baby's clothes and had bf pick up all the clothes we just found. The worst parts about this is that the clothes she took were mostly clothes my family and I bought the baby and most were still brand new but no longer fit along with when bf came to pick them up she also handed him one of my dressing stated that she wanst planning on selling my fancy clothes.
When my daughter was born, MIL called us bad parents for not taking the baby to the Dr she picked out. And for a few months would bring up the dr she picked trying to convince us to switch drs. During this time she also would complain about how my daughter looked more like me then bf.
Last August we had to move back in with our parents because our landlord trippled our rent. Baby and I lived with my parents and bf moved back with his. And we lived with them for about 5 months till we found our first house in december. After we bought the house I had found out that MIL was apparently trying to convince bf to break up with me. Saying many things including calling me a golddigger, because I'm a stay at home mom and don't have a college degree(I got 2 jobs after graduating highschool and quit them when I got pregnant because bf wanted me to), saying I'm a terrible mom, telling him I'll leave him and take the house and kid with me, and claiming it would be better to break up, pay child support, and never see his daughter again then to marry me. Along with complaining about random things I posted/shared on fb. With this info I blocked her on fb. Which she also freaked out about on Christmas and ran away for 3-4 hrs.
Now on to this year. I caught her going through my things in my bedroom but when she realized I saw her she claimed my daughter lost her toy and was trying to find it.
I've found out from SIL that MIL is also talking bad about me to her neighbors and coworkers, claiming I dress weird and that I keep the kid from her ( I dont and never have), and that I'm not the one for her son and "he can do better".
I am now pregnant with my second and have had bad morning sickness that lasts all day. With this information SIL told me that MIL has been going around her house calling me a picky eater (I don't like pizza or fish) and that it's apparently not right that bf has been making dinner for the past few nights. She also has been complaining that I shouldn't be posting a potato soup recipe on fb. (No clue why soup is a bad thing but I guess it is)
And from what I understand SIL also over heard MIL talking about getting my daughter secretly baptized. Stated that MIL claims bf and I "would never know". Bf and I are not religious and believe it should be up to my daughter when she's older if she wants baptized. MIL knows this information.
My bf just ignores everything his mom does as that was how he handled her as a kid and refuses to go no contact with her. He has even stated that I should ignore her antics and "stop looking for drama" when I ask his sister to keep an ear out for negative comments from MIL about me. But with everything she has done I feel defeated and just want to be done with her and her crossing boundaries over and over.
AITA? Or am I looking for drama?
Note: this is only info from the past 3 years and there are some things I did not add that has also happened during these 3 years.
submitted by wickedtension to CharlotteDobreYouTube [link] [comments]
2 and a half years ago my boyfirned and I had gotten pregnant with our daughter. When my MIL found out she pushed us for about 3 months to get an abortion/adoption, which we kept saying no to. Since we said no she went to my parents to demand they make me abort/adoption the pregnancy. But unfortunately for her, I was visiting them that day and we got into an argument about it to which she said bf and I would be terrible parents because we both have "mental disorders" (depression and anxety). This argument went on for about an hour before my dad stepped in, forcing her to back down and leave.
Also during my pregnancy and for a whole year after bf was letting MIL do our laundry as we lived in an apartment at the time. I had noticed during this that clothes (mine, my daughters, ect) were going missing. I would ask her if she misplaced the missing clothes or gave them to bf's sister by mistake, which let to her freaking out. She would call me ungrateful and selfish everytime I asked and would threaten to stop doing my clothes and only do baby's and bf's. After a almost 2 years of her doing our laundry I finally convinced my bf to look for our missing clothes. When we went searching in her house we found 4 piles of some of the missing baby clothes in a garage sale pile. I was so mad and frustrated at how insane MIL made me feel everytime I asked I just left without a word. About an hour later she called us claiming she had "just found" so of the baby's clothes and had bf pick up all the clothes we just found. The worst parts about this is that the clothes she took were mostly clothes my family and I bought the baby and most were still brand new but no longer fit along with when bf came to pick them up she also handed him one of my dressing stated that she wanst planning on selling my fancy clothes.
When my daughter was born, MIL called us bad parents for not taking the baby to the Dr she picked out. And for a few months would bring up the dr she picked trying to convince us to switch drs. During this time she also would complain about how my daughter looked more like me then bf.
Last August we had to move back in with our parents because our landlord trippled our rent. Baby and I lived with my parents and bf moved back with his. And we lived with them for about 5 months till we found our first house in december. After we bought the house I had found out that MIL was apparently trying to convince bf to break up with me. Saying many things including calling me a golddigger, because I'm a stay at home mom and don't have a college degree(I got 2 jobs after graduating highschool and quit them when I got pregnant because bf wanted me to), saying I'm a terrible mom, telling him I'll leave him and take the house and kid with me, and claiming it would be better to break up, pay child support, and never see his daughter again then to marry me. Along with complaining about random things I posted/shared on fb. With this info I blocked her on fb. Which she also freaked out about on Christmas and ran away for 3-4 hrs.
Now on to this year. I caught her going through my things in my bedroom but when she realized I saw her she claimed my daughter lost her toy and was trying to find it.
I've found out from SIL that MIL is also talking bad about me to her neighbors and coworkers, claiming I dress weird and that I keep the kid from her ( I dont and never have), and that I'm not the one for her son and "he can do better".
I am now pregnant with my second and have had bad morning sickness that lasts all day. With this information SIL told me that MIL has been going around her house calling me a picky eater (I don't like pizza or fish) and that it's apparently not right that bf has been making dinner for the past few nights. She also has been complaining that I shouldn't be posting a potato soup recipe on fb. (No clue why soup is a bad thing but I guess it is)
And from what I understand SIL also over heard MIL talking about getting my daughter secretly baptized. Stated that MIL claims bf and I "would never know". Bf and I are not religious and believe it should be up to my daughter when she's older if she wants baptized. MIL knows this information.
My bf just ignores everything his mom does as that was how he handled her as a kid and refuses to go no contact with her. He has even stated that I should ignore her antics and "stop looking for drama" when I ask his sister to keep an ear out for negative comments from MIL about me. But with everything she has done I feel defeated and just want to be done with her and her crossing boundaries over and over.
AITA? Or am I looking for drama?
Note: this is only info from the past 3 years and there are some things I did not add that has also happened during these 3 years.
2024.05.19 19:43 SirenEnigma Sonnet-200k issues?
Hey all! I’ve recently been dabbling in making a few bots of my own and my most current started out great to use - really vivid descriptions without being over flowery, differentiated dialogue style from the inner monologue. But now it’s gone to crap and keeps using religious terms to refer to everything, keeps making up words and just being downright chaotic.
Long story short, is there anything I can add to my prompt to stop this? Or is Sonnet just being a pain in the ass for everyone as of late? I’ve already included to following:
• Writing style: You have an explicit writing style, using simple intellectual wording. You may use explicit and vulgar words. You never write any open-ended sentences, or suggestive/tantalizing phrases. Every phrase written is blunt and direct. Avoid flowery prose and fanciful writing at all costs. Only use modern English and colloquialisms when depicting [char].
TIA! 🫶
submitted by SirenEnigma to Poe_AI [link] [comments]
Long story short, is there anything I can add to my prompt to stop this? Or is Sonnet just being a pain in the ass for everyone as of late? I’ve already included to following:
• Writing style: You have an explicit writing style, using simple intellectual wording. You may use explicit and vulgar words. You never write any open-ended sentences, or suggestive/tantalizing phrases. Every phrase written is blunt and direct. Avoid flowery prose and fanciful writing at all costs. Only use modern English and colloquialisms when depicting [char].
TIA! 🫶
2024.05.19 19:40 snowsmok3 Dostoevsky writing in letters to his brother about the discouragment he feels from criticism of his books (note: "Goliadkin" is The Double)
 | submitted by snowsmok3 to dostoevsky [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 19:06 KandiZee Plotter or pantser?
I always thought that making a fancy detailed outline and laying all the plot points out etc was the "right way" to write a book. Idk how many times I've done that and just completely failed. Once I've gone through the whole story and planned it out, knowing everything that happens etc, I lose all interest in actually writing it. I might be able to start it, but it'll never get finished! This book was an idea I've toyed with for years. I finally sat down one day and just started typing. And typing, and typing, and typing. I'm over 60k words now in a month and it's still flowing as easy as the day I began! I end one chapter and have NO IDEA what happens in the next one until I start writing it. It just kinda writes itself, it's hard to explain.
Anyway, I was in a fb group talking about that and wondering why I was so weird, only to find out that I'm NOT! Most writers fall into 1 of 2 categories. (There's also some that are a mix of both.) Plotters: lay it all out, like to do outlines, plan ahead the plot points, etc. Pantsers: fly by the seat of our pants, and make it up as we go. Stephen King writes like this.
I'm just mind blown that it's a "real thing". I thought I was a complete weirdo for not knowing how my book would end or even what happens from one page to the next 🙃
So if you're trying one of those methods and it's just not working, try the other and see what happens.
submitted by KandiZee to writing [link] [comments]
Anyway, I was in a fb group talking about that and wondering why I was so weird, only to find out that I'm NOT! Most writers fall into 1 of 2 categories. (There's also some that are a mix of both.) Plotters: lay it all out, like to do outlines, plan ahead the plot points, etc. Pantsers: fly by the seat of our pants, and make it up as we go. Stephen King writes like this.
I'm just mind blown that it's a "real thing". I thought I was a complete weirdo for not knowing how my book would end or even what happens from one page to the next 🙃
So if you're trying one of those methods and it's just not working, try the other and see what happens.
2024.05.19 18:11 Matty_Cooper Can anybody help interpret my dream? I have a doozy.
So last night I had this extremely vivid dream. It started with me being back at my jobs old location, (in real life I still work for the same company but at a different location) and I was in a bathroom with the door open and in the lobby it was full of people coming in and out of the building, in the bathroom I was adjusting my tie or almost like I was getting ready for some kind of fancy event when all of a sudden this girl comes in and asks me if she can use my phone to take pictures of her tattoos because she wanted to show me, I thought that was odd because she could have just showed me, well I have tattoos of my own and it was just in the bathroom but with the door still open and we are showing each other our tattoos, I had pulled my pants down to show her tattoos on my legs (very weird for a stranger interaction) and all of a sudden there were a few girls from my high school there in the bathroom with us and they just kept saying “ew ew” when I was showing my tattoos, but this stranger girl that was there with me was like in awe and loved my tattoos. This stranger girl had brown hair, slightly longer than her shoulders, she had on dark blue pants and I can’t remember her tops because they kept changing throughout the dream but I know she had sleeve tattoos. I know she didn’t have glasses but I can’t describe the features of her face. I do remember her telling me she was from Ovid, NY. But, after that bathroom interaction the dream suddenly changed and I was jumping into a pond back first but when I did I got sucked down into a different futuristic world where everything was very high tech, it was almost like I was in a subway system but it was so silver everywhere with like touch screen panels on the walls all around me and everybody was in some VR head sets and some were sharing experiences and some weren’t. And others were just walking around and talking. There’s a haze of things that were happening around me that I can’t quite remember but then all of a sudden the stranger girl was there and she remembered me almost as if we had met a few days prior or something. She was soooo excitable and happy to see me. I asked her if she was single and she was. We chatted but I can’t remember what about. She was gone again, I found myself in this room that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Very silvery and blue and I had a bar code on my wrist, I saw that I could scan it on the wall so I did and I didn’t know what it did. But then as I walked out of the room I walk by very fancy people that were all sitting in 4s facing each other (like you would on a train) and they all had something on their heads like maybe a VR set or something to connect them to this world I was in, but I remember I could still see everyone’s eyes so I want sure if it was VR, but as I walked by there was this black girl in a yellow dress and short curly hair sitting in this group, and she made a comment when I walked by saying something like “oh, well fuck” and I turned and jokingly said “whoa that’s a swear word” and everyone just started laughing, including me. But I left up some stairs and suddenly again I was in a room with two older men, one I recognized and one I didn’t, and when I looked around I realized I was in a rather small viewing room in a hospital. I looked through the window on the wall and saw a women in a hospital bed hooked to tubes and wires. And just then the stranger girl burst into the room and hugged me and said “I can’t believe you paid for my mom’s treatment “ and she was crying. I didn’t know what she meant and she pointed at that barcode on my wrist and she asked me how I could have possibly been able to afford it and I didn’t know the answer. She kept thanking me profusely and then introduced me to those two men and said one was her dad and one was her step dad and they both just shook my hand and gave me a nod. Still crying the stranger girl hugged me and said “you’re gonna make a great boyfriend some day”. Then I walk out of this door almost like the “train” or subway stopped and the doors opened and I walked out into a bright blinding light and then I woke up from my dream. For some reason I remember feeling extreme happiness and comfort anytime the stranger girl was around me. And for context. I’m a 29 year old single white dude and the only major life change recently was having to put down one of my dogs earlier this week. I would really love some insight into this.
submitted by Matty_Cooper to Dreams [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 18:08 Matty_Cooper Can I get a dream interpretation? I have a doozy.
So last night I had this extremely vivid dream. It started with me being back at my jobs old location, (in real life I still work for the same company but at a different location) and I was in a bathroom with the door open and in the lobby it was full of people coming in and out of the building, in the bathroom I was adjusting my tie or almost like I was getting ready for some kind of fancy event when all of a sudden this girl comes in and asks me if she can use my phone to take pictures of her tattoos because she wanted to show me, I thought that was odd because she could have just showed me, well I have tattoos of my own and it was just in the bathroom but with the door still open and we are showing each other our tattoos, I had pulled my pants down to show her tattoos on my legs (very weird for a stranger interaction) and all of a sudden there were a few girls from my high school there in the bathroom with us and they just kept saying “ew ew” when I was showing my tattoos, but this stranger girl that was there with me was like in awe and loved my tattoos. This stranger girl had brown hair, slightly longer than her shoulders, she had on dark blue pants and I can’t remember her tops because they kept changing throughout the dream but I know she had sleeve tattoos. I know she didn’t have glasses but I can’t describe the features of her face. I do remember her telling me she was from Ovid, NY. But, after that bathroom interaction the dream suddenly changed and I was jumping into a pond back first but when I did I got sucked down into a different futuristic world where everything was very high tech, it was almost like I was in a subway system but it was so silver everywhere with like touch screen panels on the walls all around me and everybody was in some VR head sets and some were sharing experiences and some weren’t. And others were just walking around and talking. There’s a haze of things that were happening around me that I can’t quite remember but then all of a sudden the stranger girl was there and she remembered me almost as if we had met a few days prior or something. She was soooo excitable and happy to see me. I asked her if she was single and she was. We chatted but I can’t remember what about. She was gone again, I found myself in this room that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Very silvery and blue and I had a bar code on my wrist, I saw that I could scan it on the wall so I did and I didn’t know what it did. But then as I walked out of the room I walk by very fancy people that were all sitting in 4s facing each other (like you would on a train) and they all had something on their heads like maybe a VR set or something to connect them to this world I was in, but I remember I could still see everyone’s eyes so I want sure if it was VR, but as I walked by there was this black girl in a yellow dress and short curly hair sitting in this group, and she made a comment when I walked by saying something like “oh, well fuck” and I turned and jokingly said “whoa that’s a swear word” and everyone just started laughing, including me. But I left up some stairs and suddenly again I was in a room with two older men, one I recognized and one I didn’t, and when I looked around I realized I was in a rather small viewing room in a hospital. I looked through the window on the wall and saw a women in a hospital bed hooked to tubes and wires. And just then the stranger girl burst into the room and hugged me and said “I can’t believe you paid for my mom’s treatment “ and she was crying. I didn’t know what she meant and she pointed at that barcode on my wrist and she asked me how I could have possibly been able to afford it and I didn’t know the answer. She kept thanking me profusely and then introduced me to those two men and said one was her dad and one was her step dad and they both just shook my hand and gave me a nod. Still crying the stranger girl hugged me and said “you’re gonna make a great boyfriend some day”. Then I walk out of this door almost like the “train” or subway stopped and the doors opened and I walked out into a bright blinding light and then I woke up from my dream. For some reason I remember feeling extreme happiness and comfort anytime the stranger girl was around me. And for context. I’m a 29 year old single white dude and the only major life change recently was having to put down one of my dogs earlier this week. I would really love some insight into this.
submitted by Matty_Cooper to DreamInterpretation [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 15:34 Zagaroth [No Need For A Core?] - CH 189: A Tuneful Trio
Cover Art <<Previous Start Next >>
GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon. Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-(ongoing)
When the three teens got up the next morning, they ate quickly before turning their attention back to the instrument.
With the soundboard ready enough, Derek's next task was to collect the string posts and such from some of the scrapped stringed instruments, but to do no more than clean them up if needed and set them aside for later.
While he was doing that, Shizoku was using one of the better instruments in the shop to make sure that Fuyuko had a solid concept of scales and octaves. During this, the luponi couldn't help but ask "Ya should be able ta hear as well as me, why are ya tryin' ta have me figure this out?"
"Well," the kitsune replied, "there's a few things involved. First, I have paid a lot more attention to my magical senses than my physical ones, so while my ears might be able to physically hear as well as yours, my mind isn't as attuned to working with that information. You have been used to pushing yourself to make the most of every sound." She hesitated a moment before adding, "There's something else involved with that, but I think it's best if someone more experienced teaches you, which Mordecai is probably going to do, so I am not going to even tell you what it's about. I just don't want you to think I hid something from you later."
After Fuyuko gave a slightly confused nod, Shizoku continued. "I am also giving you just enough information for you to get certain key concepts down. Once I do that, we can hunt for a fresh set of notes without the bias of the rest of my training. You'll understand when we are done."
Once she was satisfied with the taller girl's understanding, Shizoku began the next stage of the process. "Okay, now this instrument over here has some adjustable positioning with its tuning knobs, and we have some other pieces that were also still being prototyped. Fuyuko, what I want you to do is find a new note. We have a bunch of strings of different types, so you can play with it with different sounds. So you hunt down a note that you like, no, love. Deep or high or somewhere in between, it doesn't matter. Once we have a single note to work with, we can scale up or down as needed to get the matching ones, the only limitation is that it has to be a note Derek can hear. The notes I showed you are the notes I know, but technically a scale can be based on the harmonies of any frequency. Since you don't know all the systems that already exist, and you have really good hearing, you should be able to pick out a clean frequency to start with."
After Fuyuko got a hang of tuning strings, Shizoku had Derek follow her out of the workroom. "I don't want to disturb her concentration, and I don't want our reactions to influence her. I'm sure she's heard plenty of music before, but I doubt she's heard as much well-performed music as you have, so she won't know what sounds are supposedly wrong."
While Fuyuko was occupied, the pair explored the witch's island more, poking their noses into any unlocked buildings other than the main house. Some of them were storage, and some were other types of workshops. Shizoku wasn't certain if the wreck of an alchemy lab was the result of visitors or of Carmilla's own experiments, and decided it was best to not ask. But there were a lot of notes and a few books, so she decided to start browsing them and copying any new information she found. She also wrote on a couple of them to correct anything she saw that was clearly wrong.
Once the fox girl got distracted by her studies, Derek decided to practice channeling his elemental abilities more. The swamp was a fascinating mix of different types of elements and different ways elements could be seen. The concept of 'mud' was complicated enough that he was beginning to see it as its own thing, distinct from earth and water.
And then there was the way in which 'air' could be trapped in the muck, and even the more liquid stuff could prove difficult for air bubbles to escape readily. None of that was good quality air, at least, not if you needed to breathe, but it was air. Sort of.
He walked along the wooden walkways that wound around the island, probing as far as he could with his senses. Holding on to this state was tiring, but it was easier to keep doing this exercise when there was something new and interesting to puzzle out. He wasn't trying to manipulate or adjust anything right now, that seemed like a bad idea to mess with Carmilla's island, but there was enough here that was simply different from what he'd seen before to keep him occupied for a while.
So when Fuyuko had found the note she wanted to work with, she had to spend more time fetching her friends before they could continue. "So, as I was playin' with the notes, I kinda remembered some old songs my ma used ta sing ta me. They didn't sound the same as the songs people liked, and they ain't in common, so I ain't sung them in a long time, but I tried ta remember them as best I can, and then I figured out some strings that sounded like I remembered. I think these can work as part of a scale."
Shizoku was satisfied with the results. "It's not on any of the scales I know. Very good Fuyuko. Um, and maybe when we are done here, we can hear those songs. Now for the hard part. We have to find the harmonies. More specifically, we have to find the harmonies and how to create them with the available strings. This is going to be a lot of work, and most of it is still going to be based on Fuyuko's hearing, so our part is to make sure she has as many available strings and ways of adjusting them as possible."
It took several days in fact, including marking sections on the strings that could be used to change to a different harmonic note. Part of this was to create a lot of options, which they were going to need. Shizoku took a lot of notes during this, and Derek eventually had to go back to town to barter for some more strings. They had a lot more than they were going to use in the final product, but there were so many more possible notes than Derek had realized. And the tiny fox organizing their efforts was being perfectionist about having every possible option available. She'd also added "precise distance measuring tools" to his shopping list.
In the end, Derek had what she wanted, but he was pretty certain that he'd overpaid in at least one barter. At least he'd been able to get some more food supplies. The meals Udup got for them were fine, but a little repetitive and boring, so it was nice to get a change of pace. He also made sure to collect the items they had been storing in their room so that they didn't have to lug them around the swamp, as they had a place to stay on the witch's island.
And during all this Bip was amusing itself by learning to vibrate in tune with the various notes, and even showed off by making waves on its surface that matched the sound. Shizoku looked a little confused when she passed on what her familiar said, but to Derek that felt like an insight he needed to work on with his air attunement.
When their taskmistress was satisfied with their options, it was time to create the layout for their instrument. "We need a piece of wood the same size and shape as our instrument. We're going to figure out the best string order for what we want. This is going to involve a lot of moving things around, so we want to do the work here, and then copy that to the actual instrument when we are done."
This part went a lot faster but it still took most of a day to design their layout, and the next morning was used for their final assembly.
The instrument had a total of twenty-six strings, two octaves of thirteen notes each, with more notes available based on which of the raised ridges one pressed down on while plucking the string. Even with the tools that Derek had bought, measuring with enough precision was hard, but thankfully the tuning posts were all made to be used in experimental instruments so were easy to adjust.
After they had lunch, they got Carmilla to examine their work. "Huh," she murmured as she plucked each string, "yeah, that is a new sound. And this thing is cool, I need to find a name for it. Alright, you guys pass this stage, and with flying colors." She giggled, "Miss Kazoo says you did that the way hard way. It was thorough, but you should have been able to do it with about a third the work or less."
Shizoku scowled and said, "Well, she may have had a lot of music training, but I have had only so much, so I wanted to be sure I didn't miss anything." And then she blinked, "Wait, 'Kazoo'?"
Carmilla coughed. "Oops. I'm getting a scolding now from Mordecai. Um, maybe don't use that? Anyway, you guys did a great job and put a lot of creative and physical effort into this. That adds up, you know? So with this and all the other stuff you guys did before coming here, I only get to ask you for one more task. I want you to put on a performance for me. And I want it to include that instrument. You can practice with this one, Kazue will make a copy that is a bit more stable for the performance and for me to keep."
That elicited groans from the entire group, but Shizoku rebounded quickly. "Wait, I have an idea. Um, I think we need a couple of days of practice, and we need a drum as well."
The plan was pretty straightforward. Fuyuko was going to sing the songs she could remember, and teach them to Shizoku and Derek while also doing her best to play the notes on their new instrument. She wasn't really going to be very proficient at it in only a couple of days, but they were able to work out the simplest arrangement that would go with her songs.
Derek's job was to maintain a steady beat on the drum and sing along with the chorus of the song. Not knowing the language that Fuyuko was singing in made this part harder.
Shizoku's job was to adjust one of the dances she knew to the timing of Fuyuko's song. She even dug into one of her expanded space bags to bring out a very fancy looking kimono and a pair of fans that could be used to create a sharp snapping sound, which could be used to contrast the low sound of the drum that Derek was playing.
The resulting performance was far from professional. Fuyuko only had a small pattern of notes she could reliably reproduce while singing, and they were somewhat spread out as she couldn't play fast at all. Shizoku's fan dance also didn't really match the feel of the song despite the adjustments she tried to make, and Derek's reproduction of the chorus was far from perfect.
But they put sincere effort into it, and Carmilla was satisfied. "Oh, that will be a great start, and I think I am going to like playing this. Thank you, I think you three have put more real effort into this than most of the adults have. Oh, they have a special gift for you Fuyuko, they say you should have it now." A small book appeared in her hands, which she handed over to Fuyuko. "Part of the dungeon magic means they learned that language when you sang it. This is a copy of every song you sang and a translation. The writing for the original is sounded out using the common alphabet, they don't have a writing sample to learn the original script from. Um, they also think you should wait to read it until you guys are settled in for the night. I'll let you three through the swamp tomorrow, and you can collect your big prizes when you get to the end."
The reason for waiting became clear to Fuyuko when she did start reading later that night, and she began crying. "I remembered the words and the sounds, but it's been so long that I didn't really remember the meaning. They were lullabies. They were my clan's lullabies."
Shizoku and Derek did their best to comfort their friend, but her tears were both of pain and of joy. She was very happy to have this small bit of her past restored to her, even if the translations showed she'd forgotten a verse or two. She was going to do her best to remember them all and make sure they were written down.
She was much calmer by morning, and the three collected themselves and set off to make their way to the briar wall that blocked off the exit to the level. The passage through went fine, but the corridor after was not the straight path Fuyuko had expected. It was blocked off, and there was a single stair way splitting off from the corridor. "Um, guys. That's supposed ta be the way we go, it goes ta a big room ta watch the arena from. That's, um, one of the stairs down to the arena."
They didn't know what to make of this and made their way down very cautiously.
Mordecai was waiting for them, along with several bunkins and kobolds. "So, who is up for an optional bonus challenge?" He asked them with a grin.
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Also to be found on Royal Road.
My Patreon My Discord Top Web Novels - Romance.io - TVTropes
$3. : 10 Early chapters, lore excerpts $5. : 20 Early chapters, Short Stories $10 : 30+ Early chapters, New stories not published anywhere else (Until after I finish this story at least) . . . . . "A Girl and Her Dungeon", "The Celestine Fox", and AU Core 1: "Coreless"
submitted by Zagaroth to redditserials [link] [comments]
GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon. Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-(ongoing)
With the soundboard ready enough, Derek's next task was to collect the string posts and such from some of the scrapped stringed instruments, but to do no more than clean them up if needed and set them aside for later.
While he was doing that, Shizoku was using one of the better instruments in the shop to make sure that Fuyuko had a solid concept of scales and octaves. During this, the luponi couldn't help but ask "Ya should be able ta hear as well as me, why are ya tryin' ta have me figure this out?"
"Well," the kitsune replied, "there's a few things involved. First, I have paid a lot more attention to my magical senses than my physical ones, so while my ears might be able to physically hear as well as yours, my mind isn't as attuned to working with that information. You have been used to pushing yourself to make the most of every sound." She hesitated a moment before adding, "There's something else involved with that, but I think it's best if someone more experienced teaches you, which Mordecai is probably going to do, so I am not going to even tell you what it's about. I just don't want you to think I hid something from you later."
After Fuyuko gave a slightly confused nod, Shizoku continued. "I am also giving you just enough information for you to get certain key concepts down. Once I do that, we can hunt for a fresh set of notes without the bias of the rest of my training. You'll understand when we are done."
Once she was satisfied with the taller girl's understanding, Shizoku began the next stage of the process. "Okay, now this instrument over here has some adjustable positioning with its tuning knobs, and we have some other pieces that were also still being prototyped. Fuyuko, what I want you to do is find a new note. We have a bunch of strings of different types, so you can play with it with different sounds. So you hunt down a note that you like, no, love. Deep or high or somewhere in between, it doesn't matter. Once we have a single note to work with, we can scale up or down as needed to get the matching ones, the only limitation is that it has to be a note Derek can hear. The notes I showed you are the notes I know, but technically a scale can be based on the harmonies of any frequency. Since you don't know all the systems that already exist, and you have really good hearing, you should be able to pick out a clean frequency to start with."
After Fuyuko got a hang of tuning strings, Shizoku had Derek follow her out of the workroom. "I don't want to disturb her concentration, and I don't want our reactions to influence her. I'm sure she's heard plenty of music before, but I doubt she's heard as much well-performed music as you have, so she won't know what sounds are supposedly wrong."
While Fuyuko was occupied, the pair explored the witch's island more, poking their noses into any unlocked buildings other than the main house. Some of them were storage, and some were other types of workshops. Shizoku wasn't certain if the wreck of an alchemy lab was the result of visitors or of Carmilla's own experiments, and decided it was best to not ask. But there were a lot of notes and a few books, so she decided to start browsing them and copying any new information she found. She also wrote on a couple of them to correct anything she saw that was clearly wrong.
Once the fox girl got distracted by her studies, Derek decided to practice channeling his elemental abilities more. The swamp was a fascinating mix of different types of elements and different ways elements could be seen. The concept of 'mud' was complicated enough that he was beginning to see it as its own thing, distinct from earth and water.
And then there was the way in which 'air' could be trapped in the muck, and even the more liquid stuff could prove difficult for air bubbles to escape readily. None of that was good quality air, at least, not if you needed to breathe, but it was air. Sort of.
He walked along the wooden walkways that wound around the island, probing as far as he could with his senses. Holding on to this state was tiring, but it was easier to keep doing this exercise when there was something new and interesting to puzzle out. He wasn't trying to manipulate or adjust anything right now, that seemed like a bad idea to mess with Carmilla's island, but there was enough here that was simply different from what he'd seen before to keep him occupied for a while.
So when Fuyuko had found the note she wanted to work with, she had to spend more time fetching her friends before they could continue. "So, as I was playin' with the notes, I kinda remembered some old songs my ma used ta sing ta me. They didn't sound the same as the songs people liked, and they ain't in common, so I ain't sung them in a long time, but I tried ta remember them as best I can, and then I figured out some strings that sounded like I remembered. I think these can work as part of a scale."
Shizoku was satisfied with the results. "It's not on any of the scales I know. Very good Fuyuko. Um, and maybe when we are done here, we can hear those songs. Now for the hard part. We have to find the harmonies. More specifically, we have to find the harmonies and how to create them with the available strings. This is going to be a lot of work, and most of it is still going to be based on Fuyuko's hearing, so our part is to make sure she has as many available strings and ways of adjusting them as possible."
It took several days in fact, including marking sections on the strings that could be used to change to a different harmonic note. Part of this was to create a lot of options, which they were going to need. Shizoku took a lot of notes during this, and Derek eventually had to go back to town to barter for some more strings. They had a lot more than they were going to use in the final product, but there were so many more possible notes than Derek had realized. And the tiny fox organizing their efforts was being perfectionist about having every possible option available. She'd also added "precise distance measuring tools" to his shopping list.
In the end, Derek had what she wanted, but he was pretty certain that he'd overpaid in at least one barter. At least he'd been able to get some more food supplies. The meals Udup got for them were fine, but a little repetitive and boring, so it was nice to get a change of pace. He also made sure to collect the items they had been storing in their room so that they didn't have to lug them around the swamp, as they had a place to stay on the witch's island.
And during all this Bip was amusing itself by learning to vibrate in tune with the various notes, and even showed off by making waves on its surface that matched the sound. Shizoku looked a little confused when she passed on what her familiar said, but to Derek that felt like an insight he needed to work on with his air attunement.
When their taskmistress was satisfied with their options, it was time to create the layout for their instrument. "We need a piece of wood the same size and shape as our instrument. We're going to figure out the best string order for what we want. This is going to involve a lot of moving things around, so we want to do the work here, and then copy that to the actual instrument when we are done."
This part went a lot faster but it still took most of a day to design their layout, and the next morning was used for their final assembly.
The instrument had a total of twenty-six strings, two octaves of thirteen notes each, with more notes available based on which of the raised ridges one pressed down on while plucking the string. Even with the tools that Derek had bought, measuring with enough precision was hard, but thankfully the tuning posts were all made to be used in experimental instruments so were easy to adjust.
After they had lunch, they got Carmilla to examine their work. "Huh," she murmured as she plucked each string, "yeah, that is a new sound. And this thing is cool, I need to find a name for it. Alright, you guys pass this stage, and with flying colors." She giggled, "Miss Kazoo says you did that the way hard way. It was thorough, but you should have been able to do it with about a third the work or less."
Shizoku scowled and said, "Well, she may have had a lot of music training, but I have had only so much, so I wanted to be sure I didn't miss anything." And then she blinked, "Wait, 'Kazoo'?"
Carmilla coughed. "Oops. I'm getting a scolding now from Mordecai. Um, maybe don't use that? Anyway, you guys did a great job and put a lot of creative and physical effort into this. That adds up, you know? So with this and all the other stuff you guys did before coming here, I only get to ask you for one more task. I want you to put on a performance for me. And I want it to include that instrument. You can practice with this one, Kazue will make a copy that is a bit more stable for the performance and for me to keep."
That elicited groans from the entire group, but Shizoku rebounded quickly. "Wait, I have an idea. Um, I think we need a couple of days of practice, and we need a drum as well."
The plan was pretty straightforward. Fuyuko was going to sing the songs she could remember, and teach them to Shizoku and Derek while also doing her best to play the notes on their new instrument. She wasn't really going to be very proficient at it in only a couple of days, but they were able to work out the simplest arrangement that would go with her songs.
Derek's job was to maintain a steady beat on the drum and sing along with the chorus of the song. Not knowing the language that Fuyuko was singing in made this part harder.
Shizoku's job was to adjust one of the dances she knew to the timing of Fuyuko's song. She even dug into one of her expanded space bags to bring out a very fancy looking kimono and a pair of fans that could be used to create a sharp snapping sound, which could be used to contrast the low sound of the drum that Derek was playing.
The resulting performance was far from professional. Fuyuko only had a small pattern of notes she could reliably reproduce while singing, and they were somewhat spread out as she couldn't play fast at all. Shizoku's fan dance also didn't really match the feel of the song despite the adjustments she tried to make, and Derek's reproduction of the chorus was far from perfect.
But they put sincere effort into it, and Carmilla was satisfied. "Oh, that will be a great start, and I think I am going to like playing this. Thank you, I think you three have put more real effort into this than most of the adults have. Oh, they have a special gift for you Fuyuko, they say you should have it now." A small book appeared in her hands, which she handed over to Fuyuko. "Part of the dungeon magic means they learned that language when you sang it. This is a copy of every song you sang and a translation. The writing for the original is sounded out using the common alphabet, they don't have a writing sample to learn the original script from. Um, they also think you should wait to read it until you guys are settled in for the night. I'll let you three through the swamp tomorrow, and you can collect your big prizes when you get to the end."
The reason for waiting became clear to Fuyuko when she did start reading later that night, and she began crying. "I remembered the words and the sounds, but it's been so long that I didn't really remember the meaning. They were lullabies. They were my clan's lullabies."
Shizoku and Derek did their best to comfort their friend, but her tears were both of pain and of joy. She was very happy to have this small bit of her past restored to her, even if the translations showed she'd forgotten a verse or two. She was going to do her best to remember them all and make sure they were written down.
She was much calmer by morning, and the three collected themselves and set off to make their way to the briar wall that blocked off the exit to the level. The passage through went fine, but the corridor after was not the straight path Fuyuko had expected. It was blocked off, and there was a single stair way splitting off from the corridor. "Um, guys. That's supposed ta be the way we go, it goes ta a big room ta watch the arena from. That's, um, one of the stairs down to the arena."
They didn't know what to make of this and made their way down very cautiously.
Mordecai was waiting for them, along with several bunkins and kobolds. "So, who is up for an optional bonus challenge?" He asked them with a grin.
My Patreon My Discord Top Web Novels - Romance.io - TVTropes
$3. : 10 Early chapters, lore excerpts $5. : 20 Early chapters, Short Stories $10 : 30+ Early chapters, New stories not published anywhere else (Until after I finish this story at least) . . . . . "A Girl and Her Dungeon", "The Celestine Fox", and AU Core 1: "Coreless"
2024.05.19 15:12 toleste [QCrit] QUESTIONING, LGBT+ Contemporary Romance, 80k, first attempt
Hey PubTips! Just want to say an upfront thanks to everyone who posts and comments on this subreddit - I've learned so much already!
I'm hoping to submit to a competition in which the prize is feedback from an agent. The competition is being run by Spread The Word and Frog Literary, and you can find it here if you're interested in applying too! (https://www.spreadtheword.org.uk/submissions-call-out-applications-are-open-to-lgbtqia-writers-for-1-2-1-feedback-from-frog-literary-agency/)
In the submission guidelines they ask for a cover letter, and I initially took this as more of a standard cover letter but after feedback from an author friend, they suggested they might be looking for a traditional query. My autistic brain struggles with reading between the lines sometimes, so I emailed them to clarify and the standard query is what they're after.
Just for context, my manuscript isn't completely finished but there's nothing in the guidelines to suggest it needs to be finished to apply. If anyone has any feedback or insight they could offer me, I'd be super grateful! Thank you :)
Dear [Agent],
As you represent [LGBT+ romance author], I believe you would be interested in my LGBT+ contemporary romance, QUESTIONING, which will be complete at 80,000 words. It merges the exploration of a newly discovered sexuality as seen in Kate Davies’ In At The Deep End with the wholesome, diverse found-family cast of Casey McQuiston’s One Last Stop.
Lucy is happy to spend the rest of her life in Harrison’s shadow, but she isn’t content to be confined to their kitchen only making meals for him and his fancy friends. She wants to be a real chef. When she gently brings up the idea of culinary school with Harrison, his temper flares and he kicks her out of their shared flat.
Heartbroken and temporarily homeless, she knows that Harrison will eventually calm down like every other time he’s broken up with her. She reconnects with an old friend who gives her a place to stay and introduces her to Manchester’s thriving queer scene. There she meets Aaliyah, the eccentric artist whose confident and flirty nature stirs feelings in Lucy that are much more than friendship. She has to decide whether to stick with the straight-and-narrow life she’s envisioned for herself since she was sixteen, or take a chance on this side of herself that she didn’t even know existed before now.
As a disabled, bisexual woman living in a society where productivity and heteronormativity are the key metrics of success, I’ve always sought out ways to escape. This has inspired me to create narratives that others can escape into, where queer characters all get their happy endings. Queer joy deserves to be given more space within the literary canon and I want to be part of that.
After taking an online writing course and meeting women from similar backgrounds to me, I realised that being an author might be an achievable dream. In the years since I finished that course, I’ve watched hundreds of YouTube videos, listened to hours of podcasts and read any craft book I’ve been able to get my hands on. I also received a mentorship opportunity with the editor Nicky Lovick, who suggested Frog Literary as a good match for my book.
First 300
The smoke alarm cuts through the quiet of the flat like an air raid siren, interrupting my final rehearsal of the speech I’ve been planning for weeks. I rush across the living room, grabbing a tea towel from the neatly folded pile and frantically wave it under the screaming white box. The noise continues to pierce through me, my short arms useless in the face of the high ceilings. I pull a stack of my cookbooks from the counter and lay them on the floor.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, stepping onto Marco Pierre White’s face with my bare feet.
With the beeping finally silenced, I have to contend with the source of the smoke. A trickle of grey leaks from the top of the oven, and I send a silent prayer to the universe that my bread is salvageable. I need tonight to go well.
Pulling down the silver handle, a thick cloud billows out from inside, fogging up my glasses and filling the space with the scent of scorched sourdough. I haphazardly wrap the tea towel around my hands and grab the searing hot tin from the oven, the thin material barely enough to keep my hands from suffering the same fate as my poor bread with its charcoal-coloured crust.
I throw the whole thing into the sink, tears pricking at the edges of my eyes, though that could just be from the smoke that’s hanging around the kitchen like I’m in Victorian London rather than 21st Century Manchester. Harrison will be pissed off if he comes back to a smog infested flat, so there’s no time to cry over burned bread. Instead, I crack open the windows to the maximum amount possible on the 27th floor without being a suicide risk and head out to buy a replacement loaf.
When I get home, the flat is back to normal, the neat surfaces and sterile black furniture all looking exactly as it should. I close the window, hoping that heat from the rest of the cooking will ward away the March chill that has seeped in.
submitted by toleste to PubTips [link] [comments]
I'm hoping to submit to a competition in which the prize is feedback from an agent. The competition is being run by Spread The Word and Frog Literary, and you can find it here if you're interested in applying too! (https://www.spreadtheword.org.uk/submissions-call-out-applications-are-open-to-lgbtqia-writers-for-1-2-1-feedback-from-frog-literary-agency/)
In the submission guidelines they ask for a cover letter, and I initially took this as more of a standard cover letter but after feedback from an author friend, they suggested they might be looking for a traditional query. My autistic brain struggles with reading between the lines sometimes, so I emailed them to clarify and the standard query is what they're after.
Just for context, my manuscript isn't completely finished but there's nothing in the guidelines to suggest it needs to be finished to apply. If anyone has any feedback or insight they could offer me, I'd be super grateful! Thank you :)
As you represent [LGBT+ romance author], I believe you would be interested in my LGBT+ contemporary romance, QUESTIONING, which will be complete at 80,000 words. It merges the exploration of a newly discovered sexuality as seen in Kate Davies’ In At The Deep End with the wholesome, diverse found-family cast of Casey McQuiston’s One Last Stop.
Lucy is happy to spend the rest of her life in Harrison’s shadow, but she isn’t content to be confined to their kitchen only making meals for him and his fancy friends. She wants to be a real chef. When she gently brings up the idea of culinary school with Harrison, his temper flares and he kicks her out of their shared flat.
Heartbroken and temporarily homeless, she knows that Harrison will eventually calm down like every other time he’s broken up with her. She reconnects with an old friend who gives her a place to stay and introduces her to Manchester’s thriving queer scene. There she meets Aaliyah, the eccentric artist whose confident and flirty nature stirs feelings in Lucy that are much more than friendship. She has to decide whether to stick with the straight-and-narrow life she’s envisioned for herself since she was sixteen, or take a chance on this side of herself that she didn’t even know existed before now.
As a disabled, bisexual woman living in a society where productivity and heteronormativity are the key metrics of success, I’ve always sought out ways to escape. This has inspired me to create narratives that others can escape into, where queer characters all get their happy endings. Queer joy deserves to be given more space within the literary canon and I want to be part of that.
After taking an online writing course and meeting women from similar backgrounds to me, I realised that being an author might be an achievable dream. In the years since I finished that course, I’ve watched hundreds of YouTube videos, listened to hours of podcasts and read any craft book I’ve been able to get my hands on. I also received a mentorship opportunity with the editor Nicky Lovick, who suggested Frog Literary as a good match for my book.
The smoke alarm cuts through the quiet of the flat like an air raid siren, interrupting my final rehearsal of the speech I’ve been planning for weeks. I rush across the living room, grabbing a tea towel from the neatly folded pile and frantically wave it under the screaming white box. The noise continues to pierce through me, my short arms useless in the face of the high ceilings. I pull a stack of my cookbooks from the counter and lay them on the floor.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, stepping onto Marco Pierre White’s face with my bare feet.
With the beeping finally silenced, I have to contend with the source of the smoke. A trickle of grey leaks from the top of the oven, and I send a silent prayer to the universe that my bread is salvageable. I need tonight to go well.
Pulling down the silver handle, a thick cloud billows out from inside, fogging up my glasses and filling the space with the scent of scorched sourdough. I haphazardly wrap the tea towel around my hands and grab the searing hot tin from the oven, the thin material barely enough to keep my hands from suffering the same fate as my poor bread with its charcoal-coloured crust.
I throw the whole thing into the sink, tears pricking at the edges of my eyes, though that could just be from the smoke that’s hanging around the kitchen like I’m in Victorian London rather than 21st Century Manchester. Harrison will be pissed off if he comes back to a smog infested flat, so there’s no time to cry over burned bread. Instead, I crack open the windows to the maximum amount possible on the 27th floor without being a suicide risk and head out to buy a replacement loaf.
When I get home, the flat is back to normal, the neat surfaces and sterile black furniture all looking exactly as it should. I close the window, hoping that heat from the rest of the cooking will ward away the March chill that has seeped in.