Dog knotting inside woman
[Thank You] Sunday Funday
2024.04.29 00:12 hoolu123 [Thank You] Sunday Funday
Thank you for all the beautiful mail!
~
u/Boomer1717 I love this empire state building construction postcard! Reminds me of that classic photo of construction workers eating their lunch on a high beam. Thank you also for the silly dog story! đś
u/a5k2h5 I will DO MY BEST, haha! Thank you for the encouraging postcard and inspiring quote. âď¸
u/hispanglotexan Thank you for the earth day card. I appreciated the coral reef fact! đ޸
u/EntireInevitable26 Thank you for this butterfly card! The poem you shared is so special. I love seeing handwritten poetry. đŚ
u/princecowboy Congrats on reaching 100! Isn't RAoC such a wonderful community?? đ
u/Anxietys_Playground Thank you for the handmade "Persephone" card. I had forgotten about her connection to pomegranates! PS. You are my 200th RAoC card received! đˇ
u/banishment_thisworld I loved this little envelope inside an envelope! Glad to hear you're enjoying my very random mailing list. Extra thanks for the stickers! đ°
u/cheeneebobeanie_ I can't believe this is a scratch-off card! I would have thought it was just a beautiful silver design. Thank you! đ
u/Keqani Thank you for this sunset postcard. I love all the stickers. I'll have to check out IU's music. đ
u/snerdboff I love this random happy mail! So pretty how you turns the used stamp into a new card. I had never heard of Planet Word, so I should definitely check it out! Thank you also for the extra stickers. đ
u/melhen16 Thank you for the butterfly postcard with WV facts! I always enjoy the vintage stamps that you use. đşđ¸
u/Mediocre_Radish_7216 I feel so fortunate to benefit from your decluttering efforts! The "Happy Friends Day" message actually made my day. I love this RAoC community! Thanks for all the delightful stickers and washi tape. đ¤
u/Rand_ston Wow, you picked the perfect destash for me! This weird geometry insect art is right up my alley! Thank you! đ
u/thecaledonianrose Such a distinguished cat! Thank you for this cool card. đť
u/ArmadaKristy Thanks for sharing your delightful wedding TY postcard! The quote you included was so lovely too. đ°
u/chiquita61 x2 Thank you for the waterfall postcard! I love that the walkway is literally called "Mist Trail." đ§ Also, I love this handmaid mermaids card! Thank you for all the stickers. I highly recommend the Netflix documentary called Merpeople. đ§
u/feellikebeingajerk Thanks for this card with the Ryan Lochte quote! You're so generous with stickers. Funny to hear about your Olympic mittens too. đ§¤
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2024.04.29 00:12 Laceymaries I dont think we will ever be able to enjoy our backyard. I feel so defeated.
We have a six foot privacy fence.. cannot see through.. even have cement bricks at the bottom to block any smell.. but we are surrounded by small dogs. 3 behind us and one to the right of us. I check to make sure no one is outside every time we go out.. but without fail.. ONE or sometimes multiple of them are outside and start barking which in turn sends my dog into an absolute tailspin. He then redirects his agression on our other dog. He is IMMEDIATELY over threshold when he hears the bark.. There is NO CHANCE to redirect , read body language, distract â because they bark and its OVER. He only goes outside on a long lead.. never alone. and at this point we only get out to to potty and back inside. We take him on 2 mile walks a day in a secluded area with very small chance of seeing a dog, mental enrichment in the house, scattter feeding at 6am outside
I just want him to be neutral in the back yard!! is that too much to ask?! I have been working so hard with him on recall, and it just.. it doesnt matter because the bark that I cant anticipate coming happens and its a loosing battle.. and im defeated.
His sister dogâ Makes it NOT any easier. She then starts barking AT HIM as he is growling and fighting me as I am pulling him inside.
I think I need to talk to his vet about medication. I dont know anymore. We have had a trainer, behaviorist, and contiued efforts and NONE have made the back yard any better and the only reason our walks go.. somewhat ok.. is because we rarelllllyyy see another soul. I am at the end of my rope and feel like a prisoner in my own home.
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2024.04.29 00:09 AutoNewsAdmin [Top Stories] - Woman seriously injured in dog attack
2024.04.29 00:09 Lord_Answer_me_Why You just CANNOT hate pro-lifers enough
2024.04.29 00:08 throwRA_TomJohn AITA for asking my boyfriend to babysit my brother?
My (F26) boyfriend John (M29) has been with me for about a yearâ heâs met my parents but not my brother. My little brother Tom (M10) is going through a âdog phaseâ, basically he likes to crawl around and bark and act like a dog. We think itâs hilarious and we ask him to do tricks and we give him candy as treats. Itâs all good fun and he isnât like messed up in the head, itâs just something he likes to do.
John and I had plans to go on a date tonight but I had a work emergency and had to rush to work, so I asked if he could come over and watch my little brother until my mom got home. He agreed readily (love him) but due to the time crunch I didnât really tell him about Tomâs dog phase. I figured it wouldnât really be an issue so I left once he got to my house and went to work.
I donât get to check my phone at work often but John called and asked if it was okay to go outside with Tom, as he wanted to play outside. He also asked if Tom was okay, because instead of asking he just sat and kind of poked at John and then the door. I said yeah heâs fine but then I had to go back to work. I didnât hear from them until I finished at work and went home, my mom was there but John wasnât. My mom told me I needed to talk to John because he really upset Tom. I talked to Tom and he said that he was just playing and John started yelling at him and scared him.
Tom is really sensitive and if anybody talks sternly to him or disciplines him he considers it yelling, so I didnât immediately assume John actually screamed at him or anything. John and I talked and I asked what happened and according to him, he went to our backyard with Tom and sat reading a book while Tom played.
He said he checked on him every five minutes or so and he was fine, but one time he looked up and didnât see him so he looked for him. He says he found Tom going #2 by the side of our house and he told him to stop that, which scared Tom really bad. John says he sat Tom down and tried to explain that you shouldnât do that outside and that if he had to go to the bathroom he could just go inside or ask John to take him, but Tom threw a fit and, according to John, âstarted kicking and shitting everywhereâ. I didnât believe him at first but he sent me a picture of his shoes which had poop on them and I also went outside where I could kind of see the residue on the floor. I talked to my mom and sheâs extremely upset and says John had no right to discipline a child that isnât his. I kind of agree with her but I also feel really bad that John got his shoes dirty.
I was talking to my friends to get a second opinion and they all said that I need to give John. This kinda upset me but I value their opinion highly so Iâm not sure who I should believe. So AITA?
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2024.04.29 00:08 wisesonAC As a black gamer, I don't care about anything else, I just want a robust character creation that let's me make a character who looks like me. I want multiple afro textured hairstyles. I'm tired of games only having cornrows, afros, and dreads.
Only slightly hyperbole. Obviously I want a good game overall, but damn, can a brother get a nappy temp fade? Sometimes I wanna make my OC a black woman. Are bantu knots too much to ask for?
It's disheartening and othering to see game developers often make our hair an afterthought. When our characters don't reflect the diversity of Black hairstyles, it feels like a part of our identity is being overlooked. It's not just about having more hairstyles; it's about acknowledging the rich variety and cultural significance of Black hair. We're more than afros, braids, and dreads. Our hairstyles have history, meaning, and style that deserve recognition and representation.
In 2024, it's inexcusable to limit Black characters to just a handful of hairstyles while offering an extensive array for others. Our hair doesn't just grow in three styles. This lack of representation is not just a cosmetic oversight; it's a reflection of a broader issue of inclusivity in gaming. We want to see characters that look like us, that represent the diversity of Black hair - from twists and Bantu knots to fades and more.
How are we supposed to immerse ourselves in fantastical worlds, slaying dragons or navigating cyberpunk cities, when our avatars can't even accurately reflect us? Just take a look at this
rdcworld1 video â it's a humorous take, but it underscores a real frustration in the gaming community. It's time for game developers to step up and give Black gamers the representation they deserve.
Bad Examples and Discussions for Context:
BarbeWebsites for References:
Tutorials:
Good Examples:
- Image 1
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- Image 8
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- Image 12
- Image 13
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Big shout out to Jeryce Dianingana for compiling the links! I just put them in reddit format.
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2024.04.29 00:05 HughEhhoule Bait Dog
âGet the fuck out of my house with this â old countryâ shit Sylvia, Iâm serious. â I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
âI give children and idiots three warnings. Thatâs your first. â It takes me a second to recognize my auntâs voice. Iâve only met her a handful of times, and itâs nearly 2am.
âSyl, heâs right, this is crazy. Iâm Roma, Iâm proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. â My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and Iâm fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
âSo you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesnât mean the other side ignores you. â Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
âMight as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolasâ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you donât need him. â Mom isnât pleading, but I can hear sheâs worried.
âWhy are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. â My dad isnât worried, heâs angry.
âThatâs two. â Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
âThatâs three. â Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like heâs trying to talk but canât. My heart starts to race, I donât understand whatâs going on, but I know itâs bad.
âSyl! Jesus Christ, thatâs my husband. â Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
âHappy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. Heâs 16, he has a license, yes? â I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
âNo, heâs not interested in driving. You canât take him Syl. â my mom sounds frantic, Sylviaâs steps are measured and heavy.
âNot interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. â Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didnât just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that Iâm awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driverâs seat, sheâs 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, itâs, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
âAny chance of putting both hands on the wheel? â I say, Iâm mad, but I donât even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and Iâm shocked. Itâs an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
âGo through too many steering wheels that way. â She says with a smirk.
âWhatâs going on? â I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
âYouâre a big boy, so if you want the truth, Iâll give it to you. Thereâs a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because youâre strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because youâre unknown, and, little one, disposable. â Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this womanâs energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, âYou have to put that out! â as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor Iâve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
Iâm stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe sheâs some kind of, I donât know, mobster or something.
But that isnât quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. Itâs like no one notices what sheâs doing.
âHow does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I donât come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. â Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, âYouâll see when we get there. â.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the worldâs oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says â Gritt Auctionsâ the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
âTheyâre family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. â She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my momâs family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
âWhen do I get to know whatâs going on? â I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. Iâd say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
âDonât whine. Youâve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robertâs attitude, rejected by your family.
I donât want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? â Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
âNo⌠â I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I donât even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
âNext oneâs with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? â Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation Iâm in.
âAnswer is still no. Because to be angry, Iâd have to know a God-Damned thing about whatâs going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now Iâm standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, Iâm your new King. So no, Iâm not angry, Iâm annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. â Iâm shocked at what Iâm saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylviaâs face seems to soften slightly.
âThereâs the Gritt in you. â She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise itâs half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
âBefore I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. â
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see itâs made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
âYouâre not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. Iâll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. â The thing says, itâs voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
â 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? â Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps itâs jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
âIf I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, Iâd be a huge fan. â I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, âAnd if anything feels like just telling me whatâs going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. â
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
âAugustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets whatâs coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. â Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
âIf your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. â She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
âYouâre going to have to turn around sometime kid. â The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
âHoly shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you donât even get it. I can see what youâre thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out⌠â Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I donât have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as itâs clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Donât take that the wrong way, I donât mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
Iâve lost track of how long itâs been since Iâve slept, but Iâm brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize itâs been at least a day since Iâve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family Iâve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like Iâm a used car.
âIâm always right soft boy. Remember that. â She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes âFaronâs Funhouse. â
Itâs a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but thereâs a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen âcousinsâ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, itâs mismatched eyes rolling in itâs skull.
I donât hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
âEyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where youâre going. â Are her only instructions.
For once, theyâre clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and Iâm equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what youâd think. I know youâre all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. Itâs a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. Itâs obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but itâs nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, Iâm shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, Iâm standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, Iâve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell letâs throw Pokemon and the like in there as itâs basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman Iâve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as Iâm locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
âJust hit ya didnât it, bud? â He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, âYouâre not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly arenât my fucking partner. â, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, â Youâre a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. â
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
âIf Iâve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. â The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snailâs foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. Itâs face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, heâs big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kidâs right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didnât set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
âMan after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. â Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
âDonât be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of usâ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
âYou have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. â Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
âWas that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. â Heâs panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesnât feel like watching a fight, itâs more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
Iâm running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but Iâm determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, itâs ugly, itâs not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
âWe have to win. â he says, lunging at me with the blade.
Heâs slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as Iâd like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad Iâm hurt, but it doesnât really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I canât escape.
It's a stalemate, Iâm no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but heâs missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. Iâm thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I canât get any leverage. Itâs not a stalemate, itâs a war of attrition that Iâm losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, heâs too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesnât matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someoneâs life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
Iâm frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, âWeâve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. â he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
âHowâs it feel to be a child killer, bud? â, Augustus laughs, âNot that I canât tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didnât it? â
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
âI canât let that go to waste, now can I? â he slaps me lightly, âItâs going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point Iâm going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? â
Of course, I made it out alive. Itâd be kind of hard to have posted this if I didnât.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe Iâll be back, maybe Iâll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. Iâm in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
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2024.04.29 00:04 HughEhhoule Bait Dog
âGet the fuck out of my house with this â old countryâ shit Sylvia, Iâm serious. â I hear my dad say from the kitchen downstairs.
âI give children and idiots three warnings. Thatâs your first. â It takes me a second to recognize my auntâs voice. Iâve only met her a handful of times, and itâs nearly 2am.
âSyl, heâs right, this is crazy. Iâm Roma, Iâm proud, but your part of the family, and mine are two separate things. â My mom interjects. Her voice is calm and level.
I woke up about half way through whatever is going on, and Iâm fuzzy on the details, but everyone involved is three kinds of pissed.
âSo you say, but just because you ignore the other side, doesnât mean the other side ignores you. â Aunt Syl replies, I could never quite place her accent, but it makes her statement all the more sinister.
âMight as well make that the family motto.
Syl, there are a couple dozen other kids Nikolasâ age in the family. Half of which are already hip deep in whatever is going on nowadays, you donât need him. â Mom isnât pleading, but I can hear sheâs worried.
âWhy are we trying to reason with your crazy aunt? Time to go Syl. â My dad isnât worried, heâs angry.
âThatâs two. â Aunt Sylvia replies.
I hear a chair squeak then fall to the floor.
âThatâs three. â Sylvia says, her voice is cold, and I swear I could almost hear an echo.
I can hear my dad start to quietly cough, he sounds like heâs trying to talk but canât. My heart starts to race, I donât understand whatâs going on, but I know itâs bad.
âSyl! Jesus Christ, thatâs my husband. â Mom sounds more offended than scared now. I wish I could say the same.
I stand next to my cracked door, fear beginning to take hold.
I can hear my dad start to take long wheezing breaths, I have no idea if this is a good or bad thing.
âHappy?
Now that any hope of doing this quietly is over, Nikolas and I have a long drive ahead of us. Heâs 16, he has a license, yes? â I hear Sylvia say, sudden footsteps walking up the stairs.
âNo, heâs not interested in driving. You canât take him Syl. â my mom sounds frantic, Sylviaâs steps are measured and heavy.
âNot interested? You sure we are related? You raise soft children. â Sylvia ends this with a dismissive laugh.
The few minutes that followed were kind of a blur, with my mom trying to convince me that I was just going to visit family, as if I didnât just hear everything.
It's a couple hours into a long drive in a small car when my brain finally catches up to the fact that Iâm awake, and going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit.
Aunt Syl sits in the driverâs seat, sheâs 40 something, olive skinned with pitch-colored hair. Her style, itâs, something.
Her outfit was the middle of a Venn diagram of hippie, punk rock and carpenter. Bracelets, flannel, paisley, and enough piercings I lost count.
âAny chance of putting both hands on the wheel? â I say, Iâm mad, but I donât even really know why.
She holds up her left arm, and Iâm shocked. Itâs an ancient looking blued steel prosthetic. She flexes, the clawed, almost mitten-like hand.
âGo through too many steering wheels that way. â She says with a smirk.
âWhatâs going on? â I ask, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence.
âYouâre a big boy, so if you want the truth, Iâll give it to you. Thereâs a job that needs to be done, a dangerous job. And I want you to do it.
Now, I want you, not because youâre strong, or smart, or special. We have many strong, smart, special boys.
You, I want, because youâre unknown, and, little one, disposable. â Sylvia lets this comment hang like rotten fruit.
The next hour goes in silence, at no point do I even entertain the notion this is some kind of joke. Something about this womanâs energy, about the way she carries herself, it scares the shit out of me.
We board a plane, somehow she had all of my travel documents. Even stranger is that we get escorted past the security checkpoints, into first class.
The next words I say to Sylvia are, âYou have to put that out! â as she lights up a short, yellow, hand-rolled cigarette.
She grins, taking a long drag, it smells horrible, the cheapest roughest tobacco odor Iâve encountered.
She relaxes, a cloud of thick, grey smoke forming.
Iâm stunned, not a single person says anything. At first I think maybe sheâs some kind of, I donât know, mobster or something.
But that isnât quite right. No one is looking at her in fear, no one is telling anyone else not to say anything. Itâs like no one notices what sheâs doing.
âHow does she do this? The little boy wonders.
I donât come offering you a thankless task Nik. I come with an opportunity. â Sylvia says before crushing the cigarette on the arm of a chair and tossing it into the isle.
I had questions, and between the fear and the confusion I asked every one of them.
The only response she gave me was, âYouâll see when we get there. â.
She was right.
The flight lands, and after an hour or so of driving the worldâs oldest pickup through the English countryside, we wind up at an old farm house, in the middle of nowhere outside of Hammersmith.
The sign outside says â Gritt Auctionsâ the letters are old, bronze and tarnished, the grounds are littered with car parts, statues, and errata of every type.
Dozens, maybe even a hundred people mill about each stopping for a moment to give a suspicious look at the interloper in their midst.
Sylvia seems amused at my nervousness. I try and give the rough looking folks around me as much space as I can.
âTheyâre family, mostly, by blood or marriage, with a handful of lost souls and hangers on. â She explains.
I probably should have guessed, seeing my momâs family name on the sign, but my brain is basically nothing more than fear, anxiety and jet lag at this point.
âWhen do I get to know whatâs going on? â I say, waving at a cousin of some form and receive a uniquely English rude gesture in return.
My ear is ringing, and I stumble , the left side of my face burning. Iâd say Syl slapped me, but it was more of a polite punch.
âDonât whine. Youâve been stolen from your mother, treated like a dog, and judging by Robertâs attitude, rejected by your family.
I donât want to hear whining, you angry, soft boy? â Sylvia stops and turns toward me. I notice the people around us stop their tasks, interested in our conversation.
âNo⌠â I begin, not wanting to piss her off.
I donât even see the next slap, but it puts me on my ass.
âNext oneâs with the left hand.
Are you angry Nikolas? â Sylvia looms over me like a raven.
I feel something before I get to my feet, a hot, quick flash of hatred. A context free rage at the fucked up situation Iâm in.
âAnswer is still no. Because to be angry, Iâd have to know a God-Damned thing about whatâs going on.
But my lunatic aunt just picked me up and now Iâm standing in the middle of whatever the English equivalent to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family is.
For all I know, Iâm your new King. So no, Iâm not angry, Iâm annoyed, and maybe a bit worried my gene pool really needs some chlorine. â Iâm shocked at what Iâm saying, but I see some smiles, hear a few laughs.
Sylviaâs face seems to soften slightly.
âThereâs the Gritt in you. â She says, starting to walk to an old barn.
I catch up to her as I attempt in vain to dust myself off.
Sylvia opens a small, strangely modern looking door, inside a row of lights automatically flip on.
In contrast to the rotten wood exterior, the inside of the barn looks modern, design wise itâs half way between a hospital and a car repair shop. Equipment of unknown purpose, gurneys and cages of all sizes and types surround me.
Sylvia walks to a door at the back, then pauses.
âBefore I open this door, you need to understand something.
There is no fortune telling, or reading of cards here. The cloak of the traveller, the bangles of the gypsy, these are all ways of navigating the world to us. Ways to exist on the fringes of society.
The Gritt family, we trade in the unknown. We find, we collect, and we sell. And ours is no petty collection of trinkets and tools not meant for the hands of man.
Our grift, is livestock. â
The woman opens the door, and what I see, sitting, chained in one corner of the industrial cement walled cell shakes everything I thought I knew about reality.
He's six and a half feet tall, his skin a waxy yellow, and every spare inch is festooned with black stitching, rusted pieces of metal or small splinters of bone.
His face is noseless and asymmetrical, almost as if repaired or modified over and over. One eye is a small, sinister looking orb with a red pupil, the other a massive, almost reptilian thing, wildly twitching about.
He wears no shirt, but a long, grey hide Trenchcoat hangs down to his knees. I start to shake as I see itâs made from layers of stitched human skin.
He sneers at us, long, conical teeth catch the harsh halogen light.
The thing strains against the chains, but they bind him tightly enough to the wall he can barely move.
âYouâre not lasting more than 4 seconds kid. Just turn the fuck around. Iâll have you slitting your wrists in the corner by nightfall. â The thing says, itâs voice is foul, almost a physical force. Grating, rage filled, and with a lunatic edge to it that makes me question exactly how much those chains can take.
â 3/10, Augustus, who do you think you are scaring with that limp dick of a threat? â Sylvia says, confidently walking up to the creature.
It snaps itâs jaws with a sound like a rifle shot. No where near Sylvia, but enough to make me jump on the other side of the room.
âIf I could stop being threatened and hearing my aunt talk about dicks, Iâd be a huge fan. â I say, something deep within me, pushing past the fear and lack of sleep, âAnd if anything feels like just telling me whatâs going on instead of being vague and creepy, even better. â
The chained thing looks to me, curious. Sylvia smirks.
âAugustus is going to be forced to fight others like him until eventually he gets whatâs coming to him for years of evil.
You, are going to stand next to him while he does it. â Sylvia begins to walk away from the thing, ignoring vile threats of both the violent and carnal variety.
I try to follow her out the door and she blocks me.
âIf your still sane and alive in the morning, I was right. Good luck soft boy. â She says before closing the heavy metal door.
Without her, I feel tiny, that spark of rage is snuffed out and replaced with a cold sense of dread.
âYouâre going to have to turn around sometime kid. â The chained creature says.
I turn, slowly, resolving to make eye contact with the thing. I manage a second or two before looking away, the creature cackles, mocking me.
âHoly shit, they sent me an honest to God pussy. Whole family full of void fucked apes and they send me you?
The best part is, you donât even get it. I can see what youâre thinking kid, I can see that tiny collection of hormones and goo you vainly call a brain going into overdrive trying to figure this out⌠â Augustus starts.
The creature kept going, I donât have an exact count but it was at least twelve hours.
I can only describe it as a verbal assault. Augustus drew from some dark wells, how it knew half of the things it did scared me as much as itâs clawed hands or, piranha-like teeth.
I lost something that night. The fears that thing drug up, the insecurities it played on, the secrets it knew, it crushed any childlike notions of safety or understanding the world I had.
Donât take that the wrong way, I donât mean it toughened me up. It broke any sense of confidence I had, took away any feeling of safety. That God Damned thing in the trenchcoat, changed me.
Iâve lost track of how long itâs been since Iâve slept, but Iâm brought a tin plate heaped with eggs, sausage and for some twisted reason, brown beans. And realize itâs been at least a day since Iâve eaten.
I sit around an abused, graffiti carved picnic table with an eclectic combination of family Iâve never met. Syl sips a tea I can smell from ten feet away and looks at me like Iâm a used car.
âIâm always right soft boy. Remember that. â She says.
It takes a half dozen guys built like construction workers, with Sylvia following behind whispering things that wilt vegetation, to wrangle the creature into the back of an old, reinforced horse trailer.
The inside is covered in totems, runes, and other spooky looking errata. The entity becomes sluggish and disoriented as the heavy wooden doors close, and get sealed with a massive brass lock.
My mind begins to wander on the three hour trip through the back country of the UK. The sun sets, and my brain screams for sleep. That scream is silenced by the sense of mounting dread as we get closer to our destination.
We pull up to an abandoned theme restaurant, the parking lot is full, the windows are boarded, and the walls covered in graffiti. The place is huge, more the size of a small stadium than a diner.
The parking lot is full, the sputtering, sparking neon sign flashes âFaronâs Funhouse. â
Itâs a few minutes outside of a town I forgot to catch the name of. We can see lights on the horizon, but thereâs a feeling of wrong surrounding the building that makes them seem a million miles away.
A half dozen âcousinsâ of mine move Augustus into a strange, almost coffin-like box made of wood, steel and glass, covered in trinkets and symbols. The thing sneers groggily from within, itâs mismatched eyes rolling in itâs skull.
I donât hear Sylvia approach, I notice her as she smacks me in the back of the head hard enough to make my ears ring. The old, cruel woman is walking toward the doors of this meeting place.
âEyes forward, sneer on your face, and walk like you know where youâre going. â Are her only instructions.
For once, theyâre clear and simple. What I see inside easily keeps my attention, and Iâm equal parts scared and pissed off, so looking edgy and miserable is my default state.
At one point, this place was exactly what youâd think. I know youâre all expecting it to be a run down, rat infested haunted house now, but it was, stranger than that.
The place was well kept on the inside, but everything was either in use or repurposed to house the couple hundred eclectic customers milling around. In the centre, is a massive Lucite Cube, crystal clear and housing a ball pit, jungle gym and what looks to be a functional canteen, complete with a deep fryer and popcorn machine. Itâs a couple hundred meters a side, and shaped like a flawed rectangle.
Smoke hangs in the air, my aunt greets old friends in a handful of different languages, I smile and nod, still trying to understand what the hell this place is.
We see Augustus being wheeled to the Lucite box, Sylvia cuts a laughing Cyrillic conversation short, and her and I make our way to the box that barely restrains the hatred and death inside.
At the other end of the Lucite Cube I see a few people dressed in blue and maroon uniforms ( if I were to guess vintage, from when this place served shitty food instead of violence.), they surround a massive, hulking, lanky thing. Itâs obscured by smoke, and poor lighting, but itâs nine foot frame, and unnatural gait are clear.
The box holding Augustus sits about ten feet away from me, inside the massive cage. The front opens, my instinct is to step backward, get as much distance between me and the thing inside as possible, but instead, Iâm shoved, before I can catch my balance, a workbook clad foot is in front of me.
I fall and stumble into the cage, I turn around to try and get out as fast as I can, Iâm standing inches away from the creature, but I see Sylvia closing the clear, impermeable door.
It hits me then. For the first time since this ordeal started, I realize how grim things are.
Just like everyone else here, Iâve been raised on spooky shit packaged to be marketable. Little monsters, The Adams Family, Harry potter, hell letâs throw Pokemon and the like in there as itâs basically just dog fighting with a cute hat on.
And I thought what was happening to me, was somewhere on the Venn diagram of those things.
But as I see the impassive look on the face of a woman Iâve known since I was a child, ( at a distance or no.) as Iâm locked in here with God knows what, I get it. I really get it.
His laughter is like an ice pick, I turn to face him, Augustus brushes himself off, casually looking around the massive arena.
âJust hit ya didnât it, bud? â He says, walking over to me, his steps impossibly quick, almost insect-like, âYouâre not my trainer, or my wrangler, you certainly arenât my fucking partner. â, the entity grabs my chin between two clawed fingers, â Youâre a bait dog. Something for me and that new blooded walking pun to fight over. â
My blood runs down his thumb, his grin cracks his face like a rotten melon, the monster pulls down, throwing me to the floor.
A buzzer sounds, and a three minute timer, projected in transparent red appears on the walls of the Lucite arena.
âIf Iâve got to hunt you down in this shit-hole, things are going to be a lot worse for you. Stay put, bud. â The trenchcoat clad thing says, casually walking toward the creature on the opposite side of the arena.
Closer now, I see it clearly. Inside of a pristine uniform, is a twisted attempt at the human form. The torso is lumpen, asymmetrical, but lean. It's arms nearly drag on the floor, yellow, infected looking flesh, weeping pus like a snailâs foot.
It's eyes are black caves, with just the hint of something deep within. Itâs face is blank, a torn, haggard looking grey tongue runs over rotting green teeth.
The kid beside it looks around my age, heâs big though, just as confused and afraid as I am. He wears a similar uniform to the creature, but his looks, abused, torn, blood stained. Like it's been handed down from one unlucky owner to the next.
As the buzzer rings, the lanky, disgusting creature moves in a flash, tearing off the kidâs right arm and beginning to chew it.
The blood didnât set me off, as terrible as it was. It was the three seconds between the act, and the poor kid realizing what happened that pushed me over the edge.
He started to scream, a horrible trapped animal kind of noise. He backs away from the monster beside him, gripping the crushed and torn remains of his forearm.
Augustus laughs, his trenchcoat drags on the floor, leaving a streak of blood as he walks.
âMan after my own heart.
So, I say, we split these sides of beef for two minutes then talk shop for a bit. Fuck these pretentious apes and their show. â Augustus looks up to the massive thing. It remains impassive, gnawing on the hand.
âDonât be like that. We both know two halves are better than one whole . Win-win for both of usâ Augustus gets a noise that sounds like an angry sewer pipe, and a dismissive wave of a long snake-like arm in response.
The thing in the trenchcoat shrugs, turning around and stalking toward me.
âYou have no luck at all kid, I was going to let you go last.
But the pinworm back there wants to be a dick about things, so looks like things are getting started early. â Augustus grins, his mouth opening shark like.
I stare down certain death, Augustus radiating fear, seeming to become more demonic with each step toward me.
From behind him, a noise.
I would have just assumed it was some part of the worm-like, filth ridden thing eating. Augustus clears up that misconception.
He turns, shaking, body language that of a wild animal.
âWas that a fucking snicker? A giggle? Are you fucking laughing at me, you literal fucking worm. â Heâs panting, hands twitching like dying insects.
He stands, inches from the other creature, dwarfed by it, teeth grinding, muscles straining.
The worm thing casually tosses the flesh bare hand toward Augustus. As it touches his coat, the arena erupts into a kind of wild, senseless, limitless violence.
It doesnât feel like watching a fight, itâs more like a car wreck, or natural disaster. Pieces of jungle gym turn into lethal shrapnel as the blurred, filth spewing scrum destroys them.
I see the timer, 2:15. My mind starts to catch up, and I see the other kid, pale, whimpering, and trying in vain to staunch the blood spurting from his arm.
Iâm running, low and likely poorly, pulling my belt from my pants, and thanking myself for actually listening when I was forced to take a first aid course for a summer job last year.
The kid is scared, he tries pushing me away, but Iâm determined, and not down a couple pints of blood. I pull the belt with two hands, pull it through again and twist, itâs ugly, itâs not perfect, but the flow of blood begins to slow, then stop.
We crawl behind a prize counter, decades old candy and stuffed animals surround us as we cower. A liquid filled roar loud enough to crack the cheap glass cases fills the room.
The kid is looking rough, blood still trickling from the torn stump of his forearm. I see some plastic bags and get an idea.
I lean over to get them, and feel something strange, at first I think I pulled a muscle.
Then there is a deep, burning pain, instinctively I pull away, and turn around.
The kid is on his knees, sanity has left his eyes, a cheap hunting knife in his remaining hand he has a look of panic and determination on his face.
âWe have to win. â he says, lunging at me with the blade.
Heâs slow, and I avoid it, but not by as much as Iâd like. Blood runs down my back, for a moment I wonder how bad Iâm hurt, but it doesnât really matter right now.
I retreat, but the only thing keeping us from being torn apart by the whirlwind of shrapnel caused by the creatures is the counter, I canât escape.
It's a stalemate, Iâm no athlete, and the kid is built like a rugby player, but heâs missing a hand, and delirious from blood loss. I plead, I try and reason, and I dodge crazed strikes by increasingly narrow margins.
Something large, either thrown or knocked loose destroys the counter behind me. Suddenly all is chaos. Iâm thrown into the kid in the uniform, plaster dust surrounds us in a grey cloud.
By the time the air clears the kid is on top of me. I have his wrist in one hand, keeping the split tip of the blade inches from my face.
The angle is too awkward, I canât get any leverage. Itâs not a stalemate, itâs a war of attrition that Iâm losing.
I catch a glimpse of the two creatures. The worm thing is striking at Augustus, who stands still, limbs moving in arcing blurs deflecting the blows and tearing off chunks of foul, tainted flesh.
The tip of the knife begins to dig into my cheek. A drop of blood hits my eye.
I grab the makeshift tourniquet with a free hand and roughly yank forward. The kid on top of me screams, bloods begins to pour. Torn flesh and a gore soaked belt hit the ground.
For a moment the weight on me eases up, and I push the knife forward. But the kid, heâs too stupid or far gone to just back off. As I feel is strength start to fade, he presses himself harder.
I expect him to back off as I begin to drive the roughly sharpened back edge of the knife into his neck. But he doubles down, leaning forward, trying to press the knife toward me.
For a moment, every other fucked up thing going on around me doesnât matter. The world is small, silent, and consists of nothing more than the image of the knife ripping away a fist sized strip from the kids neck.
He backs off when he realizes the extent of the damage. Staring at me shocked, as if just not realizing the consequences of his actions.
He dies slowly, poorly, and within inches of me. I feel no victory, no sense of being a winner, just a dark pit in the back of my mind. The loss of something that comes with taking someoneâs life.
I stand, shell shocked, staring at the corpse. My safety the last thing on my mind.
The worm thing is hurt, and attempts to dive into the ball pit, but somehow, defying physics, Augustus grabs it, holding the half ton monster out with one hand.
He arcs the thing, slamming it into the floor behind him, the spray of gore and viscera rivals pyrotechnics, the force leaves a blood filled crater in the floor.
Without missing a beat Augustus starts to walk toward me, making a token effort of flicking pieces of bone and organ from himself.
Iâm frozen, I know nothing I can do could stop whatever he has planned.
The creature picks up a jagged piece of lumber, and looks at the clock, âWeâve got 45 seconds of fun left kid. â he says with a sneer.
But as he passes the counter, and sees the corpse the look of imminent violence turns into amusement.
âHowâs it feel to be a child killer, bud? â, Augustus laughs, âNot that I canât tell from the look on your face.
Fuck me, that knocked some gears loose didnât it? â
The thing walks forward, looking me over like a collectable.
âI canât let that go to waste, now can I? â he slaps me lightly, âItâs going to be a fucking blast watching you break down kid, wonder what drives you nuts first, this kid being in your dreams, or the fact that, at some point Iâm going to get bored and start giving you all the pain you feel you deserve? â
Of course, I made it out alive. Itâd be kind of hard to have posted this if I didnât.
But now, I sit in a dingy room in a farm house half way across the world from home. Surrounded by family and monsters, all of which seem out to get me. Being forced to risk my life in some kind of blood sport.
Maybe Iâll be back, maybe Iâll be dead by the next time I get a chance to post anything. If anyone has any help, please, post it in the comments. Iâm in a dark place here and no one else seems to be on my side.
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2024.04.29 00:03 ReAssignedX 39 [M4M] Recently widowed Queer from Los Angeles county looking for Straight/Open Male companionship
I'm assigned male at birth (AMAB) but non-binary (x) hence my reddit username. I recently lost my life-partner (1 year mark) and I am attempting to fill an emotional and ... flirtatious void. (Aside: I have a psychologist and a psychiatrist in case there's any concern).
I've been looking to chat with Straight men [only] who are open/experimental for fun chat. I'm just in need of masculine comfort/emotional support. Looking for guys who are overprotective types that like checking in. I also adore the Himbo types, dorks/nerds as well as Daddies (especially if you enjoy being addressed as "Daddy"). I'm a huge comic book/anime nerd, so any guys into the same should get along with me great. I'd preferably like to connect with guys at least 30+ (especially older than me).
Interests: Comics (DC/MARVEL), animation, anime, manga, philosophy, theology, political science, gender studies, paranormal/occult
Favorite movies: BLACK SWAN, THE LAST UNICORN, EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE, HOME ALONE 2, US, HALLOWEEN (2019), anything MCU or DC ANIMATED
Currently on my Netflix watchlist: THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE, THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR, VOLTRON: LEGENDARY DEFENDER, A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS, THE MIDNIGHT CLUB, CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND, WEDNESDAY, THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL, GUILLERMO DEL TORO'S PINOCCHIO, THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW, KLAUS, A TALE DARK AND GRIMM, CASTLEVANIA, CASTLEVANIA: NOCTURNE
Currently on my Discovery+ watch list: THESE WOODS ARE HAUNTED, THE HAUNTED MUSEUM, TRUE TERROR, BELIVERS, MY HAUNTED HOUSE, WHERE MURDR LIES, DEADLY AFFAIRS, THE PERFECT MURDER, UNUSUAL SUSPECTS, FATAL VOWS, BLOOD RELATIVES, MARRIED WITH SECRETS, MANSION&MURDERS, FATAL VOWS, BEHIND MANSION WALLS, A CRIME TO REMEMBER, WHO THE \[BLEEP\], DEADLY WOMEN, PROPERTY BROTHER, FLIP OR FLOP, MILLION DOLLAR ROOMS, LOVE IT OR LIST IT.
Currently on my Hulu watch list: MOM, AMERICAN DAD!, BOB'S BURGERS, FRAISER, FUTURAMA, LIVING SINGLE, ANIMANIACS, TWO SENTENCE HORROR STORIES, BLEACH: THE THOUSAND-YEAR BLOOD WAR, THE GREAT
Currently on my Paramount+ watch list: STAR TREK: DISCOVERY, STAR TREK: PICARD, STAR TREK: LOWER DECKS, STAR TREK: PRODIGY, DARIA, I LOVE LUCY
Currently on my CrunchyRoll watchlist: SAILOR MOON, CARDCAPTOR SAKURA, DEMON SLAYER: KIMETSU NO YAIBA, MASHLE: MAGIC AND MUSCLES, JUJUTSU KAISEN, X&Y, WHY RAELIANA ENDED UP AT THE DUKE'S MANSION, TAKT OP.DESTINY, THE PROMISED NEVERLAND, GOSIC, YONA OF THE DAWN, ANOTHER, SAMURAI TROOPERS, THE NGHT BEYOND THE TRICORNERED WINDOW, REIGN OF THE SEVEN SPELLBLADES, RAVEN OF THE INNER PALACE, MALEVOLENT SPIRITIS: MONONOGATARI, REVENGER, TOKYO GHOUL, BLUE EXORCIST, THE MILLIONAIRE DETECTIVE - BALANCE: UNLIMITED, TALES OF ZESTIRIA THE X, LINK CLICK, THE ANCIENT MAGUS' BRIDE, BUNGO STRAY DOGS, THE CASE STUDY OF VANITAS, ERASED, FATE/STAY NIGHT, RON KAMONOHASHI'S FORBIDDEN DEDUCTION, TEARMOON EMPIRE, THE SAINT'S MAGIC POWER IS OMNIPOTENT, SASAKI AND MIYANO, HEAVEN OFFICAL'S BLESSING, GHOST HUNT, UNDEAD MURDER FARCE
Be sure to check through my posts for other interests/selfies. If you happen to be local to Los Angeles county (or travel here regularly), I'd be interested in meeting in person as well.
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2024.04.29 00:00 Superb_Spend5035 Uhh can i just vent about my day here ?
Oofph itâs been a day of it. Started off fine walked the dogs & went in to town to get food shopping. The woman in the shop was being overly chatty, which is nice in a way but she held me up so then I missed my bus I was pleased to talk to her in the moment but when I realised the hold had me miss my bus I felt annoyed by it. Thereâs a time & a place & holding someone hostage to chat to them when theyâre trying to complete a necessary unavoidable task to in order to just survive like just let me hurry things along so I can get back home away from it all. She was so nice though I feel bad even venting about it but Iâm never gonna see her again probably I donât even live locally so it was just taken up my time & taking me away from being at home with my dogs taking care of them & myself. So that was annoying. After missing my bus I went in a shop and got a gift for a relative but the shop owner was uptight about people knocking stuff over & I was no where near the shelves when I put my bag on my back & she was overcharging for her goods try & support independent shops & get screwed over & talked down to - I wonât be going back there. Silly cow. What else do I have to vent about. The coffee was too hot for a takeaway and too full. It spilled and burned. Someone told me they do Sunday lunch in a cafe I went to but they donât & I felt misled & put out by that. My dog got his foot stuck in the door of his crate yelped and panicked and wouldnât let me help him at first until I managed to distract him with food. Um what else? The voice of my ex abusive partner popped in to my head to annoy me. Just taunting me menacingly and disturbing me and my attempt to have a peaceful lie down.
Things that were good & went right that Iâm grateful for. The bus driver was polite and professional I liked the distinguished gentleman he had a good spirit. I had a nice walk in the evening and the sky looked pretty. I ate some good nourishing food and I got to go for a swim. I had a couple of friendly chats which didnât hold me up for time. I went to chapel and got to donate a little money in return for prayer requests, I got to pray in a peaceful place and I didnât feel too much pain today. Thanks for reading about my ups and downs of today. Good night & I hope you have a good sleeep and pleasant dreams bye bye
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2024.04.28 23:56 wisesonAC As a black gamer, I don't care about anything else, I just want a robust character creation that let's me make a character who looks like me. I want multiple afro textured hairstyles. I'm tired of games only having cornrows, afros, and dreads.
Only slightly hyperbole. Obviously I want a good game overall, but damn, can a brother get a nappy temp fade? Sometimes I wanna make my OC a black woman. Are bantu knots too much to ask for?
It's disheartening and othering to see game developers often make our hair an afterthought. When our characters don't reflect the diversity of Black hairstyles, it feels like a part of our identity is being overlooked. It's not just about having more hairstyles; it's about acknowledging the rich variety and cultural significance of Black hair. We're more than afros, braids, and dreads. Our hairstyles have history, meaning, and style that deserve recognition and representation.
In 2024, it's inexcusable to limit Black characters to just a handful of hairstyles while offering an extensive array for others. Our hair doesn't just grow in three styles. This lack of representation is not just a cosmetic oversight; it's a reflection of a broader issue of inclusivity in gaming. We want to see characters that look like us, that represent the diversity of Black hair - from twists and Bantu knots to fades and more.
How are we supposed to immerse ourselves in fantastical worlds, slaying dragons or navigating cyberpunk cities, when our avatars can't even accurately reflect us? Just take a look at this
rdcworld1 video â it's a humorous take, but it underscores a real frustration in the gaming community. It's time for game developers to step up and give Black gamers the representation they deserve.
Bad Examples and Discussions for Context:
BarbeWebsites for References:
Tutorials:
Good Examples:
- Image 1
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- Image 8
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Big shout out to Jeryce Dianingana for compiling the links! I just put them in reddit format.
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2024.04.28 23:56 DoubleFlores24 AITA for making a joke about a dog at work offending his owner?
Okay so hereâs what happened, I work at retail, Iâm not gonna say where but itâs a pretty alright job all things considering, it pays well.
Yesterday, for some reason, I saw a bunch of costumers bringing their dogs to the store, itâs a big place so itâs easy for dogs to walk around freely. I say, as a joke âeveryone seems to bring their dog inside the store todayâ the owner says âell itâs either I bring him in or leave him in the car to die?â
So I said, as a joke mind you, âyou could leave him at home where he has food and waterâ and he immediately overreacted to what I said. He calls me some of the worst obscenities imaginable, and the. When I apologized for the joke he told me the grow a spine and leaves. The costumer next to me simply sighed and told me not to worry about it.
So I go and report it to my manager and she said âthe joke is innocent on its own, you should leave it to yourself, but you did the right thing by not fighting himâ. Now something about me, when you start snapping at me, Iâm going to snap back, but I couldnât because Iâd lose my job. If this happened while I was off shift, it wouldâve been a different story.
So, now Iâm wondering if what I did was innocent or not. I have a dog too, and I can be protective of him, even though he doesnât go outside too much. So, AITA for the simple joke I made that offended this costumer?
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2024.04.28 23:56 ittybitty_goals Does anyone feel like they have a distinct gender identity
Sometimes I feel as though being an autistic woman (or more compassionately as I would tell myself in the past, an aspergirl, after reading Rudy Simoneâs book. Ironic given the name of the sub, I know) is itâs own distinct gender identity. I do not know how to describe it. I am a female, I am not a man on the inside or out, and nonbinary does not purely resonate, but I do not feel female either. Or a girl, or woman, I guess. When I am with other girls, I often feel alien, both entrapped in the purely female experience and internal feelings, yes, but also extremely alien both to the social customs, but also in the resonance of the identity. Itâs challenging to call myself a woman in groups, use she/her pronouns as though I see myself in this identity. Iâm like a different breed of woman, a type of subcategory I usually only find in other girls on the spectrum. Does anyone else feel a similar way? How has this changed your expression, friendships, or relationships? Any advise or comments would be welcome :)
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2024.04.28 23:55 Enzoid23 I [15F] think I'm mildly sick and Google is about as helpful as you'd expect
So yesterday, I was fine. Then I went outside to collect trash (wearing gloves and iirc I hadn't taken off my dust mask yet) and spent some time doing that (I guess ~15 minutes or so but I'm not certain). When I came back in I felt odd and exhausted so I assumed it was heat, so I took my shoes off, drank water (then an electrolyte water when regular didn't do much), and stayed inside. I had some bug bites on my body and was itchy, I showed mom a spot on my back I noticed that wasn't there before and she said it looked like a rash, which cleared in the next few minutes.
Today, I'm somewhat lethargic (more than usual) my throat kinda hurts, my eyes and breath feel like I've been sobbing for twelve hours, I still feel odd, I've had more sinus issues today than usual (I have perpetual sinus issues so I assumed it must've been a sinus infection but the sinuses mostly cleared after taking a pill and some ibuprofen), every symptom is incredibly mild though. Only enough to suck and for me to realize I'm feeling off and since yesterday I thought I got sick but I was brushed off because of my history of overheating (got heat exhaustion once, was fine ultimately but now I get overheated real easily), I have been around allergens yesterday but I got sick when I was away from them outside and was wearing a dust mask (the allergen being dust).
The only peculiar things that I noticed around me was 1. After I'd gone inside, I noticed a dog outside who was starving (I was going to find a way to feed her without risks of attack or making her want to stay or return for more but she kinda disappeared somewhere) 2. More bugs than usual and 3. A soft hissing noise that I quickly walked away from and tbh could've been the wind hitting something near me
Of course, I've been working more than usual since we're moving and the guy didn't clean out his house much other than furniture and storage. He left lots of garbage and dirt (literally and figuratively). So common allergy symptoms + loss of energy from working makes sense. But it started while I was outside and not doing much work, so I'm not certain. My dad thinks it's the intense weather changes lately (nearby tornadoes, sudden heavy storms, heavy rain even when it isn't a storm...) which likely at least is contributing. I'm not certain though.
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2024.04.28 23:52 mooshwa Official Twenty One Pilots Clancy Lore Megathread: Early DMAORG to Red Taped Albums
| PART ONE: CLANCY LORE MEGATHREAD *last updated 4/28/2024 @ 5:30 pm EST ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Hello all! This is a full, easily digestible thread detailing the confirmed bulk of the current twenty one pilots lore spanning over the last 7 years for all to catch up on. *THIS IS A REUPLOAD. reddit is glitching like crazy and disabled editing on the last thread (and the one I just posted too) so this is still the same one from February! ** Please read this if you are new to the community or just want to get caught up before posting in case your question is answered in this thread.*\* Part 2 of the lore continued here! last updated 4/28/2024 @ 5:30 pm EST We are continuously discussing this in the official discord, come join! Confirmed Fake Sources Clancy Tour Info/Discussion I will update this as time goes on! All information was gathered from discord clique, http://dmaorg.info/found/15398642_14/clancy.html and twentyonepilots.com thread made by u/mooshwa *Trigger warning for heavy topics such as suicide and self-harm\* ______________________________________________ Blurryface Music Videos/ Important info going in On 3/16/2015, "Fairly Local" was uploaded to youtube, shoeing in a brand new dark and disturbing era for twenty one pilots. It took place in a frozen and abandoned building, and featured the vocalist, Tyler, in red contacts with his hands and neck covered in black, almost as if the color was swallowing him. It also featured Josh, the drummer, with red hair and intense red eyeshadow playing his drum set while it flew way from him. The video showcased a deep battle between two forces controlling Tyler. Someone named Blurryface, and his actual self. The color red is extremely important in this story, and is always associated with Blurryface and evil. In "Heavydirtysoul" we saw Tyler being driven by an unseen figure, and later on the car caught on fire before almost hitting Josh in the middle of the road, who was also playing a flaming drum set. The burning car is a recurring theme throughout this story, always showing up during moments of personal power or rebellion. The frozen land and snow is also a recurring theme (and this era went unnecessarily hard looking back at it). ________________________________________________ The Hiatus (2017-2018) On July 6th, 2017, twenty one pilots began a year long hiatus with a series of cryptic tweets showing a red eye slowly closing. (left to right) YOULL HAVE TO COME AND FIND ME MY PRETTY SLEEPER WOULDN'T IT BE GREAT IF WE COULD JUST LAY DOWN? I WILL FEAR THE NIGHT AGAIN NOBODY DREAMS WHEN THEY BLINK REMEMBER THE MORNING IS WHEN NIGHT IS DEAD AND NOW I JUST SIT IN SILENCE After almost a year of silence, the gif on top of the Vessel store page updated to show a glitched-out url which brought you to a site called http://dmaorg.info/found/15398642_14/clancy.html.This is where the band would slowly build their new world and tease their new records. They continue to utilize this site for updates to this day. On 7/2/18, members of their mailing list received an email titled âARE YOU STILL SLEEPING?â with a gif of a yellow vultureâs eye with clips of Jumpsuit playing in the pupil. The eye officially opened on 7/10/18 with the release of âJumpsuitâ and âNico and the Ninersâ, revealing the new logo -// https://preview.redd.it/zvhp7xaoiaxc1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5c7299d4493cefcb7b3f531c2d9fb088f494c957 ________________________________________________ DMAORG (in a nutshell) dmaorg.info is a website domain officially created and hosted by the band Twenty One Pilots and used mainly as an online conceptual teaser for their 2018 album "TRENCH". It featured a cryptic background story and important lore information referenced in the songs and music videos of the TRENCH era. The domain was first discovered by the fanbase on 4/21/2018, during the bandâs hiatus between Blurryface and Trench through a link hidden inside the Twenty One Pilotsâ official merch store website. The original link led to an exclusive 404 error page, telling the viewer âtheyâre in violationâ and âno one should know about thisâ while showing a violation code https://preview.redd.it/rovuirppiaxc1.png?width=1774&format=png&auto=webp&s=d55c5fc13d967bb5d776bbe15bc32f0c8a8319e9 404 ER_ROR you are in violation. thEy mustn't know you were here. no one should ever find out About this. you can never tell anyone about thiS -- for The sake of the others' survIval, you muSt keep this silent. we mUst keeP silent. no one can know. no one can know. no o ne c an kn ow_ (Violation Code. 15398642_14) hidden message: EASTISUP When pasted correctly into the URL of the website, the violation code granted access to another page of dmaorg.info containing journals and images telling the story of Clancy, a disillusioned fictional character living inside a circular theocratic city loomed by huge walls and ruled by nine bishops â the Sacred Municipality of Dema. It sat nestled in the lower region of the large and wild continent of Trench. brief scroll-through of early dmaorg.info The religion the city follows is called Vialism, where the end goal is to take your own life as it is the only route to Paradise, and that the bland dystopia they are living in should be embraced. The Bishops' names were a combination of lyrics from different songs on "Blurryface". The Bishops were as follows: Andre, Lisden, Keons, Nico, Reisdro, Sacarver, Nills, Vetomo, Listo Andre= fairly local- ANDREpeat yesterday's dance Lisden= Polarize-all I feeL IS DENial Keons= Heavydirtysoul-choKEONSmoke Nico-Stressed Out- N/A Reisdro= Doubt -temperatuRE IS DROpping Sacarver= Tear in My Heart- sheS ACARVER Nills= Goner- beaten dowNILL Slip away Vetomo= Lane Boy- will they be aliVE TOMOrrow Listo= Ride- a LIST Of people Clancy started to question Dema and Vialism 9 years after arriving. His dismay grew as his struggles with Dema became visible and the call for âmoreâ became stronger, and he formulated a plan to escape, attempting multiple times before Nico (calls himself Blurryface), the head bishop, finds him and brings him back. He convinced Nico one day to leave the city, and destroyed the car they were driving (events of heavydirtysoul). He succeeds in escaping Nico yet again, but after getting lost in the unknown wilderness of Trench, he grew weary and anxious. Nico found him yet again in a narrow valley 5 days later. This time was different however, as he stumbled across a group of people on the clifftops of Trench. The Banditos, the rebel group he only ever heard rumors of (the events of "Jumpsuit"). After being returned to Dema, the Banditos returned for Clancy and got him out during the Annual Assemblage of the Glorified, which is a disturbing annual ritual that only the most upstanding citizens of Dema called âThe Glorifiedâ may attend, where they become the âGlorious Goneâ (they die) and become available vessels for the Bishops to use( events of "Nico and the Niners"). They brought him back to their camp and taught him their ways, but the cycle was just too strong and he was taken back (events of Levitate). We didn't hear from Clancy again until the release of the "Chlorine" music video, where we were introduced to Ned. In this letter, he talked about his time outside in Trench and noted that he felt torn between the two places, but interestingly enough he called Dema home- something he never thought he could be able to do again. On 4/2/2021, the website updated to show a progress bar that would result in the site being terminated, and a complete inversion of colors. On 4/5/2021, all files in the subdomain were deleted and the website showed up an âAccount Terminatedâ message instead, showing that the Bishops had found and overtaken the site, while also hiding some images teasing the next era of the band's projects. https://preview.redd.it/urpq2i7uiaxc1.png?width=695&format=png&auto=webp&s=cf3aec021a11b3e320417375ab0e5fdc1e8dbad5 Account Terminated The page you are looking for has been removed from our servers. The account was in violation of terms established by The Sacred Municipality of Dema, and deemed contraband material. Disciplinary action has been taken, and the offender no longer has access to this account. Further actions have been taken to ensure these violations will not occur again. Anyone attempting to access or share any contraband material will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the laws set forth by DMA ORG and The Sacred Municipality of Dema. Infraction No. 3.12.1.14.3.25 9.19 4.5.1.4 SACRED MUNICIPALITY OF DEMA UNITED VIALISTS hidden message: C.L.A.N.C.Y I.S D.E.A.D After almost a year of silence, on 3/16/2022 the site updated with a new map of the continent of Trench which introduced the island of Voldsøy-the Norwegian word for âViolence Island.â Map of the Continent of Trench. Notable locations include the main continent, the City of Dema, Port Vial, and the island Voldsøy With this map, we saw the return of Clancy and the Torchbearer after they washed up on the island following the events of the Saturday music video. Clancy talked about how he was being used as propaganda, the performance he was to give on the ship for another Annual Assemblage of the Glorified, and how they were attacked by a strange creature under the water. He notes that the Bishops on the ship weren't real. Throughout a couple of days, Clancy lamented about his struggles back in captivity in the city and formulated his plan to take down the bishops, eventually finding a way to succeed. On 3/17/22, a schematic was uploaded showing steps to some type of ritual labeled as âpsychokinesisâ, and that they must âseize the available vesselâ. On the next line it states that the available vessel is something that could be considered a âGlorious Goneâ, so in essence its a dead body. On March 18th, 2022, Clancy discovered how to perform psychokinesis using a weapon fashioned by some curious little creatures on Voldsøy, affectionately identified as "Ned" (Neuro Expansion Device). They were thought to have been extinct. We see Ned in the Chlorine music video, and hanging out by the fire in â Nedâs cozy fireplaceâ These little creatures have special antlers that the bishops use for seizing their deceased victims, allowing them to inhabit their body and take control of them until they inevitably start to decay. However, they seem to be working with Keons who betrayed Nico. We saw these events play out in "The Outside" music video, which is explained further down in the thread. Fun fact-the neds call each other ned and write letters to each other :D letter to ned from ned, with a drawing of the \"Trees\" tree visual "ned, saw clancy n torch berer jus like keons sed hope you ar well -ned" On 2/13/2024, 1500 scary red letters were sent out to the public by the Sacred Municipality of Dema containing evidence seemingly seized from Clancy's belongings. It included a new letter from Clancy, where he talked about having renewed hope in his plan, an updated map showing the new Paladin Strait between Voldsøy and the mainland of Trench, and a request for information on Clancy's whereabouts from the Bishops of Dema. Both letters included hidden messages, but handwritten was a question. How did you find http://dmaorg.info/found/15398642_14/clancy.html? ________________________________________________ Chlorine Music Video Watch "Chlorine" here On 1/22/2019, the "Chlorine" music video was uploaded to youtube. In this music video, we saw an entirely alternate reality than the one we were accustomed to. Tyler and Josh were just some pool-cleaning guys who stumbled across a little funky shy guy in Australia (its Ned). Nothing out of the ordinary there. Over the course of the video, Ned started to come out of his shell as he became very interested in what the boys were pouring into the pool (it was chlorine). Tyler had a cup the whole time, but he merely pondered it instead of taking a sip. During the bridge, when the pool is filled, Ned took a dip and grew a full set of antlers. He sat down with Tyler at the end of the video, where Tyler offered him a sip of his drink and he politely declined while looking mildly disgusted. This video didnât seem like it had too much lore significance at first. However, its repeated symbolism throughout the story and the return of Ned, the introduction of him coinciding with a letter that seems to directly contradict what we saw in natn/levitate music videos, and his significance later on, it feels too important to not include his origin⌠________________________________________________ The Hype Watch "The Hype" here on 7/26/2019, "The Hype" music video was uploaded after recruiting a bunch of fans to partake. We're invited into Tyler's chest where there's a sick house concert happening, and everything is plaid. Everyone is wearing plaid. As the video progresses, everyone starts wearing more plaid. Even the house is wearing plaid. The camera pans out to the crowd and its just a bunch of people wearing plaid but Ned is there too (he is wearing plaid but he doesn't have antlers). The plaid levels increased to critical amounts, and the house simply could not contain it and it exploded. Tyler and Josh fell back through the roof, and continued their performance layered in flannel as the house rebuilt itself around them. As they slowly took off their tartan shackles, they placed yellow tape over the broken pieces. ________________________________________________ Level of Concern ARG The level of concern ARG was a long, arduous, and extremely complicated online scavenger hunt that was put on by the band in July of 2020. It was designed to last over a week, but we figured it out in 12 hours. It started with a cryptic livestream on youtube that just showed a room of analog tvs that would play a distorted clip of Level of Concern on repeat, occasionally interjected by jarring audio bits. On the tv screens, various gifs and images would cycle through and occasionally a complex code would show up on screen, leading to various webpages and puzzles. There were a total of 20 codes that needed to be entered on usb.twentyonepilots.com. Once code 20 was entered, the first 500 people needed to enter their address, and they received a USB drive in the mail. This usb contained various cryptic files, demos, and goofy images from early in the Vessel era, including a video from Tyler thanking the fans for playing the game and figuring out the codes. Behind him, an analog tv flashes the phrase âClancy is deadâ in code, as can be seen here Clancy Is Dead (FULL WITH AUDIO) You can watch the recap of how the codes were found for yourself here. ________________________________________________ Christmas Saves the Year Watch "Christmas Saves the Year" here On the cover of "Christmas saves the Year", there is a tiny present behind Josh that has the nametag "Clancy" and it says "Sai is Propaganda" alluding to their upcoming album "Scaled and Icy" ________________________________________________ The Live Experience Control Room After dmaorg.info was terminated, the site was hiding a few images teasing the new era. 70's style Scaled and Icy promo posters After the release of âShy Awayâ, live.twentyonepilots.com was made available to the public, and we were introduced to our icy yellow-eyed friend, Trash the Dragon. The site led to a control room where you could explore dozens of easter eggs, purchase merchandise, and wait for incoming song premieres leading up to the release of their 6th album âScaled and Icyâ - which happens to be an anagram for âclancy is deadâ. It was also here that Dema held their first ever live performance, an event designed to entertain(indoctrinate) the citizens of Dema, and Clancy was the star. However, he was repeatedly referred to as Tyler during the show. ________________________________________________ Choker Music Video Watch "Choker" here The Choker music video was a very interesting, seemingly light hearted and silly addition to this saga. It started off in a similar manner to the âChlorineâ music video (which is explained further down). This time, itâs set in a normal area of Columbus, Ohio, and filled with various alleyways (which we could later explore in the Roblox live eventâŚi wont get into that here). Tyler, wearing an orange beanie, walked nervously into a toy store and was met with its employees Josh and Jim (joshâs dog). He got to the counter, and really wanted the blue dragon in the case, but Josh just started drumming. Tyler tried to get his attention, but Josh was locked in and slamming away. Tyler, now frustrated, turned back and explored the shop a little more and was startled by a sudden blue flash. Something to note, when he turned around the first time, Josh was in the same position he was in when Tyler walked in and the drums were nowhere to be found. He turned back around and went back to the counter, and Jim had turned into a little toy with a blue bandana. Josh tenderly picked up the little dragon from before and set it on the counter in front of Tyler. He heavily pondered it for a moment, before deciding to yoink it right in front of Josh and dip. Tyler didnât realize shoplifting was against the rules. Josh chased him down with a massive gun. He caught up with Tyler and shot a giant net at him, knocking him over and encapsulating him, and Josh dragged him back to the shop. Once they reached the front, Josh opened his mouth and just absolutely smited Tyler, turning him into a bobblehead on the shelf next to Jim and the nearly liberated Trash toy. ________________________________________________ The Livestream Experience The show started off as a 70âs style morning show called âGood Day Demaâ with its eccentric hosts Dan Lisden and Sally Sacarver. It opened with Tyler (Clancy) sitting on the couch in between the two bishops looking positively miserable, and the bishops scornfully mocking him and insulting Josh. Dan Lisden (left), Tyler (middle), Sally Sacarver (right) Then they transitioned into Choker, a single from Scaled and Icy. The show was a concert filled with various mashups and interesting cutoffs, always being stopped or changed during a song or lyrics about rebellion or personal power. Occasionally, the bishop hosts would come back in little infomercial segments to promote Scaled and Icy, though curiously looking more and more beat up andâŚfor lack of better phrasing they were decaying. The bishops had seized these two people and were living vicariously through their bodies while they slowly rotted during the performance to give off the impression of manufactured joy. Dan Lisden with blooddrippuing down his shirt during the 2nd informercial break, then actively decaying during the last break Sally Sacarver looking a little worse for wear (no pun intended)-second infomercial break, then actively cementing herself into my nightmares- Last infomercial break In the middle of the performance, just before âLane Boyâ, the bishops came on screen with half of their faces painted black reciting the âStay Lowâ poem. The last verse of âRedecorateâ was put into the end of âLane Boyâ, and was cut off by âChlorineâ. After a solemn moment during Heathens/Trees, Josh returned as the Torchbearer and they performed some songs off of Trench, burning car on stage included. After this segment concluded with heavydirtysoul, the bishops came back for their final infomercial dripping blood and threatening the audience, and then played it off like nothing happened. The performance carried on, eventually getting to Car Radio where alarms started to blare, and chaos erupted in the studio. âNever Take Itâ was last on the setlist, performed in a street filled with burning cars and running people. After the song ended, Tyler slowly and begrudgingly trudged back to the first set with the bishops-who were somehow looking completely normal, and finished the end of Choker, and then everyone stood up and clapped. ________________________________________________ Saturday Music Video Watch "Saturday" here On 7/8/21, the next Annual Assemblage of the Glorified was set to take place. Because of the smashing success of the livestream, the bishops decided to hold a party on a submarine and have Clancy and Josh be the main performers. They sent bishop imposters (bishposters?) to control the ship and make sure everything was going smoothly. Everything did not go smoothly. A massive dragon (trash) attacked the ship, nearly drowning everyone, but 21 people are shown to have survived overall (the other 19 pilots?) _________________________________________________ The Outside Music Video/Weapon Watch "The Outside" here On 3/18/22, the Outside music video was uploaded after a few days of updates on dmaorg. It began with a visual of Trash, the 9 bishops, and Keons in the center holding a pair of antlers, having been caught controlling Trash and betraying the other Bishops. Then they just start stabbing. Julius Caesar style. not a fun way to go, i wonât lie. The yellow glow in Keonsâ eyes dimmed, and so too did the life in Trash as he sank to the ocean floor. Clancy (Tyler??) washed up on the frozen island of Voldsøy, covered in snow. Josh/The Torchbearer came up and picked Clancy up by his collar and they walked off, eventually finding a break in the foliage. They discovered a cliff face with a cave opening, and a little guy welcoming them in. itâs Ned!! They walked through the narrow cave passages, spitting some fire bars on the way, eventually arriving at a rotation you couldnât have dreamed up better. A bunch of Neds, all hanging out by the fire. The Ned that welcomed them in started to leave through a side cave, but Clancy and the Torchbearer followed. They met Ned on the beach, who broke his antlers to give to Clancy. He posted a schematic for a ritual to harness the power of psychokinesis. w-eap-ø-n The bottom reads: seize available vessel at Voldsoy eastern cove intercept bishops. _____________________________ glorious gone = available vessel ________________________________ bishops control the available vessel! intercept and seize _________________________________ they will make you a weapon _________________________________ The top letters unscramble to say âseize keonsâ The Neds began performing the motions, and Clancy followed- somehow taking control of Keonsâ body. He was an available vessel after all! After emoting in front of the bishops, he destroyed one of the towering lights in front of him. Keonsâ body fell to the ground, and Clancy regained control of his own body. He later wrote about the experience in the most recent letter update on dmaorg. After Clancy regained control of his body, heâs seen with the Torchbearer waiting for a signal. On the other side of the Strait, dozens of banditos return the signal, cutting to a blue flaming city behind them On 3/18/2022 Clancy uploaded the most recent **digital*\* letter to the site What is this thing? This device? This gift? Some sort of neurological connection or expansion. Psychokinetic weapon? This is absurd. Why was this given to me? Why am I the only one that can wield it? Was this the reason that I survived? My mind is racing as I wait here on the rocks -- staring off into the darkness. Waiting for our torches to be mirrored - the signal he told me to wait for. It feels oddly familiar. Not the spikes in my hand, but the power it harnesses, I've felt it before. Is this also the source of those rumors I heard in the dark corners of the city? Legends and stories that I assumed were myth, inspired by children's nightmares -- tales of what the bishops would use the bodies for. Those "honorable" citizens who acheived The Glorious Gone -- referred to as available vessels. It all begins to make sense. The episodes I would have: the blood red vision, my dreams of flying, the out of body account of the rider in the river, the decaying hosts of the television show, the robed figures that commanded the doomed ship... Had we all been "seized" by the bishops using this same technique? Is this where their power comes from? Are they immortal, or just feeding off the next body, giving their hosts a brief second-life? I am in my original life, why am I available to this control? This whole time I thought I was battling my inner self. Was I actually under assault for something else? someONE else? This small eerie island has made me a weapon. We both believe that we can use it to change the momentum of this war. Now, we must return to the mainland where they should be there to recieve is. We will destroy and rebuild. Though it's been years since he last spoke with them, I hope they have not lost faith in The Torchbearers plan. But how could any of this have been planned? -Clancy ________________________________________________ Clancy Era-Where we are now On 2/13/2024, 1500 scary red letters were sent out to the public by the Sacred Municipality of Dema containing evidence seemingly seized from Clancy's belongings. It included a new letter from Clancy, where he talked about having renewed hope in his plan, an updated map showing the new Paladin Strait between Voldsøy and the mainland of Trench, and a request for information on Clancy's whereabouts from the Bishops of Dema. Both letters included hidden messages, but handwritten was a question. How did you find http://dmaorg.info/found/15398642_14/clancy.html? Information requests from the Bishops of Dema along with a new transcribed letter from Clancy, coupled with an updated map of Trench to include the new \"Paladin Strait\" Letter One Transcript: YOU HAVE RECENTLY ACCESSED INTERNAL DOCUMENTS PERTAINING TO CASE 15390642 14: (DELINQUENT] CLANCY VS. THE SACRED MUNICIPALITY OF DEMA IN THIS ONGOING INVESTIGATION, WE ARE URGING ANYONE WITH KNOWLEDGE OF THE WHEREABOUTS OF THE ACCUSED TO COME FORWARD WITH RELEVANT INFORMATION ABOUT THE CASE. IT IS REQUIRED THAT ALL INHABITANTS OF DEMA TO DO THEIR DUTY IN BRINGING ALL ENEMIES OF VIALISM AND ITS TEACHINGS TO SWIFT JUSTICE -THE HONORABLE BISHOPS OF THE SACRED MUNICIPALITY OF DEMA. *take excessive measures in attempting to correct or make amends for an error, weakness, or problem. (the oxford dictionary definiton of overcompensate) ________________________________________________ Letter Two Transcript: THIS DOCUMENT IS DESIGNATED AS EVIDENCE UNDER PERUSAL AND INVESTIGATION BY THE SACRED MUNICIPALITY OF DEMA AND DEMA ORGANIZATION. THIS DOCUMENT IS INTENDED FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY AND IS NOT TO BE DISCLOSED OUTSIDE AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL WITHOUT PRIOR APPROVAL FROM THE AUTHORIZED BISHOP OF ITS DESIGNATED DISTRICT OR THE PRESIDING LEGAL AUTHORITY. THE INTEGRITY OF THIS DOCUMENT MUST BE MAINTAINED AT ALL TIMES TO ENSURE ITS ADMISSIBILITY THROUGHOUT THE INVESTIGATION hidden message: STILL ALIVE ________________________________________________ Clancy's Letter Transcript: 024 02MOON09 "I'm not as scared as I used to be. Their mystery begins to fade as a method to defeat them becomes more clear\**. I no longer feel powerless. I can outsmart them. This new power of psychokinesis worked, and I believe it can work again. I stand here, looking down at the line where the water meets the sand-a starting line. All the while, knowing there is a finish line across the Strait. Their compass lies, but mine remains true. I've left embers of inspiration, I only hope whatever spark was left has grown to a torch, and together we create** an inferno. -Clancy hidden message-meruioenpepa ________________________________________________ I Am Clancy Watch "I am Clancy" here On 2/22/24, a new spoken letter was uploaded to the youtube from Clancy, basically narrating what you just read. In a portion of the video where it shows the map of Dema, Keons' tower is grayed out. He explained his story, what happened to the Bishops, and how he's an exception to the strange powers the Bishops wield. He's taking back his own identity, and he is going to return to Trench to finish what he's started. ________________________________________________ Red Tape On 2/17/2024, the band updated their studio album covers to include red tape. The best running theory is that the red tape signifies bishop control. That's why keon's circle is taped, why trash is taped, why clifford is taped specifically to cover leave the city. the city is still under bishop control, and the vultures are property of Dema for surveillance. since the grandfathers are taped, and trench is in the shape of a brain, i can only assume that insinuates that the bishops have control over the continent somehow since many ideas from vessel are used in this story. or, to go along with my other theory in the next part, clancy is so focused on getting back to trench that its clouding his vision the red tape seems to only be partially (but still almost fully) covering the eyes of the subjects on the cover ________________________________________________ Important details that couldn't really fit anywhere - Nico is the only bishop without matching lyrics, and he is repeatedly noted to not be present at gatherings with the other 8 bishops
- There is a tie to "Nicholas Bourbaki" which was a pseudonym for a group of French mathematicians that formed after the first world war in response to needing to use dated texts for scholarly work due to a generation of their mathematicians being slaughtered. Their goal was to publish updated and accurate information when there was none available. The name is mentioned in "Morph", they also came up with the mathematical ø.
- the bishops cannot see yellow, that is why it is the color of the rebellion, and blue means defeat according to blurryface's twitter.
- Nico has been known to be the harshest bishop, while Keons stands out as the most compassionate and kind according to Clancy.
- KEONS IS THE ONE WHO WAS STABBED AND KILLED. NOT NICO. we saw this during The Outside, and he was shown during "I am Clancy" with further confirmation from Mark
part 2 is continued here <3 If i have missed anything you feel is deeply important to understanding the basics of the lore, please let me know!! Iâm going to be updating this thread as things come in. In the meantime, i hope this answers your basic questions and happy theorizing! submitted by mooshwa to twentyonepilots [link] [comments] |
2024.04.28 23:51 Reasonable-Garlic394 I got petty revenge for my MIL 10 years after her best friend ripped off a business they owned together.
I (31F)have been with my SO (34M) for 14 years. We've known one another for a while like as friends of other people that we had gone out with but, one day I ended up at his house and we started talking and the connection was immediate. When we started out we used to go between his mums and my mums house and stay for like a week at a time in each. We were and still are inseparable. We told one another stories about our childhood and we realised that his mum had actually owned the same like restaurant/coffee shop building my mum had worked as a waitress at at one point while I was at still in high school. They didn't work together at the same time but I digress. Well my MIL's best friend at the time was her business partner and long story short this "bestie" was on the take from the business itself and it led to them having to close they fell out etc etc. Well in 2015 I started my job with the biggest rent-to-own store in the UK. The building I worked it was at the end of the high street before a subway under a road leads you out into the next kind of part of our city. I'd say around 3 years into me working this job a sweet shop opened about 15 shops up from where I work and when I walked past one day with my boyfriend he says to me "that lady who works in that sweet shop is my mums ex best friend. Now for the petty revenge... During my lunch breaks at my job, I was allowed to venture out of the building and get fast food or something from a nearby supermarket. I walked past this sweet shop most days on my way to get lunch and during the warmer months they put cardboard display boxes that contained bags of sweets. Not the POS kind either where they have that bit of shine to them but just brown cardboard boxes. Well I happened to see a little cute doggie frolicking up the street in front of me and peeing every few feet. I saw him peeing on those boxes and didn't stop him. Then, later on when I had left work and they were closing up and bringing in all these boxes I specifically waited til she was handling one of them to tell her "oh I saw a dog pee on those today" I walked away evil laughing inside. The funniest part for me is she has absolutely no clue who I am so, she had no idea I'd got a little petty revenge on behalf of my MIL. I later told my MIL and my boyfriend and they had a little laugh about it too...
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2024.04.28 23:50 Bubblykittie Would you be mad if your significant other gave a Motherâs Day present to their childâs mom on behalf of the child?
In this scenario, Iâm the BM. My ex and I have a 13-year-old son together . Iâve also been a SM to my sonâs fatherâs other child since she was 5. Sheâs now almost 30.
I would give background on the stepmother, but it would be too long. So Iâm gonna ask that in another question because thereâs another question I have for stepmotherâs that I simply cannot wrap my head around.
But to put it simple she has severe mental health disorders. Sheâs legally not allowed around my son. Hence why my sonâs father will stay over at my place for weeks at a time to stay with our son. Because she refuses to leave the house as the court order states she has to do if my son were to go over there.
Before you ask if weâre Weâre doing it ⌠no. I even have a separate bedroom for my sonâs father. Yes my sonâs father has a man cave in my house lol he does travel a lot for work so when I say he stays over for weeks at a time, half of that time heâs travelling for work between Canada and the states usually
Anyways stepmom She has 4 kids from 4 different men. None of them support her or her kids. But my sonâs father does it. Heâs very well off. And when I say she has kids, I mean they range in age from 21 to 16.
Anyways, every year, my sonâs father always treats me and our son on Motherâs Day. He used to do it for his daughter and her mom. and it never bothered me. I thought it was really sweet. So now he does it for myself and my son.
Heâll usually take us both out to dinner then heâll get flowers or chocolate or stuffed bear or usual Motherâs Day stuff. Of course from our son. Itâs not like heâs putting it on behalf of himself. Even though I know heâs paying for it lol
Every year my sonâs dad and her argue about it. She always tries to plan family vacations around it. But luckily, my sonâs dad is wise to it and he just says OK. You can take your kids and I guess Iâll just stay at our sons house.
Well, this year because sheâs found out that my son father wants to divorce her, sheâs now threatening to kill their dogs. Obviously, my sonâs father loves these dogs. Iâve never met them personally, but theyâre golden retriever and OMG so cute!
He gave me his concern and I said well just bring them over. If he wants to stay at my house to cool off, the dogs are welcome as well.
Well, the crazy lady found this text message on his phone and went bat shit crazy as usual . So now sonâs father is currently at my house and heâs going to stay until after Motherâs Day. No worries, she doesnât know where I live so everybody is safe including the doggies. â¤ď¸
No, Iâm not gonna sit here and ask if this is normal behaviour because it is definitely not. And as a stepmother myself, I couldnât even imagine doing this.
But my first question is would any of you be angry if your significant other just bought something for their childâs mom on Motherâs Day again on behalf of child.
I understand most if not 100% of you would not act like this woman does. Like I said she does have mental health issues. Thatâs why other than the court saying sheâs not allowed around our child I donât press charges on her when sheâs sending me threatening text and all that. I know she just drinks a lot and she probably doesnât remember it in the morning anyways.
Thanks so much! Sorry for extremely long. But if I didnât give background, I would probably get completely different answers.
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2024.04.28 23:48 HerbalTega [Discussion] The Amory Wars is about Claudio S. overcoming his issues with women.
Would love to discuss this idea with other fans here. I'll be talking about a lot of story spoilers throughout the saga, so consider this a blanket warning. I'm discussing in broad strokes here, so if anything is unclear I can give more specifics in replies. To me this is probably the most prominent theme of the original saga (SSTB to NWFT).
As NWFT's release approaches I've been bringing a friend through The Amory Wars and C&C's work from start to finish. It's been interesting seeing someone with no connection to their music make their way through the story and comics. Starting with SSTB, the most apparent thing is how awfully women are treated in this universe. Besides Cambria herself, pretty much their only function is to be fodder for the development of the male characters. Josephine, Mariah, Ambellina, Erica, even Newo to a lesser extent. Sure, everyone is constantly dying all the time in this story, but it's impossible to ignore the pattern here.
SSTB is by far the worst for this and I think is basically a time capsule of Claudio's insecurities at the time as a young adult. Aside from Cambria, no woman is given true agency. Josephine is the worst for this. She shows up for like 3 pages, one of which is her being raped, and the other is her being murdered. That's it. Mariah is one-note and basically exists to develop Jesse's character as the true leader of the rebellion.
There's a bit of improvement in IKSSE. Chase has her own ambitions, and Ambellina at least gets to survive the book, though her existence is still entirely in service to Claudio K. The big issues here are mainly channeled through Al the Killer. It's still a sign that Claudio S. at the time really, really fixates on violence against women as a narrative device. But at least here, it's in its own self-contained subplot.
GA4 is where this theme gets a lot more depth. It lampshades what Claudio S has been doing. Ambellina is getting a bit too much agency of her own, and this causes Ryder to interfere directly. He forces her once again into that box, killing her for the sake of his own vision, for Claudio K's development. She doesn't get to be her own person. That's not how this world works. On top of that you have the whole metatextual layer between Ryder and Erica reflecting Claudio S. and Chondra's breakup at the time the album was written.
When you bring someone through The Amory Wars who has no connection to the band, it becomes even more apparent how disturbing it is. And I think that's the whole point of it. It's a sorry, fucked-up collection of Claudio's fixations and insecurities at the time the music was written. For three full graphic novels, save for a brief triumph at the end of IKSSE, it's been nothing but tragedy and violence, with this undercurrent of badly treated female characters. Presumably, it's going to end with the destruction of the entire system. Claudio spent years expressing all that negativity and neuroticism, and in the end, annihilates it to move forward. It's not a world worth saving.
I'll finish by touching on Vaxis and where I think it's going:
Clearly he has a much healthier relationship with this stuff now. Nia and Nostrand are very much equals. Claudio's attention is shifting to his responsibilities as a husband and father. This is also shown in how much the music has mellowed out since then. In the past, all he had was that aggressiveness and violence, which, yes, helped make a lot of incredible music, but reflected a much darker internal world that I doubt he identifies with any more. Instead, that aggression is something to be channeled and used as part of a much larger palette. Think The Dark Sentencer, Ladders of Supremacy.
Where Vaxis goes from here pretty much depends on how Claudio's kid comes into his own and the relationship they develop moving forward. Claudio turns himself inside-out for the sake of his art, warts and all, and I think that's really cool.
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2024.04.28 23:48 Spiritual_Detail845 AITA for not letting my brother go to my fathers place
I (20F) have a much younger brother, our parents are devorced and we live in different homes, he lives with mom, I moved away for school. Our father never blamed himself for anything, he probably also has depression. He switched jobs quite offten and we used to bet on how long will he have one job. I stoped talking to him for about two years ago, I cut ties because of abuse. He never apologized, he told mom that he was sorry but never told me he was, and I think he did that to make sure I wouldnt involve the police. I didnt wanna do that because of my brother. Since my brother is male, father treated us a lot different, but I never payed much attention cuz I really love my little brother and he's amaizing. I knew he will not be violent towards him. We started talking and I saw that he was having a hard time so I was okay I'll try to help (dumb idea). As far as I remember he never cleaned anything after himself, he asked me to come and clean everything and he said that he will pay me to do it, I said okay, so first we made a deal to be one weekend, but he said that he is working, then another one, then another one and I got sick of it. I said that I will come to the house and clean it with or without him (I already bought the stuff that I needed for the first week). Thats when I get a message from my brother where he asked me if I'm coming today. So I asked father whats all that about? And he told me ohhh but I work tummorow, why would you clean alone, its a hollyday (he works on this day). He also said that we will clean what we can in the night before my brother comes. Lies. We went to pick up my brother and then we come to his place. There was mold everywhere. He keeps a dog inside the house alone and there was a lot of poop everywhere, its two floor house so we go upstairs and its better but still. Bread was everywhere, everything smelled really bad. I dont drive and we didnt have a bus to go anywhere, also as I said he can be abusive so I just rolled with it. I made sure the bed we slept in is fine, as soon as the sun went up I said we go in the city where I study. We go there, we spend amaizing day, but I was still really grossed out by the house, I knew mom didn't know about that so I called her and told her everything. She will not let my brother go there but I cant help but wonder was it too far?? I knew he used to guilt trip me for everything, he used to slut shame me since I was 12. I always wore modest clothes and I dont wear make up so I dont know where that came from. I mostly got scared for my brothers health to be honest and also for his mental health, so maybe this is for the best. The thing is I always tried to help my father, he got in debt when I was like 13-14 and I tried to get him out of it, I did save that house and thats what hurts the most, that house has been in my family for more then 300 years and now this scum is ruining it. The house is on my name but I dont think grandpa would ever approve me making him homeless, so Im not doing anything there, I still dont know how to help a person who blames everything on others and lies all the time, he cant see that he has a problem... So AITA?
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2024.04.28 23:47 Brittiel Missing newborn rabbits
Hi everyone, I just have a question as to what could have happened to the baby rabbits in my neighbours backyard.
Two days ago my neighbours dog got a hold of a few baby rabbits and sadly it didnât end well. She found the nest and I peeked inside and saw two, one was moving for sure.
We covered it with a crate that was large enough for the rabbits but not the dog to fit through.
This morning at 8am, there was movement from the nest but we didnât want to touch it again. There definitely was more fur added to it so we know mom had returned.
5pm I just checked and the babies are gone! The nest wasnât disturbed at all and there was no blood.
Iâm thinking a cat must of gotten them since nothing else should be out from 8am-5pm. Could have carried them away to snack on so there wouldnât be blood?
I was just wondering if anyone had any ideas as to what could have happened. Iâve read rabbits donât move their young. My neighbours letting her dog out again and I just want to make sure thereâs no possibility of them just being somewhere else in the yard.
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2024.04.28 23:41 Ford9863 [Asteria] Part 38
< [Skip to Part 39>]()
Mark let out a loud, angry roar, stepping closer to the door as it slid aside. He fired his gun. Again and again, then continued pulling the trigger even after it had clearly run out of bullets. If he had been of a more rational mind, he might have realized Neyland was not standing in its wake.
Thomas stood with his hands over his ears, fighting the ringing from the shots. Through squinted eyes he watched as a shape emerged from the security nexus and lunged at Mark, something held high in his hand. It happened quick, but the shape of it was clear. He watched as Neyland drove a long, thick needle into Markâs neck, then pushed a plunger down with his thumb.
Mark shoved Neylandâs chest, pushing them both in opposite directions. Mark stumbled backward and fell near Thomasâs feet, grabbing at the spot on his neck where heâd been stuck. His eyes were closed, but his writhing suggested an immense amount of pain.
Neyland rose to his feet, still holding the syringe in one hand. A bright blue fluid dripped from its tip, quickly disappearing into the carpeted floor below.
Frozen in place and unable to hear beyond the ringing in his ears, Thomas stared at the man theyâd worked toward finding for so long. He was tall and thin, his oversized labcoat doing little to hide his bony figure. Dark hair hung in clumps from his head, giving way to patches of deep purple along his scalp. The rash curled around his ears and spiderwebbed across his temples. At the base of his neck, Thomas could see patches of red, scabby blisters. Nearly all of Neylandâs visible skin was shades of blue and purple, save for some patches on his face.
âJesus,â Thomas said, though he only felt the words in his throat. Neyland glanced at him, then turned back toward the nexus. He disappeared inside for a moment then returned with a small white box, making his way toward Layna.
Mark remained on the ground, eyes clenched shut and hand on his neck, though his writhing had slowed. He no longer appeared to be screaming, either. Thomas couldnât tell if the man was relaxing or dying. He wasnât sure which he preferred.
âGive me a hand,â Neyland called out. He knelt in front of Layna and opened the box.
Thomas approached, unsure what else to do. Laynaâs eyes were fixed on Neyland. She let go of her wound, using her good arm to shift her weight.
âPlace this on the wound,â Neyland said, handing Thomas a small, gray object. It felt rubbery on one side with fabric on the other, with tiny bumps along the edges of the fabric side.
Thomas gingerly pulled at the edges of the hole in Laynaâs shirt until he was able to reach both thumbs in. Then he tore the fabric apart. Blood poured from the wound in quick pulses. By the time heâd torn a hole large enough for the patch, his hands were slick with her blood. He swallowed hard, then pressed the object against Laynaâs shoulder. She winced and leaned into it.
Neyland pulled a small cylindrical object from the box and pulled a small plastic piece from the back of it. Three tiny needles extended from its base while a button on the other side twisted and popped up slightly. Without giving her warning, he shoved it into her outer thigh and pressed the button.
Laynaâs expression loosened as the medicine worked at her pain. Meanwhile, the small square on her shoulder sunk against her skin, flexing and pulsing as it appeared to tighten around the wound. Within seconds, it settled. Blood no longer seeped from its edges.
âTurn,â Neyland said, pulling another patch from the box. Layna grunted and shifted once more, pulling away from the wall. A smear of red dripped along the silver-gray panel behind her.
Neyland nodded. âGood.â He reached forward and followed the same procedure for the exit wound until the second patch was firmly in place.
âAre you okay?â he asked, staring at Layna. His tone lacked any compassion Thomas would have expected from a doctor. The question was clinical. It was as if he only wanted to make sure she hadnât lost enough blood to die before he could use her to get off the ship.
Layna nodded. âIâll live.â Her eyes fell to Mark, who continued to wince in pain with his hand against his neck. âWhat did you do to him?â
âGave him something to stop the infection,â Neyland said. âItâs not a pleasant feeling, but itâs better than death.â
âHe would know, wouldnât he?â Layna said.
Neyland let out a sigh. âYes, he would.â He turned shifted his gaze to Thomas and said, âHelp me get him inside. Itâs best not to be lying down for this.â
âYou need to tell us what the hell is really going on here,â Layna demanded. Her hand remained behind her back, her eyes fixed on Neyland.
âIâm aware of what youâre holding back there,â Neyland said, rising to his feet. He moved toward Mark and gestured for Thomas to follow suit. âIf it makes you feel better to point it at me, be my guest. I have no reason to harm any of you. And Iâll gladly answer your questions once we are safe inside the nexus.â
Thomas looked to Layna. She returned a slight nod, then used the wall to help rise to her feet. The gun remained in her hand, though she kept it pointed toward the floor instead of at Neyland. The threat was enough.
Together with Neyland, they pulled Mark to his feet. He tried to stand on his own, now more lethargic than anything. Whatever Neyland had given him seemed to disorient him to the point that Thomas wondered if he even realized what was going on. With Neyland under one shoulder and Thomas under the other, they guided Mark into the nexus and into a chair near the door. Mark slumped into it, breathing heavily, his eyes still pressed tightly closed.
Neyland turned back toward the door. Layna stood in front of the panel, her wounded arm hanging loosely at her side.
âWould you mind closing the door?â Neyland asked. âIâd prefer we donât have any surprise visitors while we chat.â
Layna stared at him for a moment, contemplating. âLooks clear to me. You expecting more?â
âCan never be too safe,â Neyland said. âThough, I suppose youâre right. Mark cleared out the ones that were waiting for me; we should be safe. Iâve just had that door shut for so long, it feels wrong to leave it open. Would you indulge me?â
Thomas let his eyes fall on Mark for a moment. He watched as Mark shifted in the seat, his face finally beginning to relax.
âWhatâd you give him?â Thomas asked.
Neyland turned his gaze towards Thomas. âSomething to slow the mutation.â
âWill it cure him?â
Neyland remained silent for a moment, a slight whistle sounding with every short breath he took. âItâs less a cure and more a⌠treatment. Until I can return to my work.â
Layna slid the gun back into her waistband and crossed her arms. âIs that what youâve done to yourself?â
âYes,â Neyland said with a nod. âAs you can see, itâs not an ideal solution. But without access to proper equipment, itâs all I can do.â His eyes shifted to the open door, then back to Layna. âPlease, the door.â
âTell us what happened here,â Layna said, ignoring his request.
Neyland turned and made his way to a chair at a nearby console. Screens lined the wall, each showing a different part of the ship. Rows of locations scrolled across the console itself, along with numbers that meant nothing to Thomas.
âSomething affected our store of genetic material,â Neyland said. As he sat, he let out a long, tired groan. Thomas almost felt sorry for the manâbut his empathy was quelled by the internal reminder that Neyland must have had some part in what happened aboard the ship.
âBy the time we detected the anomaly, it was too late to return to an earlier formula. I suspected the personality deficiencies present in late generation clones was related to memory capacity in some way. I admit I should have caught the defect sooner.â
Layna furrowed her brow. âYouâre saying this was a genetic mutation? Not an infection?â
Neyland nodded.
Thomas felt a heat pulse in his chest. âYou told us it was an infection. That the captain feared it had spread to the entire crew and that she had no choice but to burn the ship.â
âThat was her belief, as it was mine for a time,â he said. âBy the time I learned otherwise, it was too late to change her mind. I fear the mutation forced her hand in that, as well.â
Layna stepped closer, shaking her head. âBullshit.â
âIf she hadnât ordered my lab destroyed, I could have proven it to you,â Neyland said. His right hand began to shake slightly; he gripped the edge of the chair, then moved his hand down to his hip to hide it from view.
âI saw the last message the captain tried to send,â Layna said. âYour depiction of her doesnât match.â
Mark let out a long, painful groan, then shifted in his seat. âInfected,â he mumbled, opening his eyes slightly.
Thomas looked to him. âWhat?â
âI could see it,â he said, his voice strained. âItâs hard to describe, but I⌠I could sense it, sort of. There was a subtle glow in her eyes.â
âAnd Iâm supposed to believe you, now?â Layna spat.
Mark sighed. âBelieve me or donât, it doesnât change anything.â After another deep, raspy breath, his eyes opened wide. His stare bounced from Layna to Neyland, then back to Layna. âShoot him.â
Layna lifted one eyebrow and looked back toward Neyland. âWell? Is there any reason I shouldnât listen to him?â
âIâve told you before,â Neyland said, âyou need me if you want to get off this ship.â
âHeâs bluffing,â Mark said. âYouâre the one he needs. Shoot him.â
Thomas stepped forward, eyeing Mark. He thought of their last conversation. The anger in Markâs voice still resonated in Thomasâs mind. The depiction of his own death at Neylandâs hands.
âYouâre full of shit,â Thomas said. âAll of it.â
Neyland stared back at him for a long moment, shifting his jaw from side to side. His sunken eyes showed the weight of his time on the shipâthe slow death heâd inflicted on himself to keep the mutation from overtaking him. And in that moment, Thomas finally saw something real. Something Neyland couldnât hide behind a convoluted lie. The man was tired.
âFine,â Neyland said. He turned in his chair and pulled open a nearby drawer. As he reached his hand inside, Layna lifted the gun in his direction.
âCareful,â she said.
Neyland lifted his other hand to the air, showing a dry, cracked palm. âNo weapons, justâlook.â
He pulled five small object from the drawer, each about an inch in length and thin enough to fit in his curled palm. Each was bright silver with a small red stripe down the side. Within the red stripe were series of numbers.
Neyland lifted one from his palm and held it in the air with his fingertips. âThe Captain,â he said, gently placing it on the desk. Then he plucked another, eyed the small numbers on the side, and said, âMe.â
Thomas furrowed his brow. âWhat are youââ
âThomas,â Neyland continued, placing a third drive on the desk.
Layna glanced at Thomas, then back to Neyland. She kept the gun held high.
âYou,â Neyland said, looking to Layna. He placed her drive on the desk and held the final one in the air between them. As he stood, he glanced at Mark.
âAnd him.â Then he opened his fingers, letting the drive fall to the floor. It hit the ground with a subtle thud. Before Thomas and Layna could comment further, Neyland stepped forward and drove his heel into the device. The sound of cracking came from beneath Neylandâs heel as he twisted it into the floor.
âDo you know what the Asteriaâs true mission was?â Neyland asked, scooping the other four drives off the desk. âIâm sure you recall some propaganda they fed you to get you on the ship. Future of humanity and all that. But even back then, you had to know it wasnât the whole truth.â
Thomas stared at the crushed plastic on the ground. Mark. âWhat are those drives? Our memories?â
Neyland rolled his eyes. âTry to keep up, Thomas. They are you. Old iterations, sure, thanks to the captain ordering the destruction of my work. That was a genocide in itself, Iâd say. Entirely worth her death sentence. But stillâthey hold everything required to implant you in a new body back on Earth. So if you want off this ship, you will escort me to the bridge.â
Layna shook her head. âWhy would she do something like that? You expect us to believeââ
âIf youâd allow me to finish,â Neyland said, sliding the remaining drives into his pocket. âThe mission of the Asteria. See, cloning was a huge advancement for humanity. The problem was, too many people had access. Immortality should be reserved for those who deserve itâthose with the power to advance the human race. Not every poor schmuck that saves enough working his day job. We canât have that. So I developed a little something to⌠help thin the heard, as it were.â
âYou made this mutation?â Layna asked, her eyes wide. âWhy would Earth ever implement such a thing?â
âOh, they donât know any better,â Neyland said. âThey think weâve been out here searching for habitable planets, sending back new cloning data to improve peopleâs lives. Make our bodies more lean, easy to surviveâfood was a problem on Earth, as you recall. I succeeded in lessening what we needed. Once this mutation spreads through the population, that will put an end to public cloning. And then only the people who deserve it will have access to the safer methods. As it should be.â
Mark shifted in his chair, trying to rise to his feet. The solution Neyland had given him appeared to have done more than heâd let onâMark fell backward, hardly able to move.
âThe fuck did you do to me,â he spat.
Neyland glanced at him. âI slowed your infection, as promised,â he said. âThough I might have overestimated the amount of paralytic agent required to keep you docile.â
âJustââ Mark struggled, each word requiring more and more engergy, âjust fucking shoot him and get it over with.â
âAh-ah,â Neyland said, waving a finger in the air. âThese drives are have a failsafe. A neat little programming trick that dear Mark helped me with, in fact. He was quite bright with the right⌠motivations.â
Thomasâs eyes narrowed. âThe memories. You purposely made him remember his own deaths?â
Neyland shrugged off the weight of the statement with ease. âSometimes you have to shock a dog to make it listen.â
âSick bastard,â Layna spat.
âSay what you will, it doesnât matter. These drives must be accessed every few hours with a passcode only I know. One code will extend the timer, another will remove it entirely for the journey to Earth. Otherwise, they get wiped. Thatâs why youâll help me.â
âFor some old iterations of ourselves?â Layna scoffed. âI could just shoot you and leave those drives behind. We donât need to be revived into another clone. We just need to get on the shuttle.â
Neylandâs smile widened. The way his skin cracked and peeled at the corner of his lips made him look all the more sinisterâlike something made of pure evil. Barely human at all.
âThere is no shuttle, Layna. Not in the way you expect.â
Thomas blinked. Why tell such a blatant lie? Theyâd been on the bridge, seen the door to the captainâs shuttle bay. Theyâd watched the video of her discussing it.
âShe said sheâd loaded the data on it,â Layna said. âEverything showing your research here was bullshit. She wouldnât make it up for no reason.â
âOf course,â Neyland said. âThere is a pod that will go wherever programmed. But it does not hold people.â He patted the pocket containing the drives. âIt holds these.â
Thomas thought back to a specific moment in the captainâs last message. The moment when Layna appeared on screen, whispering into the Captainâs ear. The look of defeat on the captainâs face. He realized now what must have been said. What their plan must have been.
âAh, yes,â Neyland said, eyeing Thomasâs expression. âI see youâve put it together. Our lovely Captain and dearest Layna here intended to send themselves back to Earth to live out a life before every stepping foot on the Asteria. But I got to their drives first.â
[Part 39>]()
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2024.04.28 23:37 doomerboy2001 Help! Dating is so painful, because of my history with MD
I (22M) often used to look into the future for my happiness. "When I am this or when I get this, then I will be fulfilledâ. But no expectation, or hope really had so much importance and gravity as the one to find love. I had the expectation that as soon as I would have my girlfriend, life would be great. This expectation mostly manifested itself as a daydream/fantasy. I would listen to romantic and dreamy music and make myself âhighâ with fantasyâs of me and my imagined girlfriend. It was such a great feeling. All of my daydreams had a cinematic, movie highlight quality. Idk f.e. like riding into the sunset together.
I did this probably everyday since I am 9 to this day. I did this so I could escape negative emotions, have hope, make boring moments stimulating, and to just feel good.
Today I have to deal with the consequences. All my daydreaming made and still makes me catch feelings pretty quickly for girls. But I realise now that I didn't really have feelings for many of the girls I dated, I had feelings for my fantasy of them. Every time I date a girl that I find somewhat attractive (physically and personality wise), I literally can't stop thinking and fantasising about her. This is because she becomes the portal to all the romantic daydreams I had during my life, she is the portal to my eternal bliss.
Obviously I know that a relationship won't fix all my problems. The honeymoon phase will hit hard, but after that its just like any other important relationship. There will be laughter, conflict, misunderstandings, things we can connect to, things we can't connect to etc. It won't be a cure for all, and most definitely won't be as perfect as my cinematic daydreams. Still my being or soul has been programmed for 10+ years, through all my daydreaming, to associate a relationship with bliss. And this is so deep inside of me, I just can't get it out of me. Its like someone that has been injured severely by a dog, and therefore can't encounter dogs without having a panic attack. Although this hypothetical person could logically understand that not all dogs are dangerous, they still have no control over their anxiety.
Right now I could not casually date someone that I am romantically interested in, like my friends can, without stressing and obsessing most of the day. I have such a high expectation of the outcome. This makes me overthink, and be anxious most of the time. F.e. the girl I am talking to now. I've met her two times. I think she's fun and attractive, but I don't think that we are super compatible. Still, I think every 10 minutes about her, and I get really anxious when she doesn't text back in a couple of hours.
I know that dating is filled with a lot of troublesome and pleasant feelings for everyone. But I feel like my experience is somewhat unique.
Has anyone else this problem? How do you solve this?
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