Sharp funeral home oliver springs tennessee

(Offer) Dr. Seuss 5 film collection (Request) The Menu, Amsterdam, Babylon

2023.06.02 15:48 flippenphil (Offer) Dr. Seuss 5 film collection (Request) The Menu, Amsterdam, Babylon

MA = Movies Anywhere
GP = Googleplay
[?] = unknown definition
title = pending trade
If a title is no longer listed = It has been traded
COMBO Films
MOVIES
TV Series Marked
Vudu Only
ITUNES Only
ITUNES Only MOVIES - No Port - Marked
CANADIAN CODES: GOOGLE PLAY / ITUNES MARKED I do not know any of these port
WANT LIST
Titles I am looking for
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2023.06.02 11:25 notyouraveragetwin I just need to talk

Its almost 4am and i don't think sleep is going to happen until I 'talk' about it.
My sister(45f) died January 7th of this year. I hosted a 'drink in remembrance' a couple weeks later when it became obvious my mother was going to drag this out. 'I want to wait til spring' she kept saying. It was not the official service by any means. There's a lot of meat and potatoes to this situation, just trying to think of the most relevant.
My mother casually mentioned she went up north to the cemetery memorial weekend to clean her parents headstone and stuff. I can't help but be upset.
The plot has been purchased, yet her ashes are still at the funeral home. There are no current plans to bury her soon. I'm starting to feel like she's doing this to 'punish' her. She died of an overdose.
In the last two years my mom and her have spoken 2 times. I talked to her weekly and saw her about 2x a month the last few months of her life. We talked Friday briefly and Saturday night she was gone. We were close.
My mother has made it clear only her feelings matter. I retrieved her personal belongings and went through them alone. I made the picture boards for the informal event I hosted. Alone. I have 2 other siblings... I feel extremely abandoned. She spiraled the past two years horribly. My family 'washed their hands off her'.
Yes she was a different person the last two years. But she deserves better than this. I need my sister to put to rest for the sake of my mental health. It's keeping me up at night. I'm so anxious, and I know its because I need to my sister to be laid to rest. Not sitting on shelf in a closet at the funeral home.
I'm willing to get her and keep her ashes with me until mom is 'ready', but I can't hear another lecture about how this isn't about my feelings.
I asked my older brother to talk to her, because his opinions and feelings matter.
I feel like my mother is being selfish. I have cousin's and her friends who kept inquiring about the official service(snow storm kept a lot of people home that day I hosted. And no, my mom didn't come to that. My dad did. He's irritated with her too but he won't say anything.
I thought my family was normal. We sure put on a good show because this situation has me reflecting on my life. And normal is the last word id use to describe my immediate family.
I don't know what I'm asking. I just had to ramble somewhere and i think I'm going to fall asleep soon now that I got this out of my head.
I miss my sister.
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2023.06.02 10:15 MilkbottleF Two Stories

The Castaway

The man on the raft had only hope to keep him alive now. The bones showed through his thin face. An endless moan escaped his trembling mouth. His eyes were bright with fever. He had been clinging to life for more than a month now on this wretched collection of planks.
All at once a new sound reached his enfeebled brain: a buzzing noise imagined in his delirium no doubt. But it wasn't —it really was a helicopter approaching slowly, flying over the raft. Saved! He was saved! The castaway danced about clumsily.
In the meantime a rope-ladder had been lowered from the helicopter. A man dressed in rags, his emaciated face overgrown with a coarse beard, was pushed brutally on to the top rungs.
The helicopter turned away and disappeared.
Now there were two castaways on the raft.

Happy Are Those, Like Ulysses...

Some people feel an unhealthy attachment to their native town; and if circumstances force them to settle down away from home they cannot bear the thought of dying so far from their birthplace. Alas, things are not always easily remedied. In the past, many unfortunates realized, too late, that they would breathe their last many miles from the consolations of home.
Fortunately, progress has changed all this. Nowadays, the dying are conveyed to their home towns by express train. A miracle of devotion and organization now makes it possible for them to die at the very spot where they were born; but few are aware of the altruism and self-sacrifice required to enable the near-defunct to make this last journey.
Let us make a brief survey. The dying are collected from hospitals and homes and loaded into an ambulance coach. As the departure time approaches, the coach is taken from its siding and coupled to the train. Old people brought in by van keep arriving. At last the whistle goes and the train starts.
This marks the beginning of a period of real torment for the ambulance men. The express runs at full speed. The ambulance coach is connected fore and aft to other coaches and its weight, together with that of its contents, reduces the cushioning effect of the springs so that it waltzes madly with each piston-stroke of the engine. Despite all this jolting and bumping, the ambulance team have to complete the sorting which was only partly done before departure. Their job is to arrange and classify the bodies into compartments, each carrying the name of a station. Crowded together and almost unable to move their arms and legs because of the obstructing stretchers, the unfortunate ambulance workers forage in the enormous heap of the moribund, feverishly classifying them, breathing air that is wholly noxious.
During the seven-hour run from Paris to Bordeaux each ambulance clerk must sort, on average, fourteen thousand old people without a break. Since most of these special trains run at night, the work has to be done in the smoky flickering light of wretched oil-lamps. New coaches lit by electricity have been put into service but the bulbs often prove defective. Only last September a team making the return run to Paris in one of these coaches had to use candles fixed on syringes.
And sorting is not all they have to do! The bodies for each station have to be put into sacks, tied and put aside. There's not a minute to lose. The hands of the clock turn relentlessly, the thermometer mounts inexorably, the end of the journey approaches. Furthermore, an express does not stop at every station along the line, so when it passes through a station the sack or stretcher must be thrown out of the coach. Two or three minutes before the expected time an ambulance man pressed against a door peers questioningly into the distance. Opposite him a delivery man stands doubled over against another door, clutching a bulging sack to his chest, ready to throw it out at the word of command. 'Now!' shouts the first man, and the sack is catapulted into the darkness on to the platform or track where it is soon collected by employees of the local funeral service.
This expeditious method of delivery is not free from its dangers and risks. Accidents are still common. Only recently a policeman on duty on a station platform was knocked down by an old man falling on top of him. Another time, at the spot between Abbeville and Calais, where the train runs over a series of bridges only a few miles from the sea, the ambulance man, misled by the darkness, tumbled a stretcher into the mouth of a river. This only came to light the next day when the stretcher was recovered floating in the open Channel several miles away, ripped open with three-quarters of its contents pillaged.
-- Roland Topor [Tr by Margaret Crosland and David LeVay]. Published in Stories and Drawings (Peter Owen, 1968.) See also: "Feeding the Hungry"
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2023.06.02 06:37 critical_courtney [A Bargain for Bliss] — Chapter Ten (Sequel to The Fae Queen's Pet)

[A Bargain for Bliss] — Chapter Ten (Sequel to The Fae Queen's Pet)
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https://preview.redd.it/cnhmfefy9j3b1.jpg?width=1410&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d762824a51aed78f4cc9200da8eb5d908d8292d0
Previous Chapter
Chapter Ten:
Heading back from axe combat training with Ceras, I detoured and headed to the lakeshore instead of the palace. Though I was right outside the gate, I wasn’t too interested in heading inside yet.
I wanted to sit in the sand and grass and wait to see if a ship carrying my girlfriend would sail by. It’d been a few weeks since Lily left Perth by boat for an assignment in the Tulip Court, and I’d missed her terribly since.
My bed was awful lonely, and I missed the late-night conversations we used to stay up and have, legs intertwined as we shared a chair and ate popcorn together.
Of course, I loved finally getting to spend some time with the queen as she’d been busy working on her proposal for Bliss. But Lily was a different kind of energy, and she occupied a separate piece of my heart, one that ached for her.
Pulling my legs up to my chest, I remembered that we’d be leaving for Kilgara, where every court in Faerie would meet on neutral ground while the rulers of each land decided who would host the upcoming Bliss.
I was to remain in my wolf form the entire time from the moment we left Featherstone until we returned for my protection of course. Supposedly, I would be harder to attack or capture when I weighed 200 pounds and had razor-sharp fangs and claws.
And I’m sure my inner wolf would appreciate the long spur to stretch her legs as we traveled beside the queen and put every wandering stare her way in its place.
That was two days from now, of course. And now. . . was now. In the moment, my heart, a piece of it, anyway, felt lonely. It missed the fae that connected with me on a more human level than the maelstrom of glamour that was her majesty.
While I sat there watching the occasional redeye buckfish leap from the water to catch a dragonfly on the surface, I heard a certain piskie approaching from the palace.
Barsilla’s wings buzzed as she flew around and into view, carrying the little clipboard she always had with her.
“Oh, hey Barsilla. Did you need something?” I asked, lifting my chin from my arms where it’d been resting while I sat there.
Varella’s left-hand lady cocked her head to the side, looked down at some tiny scribbling she had, and then stared back up at me.
“Ceras mentioned you seemed extra moody during your combat training today, and now I find you out here moping by the lake.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not moping,” I said, with all the convincing tone of a teenager stamping her foot. “I’m just. . . resting after a hard workout. That’s not illegal in the Raven Court, is it?”
Barsilla rolled her eyes like a mother dealing with a sulking teen. Dammit, what was that suddenly all I could think about?
“Your mortal emotions aren’t something the queen can afford to be distracted by right now, especially not with the summit coming up. And make no mistake, she will be distracted if she catches you moping. So, you might as well tell me what’s wrong so I can waste my time fixing it and avoid any diversions on the queen’s part,” the piskie said.
I let out a sigh and turned my attention back to the lake because my problem was simple to describe and impossible for Barsilla to fix. . . unless her magic included the ability to summon my girlfriend at the drop of a hat.
“I miss Lily. That’s all,” I said, putting my chin back down.
Barsilla opened her mouth and then closed it again. She thought before speaking, but I don’t think it did her a lot of good because she was still going to inevitably be a jerk about this.
“By the gods, you’re such a needy puppy!”
Then she rolled her eyes a second time.
“But that is a problem easily fixed. Follow me,” she said, and I stood, wondering what she intended to do.
Barsilla led me back into the palace and into a room I’d never been in before. Feathers stood outside the room protecting it but slide aside for Barsilla and me without a word.
The room we walked into was filled with paintings of ravens, crows, and magpies. Some sat in trees, some by rivers, and others under bushes, scavenging for fallen nuts and berries. There must have been about 20 paintings in different styles ranging from lifelike portraits to impressionist scenes.
“What is this place?” I asked, still looking around at all the artwork.
“This is the Hall of Winged Messengers. Our queen will sometimes use these birds to contact others discreetly,” Barsilla said, coming to rest in the seat of a large red velvet chair.
“She uses. . . the paintings to talk to other people?” I asked, scratching the back of my head and trying to picture how that would work.
Varella’s left-hand lady shook her head. But I did notice that she didn’t roll her eyes this time. That was progress. . . for me anyway. I tended to ask a lot of stupid questions. Or at least, questions faeries would find ignorant because I didn’t know any better.
Deciding to teach by example, Barsilla instructed me to select a bird and walk over to the painting it sat in. I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing, so I found a magpie with black and white feathers and blue-tipped wings. The painting it sat in showed the bird huddled between several wildflowers, perhaps hunting for something to make a nest with.
“Hold out your hand in front of the bird and say, ‘Queen Varella commands you to carry my words.’”
I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I slowly held out my right hand in front of the painting, palm up flat. Then I said, “Queen Varella commands you to carry my words.”
At first, nothing happened. And I gave Barsilla a look of suspicion. Was she making a joke of me? It would be like the fae to pull a prank like this on a mortal unfamiliar with their ways.
She just motioned that I turn back to the painting. When I did, a magpie hopped off the canvas, suddenly springing to life in a three-dimensional world. It flew off the artwork as if the oil paint was being rewound in time, returning to its paintbrush.
But instead of turning back into paint, the animal kept its form and hopped down into my open hand. I felt its thin twig-like talons hop across my hand as its head tilted from side to side. The bird looked like it was waking up from a long hibernation. Then it looked up at me with its red eyes, black dotted pupils focussed directly on my face.
Looking back at the canvas, I noticed the bird missing from its scenery. Only the wildflowers and sky remained.
The magpie continued to hop around in my hand, stretching its wings and turning its head this way and that.
“I. . . is this a real bird?” I asked, looking at the piskie that was just half the magpie’s size sitting across the room from me.
She hovered closer, and I expected the animal to see her as prey given their size difference. But the magpie made no move to leave my hand.
“That bird is made from the queen’s glamour, as you carry in your wolfheart. Only those with her majesty’s magic can call forth these birds and send them out into the world,” Barsilla said, motioning to the other ravens and crows. It was a room full of carrion callers.
Despite my expectations that the bird would start chirping or cawing in some way, I found the animal strangely silent. It might occasionally look away, but otherwise, the magpie seemed to do nothing more than observe me.
“So. . . how does this work exactly?” I asked. “Am I going to write a message on a tiny piece of paper, and this magpie will carry it to Lily? Like on Game of Thrones?”
Barsilla furrowed her brow.
“This isn’t a game, pet. And you don’t need to use a throne to send your message either. I swear, you mortals say the weirdest things. The first thing you need to do is hold the magpie up to your chest.”
“Why?”
“So it can hear who your heart beats for, who you want to send a message to. I still find it strange that not only does our queen have a soft spot for a mortal, but she’s also willing to share her puppy with her subordinate. Still, it’s not my place to question her,” Barsilla said.
I slowly held the magpie up to my chest as instructed. Part of me felt like I was still being pranked. But the magpie just hopped over to my pinky finger and placed its ear against my breast, closing its eyes and listening to my heartbeat.
“I will question you, though, royal pet. Describe for me your heart when you think of Lily. Then tell me how it compares to when you think about your mistress. I simply can’t imagine being in love with both of them, a queen, and a spy,” Barsilla asked.
When the bird was finished listening to my heartbeat, it skipped back into the center of my palm and started watching me again, presumably waiting for whatever message I was going to give the bird to carry.
And it wasn’t bad enough that I had to figure out the exact words I wanted to send to Lily. I had to answer prying questions from Barsilla about my feelings? Fuck. Even I didn’t understand my feelings half the time.
Polyamory was a new thing for me. Being gay took me long enough to understand. I mean — I understood on some level what it meant to look at girls in my high school and think, Fuck, she’s so pretty.
The way talking to a crush left my heart jogging in place like it was warming up for a marathon took weeks and months to sort out. Then I had to try to figure out if a girl felt the same way about me, and fuck was that even more difficult.
But I did figure it out eventually.
Now here I was still trying to figure out how to love two women at the same time when each made my heart quiver in different ways. They made other parts of me quiver as well. But that was neither here nor there.
And Barsilla wanted, what? An essay on how they made me feel? Shit. I’d have an easier time lecturing her on quantum physics.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
“I want you to tell me how two fae ladies I’ve known for much longer than you make a werewolf howl in heat,” Barsilla said.
I scoffed. No way was I telling the piskie things Varella and Lily had done to make me howl in ecstasy. But the more I thought about it, I realized she wasn’t asking about deeds, but emotions.
Fae weren’t like mortals. Their understanding of our emotions and motivations was limited to what they observed when they took a vacation in the realm where time still flows.
That’s part of the reason I connected so deeply to Lily. She was half-human, and that meant it was easier to talk to her about my fears and dreams, really lay them out on the bed sheets in front of her. And she understood. Gods, she understood. Maybe that was what Barsilla wanted here. . . to understand.
“Well. . . Lily — see — she makes me feel like there’s no one in the world except for us when we’re together. Like reality and all its problems and the people who make them are so far removed because she’s taken my hand and guided me to a place of gentle love and sweetness.”
The piskie wrote something down on her clipboard and nodded.
“And your mistress? How does she make you feel?”
Taking a deep breath, I considered the morning we’d had a couple days ago.
“My mistress. . . she makes me feel like I’m in the eye of a hurricane. All the power in the world to destroy anything that tries to do me harm while I’m kept safe and sound at the center of the storm. With her, I feel like I’m going to be swept away at any moment, but when it happens, the place I’ll be swept to is in her arms. And I trust that whether I’m on the ground or in the sky she’ll protect me.”
Barsilla smiled as she took more notes.
“What was all that about?” I asked, cocking my head to the side like the magpie in my hand.
She finished writing something and then looked back up at me.
“Now you know exactly how you feel about each of them. No more wishy-washy shit humans do. Love each of them with the full confidence that you can love two people at the same time and be loved by each of them simultaneously.”
With that, she started to fly over toward the door. Barsilla stopped just before opening the exit and looked back my way.
“When you’re ready to send your message, hold the magpie up into your direct gaze and speak to it as if it were Lily. The moment you look away or lose focus, it’ll fly away to carry your message, regardless of whether you were finished.”
Then, Varella’s left-hand lady left me alone with the magpie. I felt a little nervous about getting my message cut off. It didn’t take much to distract me. I suppose that was something I had in common with the corvid I was holding. My brain could think, shiny! at a moment’s notice. Perhaps that’s how I fell in love with two different faeries in the first place.
But instead of getting distracted, I thought about my girlfriend, the lesbian faerie I missed cuddling with every single night, the gay girl who wasn’t just part of my dreams, but my waking world as well.
Holding up the magpie about a foot from my face, I looked deep into its crimson eyes and said:
“Dear Lily, I miss you more than you can know. And I hope the bird that tracks you down over in the Tulip Court doesn’t make me sound too clingy. I’ve yet to see how fae react to clinginess. But in case it’s negative, do me a favor and pretend this message is a lot more breezy and cool than it actually is.
“Featherstone feels lonely without you. I’m happy when I’m with my mistress, but in other moments, my heart pines for the girl who plays board games with me in my room and holds me close when I bolt awake after a nightmare about my father until I come back to reality, safe and sound.
“But I know your mission is important. I would never ask you to come home early and risk disappointing our queen. So instead I’ll just ask two things. First, think of me in the moments when that mask you wear feels a little too tight and smothering. Remember that I’m here waiting for you in a place where you just get to be Lily, my girlfriend. Not a wing for the Raven Court. Second, come back to me safely. Because even though I know you’ve been doing this for years, and you’re the best spy my mistress has. . . I might still worry.
“Oh, and bring me back a cool Tulip Court souvenir if you can. Maybe a tulip? Actually — scratch that, magpie. That’s three things, and I said I’d only ask two. Seriously. Don’t repeat this part to my girlfriend. It’ll make me look stupid, like I don’t know how to use a winged messenger. So you’re not gonna say this last part, right?”
I was interrupted by the sound of Barsilla’s raucous laughter coming from outside in the hallways and looked away for a split second, fearing she’d overheard me.
When I looked back, only a single black and white feather remained in my hand.
“Aw, shit.”
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2023.06.02 06:14 LeutnantzurSeeFritz The Exploits of Irving Reese Part 30: All My Dream Fulfilled

(You can also find this story, along with the previous parts here and here.)
Five Years Later
Irving and Enterprise were busy. Irving smiled at Enterprise.
“Today’s the big day.”
Enterprise nodded as she looked up the stairs.
“Olin! Are you ready?”
Olin ran down the stairs, wearing a pair of blue jeans and an olive green t-shirt. He smiled at her.
“Yes, mama.”
Irving and Enterprise smiled. “Then let’s go.”
The family entered the car and drove to their destination. Enterprise looked at her son.
“Are you excited for your first day of school?”
Olin smiled and nodded. Irving looked at his son with a smile while they were at a red light.
“Are you going to behave yourself?”
Olin once again smiled and nodded.
They soon reached their destination. Azur Lane Elementary School.
Olin, Irving, and Enterprise all got out of the car. They walked to the entrance.
Irving saw Oklahoma and Malcolm were there, as well as Littorio, Vittorio Veneto, Fabio, and Marsala.
Littorio was holding her son's hand. She smiled at her daughter.
“Maria, are you going to say goodbye to your baby brother?”
Maria smiled as her brother giggled.
“Goodbye Vincenzo. I love you.”
Vincenzo giggled as his older sister turned to leave.
Irving and Enterprise kept walking, but they noticed Olin was not with them.
Irving and Enterprise walked back to where Olin was. Enterprise squatted down to look at her son.
“Olin, what's wrong?”
Olin’s eyes were wide as saucers as a tear went down his face. “I’m scared.”
Irving smiled and placed his hand on Olin’s shoulder.
“I know you’re scared. You want to know some advice?”
Olin nodded as he wiped away the tears with his arm.
“It’s alright to be scared. It’s how we stay alive. However, it’s what you do when you’re scared that defines you.”
Olin nodded. But he was still not budging.
Enterprise smiled as she stroked her son’s brown hair.
“Olin. I’ll tell you something that I learned. Beginnings are often scary, and endings are often sad, so enjoy the middle.”
Irving smiled. “Olin. If it makes you feel any better, your friend Louis is here as well.”
Hearing Louis's name made Olin’s eyes light up.
“They are?”
Irving smiled slightly.
“Yeah. You guys can hang out together here, learn, and even make new friends.”
Olin smiled and hugged his mother and father.
“I love you, Mommy and Daddy.”
Irving and Enterprise felt tears go down their faces. They held Olin in their arms.
“I love you too, my little tack.”
Olin giggled. He made his way to where Louis was. He noticed a dishwasher-blonde boy with hazel eyes.
“Hi. My name is Olin. What’s yours?”
The blonde boy smiled.
“My name is Lucio.”
Louis smiled.
“Hey, your name sounds like mine. I’m Louis.”
Lucio smiled. The three boys made their way inside the school.
Irving, Enterprise, Malcolm, and Oklahoma watch their children walk into the school. Malcolm smiled as he walked up to Irving.
“I told you they would be fine.”
Irving nodded as he wiped away a tear. Malcolm wrapped an arm around Irving’s shoulder. Irving smiled.
“Hey, I was thinking. You want to hang out at my place? I figured since the kids will be gone a few hours, I figured we can hang out together.”
Malcolm nodded. “Sure. Sounds like an amazing idea. You want to come also, honey?”
Oklahoma nodded. “Sure. I could use the company. I'll also call New Jersey and Samuel to see if they want to come as well.”
Irving and Enterprise nodded as they went back to their car and drove away from the school.
Enterprise noticed Irving was not taking them to the house.
“Irving, where are we going?”
Irving sighed.
“To visit an old friend. I know you were wondering why there were flowers in the trunk.”
Enterprise nodded.
Soon, the couple reached a cemetery. Irving grabbed the flowers as they walked through the graves.
Irving stopped at a dark granite gravestone. He read it with a somber look on his face.
“Robert Sharp. 1918-1944”
Irving placed his hand on the gravestone.
“Hey, Robert. It’s me, Irving. I’m here to say hello again like I do every year.”
Irving turned his head as Enterprise stared at him. She smiled slightly as Irving looked at the gravestone.
“I’ve been great. I have a wife and a beautiful son. Even gave him your surname as his middle name in honor of you.”
Irving reached for the red roses and a pack of Lucky Strikes and placed them on the tombstone.
“These are for you, Robert.”
Irving felt a tear go down his face. He wiped it away.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye. I miss you.”
Irving saluted the tombstone and walked back to Enterprise.
They got back into the car. Enterprise and Irving were silent.
Enterprise looked at her husband with a blank expression on her face. “I never knew you visited his grave every year.”
Irving smiled slightly.
“Robert was born in September, and I told him I would always try to visit him the month he was born. It’s a promise I made him on D-Day.”
Enterprise nodded and smiled slightly. “I’m glad you still care about him and think about him. All these years later.”
Irving smiled as he looked at Enterprise.
“Hey, how about we go to the park? It should not be too busy.”
Enterprise nodded, and the couple drove to the park.
The park was quiet. The couple found a bench, and they sat on it and relaxed.
The green leaves on the trees were changing color. Irving smiled.
“The trees look so beautiful.”
After a while, the couple got off the bench and walked to a fountain. Enterprise had a gold coin ready.
“Want to make a wish?”
Irving nodded. Enterprise flipped the coin into the water.
After a moment of quiet calm, Enterprise smiled at her husband. She held his hand.
“So what was your wish?”
Irving giggled. “I thought it was bad luck to tell another person what you wished for, as doesn’t it mean it will not come true?”
“C’mon, you can tell me.”
“Alright. I wished that I could spend more time with you and the children. The Commander has been having me run around like a maniac to do things around the base. I mean, it’s honestly better than the odd jobs I had back in the day. However, they vary so much in terms of importance and energy. One moment I’m making sure that all the meowfficers are in the cattery, the next I’m helping the Commander make his coffee.”
Enterprise giggled. “So you act like another one of the Commander’s secretaries?”
Irving blushed as he scratched his head. “I guess I am, in a way. I don’t mind it, however.”
Enterprise nodded. “I know I’ve been busy, doing missions for the Commander as well. Once I finished breastfeeding Olin, Vestal cleared me for combat duty. Vestal knows we are planning on not having any more children after Olin and Little Enterprise. My missions have mostly been training Little Enterprise. And helping Bismarck, Tirpitz, and Littorio train Maria, Marlene, and Helga. Those three can use riggings like their mother, but they still need a ton of practice.”
Irving laughed. “I heard Olin and the other boys tried to use their riggings.”
Enterprise giggled. “Yeah. The only issue is that they cannot use them for long. Poor Olin. I swear, after he used his rigging longer than ten minutes, he was gasping for air like he had run a marathon. I believe they would be more useful as coastal defense and recon.”
Irving nodded. “I’m sure the Commander will find a use for Olin and the other boys in the future.”
Irving looked at the trees. The birds chirped as h closed his eyes.
“I suppose we should head home. We don’t want to keep Malcolm and Oklahoma waiting.”
Enterprise nodded, and they made their way back to the car.
Soon, the couple reached home. Samuel and New Jersey were already there. Irving smiled.
“Hey you two!”
New Jersey smiled as she rubbed her belly. She was eight months pregnant with her and Samuel’s daughter, Nicole. She smiled as she waddled to the porch.
“We’ll be inside if you need us for anything.”
Soon, Malcolm and Oklahoma joined the group. The men played poker on the porch while the shipgirls sat in the living room together.
Malcolm sighed. “Hard to believe it has been five years already.”
Samuel nodded. “Yeah. Time goes by you fast, doesn’t it?”
Irving giggled. “Hard to believe you and New Jersey are going to have a daughter soon.”
Samuel smiled. “Yeah. What about you Irving? You thinking of having more kids?”
Irving smiled. “We already have our hands full with both Olin and Little Enterprise. I don’t want to push my luck.”
Malcolm nodded. “Same here. I’m perfectly fine with just Louis.
The men went quiet. Irving pulled out a small cooler full of cherry sodas. He passed them out.
“So, how have the others been?”
Samuel giggled. “Larry’s been well. I heard he and his marines are now Nagato’s bodyguards.”
Malcolm smiled. “I heard that Arizona and Warren are thinking about getting married soon.”
Irving smiled. “How about Littorio and Fabio?”
“They’ve been busy ever since Vincenzo was born two years ago. I heard Fabio gave him the middle name Alonzo, after a man who saved his life back in Africa. Maria has been well, from what Fabio has told me. She has been an amazing older sister to Vincenzo.”
Malcolm smiled. “How about the Sakura Empire?”
“They’ve been good as well. I heard Zuikaku found someone named Arata Kondo, and she has a daughter named Hana, and Atago and Haruto got married.”
“Anything on the Northern Parliament?”
“From what I know, Mihail Larinov married Kirov. They have a daughter named Anya, and a son named Aleksei. I also know Nikolay Simornov and Gangut are also married, and they have two daughters named Nadia and Vera. They also have a son named Dmitri.”
Irving smiled. “How have you guys been?”
“New Jersey and I have been good. She's excited about having a daughter, as thought we would never have a daughter. We dropped off Merle before you guys as we didn't know when the school opened.”
Irving smiled and nodded. “So you are having an October baby like I am?”
Samuel nodded. “Yep. It looks like October is a popular month for children to be born.”
“What about you Mal? How are you, Lou and Okie?”
Malcolm smiled. “Good. We dropped off Louis at school with you guys, and now we are just hanging out.”
After a while, the small party died down. Samuel and Malcolm left with New Jersey and Oklahoma.
Irving and Enterprise were once again alone. Irving noticed a sweet smell coming from the kitchen.
Irving entered the kitchen to see his wife taking some chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. He smiled.
“Those smell great, honey.”
Enterprise smiled. “Thanks.”
She embraced Irving and kissed him on the lips.
Irving giggled. “Mind me asking, but where’s Little Enterprise? I didn’t see her get dropped off at school.”
Enterprise smiled. “Oh, she’s with Yorktown II and Hornet II. She’s training to become a KANSEN like me.”
Irving smiled. “It’s a good thing both of our children are getting an education.”
He smiled.
“You want to dance?”
Enterprise nodded, and Irving grabbed an old 78 record. He placed it on the turntable.
The notes of “It’s Been a Long Long Time.” filled the room. Enterprise and Irving were in an embrace as they slowly danced in each other’s arms.
Enterprise leaned into his ear. “I love this song.”
Irving smiled. “Why else would I propose to you with it, and it was the first song we danced to at our wedding?”
Enterprise smiled back as they continued to slow dance to the music.
After a while, Enterprise and Irving were sitting on the couch. Irving placed his arm on Enterprise’s shoulder.
“Hey, you want to hang out on the porch together? We haven’t done that in forever.”
Enterprise nodded as they both got off the couch. They walked to the back porch in the backyard. They sat on the hanging seat together.
Enterprise blushed. “Irving, I have something to tell you.”
Irving smirked and giggled. “You’re pregnant again?”
Enterprise blushed and giggled. “No.”
Irving smiled. “Then what is it?”
Enterprise sighed. “I know.”
Irving’s eyes went wide as she pulled out the photo of her and Irving on the beach together. Irving laid back, as Enterprise placed her head on his chest.
“Vestal asked me if I wanted to read what was on the back of this photo. I told her yes. I knew about the wishes before we even got married.”
Enterprise smiled as she rubbed her husband's face.
“You know. I say we did a good job.”
Irving smiled as he nodded softly. He stroked Enterprise’s hair as she fell asleep on his chest.
He stopped to enjoy this moment between them. A moment that, sometimes, he thought would never come.
He smiled. He had done everything he wished for.
And he was complete.
(And with that, that's the end of The Exploits of Irving Reese.)
(I have already made a list of people I wanted to thank for giving me both the courage and inspiration, either directly or indirectly, to write this story. You can find that list on the AO3 version if you want to read it.)
​
(Thank you for reading The Exploits of Irving Reese. I want to thank every reader who came from AO3, Reddit, or even my old Fanfiction.net account. You guys gave me the courage to keep writing fanfiction, and I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart.)
(Here on reddit, I want to give a special thank you to u/TitanSlayrOG, u/ArchiveSlave, and u/Nuke87654, for giving me the inspiration to write in the first place. None of this would have been possible without you fellas, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart.)
(I hope you fellas have a wonderful day.)
Yours ~ LeutnantzurSeeFritz Salami Python
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2023.06.02 05:31 vhsbxby AITA for not moving back in with my mother?

So, I (20F) am a college student living in the dorms by myself this summer and have been ever since I came here. For some backstory, around three years ago when COVID hit, I was with my great-grandmother for spring break; then I got quarantined with her from there. I was very comfortable there because I was able to leave the house and hang out with friends (when quarantine was done) not be watched 24/7, had some sort of privacy, and I didn’t always have to watch my brother since I did that all the time when school was in-person because my mom (42F) did late hours (she now works at home after COVID). My mother and I already have a tipping relationship but back then it was awful. I felt happy with my GG, and she was mad, so she took me off the lease for staying with my GG.
So, I lived with my GG until I went to college in August 2021. So now fast-forward, we have a better relationship with each other, and my great-grandmother passed away in February this year and gave the house to my uncle. He has kids and a wife, so there wouldn’t be any room for me, and my grandma doesn’t really like having company at her house much (plus me living with her would remind her of how she didn’t get the house.) Anyway, that meant I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I had asked my mother if I could come back because and she had said in a snarky tone, “What’s home to you anyway?” I took that as a sign that she didn’t want me back home. Last week, I told her I didn’t start summer classes till the end of June, and she got mad asking why I didn’t just come home.
I told her about what she said about “what’s home to me”. She acted as if she didn’t recall it, then said it wasn’t meant to be taken “that way” and that I was being childish that I didn’t ask her about it. She then went on and on saying how I never want to be around her, how I don’t like her, and how I don’t respect her.
She kept bringing up things in the past how when were at my GG’s house for the funeral and we were supposed to room with each other, I had advocated we should be in separate rooms to avoid any conflict and I wanted to room with my brother since I hadn't seen him in awhile. I thought it was the only logical reason at the time, especially with everyone on edge. I got angry and started ranting about how I never said I didn’t like her but every time we are together that we argue, and it turns ugly so why even bother? Then we just started yelling at each other until she said she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore and she cut me off.
I don’t know if I’m the asshole for not giving it another chance and overthinking what she said but I honestly don’t want to move in if we still have heated arguments over the phone knowing it would be 10x worse in person.
A quick thing I do miss my brother and he understands what’s going on and why I don’t want to go back home. If anything, my mother, and him have a way closer bond.
submitted by vhsbxby to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 05:24 Shoddy-Beginning1464 ISO Rental Home NW MS

Looking for a rental home in the Holly Springs, Olive Branch Southaven, Horn Lake areas. Prefer 3br but can deal with 2 and must have 2 bathrooms.
submitted by Shoddy-Beginning1464 to mississippi [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 05:18 RamenInTheSheets I'd like to share a story of a homeless man called Nobby that I like to think Linus is based off

I'd like to share a story of a homeless man called Nobby that I like to think Linus is based off
So firstly, before I get into it - Linus is 100% not based off this man - but I'm sure a lot of us have characters in this game that resembles real-life people we know.
Anyway! Nobby! He was a lovely man that loved to keep to himself. He was pretty much " famous" in my town for the sole fact he lived in a bus stop.
https://preview.redd.it/fbum03lbni3b1.png?width=700&format=png&auto=webp&s=0906968b45b7dab66c8c9fa1dbc9b58eb66b69b9
People respected him, and respected his space. No one would go into the bus stop, unless it was raining and then he would welcome people in. It was just little shelter but it was his home all year round. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter - he would always be there.
The bus stop was also located right by a lake, on lucky days you'd might see Nobby taking a dip or a bath in it (I'm not even joking this actually happened and everyone at my school would say it was good luck). He was always dressed when he did this, and if he ever needed to change or anything I believe he would do this behind his home, not sure on that though.
Everyone had a story of Nobby, even me.
The first came from when I was a kid in the 90s. Me and my mum would get the bus outside his home all the time to go into town - and one time I decided to give him my pocket money so he could buy himself a McDonalds (it wasn't a lot only £1.99). A week later when we went to get the bus, he showed me the toy he got in the happy meal and he gave it to me as a gift. If I remember correctly it was a Space Jam toy, but I could be wrong).
My second moment was probably one of the most influential in my life. My school was near by and I would skip lessons and go hang by the lake, as we did back then. At one point I started "seeing" this guy - we were both young teens (13? maybe younger) and still figuring things out and not really knowing that we were gay. We just knew we liked to spend time together, holding hands, play fighting and even kissing.
We'd always do these things by the lake in a hidden area type part one day Nobby caught us. We were both shocked and didn't know how to react. All we were doing was holding hands, but as young queers at that point of time - we didn't think it was right or acceptable.
But Nobby simply smiled and said "it's okay" and walked off. We both left right aware and it did actually lead to us calling off whatever we were doing. But his simple comment left an impression on me and helped me come to terms with my identity.
As I got older I would go to his shelter to talk to him before getting the bus home. He never would really say much and I never really got to learn anything about him, but I did notice that whenever I or someone would talk to him, he would finish with "Thank you for talking to me".
Airel view of his home and the lake - both very close by a bit like Linus and the mountain lake
(Image pulled from google maps)
before anyone points it out, I know the bus shelter in this image looks different to the more recent one, but I will explain that
On multiple occasions, people tried to offer him help - by offering a place to live, from private tennats to the council, but he remained at the bus stop.
There really wasn't a lot known about Nobby apart from his name, that he liked to keep to himself, and that he was happy with where he was living.
There were LOADS of rumours as to why he lived there. Some people speculated that he had lost his family to a fire and now had a phobia of living in doors, others speculated he was just a hippie and "one with nature". In reality, no one really knew for sure and as far as I'm aware, no one found out.
There was even speculation around his name, in the 70's he was known as Ned, at one point this became Ted. Others knew him as Michale and David - but again no one know for a fact.
(I don't think anyone even knew if he had any family or anything).
One thing we can say is he lived at this bus stop for a long time. As mentioned he first moved in during the 70's - and he stayed there until the early 2000's.
He actually became so well known in my town that the bus stop was even given it's postcode/address.
https://preview.redd.it/3h9ctycaqi3b1.png?width=1019&format=png&auto=webp&s=c66f0cf524bc9a4fb6a84b4cbbfe74b60fa6b496
In 2005 some assholes destroyed his home. They trashed his stuff but even worse, they set it on fire - I couldn't find an image of the damage they did but it was bad. After this happened, the local community came together - my school and others hosted fundraisers and ultimately a local church got to work and rebuilt his home.
One step further, a local double glazing company fitted the shelter with the two windows you can see on google maps today - they even offered to fit a fourth wall and a door, but nobby declined this offer. He was happy having his shelter as it was.
He would attend local festivals and events but as I mentioned, he would really keep to himself.
https://preview.redd.it/i426idrdri3b1.png?width=786&format=png&auto=webp&s=6eec3d64b9ab440d41a9aad570e81da5b178918f
In 2006, due his declining health he finally took on the offer to move into a house. The council got him moved into a one-bedroom place quite quickly and he remained there until 2020 - when he sadly passed away.
I'm not too sure on who covered the cost for his funeral and the turnout was small however his memory was not forgotten.
A memorial was set up locally and the shelter now has a plaque that dedicates that space to him.
But anyway, that's the story of Nobby. The local homeless man that reminds me of Linus. I hope you've been able to see the links and connections to him.
He was an amazingly lovely man and I hope his memory is never forgotten.
​
https://preview.redd.it/m7iokptivi3b1.png?width=1039&format=png&auto=webp&s=1d93ddfd6629903c00040c8bd3c301cfadad5ec2
Couple of links for sources and proof: https://www.peterboroughimages.co.uk/nobby-the-tramp/ https://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/people/final-farewell-to-peterboroughs-nobby-2503630 https://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/people/calls-to-honour-memory-of-peterboroughs-nobby-2210060
submitted by RamenInTheSheets to StardewValley [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 04:50 funeralclient McReynolds Nave and Larson Funeral Home

Welcome to McReynold’s-Nave & Larson Funeral Home

For more than 100 years, McReynolds-Nave & Larson Funeral Home in Clarksville, TN has been serving the families of greater Montgomery and Houston county. We are one of the many funeral homes in Clarksville, TN who understand the importance of offering quality services. From start to finish, your family can trust that our caring and knowledgeable staff will be here to assist you every step of the way. We offer affordably priced funeral, cremation, and memorial services that are designed to meet your family’s needs and budget.
With two locations to serve you, our funeral homes in Clarksville, TN and Erin, TN can help you honor your loved one and say goodbye. Each year we help hundreds of families in the area say meaningful goodbyes to their departed loved ones.
Our staff is comprised of some the most experienced, knowledgeable, and caring funeral professionals in the industry. We understand that the loss of a loved one is a difficult time for a family. Our compassionate team will work hard to help you arrange a service that not only celebrates the legacy of your loved one but also provides your family with the closure and goodbye you need. From the first call to long after the service has ended, our team will be here to provide you with the resources and guidance you need.
We pledge to honor your loved one with dignity, respect, and personal attention to every detail. With two beautiful facilities, 24/7 service, and caring and knowledgeable staff; we are confident your family will have peace of mind in knowing that our family will be here for you when you need us.
To learn more about our funeral homes in Clarksville, TN and Erin, TN, please browse our site. Throughout it you will find helpful resources and information to help you cope with loss and say goodbye. If you have any questions about our services or how we can assist you, please do not hesitate to contact us. We can be reached by phone or email at any time.

What Makes Us Unique

We are proud to embrace traditional values, diversity and innovation in honoring the spirit and life of each person we serve. We offer a full selection of:
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Letting go of a loved one is usually a very difficult process. In order to provide your family peace-of-mind, our funeral home offers complete care, so you can focus on comforting each other as you prepare to say goodbye to someone dear to you.

Our Complete Funeral Service Package

In most cases, a family will choose to hold a complete funeral service to honor their loved one. This is commonly referred to as a traditional funeral service and includes a visitation, funeral service, committal, and reception.
For this funeral arrangement, guests will have the opportunity to host a visitation the evening prior to the service and up to the hour of service on the day of the funeral. After the visitation, a funeral service will be held at either the funeral home or a church the deceased held membership with. Immediately following the conclusion of the funeral service, the remains will be transported to a local cemetery for burial. Following the funeral service, guests are encouraged to stay for a reception where they can offer condolences and share memories of the deceased over refreshments and snacks.
Our affordable funeral service pricing for this package includes everything mentioned above. Please keep in mind that your family will be responsible for additional expenses like the casket, grave liner and monument. If you have any questions about our funeral service pricing or payment options, a member of our staff would be happy to assist you.
Our caring and professional staff would be happy to meet with you and discuss the different packages we have available. From there, we will work with you to personalize the funeral arrangements and pay tribute to the deceased with dignity and respect.
Our funeral service professionals can tailor services to suit any specific desires or needs of the families we serve. For further information or specific pricing, please consult with one of our funeral directors by visiting us or by calling us.
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Why Choose Burial?

One of the most common questions we get asked is “why choose burial over cremation?”. If you are undecided we have provided a list of benefits of choosing burial to help simplify your decision. There is a wide variety of reasons why someone would choose burial, however the reasons listed below are what we have found to be the most common.
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Affordable Cremation

Part of making funeral arrangements on behalf of a loved one involves choosing between burial of the body, or cremation. Certainly this is a big decision, based on any number of factors: religious or spiritual beliefs, finances, or ecological awareness are just some of the reasons we’ve heard for choosing cremation. Before you can make the choice, you need to know exactly what it is you’re considering. If you’re wondering “what is cremation?”, you can learn the basics below. If the content here raises additional questions for you, please give us a call. One of our cremation specialists will address any of your inquiries or concerns.
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Celebration of Life Services

More and more families are choosing to hold ceremonies that celebrate the life and personality of their loved one. A celebration of life ceremony acts as an alternative to a traditional funeral ceremony. It achieves the same purposes as a traditional funeral by gathering family and friends to pay tribute to the deceased. A celebration of life has a more uplifting atmosphere that reflects on positive stories and memories that involved your loved one. The major benefit of a celebration of life is that it allows you the freedom to best display your loved one’s personality, values, and passions, in whichever way you see fit.
The best way to start planning a celebration of life is to begin doing so while your loved one is still with you. This way you have the chance to ask them, “how do you want to be remembered?”, “what are you most passionate about?”, and “what would you like your celebration of life to include?”. This way you are not left guessing what your loved one would’ve wanted when it comes time to plan the celebration of life service.Contact Our Funeral Home in Clarksville, Tennessee
McReynolds-Nave & Larson Funeral Home
Address: 1209 Madison Street Clarksville, TN 37040 Phone: 931-647-3371
Fax: 931-647-3313
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Nave Funeral Home
Address: 4639 West Main St. Erin, TN 37061 Phone: 931-289-4277
Fax: 931-647-3313
Email: [email protected]
Website: https://www.navefuneralhomes.com/
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2023.06.02 04:45 Gameran Dexter Flux Presents: Sound-Off! - Part One

Previously unannounced press conference, May 31, 2023.

Cameras are rolling as the owner of Mann Corporation, Shay D. Mann, hair in a perfectly put-together part, adorned in a navy suit and white tie, steps forward to a podium, in front of a WiR backdrop, microphone in hand.
Mann: My name is Shay Duncan Mann. And I am the new owner and proprietor of Wrestling is Reddit. I can assure you that your beloved Allen Paisner will be returning in the future, however, he could not make tonight's show due to some…
Mann smirks.
Mann: Legal complications. But fear not, I’ll be taking his place in the booth tonight.
The crowd erupts with applause and cheers, eager to witness the rebirth of their beloved wrestling promotion, even without Paisner for the evening.
Mann: Tonight, we embark on an exhilarating journey, as WiR takes a bold leap forward. I stand before you not just as the owner, but as a “fan”—a fan who understands the passion and dedication that this community shares for the world of wrestling.
Mann tries to hide a grimace as he proclaims his “fandom”. The crowd anticipates Mann’s next move
Mann: For too long, WiR has been dormant, unable to proceed, some of the talent trapped in Europe with no way home. But this, is no more! Today, we resurrect the spirit of WiR, bringing it back to life with a bang! And what better way to open things up by “Sounding Off"! Presented by the one and only, Dexter Flux
The crowd gives an actual cheer with genuine enthusiasm at the mention of Flux, their sort of god-king.
Mann: "Sound Off" isn't just a name; it's a rallying cry! It's a call for all of you, the WiR faithful, to voice your opinions, to express your passion, and to join us in this incredible journey. This event will be a celebration of everything that makes WiR special—the wrestling, the community, and the shared experiences that bring us all together.
The press conference crowd, whose papering becomes increasingly obvious the more Mann talks, is enthusiastic, as they eagerly hang onto Shay D. Mann's every word, perhaps a little too eagerly.
Mann: Tonight, in this very ring, our talented roster will ignite your imagination, deliver jaw-dropping performances, and create moments that will be etched in your memories forever. Sound Off! will leave you on the edge of your seats, craving for more.
The crowd roars with the excitement of a hair dryer pop.
Mann: But this is not just a show; it's a community. Together, we'll embrace the highs and lows, the victories and defeats. We'll share our opinions, engage in spirited debates, and build something truly remarkable. WiR is your platform—your voice will be heard!
The crowd erupts once again, their cheers echoing through the arena, showcasing their dedication to WiR, or getting paid to be there
Mann: So, my friends, get ready to immerse yourselves in the magic of WiR once again. Open your hearts, open your minds, and let the exhilaration of "Sound Off" wash over you! Tonight, we begin a new era—one that will redefine the landscape of this sport. Welcome back to WiR, my friends. Because Wrestling… is Revived.
With a sly smile, Shay D. Mann raises his microphone high, signaling the start of the show, as things fade to a video of Dexter Flux. His face is slightly out of frame as the camera points to his chest and chin.
Crowd: YEEEEAAAHHHHHH WE LOVE FLUX! WE LOVE FLUX!
Flux: Hey, it’s me, Dexter Flux. Welcome, uh, welcome you know, back to wrestl- Ugh, sorry, something was like, in my throat. Wrestling is Reddit. Welcome back to Wrestling is Reddit. This is House Party.

Knott's Berry Farm, June 1st, 2023.

With that rousing introduction, we now cut back to the day of, with a drone shot of the ring set up at Knott’s Berry Farm, fans on makeshift stands in the berry field, a parking lot and farmhouse off in the far distance, before [off brand royalty free music] begins to play!
Crowd: YEEEAAHHHH
Through the makeshift curtain, Tony “The Milkman” Stevens appears, wearing a pair of off-blue tights with cow white print, a single blue elbow pad on the left side, with a pair of gloved hands- in which, he holds a pristine white umbrella. The Milkman points his umbrella right down the lens of the camera…
Milkman: Good to be back, fellas, and good to see you, Mr. Cameraman! Been a while.
Mann: And here comes the Milkman, and a huge ovation from this crowd! But no Horde jacket with him!
Woodbridge: Or any jacket. But we’re in Anaheim, its hot out
Mann You’re right. But he did prepare for rain.
The Milkman hands off his umbrella to a fan at ringside, before sliding under the bottom rope, and ascending the left hard camera turnbuckle, firing up the crowd, before doing a backflip off the top rope, and into the ring!
Crowd: YEEAAAAHHHHHH
The Camera cuts back to the entranceway, as the music changes, to Skillet
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOO
Jericho Styles appears on the ramp, adorned in an Allen Iverson Nuggets Jersey. He blows off a fan’s high five attempt, before sliding into the ring and taking a position opposite of Stevens.
Babaganoush: WiR fans… welcome to Anaheim California, the beautiful Knotts Berry Farm! Welcome! To Sound Off! Presented by Dexter Flux.
Crowd: W-I-R! W-I-R! W-I-R! W-I-R!
Banaganoush: Our opening contest is scheduled for one fall to a finish. Introducing first, to my right… wrestling out San Jose California, weighing in at 217 pounds, Jericho… Styles!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOO
Babaganoush: And his opponent, to my left. Weighing in at 208 pounds…
Crowd begins to rise
Babaganoush: Wrestling out of… Brooklyn, New York! Tony… “The Milkmaaannnnnnn” Stevens!
Crowd erupts into indiscriminate cheers
DING DING DING
The Milkman and Styles circle each other as the bell rings, before Styles takes the initiative with a lock up attempt, which he quickly transitions to a rear waist lock. Milkman thinks on his feet, and grabs the arm of Styles lifting it above his head, and turning to break the lock, before using it to get behind Jericho, who uses his size advantage to overpower Stevens and apply a hammerlock, using the position to turn Stevens around, and take him down to the mat with an arm drag, maintaining control of the arm, which he quickly leverages into a pinfall…
ONE
Milkman gets his free shoulder up!
Crowd: Yay!
Woodbridge: JZ leveraging some technical skill here in the opening moments of this one, but can’t keep the Milkman down!
Mann: Only one count for Styles
Styles refuses to relinquish his grip on the arm, and as Stevens gets up, pushes him back into the corner before he can balance himself. Styles whips Stevens across the ring to the other corner, before charging in and being met with Milkman’s knee! Stevens capitalizes on his newly made opening by delivering a sharp kick to the chest of Styles, before whipping him against the ropes. Styles charges back, and tries to use his momentum to catch Stevens with a hip toss, but can only get Stevens a few inches of height off the ground before the Milkman lands on his feet, lifts and Styles up for an atomic drop, which forces him to let go of Stevens. With his arm now free, The Milkman plants himself, and delivers a [devastating lariat]. With what self-preservation he has left, Styles rolls to the outside, and onto the grass.
Woodbridge: And The Milkman just leveled Styles with that lariat!
Mann: Not something we’re quite used to seeing from Stevens, some hard strikes early in this one that really seemed to throw Styles off his game.
Styles pulls himself up by the barricade, to the direct ire of front-row fans who continue to heckle him. Back in the ring, Stevens throws himself off the far-end ropes, charges in for a dive… before Styles ducks down to avoid being hit. Stevens doesn’t change speed, and instead, throws himself between the ropes for a 6-1-9 that hits nothing but air, launching himself back into the ring, and landing on his feet. After this feat of dexterity, and with Styles on the ground outside, The Milkman takes a bow for his efforts.
Crowd: YEEEAAHHH!!
Four dues in front of the hard cam: WE LOVE MILK! WE LOVE MILK!
At a count of eight, Styles, returns to the ring, and the two wrestlers square off again. Styles gets the better of the two on the lockup, delivering a stomp to Stevens’ foot, before kneeling him in the stomach. Styles lifts Stevens up for a suplex, but Stevens shifts his weight and lands on his feet behind him! The Milkman attempts a German suplex, but Styles throws a firm elbow to the jaw and repositions behind Stevens for a German attempt of his own. Stevens gives Styles a receipt with a firm, calcium-hardened elbow of his own, before bounding over to the ropes, and attempting a lionsault to a standing Styles! Styles catches him, but Stevens slips free, pushes Styles into the corner, and he takes a chest-first bump. Stevens harnesses his agility once more to get into poison-rana position on the shoulders of Styles, but Styles uses one arm to flip Milkman off balance and send him tumbling to the ground. Quickly, Stevens attempts to transition to a sunset flip but has to abandon ship as Styles tries to poke him in the eyes, jamming his finger into the canvas as a result. Stevens uses the moment to leap up to Bret’s rope, turn around, and deliver a dropkick to Styles! Stevens then rolls to the apron, and pumps up the crowd with a wave of his hand…
Crowd: YEEEAAAHHH WOOO!!
Guy already 4 cheap beers in: I hate this Styles guy!
…and delivers another springboard dropkick, this one from the top rope! Stevens flexes for the crowd, before rolling into a cover…
ONE
TWO
Styles gets a shoulder up!
Mann: Does The Milkman seem a bit different to you, Woodbridge?
Woodbridge: Milkman definitely wants to show off early, he looks like he hasn’t lost a step!
Mann: Maybe even gained one, and it almost feels like he’s being a bit disrespectful of his opponent, don’t you think?
Woodbridge: And what are you insinuating?
Mann: Well, maybe performing in front of a WiR crowd again has him a little more amped than usual! Trying a lot of those high-risk maneuvers early- we’re only a few minutes into this one, folks!
After the Kickout, Stevens signals to the cheering crowd, runs off the ropes, and attempts a wheelbarrow bulldog, but as he pushes himself up, Styles swivels his hips, and Stevens face plants into the mat.
Mann: And Stevens’ showing off cost him there!
Styles knees Stevens in the stomach, before putting his head between the legs, and sets up for the Styles Clash! He can’t lock in Milkman’s arms, and Stevens uses them to push off the mat to sit up above Jericho! Stevens tries throwing a punch at Jericho’s head, but he pivots his plan, and adjusts to deliver a powerbomb! As he releases, Stevens adjusts his body and manages to mitigate some of the damage by landing awkwardly on the back foot, stumbling back into the ropes.
Mann: If Styles hit that, it could have spelled an early end for Stevens!
Stevens pulls himself back to his feet using the ropes and charges back in with a clothesline attempt, but Styles sees it coming, grabs the arm and uses it to shift the momentum, and lifts Stevens for a tilt-a-whirl Backbreaker!
Crowd: BOOOOOO
Mann: And Styles seems to be in control here.
Woodbridge: Stevens took some early momentum, but Styles has had a counter for everything Stevens has thrown at him.
Styles pulls Stevens up to his feet by the hair, before casually flipping one of Stevens’ arms over his shoulder for a uranage position before holding his arms out to the crowd!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOO
Styles smirks at the boos incoming, and throws Stevens with a t-bone suplex. Once Stevens is planted, Styles stomps the stomach to force him to sit up, before stretching the arms behind for a surfboard stretch!
Styles: I’m a technical wrestler now, assholes!
Mann: Styles slowing things down here, grounding the Milkman
Woodbridge: Not a bad strategy, we saw how The Milkman was in control with a faster pace!
One guy holding up a sign with Goku: WE-LOVE-GOKU! WE-LOVE-GOKU!
Everyone else in the crowd is deafeningly silent
Styles: AND WHAT WOULD GOKU DO HERE, STUPID IDIOT?
Styles breaks his hold and approaches the hard camera ropes to yell at the fan more
Styles: Dragon Ball is overrated trash!
Styles kicks Stevens back to the mat
Styles That one was for you, fucking weeb!
As Stevens once again rises to his feet, Styles punches him and he falls back to the mat, just for Styles to pick him back up, and line up against the ropes, for an irish whip. As Stevens returns to sender, Styles throws him straight up in the air… and football punts him in the chest on the way down!
Styles: Hey weeb guy! This one’s for you too! I saw a Japanese dude do it once!
Styles lifts Stevens up, sets him up with the arms behind the back… and delivers a slow, sloppy [tiger driver], before placing a single foot on the chest, and flexing
ONE
TWO
Kickout!
Crowd: YEEEAAAHHHH
Woodbridge: Well, he didn’t quite get all of it.
Styles takes time to put Stevens in a Camel Clutch.
Mann: And it seems Styles didn’t want to get left out of showing off!
Woodbridge: Well, he certainly nailed Milkman with that kick, but the Tiger Driver left a lot to be desired.
Mann: Styles seems to have control of this match when it’s slowed down, wearing Stevens with this technical wrestling prowess.
Woodbridge, reaching under the desk for a paper bag: Everyone wants to be a hero in front of the first crowd in two years
Styles releases Stevens from the hold by battering him in the back of the head with a forearm, picking him up by the scruff, and bouncing him off the ropes for an Irish whip and hitting him with the kitchen sink! But Stevens wastes no motion, and grabs the leg, turning Styles over for a rollup!
ONE
TWO
THR-
Kickout!
Crowd: BOOOOOO
Woodbridge: He almost got him with that rollup! From out of nowhere!
The Milkman tries to capitalize, but Styles returns the favor with a boot to the stomach.
Styles: I’ll show you to make a damn fool out of me!
Styles hoists Stevens up for a vertical suplex, before taking two steps and chucking him across the top rope! The Milkman bounces off the top rope, makes a deflating noise as the air is forced out of his lungs, and flops down to the floor outside!
Mann: Styles with some kind of inverted lawn-dart maneuver! Woodbridge, do you know what that’s called?
Woodbridge: Nope.
Crowd: BOOOOOO
Styles: Come on, milk boy, you have anything else for me?
Stevens crawls back into the ring, holding onto his ribs, before Styles once again kicks him in the stomach, and applies a chin lock in the ring.
Mann: Styles has found his target! If Stevens can’t breathe, he can’t fight!
Woodbridge: The young Styles showing some veteran instinct here, Mann, if Stevens has the wind knocked out of him, he can’t perform those high-flying moves he was nailing Styles with earlier!
Styles turns to the side, and locks Milkman in a body scissors, using his legs to apply pressure to the ribcage. Stevens tries to use his free legs to push both men closer to the ropes, but can only move them a few feet. Stevens smacks the mat with his free hand, and a guy in the crowd does it to the barricade. Stevens smacks the mat again, and a few more fans join in.
Crowd Smacking the barricade
Stevens pushes towards the ropes again, making more progress. Styles sees this, and releases the hold, grabbing Stevens by the hair with one hand, tights in the other, and pulling him up to his feet.
Styles: You want the ropes so bad, here, have them!
Styles runs over to the ropes with the Milkman, and hurls him between the middle and top rope, dumping him to the outside where he lands with a noticeable thud. Styles follows him to the outside, taking his time to savor the boos of the crowd, before delivering a knee to a rising Milkman, and lifting him for a vertical suplex on the grass! Styles rolls into the ring… and back out again to break the count. Despite the present beating, Stevens once again pulls himself to his feet.
Crowd: YEAAAH
And Styles knees him in the ribs.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOO
Styles rolls Stevens back into the ring before taking a moment to confront the drunk fan who jeered him earlier. After his verbal exchange, Styles delivers a scoop slam to Stevens to keep him down, and the pressure on the body, before sliding into a cover.
ONE
TWO
Kickout!
Mann: Forcing Stevens to exert more energy there on the kick out, after continuing his assault on the ribs. A very solid strategy by Styles in this one.
Styles picks The Milkman up once more and prepares another vertical suplex, but the Milkman slips free! Stevens lands behind Styles, hooks his arms, and goes for a crucifix pin!
ONE
TWO
THRE-
Styles barely escapes! The Milkman wastes no motion as Styles rises back to his feet, bouncing off the hard camera ropes, and forcing Styles to drop back to the mat to avoid a strike. Stevens bounces off the opposite end, and Styles barely avoids him once more, this time with a slide-step that sees him almost lose his balance. Styles tries to save his momentum by charging at Stevens as he bounces off the ropes a third time, but Stevens pulls down the top rope, sending Styles to the apron! Stevens kicks Styles in the knee, before going through the middle rope to meet Styles on the apron. Styles tries to sweep out the leg of the Milkman, knocking himself down to one knee on the attempt, but Stevens jumps over it, and catches Styles with a Calcium Kiss Superkick that sends Styles to the grass below!
Crowd: YEAAAHH
With his foe grounded, Stevens looks to the crowd, positions himself in the middle of the ring, and before Styles can discover where he is, Stevens takes flight, springboarding off the middle rope with an Asai Milksault! On the landing, Stevens’ left knee awkwardly hits the uneven yard, and he visibly grimaces before falling backward.
Mann: And both men are down after that! Stevens with a ferocious comeback attempt, but he may have hurt himself!
Woodbridge: Someone hasn’t been taking care of their lawn.
Stevens hears the air exit the crowd, and pulls himself up, giving them a reassuring thumbs up, before using the leg he landed on to kick Styles in the back of his knee, before throwing him back into the ring. Stevens puts one leg into the ring through the middle rope, before looking into the crowd- and deciding to ascend the turnbuckles instead! The Milkman leaps, and delivers a diving hurricanrana! As Styles tries to roll to the ropes, Stevens uses their good leg to stomp on his chest, before pulling him back to the middle of the ring, and hitting a Standing Milksault! Stevens maintains the cover!
ONE
TWO
THR-
Styles gets a shoulder up!
Woodbridge: And Stevens throwing everything into this assault on Styles, but it still wasn’t enough to put him down!
Crowd: Let’s Go Milk-man! Let’s Go Milk-man!
Stevens picks Styles up, and lifts him onto his shoulders…
Woodbridge: He’s going for the Milky Way!
…But the injured knee can’t hold up the weight, and both men crash to the mat.
Entrance Music begins to play as a small, skinny wrestler in a leather jacket waltzes towards the two downed competitors
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Mann: And that’s Raven Van Loupe! Van Loupe is here at Sound Off!
Woodbridge: These two formed an alliance last time we saw them! But will it hold after the time off?
Van Loupe enters the ring, despite the protests of WiR official Tai Ni Wong, and glances at the pair as both try to pull themselves up, Stevens using the ropes, Styles on his own. Van Loupe looks back and forth… before kicking Stevens in the injured knee!
DING DING DING
Babaganoush: And here is your winner…
Van Loupe helps Styles to his feet, and the pair begin to lay the boots on Stevens.
Babaganoush: By disqualification as a result of interference, and striking a WiR official…
Styles takes the knee of the downed Milkman, and lifts it above his head, before thrashing it against the canvas.
Babaganoush: At a time of…
Van Loupe has Styles lift Stevens by the hair once more, before she runs to the ropes, jumps off the second rope, and Styles pushes The Milkman into the cutter.
Babaganoush: Ten minutes and twenty-three seconds…
Styles and Van Loupe stand over Stevens, and Styles prepares to deliver the finishing blow as he signals to the crowd that he is looking for the Styles Clash!
Banaganoush: Tony “The Milkmannnnnn” Stevens!!!!!!
Van Loupe: Are you done?
Van Loupe gives Styles a thumbs up, but as he goes to finish off Stevens, a mighty howl plays over the speakers as a short, scruffy man runs to the ring.
Woodbridge: That’s The Werewolf!
Mann Johnny, A Werewolf, is here! And he’s rushing to the ring!
Styles lets Stevens flop back down to the mat, holding his knee, and turns to face the incoming Werewolf as he slides under the ropes and into the ring. Styles steps before Vna Loupe to intercept, but the fresh Werewolf knocks him off his feet with The Pounce. The Werewolf comes face to face with Van Loupe in the center of the ring!
Crowd: AWOOOOOO
Mann: Pandemonium has broken out in the first match of Sound Off! And the fans are loving it!
Crowd: WE LOVE WERE-WOLF! clap clap clap clap clap WE LOVE WERE-WOLF!
Woodbridge: The Pack Wolf and the Werewolf facing off in the center of the ring!
Mann: And these two have unfinished business! The Lifeblood exists because they took issue with being left behind for signings like Werewolf!
Johnny feints left, before throwing a right jab! The Werewolf unleashes Pack Tactics on Van Loupe! As he stops throwing punches, and signals for another pounce, Styles kips up, and levels the werewolf with a lariat!
Crowd: BOOOOO
Van Loupe and Styles begin to wear down the Werewolf, delivering blow after blow to Johnny as the boos rain from the crowd. Van Loupe delivers a stomp to the knee of The Milkman to keep him down before they and Jericho set up to finish off styles…
When an Italian Flag appears on the video screen, and an absolute guido of an Italian-American, hair dripping with greaseslowly walks out from behind the curtain, wearing a Shohei Ohtani jersey!
…A Shohei Ohtani… New York Mets jersey.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Mann: That’s The Apex! Arturo Stiglione! Stiglione is in the yard!
Stiglione slowly scopes out the scene on his way to the ring, seeing the downed Milkman on the left of the ring, the downed werewolf on the right, and the standing Lifeblood members in the middle. He slowly ascends the stairs and stands across from Van Loupe and Styles.
Wodbridge: And The Apex, not a fan of Johnny, a very terse relationship between these two.
Apex: Hell ova job ya done hea’
Van Loupe: If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stand aside, and maybe we won’t hurt you.
Apex: Dont’cha mind me, just monitoring the situation.
Styles pulls Van Loupe aside, and the two have an impromptu conference, before nodding along, and continuing their attack on Werewolf.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
With The Lifeblood’s backs turned Styles looks down at his fist. He looks down at the blue and orange he’s adorned in, and loosens up his arm. He points to the back of Styles, who senses the crowd rising, and turns around… to be met with a spinning backfist!!
Crowd: YEEEAAAHHHH
Mann: Styles has made his choice! And he chooses to stand against The Lifeblood!
Van Loupe hears his body hit the canvas, and turns around, to be met with the sight of a downed Styles! The Apex takes off his Mets jersey… to reveal an Angels jersey! The Werewolf is back on his feet, and he and the Apex come face to face! Van Loupe rises back up at the wrong time, as the two share a nod, and deliver a double clothesline! Seeing the situation turn against him, Styles slinks to the outside, and grabs a chair from under the ring, before sneaking back in behind the Werewolf and Apex, who have turned to the hard camera. Styles raises the chair to strike…
...And gets blasted by a Calcium Kiss from The Milkman!
Crowd: WOOOOOO
The three faces are all back on their feet in the middle of the ring, standing tall! As the three begin to celebrate…
“It’s a Psychobilly Freakout!
Mann: That’s the music of Mason Saunders! But where is he?
Saunders’ music plays, but the entranceway remains empty.
Woodbridge: He’s behind us, Mann! He just jumped the barricade!
Mann: But he’s outnumbered, Woodbridge, both his allies are down!
Undeterred by the numbers disadvantage, Saunders slides behind the faces, and as they recognize the trap, Saunders is already in the ring! The Werewolf approaches first and throws a jab that almost seems to bounce off the chin of Saunders. Saunders simply stares, and when the Werewolf tries a second one, Saunders swipes it aside with a tree trunk arm, before launching into action and dropping the Werewolf with a right hook, which catches the Werewolf cleanly on the jaw, who slumps backward onto the canvas. The Milkman tries to charge to his aid, but Saunders delivers a pump kick to put him back on the canvas. The Apex tries to make a move while Saunders’ back is turned facing Stevens, but he fails to do any damage and is swiftly thrown aside. Saunders drops the Milkman again, before turning around to face Apex… who turns around, and flees the ring as fast as possible!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Mann: And Stiglione, getting out of dodge as soon as he can!
Woodbridge: And turning tail and running, Stiglione is out of here!
As Stiglione flees up the entranceway, the rest of the Lifeblood begins to pick themselves up. Saunders puts the Werewolf pack down on the canvas with a scoop powerslam, and boots him out of the ring. The Lifeblood stand united, and face the hard camera, Stiglione and Werewolf removed, and the Milkman down on the opposite end of the ring. JZ ascends to the second rope of the left turnbuckle, Van Loupe to the right, and the three all pose for the hard camera!
Mann: And the Lifeblood, although not victorious in the match, is victorious here in the aftermath!
Woodbridge: But wait, The Milkman is trying to get back up!
Mann: Stevens of course, left for the picking, as other members of The Horde are all the way on the other side of the Farm preparing for their match later!
Stevens struggles to pull himself up to his feet, knee buckling under him. Saunders perks up, and stops his pose. Stevens staggers to his feet, and before he can get very far, Saunders turns, and with blinding speed nails Stevens with a disgusting lariat that nearly takes his head off!
Woodbridge: And the Milk has gone spoiled.
The Lifeblood circle the downed Milkman like vultures, and Van Loupe drops to one knee, and picks up the Milkman’s head by the hair! JZ gets down as well, and the two strike a pose, with Milkman’s body as the centerpiece!
Mann: A statement made, by the Lifeblood
Woodbridge: To me, Mann, it looks like the statement was made by Saunders, Van Loupe, and JZ just picked up the scraps!
Van Loupe, holding up Milkman to the Camera victoriously: Take a look, WiR, this is the future! We are the Lifeblood of this company, and don’t forget that!
The camera pans out to JZ and Van Loupe celebrating over Milkman’s body, while Saunders stares from behind, before fading out to a commercial break.
Javier: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL, with a 20 minute time limit. Your referee for this contest is Mia So Hung. Introducing first, from Montreal, Canada, weighing in at 119 pounds...... GIGI♥ V!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
A significantly smaller but incredibly loud section of the crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Music begins to swell in the background, and the crowd continues their jeering (and occasional unbridled simping) until Gigi steps out, running her hands down her body to the lewd Ashnikko verse.
Mann: Gigi here, surrounded by her legion of fans, who are then surrounded by a legion of people who absolutely despise her. As it should be here in WiR.
Gigi saunters to the ring, taking vaguely suggestive selfies with her ravenous fans on the front row, and generally seeming uncaring about the forthcoming match.
Woodbridge: And given her successes recently, it’s gonna be easy to overlook a competitor like Li Xiao, which very easily could prove fatal.
Gigi steps into the ring, as Javier starts his announcing again.
Javier: And her opponent, from Hong Kong, weighing in at 105 pounds... LI XIAO!!!
A unfamiliar metal song blasts out from the speakers, and a rather familiar hyperactive martial artist bounces out from behind the curtain!
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Xiao charges down the ramp with a head of steam, hyped and ready to fight.
Mann: Xiao has some of the most devastating offense in this company, and if she’s able to keep momentum, it could very well shatter Gigi’s plans of making a statement here!
Woodbridge: Yeah, sure, but Xiao’s a tag team specialist first and foremost. She comes in to deal damage and then gets out before she takes too much abuse.
Xiao hops into the ring, and the referee pats both competitors down, before gesturing for the bell.
DING DING DING
In an interesting turn of events, Gigi and Li Xiao start off with a collar-and-elbow tie up in the center of the ring. Gigi takes quick advantage of her height and weight advantage to gain leverage and force Li Xiao backwards into the ropes.
Mann: Gigi starting off with the basics here, knowing Li Xiao is nothing if not an incredibly explosive fighter.
Woodbridge: That’s right, Xiao wrestles like my grandpa used to make moonshine, god rest his soul!
Gigi sets herself, and when Xiao tries to push off the ropes and get Gigi off, Gigi directs the momentum into a modified biel, throwing Li Xiao across the ring! Gigi takes a moment to smirk and pose for the fans - a mistake, as Xiao rolls through the throw and hits the ropes on the opposite side of the ring!
Mann: Incredible strength from Gigi!
Gigi turns around into a sprinting palm strike from Xiao, staggering backwards into the ropes yet again, and Xiao follows up with a big kick to the gut! Gigi’s doubled over, and Xiao drops her with a DDT!
Woodbridge: Xiao’s fired up, and she’s quite possibly looking to end this match before it even gets started!
Xiao with the cover!
1!
2!
Gigi kicks out right at 2, and rolls up, obviously shocked and dazed. The crowd in attendance is split, with the wrestling fans excited to see Gigi on the ropes, and the Gigi fans absolutely in shambles. Xiao is up quickly, as Gigi staggers to her feet - Xiao hits the ropes, springboards, and catches Gigi with a beautiful headscissors!
Crowd: WOOOOOO!
Gigi rolls through, runs the ropes, and comes back with a head of steam! Xiao dodges a clothesline attempt, shoves Gigi to the other rope, and gets ready for the comeback - Gigi catches the ropes! Xiao charges in to press the advantage, and eats an officially branded Gigi♥ boot to the face! Xiao is absolutely rocked, staggering backwards, and this time Gigi takes the initiative and absolutely levels Xiao with a clothesline! Xiao spirals to the mat, and Gigi blows a kiss to the fans in attendance!
Gigi: I am your future champion, and this is the match I’m booked in?
Gigi catches Xiao with a boot to the back of the head! Xiao rolls over, and Gigi drops a knee onto her throat, before going for the cover!
1!
2!
Xiao muscles out of the pin, clutching her head!
Woodbridge: We got two high fliers here, these women make a livin’ out of dodging attacks. Anything that lands here is going to be devastating!
Mann: And right now, it looks like Xiao is barely conscious after those blows to the head!
Gigi gets up, and winks at her fans in attendance and watching live throughout the world.
Crowd: BOOOOOO!/YAAAAAAAAAAY!
Gigi saunters over to Xiao, and plays up the boot she’s about to give - SMALL PACKAGE! SMALL PACKAGE!
1!
2!
Gigi kicks out, and her mood instantly changes. Xiao is staggering to her feet, and takes a full on slap to the face!
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOH!
Mann: What a slap from Gigi, obviously assisted by her official Gigi♥ gloves, sponsored by Fairtex!
Woodbridge: Gigi’s pissed now, and you could hear that slap all the way in Los Angeles!
Xiao clutches her face, and Gigi follows up with a huge kick to the gut! Xiao falls to one knee, and Gigi finishes the trifecta with a roundhouse to the head!
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!
Xiao collapses to the mat!
Mann: And Xiao’s down! What a kick!
Woodbridge: That kick nearly took her head off, Shay! I don’t know if she’s even conscious down there!
Gigi’s prepared, and is looking to finish this, climbing to the top rope! Xiao is flat on her back on the mat, and Gigi takes the leap, flipping forwards with a swanton! Xiao is still conscious, though, and rolls away in the nick of time, leaving Gigi high and dry!
Crowd: YAAAAAAY! KUNG PAO! KUNG PAO! KUNG PAO!
Mann: I... feel like that’s problematic, somehow.
Woodbridge: Nah, ‘sfine, don’t worry about it.
Xiao grabs for the ropes, pulling herself to her feet, but is obviously still dazed from the kick!
Woodbridge: Xiao’s hurt!
Mann: You see this a lot in Li Xiao singles matches - she’s got an incredible offense, but she’s fragile at best in-ring!
Gigi is holding her back, and glares at Xiao in frustration!
Gigi: You were supposed to stay down! it was going on Tiktok!
Gigi charges forward, ready to avenge her mistake, but takes a knee to the gut! Gigi staggers for a second, only to get a chop to the neck! She’s reeling! Xiao with a forearm! Xiao with a elbow strike!
Crowd: OHHHHHHHHHH!
Xiao takes a step backwards, and lets out a KIAI, before charging forward with a roundhouse - NO! SCHOOLBOY FROM GIGI!
1!
2!
Xiao kicks out at 2.6, rolls to her feet, and is immediately back on the offensive, catching Gigi with a kick to the gut!
Mann: Xiao was going for her trademark flurry of blows, and that roundhouse could very well have ended this match!
Woodbridge: Sure, but it doesn’t look like Gigi’s in a better spot right now anyway!
Xiao measures, as Gigi slowly gets back to her feet, and steps through the ropes, stalking her opponent! Gigi’s up, and Xiao leaps onto the ropes, going for a springboard - GIGI HOOKS HER LEG!
Crowd: BOOOOO!
Xiao loses her footing, and falls neck-first onto the ropes, before collapsing to the outside of the ring!
Mann: Gigi with a lightning-quick reversal!
Woodbridge: Xiao might be seriously hurt down there!
Gigi regains some of her confidence, and gives the crowd an innocent smile, completely ignoring the competitor she might have seriously injured. As the count reaches six, Gigi finally springs into action, rolling out of the ring, and grabbing Xiao by the hair!
Gigi: That’s what you get for ruining my moment!
Gigi pulls Xiao up to her feet, and throws her into the ring. Gigi rolls in as Xiao fights to one knee, then to her feet! Gigi smirks, and stands in front of Xiao, posing for the crowd -
WHAM!
Xiao with a JKD backfist!
Woodbridge: River City Knockout! That’s Biff’s move! What a moment to strike!
Gigi is staggered - falls to one knee - then gets back up, just in time to eat THE CRANE KICK
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Woodbridge: CRANE KICK! CRANE KICK!
Gigi is down! Xiao is staggering after landing the crane kick, and collapses to a knee herself! Xiao takes a moment to collect herself, then throws herself into the cover, hooking both legs!
1!
2!
3!
NO!
Mia hits the three count, and Xiao rolls off, sure she’s won the match, but Gigi’s right hand is on the ropes!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Mia explains to Xiao, who is obviously frustrated, but nods. She takes a moment to kick Gigi’s wrist, knocking her hand off the ropes, before climbing to the top rope! Xiao steels herself - leaps - corkscrews through the air!
Woodbridge: Xiao’s Wing!
Gigi gets her knees up! Xiao lands back-first onto Gigi’s knees! Xiao bounces halfway across the ring, clutching her back and neck, and lands on her chest!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Mann: And Gigi has just enough in the tank to get that counter in!
Gigi, with what seems like massive effort, rolls over, before crawling towards Xiao, who seems to be completely out of it. She crawls over Xiao, with a knowing smirk, before hooking her legs around Xiao’s head!
Mann: Gigi looking for the Paywall, this modified figure four choke!
Woodbridge: And half the audience is looking at something else right now.
Gigi torques Xiao’s already injured neck back, cutting off all airflow! Xiao struggles for a moment, but is trapped in the center of the ring! She crawls forward, but Gigi leans back, torquing her neck even further! Xiao swings back with an elbow, then another, but her arm is caught by Gigi’s free hand! After a moment of struggling, Xiao finally relents, and taps in the center of the ring!
DING DING DING!
Javier: And your winner, at a time of 7:53.... GIGI!
Gigi rolls out of the ring, obviously the worse for wear, clutching her neck after the crane kick to the skull!
Mann: And Gigi with a hard-fought win after these two threw everything at each other in a absolutely brutal short match!
Woodbridge: Xiao’s not a singles competitor on her own, but she showed just how brutal her brand of offense is when it needs to be - if Biff has the same resilience he used to have the tag division might need to be on notice!
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2023.06.02 00:59 JoshAsdvgi THE FOUR BROTHERS

THE FOUR BROTHERS
​
THE FOUR BROTHERS; OR INYANHOKSILA (STONE BOY)
Alone and apart from their tribe dwelt four orphan brothers.
They had erected a very comfortable hut, although the materials used were only willows, hay, birch bark, and adobe mud.
After the completion of their hut, the oldest brother laid out the different kinds of work to be done by the four of them.
He and the second and third brothers were to do all the hunting, and the youngest brother was to do the house work, cook the meals, and keep plenty of wood on hand at all times.
As his older brothers would leave for their hunting very early every morning, and would not return till late at night, the little fellow always found plenty of spare time to gather into little piles fine dry wood for their winter use.
Thus the four brothers lived happily for a long time.
One day while out gathering and piling up wood, the boy heard a rustling in the leaves and looking around he saw a young woman standing in the cherry bushes, smiling at him.
"Who are you, and where did you come from?" asked the boy, in surprise.
"I am an orphan girl and have no relatives living.
I came from the village west of here.
I learned from rabbit that there were four orphan brothers living here all alone, and that the youngest was keeping house for his older brothers, so I thought I would come over and see if I couldn't have them adopt me as their sister, so that I might keep house for them, as I am very poor and have no relations, neither have I a home."
She looked so pitiful and sad that the boy thought to himself, "I will take her home with me, poor girl, no matter what my brothers think or say."
Then he said to her: "Come on, tanke (sister).
You may go home with me; I am sure my older brothers will be glad to have you for our sister."
When they arrived at the hut, the girl hustled about and cooked up a fine hot supper, and when the brothers returned they were surprised to see a girl sitting by the fire in their hut. After they had entered the youngest brother got up and walked outside, and a short time after the oldest brother followed him out.
"Who is that girl, and where did she come from?" he asked his brother.
Whereupon the brother told him the whole story.
Upon hearing this the oldest brother felt very sorry for the poor orphan girl and going back into the hut he spoke to the girl, saying: "Sister, you are an orphan, the same as we; you have no relatives, no home.
We will be your brothers, and our poor hut shall be your home.
Henceforth call us brothers, and you will be our sister."
"Oh, how happy I am now that you take me as your sister.
I will be to you all as though we were of the same father and mother," said the girl.
And true to her word, she looked after everything of her brothers and kept the house in such fine shape that the brothers blessed the day that she came to their poor little hut.
She always had an extra buckskin suit and two pairs of moccasins hanging at the head of each one's bed.
Buffalo, deer, antelope, bear, wolf, wildcat, mountain lion and beaver skins she tanned by the dozen, and piled nicely in one corner of the hut.
When the Indians have walked a great distance and are very tired, they have great faith in painting their feet, claiming that paint eases the pain and rests their feet.
After their return from a long day's journey, when they would be lying down resting, the sister would get her paint and mix it with the deer tallow and rub the paint on her brother's feet, painting them up to their ankles.
The gentle touch of her hands, and the soothing qualities of the tallow and paint soon put them into a deep, dreamless steep.
Many such kind actions on her part won the hearts of the brothers, and never was a full blood sister loved more than was this poor orphan girl, who had been taken as their adopted sister.
In the morning when they arose, the sister always combed their long black silken scalp locks and painted the circle around the scalp lock a bright vermillion.
When the hunters would return with a goodly supply of beef, the sister would hurry and relieve them of their packs, hanging each one high enough from the ground so the prowling dogs and coyotes could not reach them.
The hunters each had a post on which to hang his bow and flint head arrows.
(Good hunters never laid their arrows on the ground, as it was considered unlucky to the hunter who let his arrows touch the earth after they had been out of the quiver).
They were all perfectly happy, until one day the older brother surprised them all by saying: "We have a plentiful supply of meat on hand at present to last us for a week or so.
I am going for a visit to the village west of us, so you boys all stay at home and help sister. Also gather as much wood as you can and I will be back again in four days.
On my return we will resume our hunting and commence getting our year's supply of meat."
He left the next morning, and the last they saw of him was while he stood at the top of the long range of hills west of their home.
Four days had come and gone and no sign of the oldest brother.
"I am afraid that our brother has met with some accident," said the sister.
"I am afraid so, too," said the next oldest. "
I must go and search for him; he may be in some trouble where a little help would get him out."
The second brother followed the direction his brother had taken, and when he came to the top of the long range of hills he sat down and gazed long and steadily down into the long valley with a beautiful creek winding through it.
Across the valley was a long plain stretching for miles beyond and finally ending at the foot of another range of hills, the counterpart of the one upon which he sat.
After noting the different landmarks carefully, he arose and slowly started down the slope and soon came to the creek he had seen from the top of the range.
Great was his surprise on arriving at the creek to find what a difference there was in the appearance of it from the range and where he stood.
From the range it appeared to be a quiet, harmless, laughing stream.
Now he saw it to be a muddy, boiling, bubbling torrent, with high perpendicular banks.
For a long time he stood, thinking which way to go, up or down stream.
He had just decided to go down stream, when, on chancing to look up, he noticed a thin column of smoke slowly ascending from a little knoll.
He approached the place cautiously and noticed a door placed into the creek bank on the opposite side of the stream.
As he stood looking at the door, wondering who could be living in a place like that, it suddenly opened and a very old appearing woman came out and stood looking around her. Soon she spied the young man, and said to him: "My grandchild, where did you come from and whither are you bound?"
The young man answered: "I came from east of this ridge and am in search of my oldest brother, who came over in this direction five days ago and who has not yet returned."
"Your brother stopped here and ate his dinner with me, and then left, traveling towards the west," said the old witch, for such she was. "
Now, grandson, come across on that little log bridge up the stream there and have your dinner with me.
I have it all cooked now and just stepped outside to see if there might not be some hungry traveler about, whom I could invite in to eat dinner with me."
The young man went up the stream a little distance and found a couple of small logs which had been placed across the stream to serve as a bridge.
He crossed over and went down to the old woman's dugout hut.
"Come in grandson, and eat. I know you must be hungry."
The young man sat down and ate a real hearty meal.
On finishing he arose and said: "Grandmother, I thank you for your meal and kindness to me.
I would stay and visit with you awhile, as I know it must be very lonely here for you, but I am very anxious to find my brother, so I must be going.
On my return I will stop with my brother and we will pay you a little visit."
"Very well, grandson, but before you go, I wish you would do me a little favor.
Your brother did it for me before he left, and cured me, but it has come back on me again.
I am subject to very severe pains along the left side of my backbone, all the way from my shoulder blade down to where my ribs attach to my backbone, and the only way I get any relief from the pain is to have some one kick me along the side."
(She was a witch, and concealed in her robe a long sharp steel spike. It was placed so that the last kick they would give her, their foot would hit the spike and they would instantly drop off into a swoon, as if dead.)
"If I won't hurt you too much, grandmother, I certainly will be glad to do it for you," said the young man, little thinking he would be the one to get hurt.
"No, grandson, don't be afraid of hurting me; the harder you kick the longer the pain stays away."
She laid down on the floor and rolled over on to her right side, so he could get a good chance to kick the left side where she said the pain was located.
As he moved back to give the first kick, he glanced along the floor and he noticed a long object wrapped in a blanket, lying against the opposite wall.
He thought it looked strange and was going to stop and investigate, but just then the witch cried out as if in pain.
"Hurry up, grandson, I am going to die if you don't hurry and start in kicking."
" I can investigate after I get through with her," thought he, so he started in kicking and every kick he would give her she would cry: "Harder, kick harder."
He had to kick seven times before he would get to the end of the pain, so he let out as hard as he could drive, and when he came to the last kick he hit the spike, and driving it through his foot, fell down in a dead swoon, and was rolled up in a blanket by the witch and placed beside his brother at the opposite side of the room.
When the second brother failed to return, the third went in search of the two missing ones. He fared no better than the second one, as he met the old witch who served him in a similar manner as she had his two brothers.
"Ha! Ha!" she laughed, when she caught the third, "I have only one more of them to catch, and when I get them I will keep them all here a year, and then I will turn them into horses and sell them back to their sister.
I hate her, for I was going to try and keep house for them and marry the oldest one, but she got ahead of me and became their sister, so now I will get my revenge on her.
Next year she will be riding and driving her brothers and she won't know it."
When the third brother failed to return, the sister cried and begged the last one not to venture out in search of them.
But go he must, and go he did, only to do as his three brothers had done.
Now the poor sister was nearly distracted.
Day and night she wandered over hills and through woods in hopes she might find or hear of some trace of them.
Her wanderings were in vain.
The hawks had not seen them after they had crossed the little stream.
The wolves and coyotes told her that they had seen nothing of her brothers out on the broad plains, and she had given them up for dead.
One day, as she was sitting by the little stream that flowed past their hut, throwing pebbles into the water and wondering what she should do, she picked up a pure white pebble, smooth and round, and after looking at it for a long time, threw it into the water.
No sooner had it hit the water than she saw it grow larger.
She took it out and looked at it and threw it in again.
This time it had assumed the form of a baby.
She took it out and threw it in the third time and the form took life and began to cry: "Ina, ina" (mother, mother).
She took the baby home and fed it soup, and it being an unnatural baby, quickly grew up to a good sized boy.
At the end of three months he was a good big, stout youth.
One day he said: "Mother, why are you living here alone? To whom do all these fine clothes and moccasins belong?" She then told him the story of her lost brothers.
"Oh, I know now where they are.
You make me lots of arrows.
I am going to find my uncles." She tried to dissuade him from going, but he was determined and said: "My father sent me to you so that I could find my uncles for you, and nothing can harm me, because I am stone and my name is "Stone Boy."
The mother, seeing that he was determined to go, made a whole quiver full of arrows for him, and off he started.
When he came to the old witch's hut, she was nowhere to be seen, so he pushed the door in and entered.
The witch was busily engaged cooking dinner.
"Why, my dear grandchild, you are just in time for dinner.
Sit down and we will eat before you continue your journey."
Stone boy sat down and ate dinner with the old witch.
She watched him very closely, but when she would be drinking her soup he would glance hastily around the room.
Finally he saw the four bundles on the opposite side of the room, and he guessed at once that there lay his four uncles.
When he had finished eating he took out his little pipe and filled it with "kini-kinic," and commenced to smoke, wondering how the old woman had managed to fool his smart uncles.
He couldn't study it out, so when he had finished his smoke he arose to pretend to go. When the old woman saw him preparing to leave, she said: "Grandson, will you kick me on the left side of my backbone.
I am nearly dead with pain and if you kick me good and hard it will cure me."
"All right, grandma," said the boy.
The old witch lay down on the floor and the boy started in to kick.
At the first kick he barely touched her.
"Kick as hard as you can, grandson; don't be afraid you will hurt me, because you can't." With that Stone Boy let drive and broke two ribs.
She commenced to yell and beg him to stop, but he kept on kicking until he had kicked both sides of her ribs loose from the backbone.
Then he jumped on her backbone and broke it and killed the old witch.
He built a big fire outside and dragged her body to it, and threw her into the fire.
Thus ended the old woman who was going to turn his uncles into horses.
Next he cut willows and stuck them into the ground in a circle.
The tops he pulled together, making a wickieup.
He then took the old woman's robes and blankets and covered the wickieup so that no air could get inside.
He then gathered sage brush and covered the floor with a good thick bed of sage; got nice round stones and got them red hot in the fire, and placed them in the wickieup and proceeded to carry his uncles out of the hut and lay them down on the soft bed of sage. Having completed carrying and depositing them around the pile of rocks, he got a bucket of water and poured it on the hot rocks, which caused a great vapor in the little wickie-up.
He waited a little while and then listened and heard some breathing inside, so he got another bucket and poured that on also.
After awhile he could hear noises inside as though some one were moving about.
He went again and got the third bucket and after he had poured that on the rocks, one of the men inside said:
"Whoever you are, good friend, don't bring us to life only to scald us to death again."
Stone boy then said: "Are all of you alive?" "Yes," said the voice. "Well, come out," said the boy.
And with that he threw off the robes and blankets, and a great cloud of vapor arose and settled around the top of the highest peak on the long range, and from that did Smoky Range derive its name.
The uncles, when they heard who the boy was, were very happy, and they all returned together to the anxiously waiting sister.
As soon as they got home, the brothers worked hard to gather enough wood to last them all winter.
Game they could get at all times of the year, but the heavy fall of snow covered most of the dry wood and also made it very difficult to drag wood through the deep snow.
So they took advantage of the nice fall weather and by the time the snow commenced falling they had enough wood gathered to last them throughout the winter.
After the snow fell a party of boys swiftly coasted down the big hill west of the brothers' hut.
The Stone boy used to stand and watch them for hours at a time.
His youngest uncle said: "Why don't you go up and coast with them?"
The boy said: "They may be afraid of me, but I guess I will try once, anyway."
So the next morning when the crowd came coasting, Stone boy started for the hill.
When he had nearly reached the bottom of the coasting hill all of the boys ran off excepting two little fellows who had a large coaster painted in different colors and had little bells tied around the edges, so when the coaster was in motion the bells made a cheerful tinkling sound.
As Stone boy started up the hill the two little fellows started down and went past him as though shot from a hickory bow.
When they got to the end of their slide, they got off and started back up the hill.
It being pretty steep, Stone boy waited for them, so as to lend a hand to pull the big coaster up the hill.
As the two little fellows came up with him he knew at once that they were twins, as they looked so much alike that the only way one could be distinguished from the other was by the scarfs they wore.
One wore red, the other black.
He at once offered to help them drag their coaster to the top of the hill.
When they got to the top the twins offered their coaster to him to try a ride.
At first he refused, but they insisted on his taking it, as they said they would sooner rest until he came back.
So he got on the coaster and flew down the hill, only he was such an expert he made a zigzag course going down and also jumped the coaster off a bank about four feet high, which none of the other coasters dared to tackle.
Being very heavy, however, he nearly smashed the coaster.
Upon seeing this wonderful jump, and the zigzag course he had taken going down, the twins went wild with excitement and decided that they would have him take them down when he got back.
So upon his arrival at the starting point, they both asked him at once to give them the pleasure of the same kind of a ride he had taken.
He refused, saying: "We will break your coaster.
I alone nearly smashed it, and if we all get on and make the same kind of a jump, I am afraid you will have to go home without your coaster."
"Well, take us down anyway, and if we break it our father will make us another one."
So he finally consented.
When they were all seated ready to start, he told them that when the coaster made the jump they must look straight ahead.
"By no means look down, because if you do we will go over the cut bank and land in a heap at the bottom of the gulch."
They said they would obey what he said, so off they started swifter than ever, on account of the extra weight, and so swiftly did the sleigh glide over the packed, frozen snow, that it nearly took the twins' breath away.
Like an arrow they approached the jump.
The twins began to get a little nervous. "Sit steady and look straight ahead," yelled Stone boy.
The twin next to Stone boy, who was steering behind, sat upright and looked far ahead, but the one in front crouched down and looked into the coulee.
Of course, Stone boy, being behind, fell on top of the twins, and being so heavy, killed both of them instantly, crushing them to a jelly.
The rest of the boys, seeing what had happened, hastened to the edge of the bank, and looking down, saw the twins laying dead, and Stone boy himself knocked senseless, lying quite a little distance from the twins.
The boys, thinking that all three were killed, and that Stone boy had purposely steered the sleigh over the bank in such a way that it would tip and kill the twins, returned to the village with this report.
Now, these twins were the sons of the head chief of the Buffalo Nation.
So at once the chief and his scouts went over to the hill to see if the boys had told the truth.
When they arrived at the bank they saw the twins lying dead, but where was Stone boy? They looked high and low through the gulch, but not a sign of him could they find.
Tenderly they picked up the dead twins and carried them home, then held a big council and put away the bodies of the dead in Buffalo custom.
A few days after this the uncles were returning from a long journey.
When they drew near their home they noticed large droves of buffalo gathered on their side of the range.
Hardly any buffalo ever ranged on this east side of the range before, and the brothers thought it strange that so many should so suddenly appear there now.
When they arrived at home their sister told them what had happened to the chief's twins, as her son had told her the whole story upon his arrival at home after the accident.
"Well, probably all the buffalo we saw were here for the council and funeral," said the older brother.
"But where is my nephew?" (Stone boy) he asked his sister.
"He said he had noticed a great many buffalo around lately and he was going to learn, if possible, what their object was," said the sister. "Well, we will wait until his return."
When Stone boy left on his trip that morning, before the return of his uncles, he was determined to ascertain what might be the meaning of so many buffalo so near the home of himself and uncles.
He approached several bunches of young buffalo, but upon seeing him approaching they would scamper over the hills.
Thus he wandered from bunch to bunch, scattering them all.
Finally he grew tired of their cowardice and started for home.
When he had come to within a half mile or so of home he saw an old shaggy buffalo standing by a large boulder, rubbing on it first one horn and then the other.
On coming up close to him, the boy saw that the bull was so old he could hardly see, and his horns so blunt that he could have rubbed them for a year on that boulder and not sharpened them so as to hurt anyone.
"What are you doing here, grandfather?" asked the boy.
"I am sharpening my horns for the war," said the bull.
"What war?" asked the boy.
"Haven't you heard," said the old bull, who was so near sighted he did not recognize Stone boy.
"The chief's twins were killed by Stone boy, who ran them over a cut bank purposely, and the chief has ordered all of his buffalo to gather here, and when they arrive we are going to kill Stone boy and his mother and his uncles."
"Is that so? When is the war to commence?"
"In five days from now we will march upon the uncles and trample and gore them all to death."
"Well, grandfather, I thank you for your information, and in return will do you a favor that will save you so much hard work on your blunt horns."
So saying he drew a long arrow from his quiver and strung his bow, attached the arrow to the string and drew the arrow half way back.
The old bull, not seeing what was going on, and half expecting some kind of assistance in his horn sharpening process, stood perfectly still.
Thus spoke Stone boy:
"Grandfather, you are too old to join in a war now, and besides if you got mixed up in that big war party you might step in a hole or stumble and fall and be trampled to death.
That would be a horrible death, so I will save you all that suffering by just giving you this.
" At this word he pulled the arrow back to the flint head and let it fly.
True to his aim, the arrow went in behind the old bull's foreleg, and with such force was it sent that it went clear through the bull and stuck into a tree two hundred feet away.
Walking over to the tree, he pulled out his arrow.
Coolly straightening his arrow between his teeth and sighting it for accuracy, he shoved it back into the quiver with its brothers, exclaiming:
"I guess, grandpa, you won't need to sharpen your horns for Stone boy and his uncles."
Upon his arrival home he told his uncles to get to work building three stockades with ditches between and make the ditches wide and deep so they will hold plenty of buffalo.
"The fourth fence I will build myself," he said.
The brothers got to work early and worked until very late at night.
They built three corrals and dug three ditches around the hut, and it took them three days to complete the work. Stone boy hadn't done a thing towards building his fence yet, and there were only two days more left before the charge of the buffalo would commence.
Still the boy didn't seem to bother himself about the fence.
Instead he had his mother continually cutting arrow sticks, and as fast as she could bring them he would shape them, feather and head them.
So by the time his uncles had their fences and corrals finished he had a thousand arrows finished for each of his uncles.
The last two days they had to wait, the uncles joined him and they finished several thousand more arrows.
The evening before the fifth day he told his uncles to put up four posts, so they could use them as seats from which to shoot.
While they were doing this, Stone boy went out to scout and see how things looked.
At daylight he came hurriedly in saying, "You had better get to the first corral; they are coming."
"You haven't built your fence, nephew." Whereupon Stone boy said: "I will build it in time; don't worry, uncle."
The dust on the hillsides rose as great clouds of smoke from a forest fire.
Soon the leaders of the charge came in sight, and upon seeing the timber stockade they gave forth a great snort or roar that fairly shook the earth.
Thousands upon thousands of mad buffalo charged upon the little fort.
The leaders hit the first stockade and it soon gave way.
The maddened buffalo pushed forward by the thousands behind them; plunged forward, only to fall into the first ditch and be trampled to death by those behind them.
The brothers were not slow in using their arrows, and many a noble beast went down before their deadly aim with a little flint pointed arrow buried deep in his heart.
The second stockade stood their charge a little longer than did the first, but finally this gave way, and the leaders pushed on through, only to fall into the second ditch and meet a similar fate to those in the first.
The brothers commenced to look anxiously towards their nephew, as there was only one more stockade left, and the second ditch was nearly bridged over with dead buffalo, with the now thrice maddened buffalo attacking the last stockade more furiously than before, as they could see the little hut through the openings in the corral.
"Come in, uncles," shouted Stone boy.
They obeyed him, and stepping to the center he said: "Watch me build my fence."
Suiting the words, he took from his belt an arrow with a white stone fastened to the point and fastening it to his bow, he shot it high in the air. Straight up into the air it went, for two or three thousand feet, then seemed to stop suddenly and turned with point down and descended as swiftly as it had ascended.
Upon striking the ground a high stone wall arose, enclosing the hut and all who were inside. Just then the buffalo broke the last stockade only to fill the last ditch up again.
In vain did the leaders butt the stone wall.
They hurt themselves, broke their horns and mashed their snouts, but could not even scar the wall.
The uncles and Stone boy in the meantime rained arrows of death into their ranks.
When the buffalo chief saw what they had to contend with, he ordered the fight off.
The crier or herald sang out: "Come away, come away, Stone boy and his uncles will kill all of us."
So the buffalo withdrew, leaving over two thousand of their dead and wounded on the field, only to be skinned and put away for the feasts of Stone boy and his uncles, who lived to be great chiefs of their own tribe,
and whose many relations soon joined them on the banks of Stone Boy Creek.
submitted by JoshAsdvgi to Native_Stories [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:55 Mark5ofjupiter Every Practical Fusion I can think of off the top of my head.

Here goes nothing.
BombfloweBomb Barrel/Time Bomb + Shield: If enemies hit the shield, they go boom. And if you shield surf, you're propelled upwards with explosions.
Spring + Shield: Shield surfs propel you upwards. Basically, bomb shield but worse.
Wing + Shield: Makes your shield jump slightly higher.
Any EmitteWater Hydrant + Shield: Allows the shield to assualt opponents with elements. (Or water)
Light + Shield: Turns the shield into a flashlight.
Mirror + Shield: The shield now reflects light.
Elemental Gems + Shield: Allows for small bursts of elements when shield is hit.
Rocket/Octorock Balloon + Shield: Propels you up when guarding. Octorock balloon is slower and potentially lifts you up less.
Cart/Minecart/Homing Cart (I think) + Shield: Makes your shield a skateboard when surfing.
Weapon + Shield: Allows the shield to attack. It gains the properties of the weapon fused. (Ex: Blade, Hammer)
Elemental Gem + Magic Rod: Gives you an elemental rod.
Elemental Gem + Anything besides Magic Rod: Gives you a worse elemental rod.
Emitters + Weapon: Allows the emitter to attack with the weapon.
Shield + Weapon: Swords are unaffected, but you can now guard with spears and claymores.
Mushroom + Weapon: Makes the weapon bouncy. AKA, your final hit and charge attack's final hit have increased knockback.
Literally anything else Elemental + Weapon: Gives the weapon that element.
Light Dragon Parts + Weapon: Heals you as you attack.
Blunt Object + Weapon: Makes it a hammer.
Sharp Bladelike Object + Weapon: Makes it a blade. Unsure if this works with spears.
submitted by Mark5ofjupiter to tearsofthekingdom [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:24 RandomAppalachian468 Don't fly over Barron County Ohio. [Repost]

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a towering ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, with a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.
submitted by RandomAppalachian468 to u/RandomAppalachian468 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 19:14 middleoflidl God is a spore and I think I've found him....

When I was twelve I got knocked off my bike by a drunk driver. I split my head right open and broke nearly every bone in my body. For four days I hovered between life and death. My parents said goodbye and even picked my funeral song. They held my hand and told me they were sorry for every silly argument, but I wasn’t there anymore, I was somewhere else.
I was in the in-between. I was connected to the hospital room by only a small frayed thread that with every passing minute threatened to snap. I could hear they’re voices but only faintly, not that they were a comfort anyway, there was no such thing as comfort where I was. It was impossibly dark in that in-between, and so cold you could feel the chill in the marrow of your bones. I can’t remember what it looks like exactly, that oddly empty place.
From my waning memory, I recall it as a formless mass of, wet, dripping, nothing; there was no left or right, no up or down. You’d float around like a kite in the wind with only that little string holding you down. It felt like I was there for years. Time just seemed to elongate there. Eventually my family’s voices faded into nothing and all I could hear was the loud deafening thud of silence. It was then I heard him."
“Hulqu-ša māru.” He said, over and over. His voice was soothingly consistent. I transcribe the phrase to you now accurately, though to my young, uneducated ears it sounded like a jumble of mismatched vowels. It was only in my adulthood that I found out that the voice he spoke to me in was Old Akkadian. Translated it meant; my child is lost.
Then I woke up. My eyes squinted from the bright hospital lights and my mother’s tears formed a puddle on my face. I can’t remember much following that, but my mum says that I kept saying “he’s real” over and over.
That’s why I know there is a god. He spoke to me, I walked in his kingdom and then I came back. Nearly eight-years later when I took my seat for the first day of my Religious Studies degree, I was perhaps the only one in that lecture theatre that knew with absolute certainty that there was a god. Was it the Christian God? The Islamic? Maybe no one has it right, but he existed. He was real. I knew that. I spent four years studying religion, and learnt nothing more important than what I found out when I was twelve.
“I have some concerns regarding your dissertation title Jeremy, Proving that God is Real, it’s… well it’s impossible to prove. We wouldn’t require faith if there was a burden of proof.” Professor Alcott said to me as he shifted through my research. “Personal anecdotes are also not sufficient subject to base an entire dissertation upon.”
“I’m committed to this research paper professor, I know with certainty that there is a god and I would like an opportunity to make this clear to everyone.” I said. “By next week sir, I will have more than anecdotes. Give me a chance.”
“I’m not one to quash academic innovation, if you would like to give this topic a bash, then I will not stand in your way. You are such a promising student Jeremy, I just don’t want you to waste your talent.” He said, looking dissatisfied.I left Alcott’s office with a seemingly impossible task. For centuries people have been looking for scientific proof in a higher power and all so far have failed. All I had was my own experience, I needed more. I scribbled down in my notebook the two most pressing features of a god with a puzzle knitting my brow together.
He’s everywhere.
He can’t be seen.
I was lying in my bed, in my dingy little student rent when I had my epiphany. Mould. It had followed me my entire life. Every room I slept in, it would curl up in the corner, an ugly black mass of reaching tendrils. It was watching me, haunting me. He was in the very air I breathed. I’m real, he was saying over and over, I’m right here. I’d been bleaching him away all of these years, drowning him in chemicals.
Mould, like mushrooms and other fungus, travels in spores, invisible to the human eye. It is said that there are fungal spores in every gulp of air we take. They grow only in conditions where they thrive, in the damp of a rundown house or in the soil at the foot of a withered tree. It made too much sense, how else could he be everywhere all at once? And with that I had a new dissertation title. Proving God is Real: The Mycological Evidence. Alcott was bemused but satisfied at least that he was in for an interesting read.
I wasn’t a mycologist when I began my dissertation, but I was by the end of my study. Fungus don’t need light to grow, in-fact there are some sources that suggest they thrive in the dark. All they really need is moisture. The in-between I’d hovered in as a child had been so damp and wet. With every new nugget of mycological trivia, the dot to dot I’d been solving my entire life was becoming clearer and clearer.
It all made so much sense. There are some suggestions from credible scientists that the consumption of psilocybin mushrooms had aided the evolution from home erectus to homo sapiens. He had nudged us, even then. Not to mention the countless ancient civilisations that had claimed to commune with gods through the burning and consumption of teas made from various fungus.I needed more, coincidences and anecdotes are so easily solved.
Armed with a little scalpel and a mason jar I scraped some of the mould off my wall. I added some water and sealed it. Growing mushrooms is exceedingly simple, as all budding recreational drug users and mycologists know.. “Give me a sign.” I said to it. “Please.”
I left it on my desk and let it fester, and it did. It grew and grew until nearly the entire jar was black. I don’t really know what my plan was for my little mason-jar experiment, I certainly didn’t expect what happened.
“Dude, that shit is rank. Stick in the bin.” My roommate pointed to my desk one day as he popped his head into my room. I had almost forgotten about it. I glanced at what he was looking at and felt my heart stop.The mason jar was smashed.
Sharp little pieces of glass were inter-mingled with thick moss-like mould that was now spreading all across my desk. It hadn’t been like that in the morning, it had to have happened recently, maybe even in the past few hours that I’d been napping. I briefly considered wiping it up with a cloth, but I couldn’t - it was god - I couldn’t clean up god.
So I left it there and charted it’s growth casually in my notebook. Until one day I returned from my morning lectures and saw something… disturbing. It had grown out from the table; it’s awful tendrils reaching out towards the empty air. If you squinted it sort of looked like a hand, oddly malformed and misshapen though it was. I started to spend my nights in the library as I was so unnerved by it.Then one morning, It was gone. The mould, it was gone, like it had never even been there before.
There's an animalistic side to all of us, one we don't realise we have until it's triggered. I felt it then, an overwhelming feeling of dread that built up to a crescendo where the very utterance of silence rang in my ears like alarm bells. I ought to have listened to it. But it was god, and god had a plan.
I went to bed that night with that feeling still tugging at me. Sleep did not come easy, in fact it did not come at all. My eyes narrowed from exhaustion, my room almost pitch black save for the small amount of light from my phone screen. I thought it was the silhouette of a jacket at first.
I stared hard at it, trying to discern any familiarity in it's shape.
I stared for what felt like hours. I felt as though I was being watched, like I wasn't alone. Then it came. Just the smallest of twitches. My finger danced over the torch button on my phone, but there was a comfort in not seeing, in the dark haze there was still a chance that it was my jacket or an odd shadow.
“Si unus extisat, sic facit alterum.” The shape said an inhuman voice that filled me with an overwhelming amount of dread. This wasn’t what I had felt when I was child, the voice of god was soothing not… wrong.
I turned the light on. All the horror films I’d watched told me that when you put the light on the awful things just… go away.
It’s a lie, a tired old trope.
Illuminated in the torchlight, It stood on hind legs, this black mass of awful clinging mould, and it looked at me, even though it did not have eyes, just empty holes. It tilted it’s head, like a dog trying to comprehend that the bag of treats had an end. It took a few steps towards me, like it had only just learned to walk, and it said it again, this time directed at my soul.
“Si unus extisat, sic facit alterum.” It said again and then, with odd movements, it slipped out my door. I heard the thud of it heading down my staircase and with every awful hoof on my steps, I felt as though I was being shot.
I knew the words this time, while the akkadian god had spoken to me in my youth had eluded me, this had not. My grammar school had a rather impressive latin department and I was close to fluent.If one exists, then so does the other.
That’s what it had said. It’s a simple turn of phrase that haunts me to this day. I wrote it all down. I turned in my dissertation with a heavy weight on my shoulders. Alcott offered me a place on his PHD programme, but I declined and he said farewell to me with an odd look glinting in his eye. He didn’t believe me, but he believed at least that I did. That’s faith for you.
He’s out there somewhere. The other.
By looking for god I had set him free and now he walks, on those unsteady legs. Maybe he’s that pile of oddly shaped clothes in the corner of your dark room, or the queer shadow that moves just slightly out of tune with your own, perhaps he’s all of these things and nothing. If one exists then so does the other. It is upon this uncertain balance that our world is built. I only wished I had met just the one.
submitted by middleoflidl to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 19:00 nahimavegan (Selling) Huge list of 1100+ movies! Lots of New and Rare titles!

Prices are firm, but I take off $.75 for every $10 spent (multiple items)
I accept PayPal, Venmo, & Cashapp
Codes are always split/dual portion where applicable, & have no DMI
Only redeem portion you pay for
New additions
14 Blades HD/VU $4.5
3 Extremes (2004) HD/VU $4.5
355 HD/MA $4.5
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A Journal for Jordan HD/MA $5
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Addams Family With More Mamushka! (1991) 4K/VU $5.5
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Dig 4K/VU $6
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Ten Commandments (1956) HD/VU $4
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Touched With Fire HD/VU $4.5
Town SD/IT $1.5
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Umma HD/MA $4.5
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Wolf Man (1941) HD/MA $3.5
Woman King HD/MA $5.5
Women Talking 4K/IT $7
X-Men Days of Future Past Rogue Cut 4K/IT $5.5
All other movies (A-Z)
101 Dalmatians HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
12 Years a Slave HD/MA $3.5
13 Hours Soldiers of Benghazi HD/VU $2.5
1917 HD/MA $3.5
2 Fast 2 Furious 4K/IT $3.5
2 Guns HD/VU or IT $2.5
21 Jump Street HD/MA $3
22 Jump Street HD/MA $3.5
3 From Hell (Unrated) 4K/VU $4 or HD/VU $2.5
31 (2016) HD/VU $2.5
310 to Yuma 4K/VU $5
47 Meters Down HD/IT $3.5
47 Meters Down Uncaged HD/VU $3.5
47 Ronin HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
50/50 HD/VU $4
71 HD/VU $4
A Clockwork Orange 4K/MA $5
A Dog's Purpose HD/IT $3
A Good Day to Die Hard (Ext) HD/VU $2.5
A Most Wanted Man HD/VU $3.5
A Quiet Place HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
A Quiet Place Part 2 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
A Wrinkle in Time HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Abominable 4K/MA $5.5
About Time HD/VU or IT $3.5
Action Point HD/IT $2
Adore HD/IT $3.5
Adventures Of TinTin HD/IT $2.5
After Earth HD/MA $3
Age of Adaline HD/VU or IT $3
Aladdin (2019) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Alex Cross HD/VU or IT $2
Alfred Hitchcock 5-Film Set (Saboteur, Shadow of Doubt, Trouble with Harry, Marnie, Family Plot) 4K/MA $24
Alice Through Looking Glass HD/GP $3
Alien 6-Film Collection HD/MA $18
Alien Covenant HD/MA $2.5
Alien Resurrection HD/MA $4
Alita Battle Angel 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
All Eyez on Me HD/IT $3
All Money in World HD/MA $3.5
Allied HD/VU $3.5
Aloha HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1
Alvin & Chipmunks Road Chip HD/MA $2.5
Amazing Spider-Man 2 HD/MA $4
Amazing Spider-Man HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
American Assassin 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
American Frontier Trilogy (Sicario, Wind River, Hell or High Water) HD/VU $7.5
American Made 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
American Night HD/VU $4
American Reunion HD/VU or IT $3
American Ultra HD/IT $4
Anchorman 2 Legend Continues HD/VU or IT $2.5
Angel Heart 4K/VU $5.5
Angel of Mine 4K/VU $5.5
Anna 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Anna Karenina HD/IT $3.5
Annie (2014) HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
Annihilation HD/VU $3
Antebellum 4K/VU $5
Ant-Man & Wasp HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Ant-Man HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Apollo 13 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Arctic HD/MA $4
Army of One HD/VU $3
Arnold Schwarzenegger 6-Film Collection (Last Stand, Total Recall, T-2, Red Heat, Maggie, Hercules in NY) HD/VU $14
Arrival HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Ash vs Evil Dead Season 3 HD/VU $5
Assassination Nation HD/MA $3.5
Assassin's Creed HD/MA $3
Atomic Blonde 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
August Osage County HD/VU $3
Avengers Age of Ultron HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Avengers Endgame HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Avengers HD/GP $3
Avengers Infinity War HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Back to Future 3 HD/MA $3.5
Back to Future Trilogy 4K/MA $14 or HD/MA $9.5
Bad Boys for Life HD/MA $4
Bad Grandpa HD/VU or IT $2.5
Bad Words HD/IT $3
Bambi 2 HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Bambi HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Bangkok Dangerous HD/VU $4
Bank Job HD/VU $3.5
Barbie & Her Sisters in Great Puppy Adventure HD/VU or IT $3.5
Barbie in Princess Power HD/IT $3.5
Barbie Star Light Adventure HD/IT $3.5
Battle of Year HD/MA $3.5
Battleship HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Baywatch HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Beatriz at Dinner HD/VU $4.5
Beauty & Beast (1991) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Beauty & Beast (2017) HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Before I Fall HD/VU or IT $3.5
Begin Again HD/VU $3.5
Beirut HD/MA $3.5
Ben-Hur (2016) HD/VU or IT $3.5
BFG HD/MA $3.5
Big Eyes HD/VU $3.5
Big Hero 6 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Big Lebowski 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Big Little Lies Season 1 HD/GP $2.5
Big Short HD/VU or IT $3.5
Birth of a Nation HD/MA $3.5
Black Panther 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Black Widow HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Blackhat HD/IT $3.5
Blair Witch (2016) HD/IT $2.5
Blair Witch Project (1999) HD/VU $4
Blockers HD/MA $3.5
Bloodshot HD/MA $4
Boardwalk Empire Season 1 HD/VU or IT $4
Bombshell 4K/VU $5
Book Club 4K/IT $3
Book Club HD/VU $2.5
Book of Life HD/MA $3.5
Born a Champion 4K/VU $5
Boss Baby 2-Film Set HD/MA $6
Boss Baby HD/MA $2.5
Bourne Identity HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Bourne Legacy HD/VU $2
Bourne Supremacy HD/VU $3.5
Bourne Ultimatum 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Boy 2 HD/IT $3.5
Boy Erased HD/MA $4
Boy HD/IT $3.5
Boyhood HD/VU or IT $2.5
Braveheart HD/VU $3.5
Braven HD/VU $4
Breakfast Club HD/IT $4
Breakthrough HD/MA $3
Burnt HD/VU $3.5
Butler HD/VU $3
Bye Bye Man (Unrated) HD/IT $2.5
Cabin in Woods 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $2.5
Call of Wild 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Campaign HD/MA $2.5
Captain America Civil War HD/GP $2.5
Captain America First Avenger HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5 or SD/IT $1.5
Captain America Winter Soldier HD/GP $3.5
Captain Marvel HD/GP $2
Captain Phillips HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
Carol HD/VU $4
Cars 3 HD/GP $2.5
Case for Christ HD/IT $2.5
Chaos Walking 4K/VU $5
Chicago (Diamond Edition) HD/VU $4
Children (2008) HD/VU $4
Christopher Robin HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Cloverfield 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Coco HD/GP $2.5
Cold Pursuit 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Collection HD/VU $3.5
Columbiana (Unrated) HD/MA $4
Come & Find Me HD/VU $4
Commuter 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Company of Heroes HD/MA $4
Contraband HD/IT $3
Cooties HD/VU $4
Cornetto Trilogy (Shaun of Dead, Hot Fuzz, World's End) 4K/MA $15
Counselor HD/MA $4
Courier 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Crank 4K/VU $5.5
Crawl HD/VU $3
Crimson Peak HD/IT $3.5
Croods HD/VU $3.5
Cruella HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
D Train 4K/IT $4
Daddy's Home 2 HD/IT $3
Daddy's Home HD/VU $3
Dark Tower HD/MA $3.5
Darkest Hour (2017) 4K/MA $5.5
Darkest Minds HD/MA $4
Darkness HD/IT $3
Dawn of Planet of Apes HD/MA $3.5
Daybreakers 4K/VU $5.5
Deadpool 2 (w/Super Duper Cut) HD/MA $4
Deadpool HD/MA $2.5
Dear White People HD/VU $3.5
Deepwater Horizon 4K/IT $3
Dementia 13 (Director's Cut) HD/VU $4
Despicable Me 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Despicable Me 3 4K/MA or IT $5
Despicable Me 4K/IT $5 or SD/IT $1.5
Detroit HD/MA $3.5
Devil's Due HD/MA $3.5
Dilemma HD/VU $3.5 or SD/IT $1.5
Dirty Dancing 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Disney Animated Short Films Collection HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Divergent Allegiant HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Divergent HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Divergent Insurgent HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Django Unchained HD/VU $3 or SD/IT $1.5
Do Right Thing 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Doctor Strange HD/GP $2.5
Dom Hemingway HD/MA $3.5
Don't Worry, He Won't Get Far on Foot HD/VU $4
Doom (Unrated) 4K/MA $5.5
Doorman HD/VU $3.5
Doors 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Dora & Lost City of Gold HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Downton Abbey Movie HD/MA $3.5
Dracula Untold HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Draft Day HD/VU $3.5
Dragged Across Concrete HD/VU $3.5
Dreamkatcher HD/VU $4
Dredd 4K/VU or IT $4 or HD/VU $2.5
Duel (2016) HD/VU $3.5
Dumbo (2019) HD/GP $3
Dune 4K/MA $5.5
Dying of Light HD/VU $2.5
E.T. Extra Terrestrial 4K/VU or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Edge of Seventeen HD/VU or IT $3
Edge of Tomorrow 4K/MA $5
Edward Scissorhands HD/MA $3.5
El Chicano HD/MA $4
Emoji Movie HD/MA $3
Encanto 4K/MA $4 or 4K/GP $3.5
Ender's Game HD/VU $2.5
Enemy at Gates HD/VU $4
Enough Said HD/MA $3.5
Epic HD/MA $3
Escape Plan HD/VU $2
Eternals HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Everest 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Ex Machina HD/VU $3
Exodus Gods & Kings HD/MA $3.5
Expendables 2 HD/VU or IT $1
Expendables 3 (Thea) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Extreme Prejudice (1987) HD/VU $4
Fast & Furious (2009) HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Fast & Furious 6 (Ext) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Fast & Furious 6-film Collection HD/VU $12.5
Fast & Furious 7-film Collection HD/VU $14
Fast & Furious 8-film Collection (9 Films) HD/MA $17.5
Fast & Furious 9-film Collection (11 Films) HD/MA $20
Fast & Furious HD/VU $3.5
Fast Color 4K/VU $5.5
Fast Five (Ext) HD/IT $2.5 or SD/IT $1
Fatale (2020) 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Fate of Furious (Ext) HD/VU $2
Fate of Furious (Thea) HD/VU or IT $1.5
Fault in Our Stars HD/MA $3.5
Fences HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Ferdinand HD/MA $3.5
Fifty Shades Darker (Unrated) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Fifty Shades Freed HD/MA $4
Fifty Shades of Grey (Unrated) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Fighting with my Family HD/IT $4
Finding Dory HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Finding Nemo HD/GP $3.5
Finest Hours HD/GP $3
First Blood 4K/VU $5
First Man HD/MA $4
Flight HD/VU or IT $3
Florence Foster Jenkins HD/VU or IT $3
Footloose (2011) HD/IT $3
Forever My Girl HD/IT $3
Fortress HD/VU $4
Four Kids & It HD/VU $3.5
Fox & Hound 2 HD/MA $4
Frank & Lola HD/VU or IT $3
Frankenstein (1931) HD/VU $3.5
Free Guy HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
French Dispatch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Friday 13th Pt 3 HD/VU $3.5
Frozen (Sing-Along Edition) HD/MA $2 or HD/GP $1.5
Frozen 2 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Frozen Ground (2013) HD/VU $3.5
Frozen HD/GP $2
Furious 7 (Ext) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Fury HD/MA $3.5
G.I. Joe Retaliation HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Gambit (2012) HD/MA $4
Gambler HD/VU or IT $3
Gemini Man 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Gentlemen 4K/IT $4.5
Get Out HD/MA $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Ghost in Shell (2017) 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Ghost Team One HD/VU or IT $3.5
Ghostbusters (1984) HD/MA $3.5
Ghostbusters 2 HD/MA $3.5
Ghostbusters Afterlife HD/MA $4
Girl on Train HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Girl With All Gifts HD/VU $4
Girls Trip HD/VU or IT $2
Glass Castle 4K/VU $5.5
God's Not Dead 2 HD/MA or IT $2.5
God's Not Dead A Light in Darkness HD/MA $3
Gods of Egypt HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Gold (2016) HD/VU or IT $2.5
Gone Girl HD/MA $4
Good Dinosaur HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Good Kill HD/VU or IT $3.5
Grace Unplugged HD/VU $2
Gran Torino SD/IT $1.5
Greatest Showman HD/MA $3.5
Green Mile 4K/MA $5.5
Grey HD/VU or IT $3
Guardians of Galaxy Vol 1 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Guardians of Galaxy Vol 2 HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Guest House (2020) 4K/VU $5
Guilt Trip HD/IT $3
Gunman HD/MA $3
Hacksaw Ridge HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Hail, Caesar! HD/IT $3
Halloween (2018) HD/MA $3
Hammer of Gods HD/VU $2
Hands of Stone HD/VU $3.5
Hannibal Season 1 HD/VU $5
Hard Target 2 HD/IT $1.5
Hardcore Henry HD/VU or IT $3.5
Hate U Give HD/MA $4
Hateful Eight HD/VU $3.5
Heat HD/MA $3
Heaven is for Real SD/MA $1.5
Hell Fest 4K/VU $5
Hell or High Water HD/VU $2.5
Hellboy (2019) 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Hercules (1997) HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Hercules (2014) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Here Comes Boom HD/MA $3.5
Hidden Figures HD/MA $3
Hillsong Let Hope Rise HD/IT $2
Hitman (Uncut) & Hitman 47 Bundle HD/MA $7
Hitman's Bodyguard HD/VU $3.5
Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Hocus Pocus HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Home Again HD/MA $3
Home Alone 2 HD/MA $3.5
Home Alone HD/MA $3.5
Homesman HD/VU $3
Honey 2 HD/VU $3
Hop HD/MA or IT $3
Hope Springs HD/MA $2.5 or SD/MA $1
Hostiles HD/VU $3
Hot Fuzz HD/VU $4
Hotel Mumbai HD/MA $4
Hotel Transylvania HD/MA $3.5
Hours (2013) HD/VU $4
How Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) 4K/IT $4
How to Train Your Dragon 2 HD/MA $2.5
How to Train Your Dragon HD/VU $3.5
How to Train Your Dragon Trilogy HD/MA $9
Hugo HD/VU or IT $3
Hunger Games 4-Film Collection HD/VU $8
Hunger Games Catching Fire HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Hunger Games HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Hunger Games Mockingjay Part 1 HD/VU $2.5 or SD/VU $1
Hunter Killer 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Huntsman Winter's War (Ext) HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
I Can Only Imagine HD/VU $4
I Feel Pretty HD/IT $2
I Frankenstein HD/VU or IT $2.5
Ice Age Collision Course HD/MA $3
Incredibles 2 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Incredibles HD/GP $3.5
Independence Day Resurgence HD/MA $2.5
Indiana Jones & Temple of Doom 4K/VU $5.5
Indignation HD/VU $4
Initiation 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Inside Out HD/GP $2
Instant Family 4K/IT $3.5
Internship SD/IT $1.5
Interstellar HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Into Woods HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Invisible Man (1933) HD/MA $3.5
Invisible Man (2020) 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Iron Man HD/GP $3.5 or HD/GP $2
Iron Mask (2019) HD/VU $4.5
It Follows HD/VU $3.5
It's a Wonderful Life 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Jack & Jill HD/MA $3.5
Jack Reacher HD/VU $3
Jack Reacher Never Go Back HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Jack Ryan Shadow Recruit HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Jacob's Ladder HD/VU $4
Jarhead 3 Siege (Unrated) HD/IT $2.5
Jason Bourne HD/VU $2.5
Jason Statham 4-Film (War, Crank 1 & 2, Transporter 3) HD/VU $10
Jason Statham 6-Film (War, Crank 1 & 2, Bank Job, Wild Card, Transporter 3) HD/VU $14
Jaws 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Jeff Who Lives at Home HD/VU $4
Jersey Boys HD/MA $2.5
Jesus Music HD/VU $3.5
Jigsaw 4K/VU $4.5
Joe HD/VU $3.5
John Wick 1 & 2 Bundle HD/VU $4
John Wick 3 Parabellum 4K/VU $4.5
John Wick Chapter 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
John Wick HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
John Wick Trilogy (Parabellum 4K) HD/VU $9
Jonah Hex HD/MA $4.5
Joy HD/MA $3
Judy 4K/VU $5
Judy Moody SD/IT $1.5
Jungle Book (2016) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Jungle Cruise HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Jurassic Park 3 HD/VU $3.5
Jurassic Park 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Jurassic World 5-Film Collection HD/MA $14
Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Jurassic World HD/VU $2.5
Justice (2017) HD/VU or IT $3
Justin Bieber Never Say Never SD/IT $1.5
Kevin Hart Let Me Explain HD/VU or IT $3
Kick-Ass 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4 or SD/IT $1.5
Kid Who Would Be King 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Kidnap HD/VU or IT $2.5
Killer Elite HD/IT $3
Killerman HD/VU $4
Kin (2018) 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
King Kong (2005) 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Kingsman Golden Circle 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Kingsman Secret Service 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Knick Season 1 HD/IT $3.5
Knick Season 2 HD/IT $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Kung Fu Panda 3 HD/MA $3
La La Land 4K/IT $3.5
Labor Day HD/VU or IT $3
Lady & Tramp HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Lady Macbeth HD/VU $4.5
Last Christmas HD/MA $4
Last Exorcism HD/VU $4
Last Knights HD/VU $3.5 or SD/VU $1.5
Last Man (2019) HD/VU $4
Last Stand HD/IT $2
Last Vegas HD/MA $3.5
Last Witch Hunter HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Leatherface HD/VU $4
Legend of Hercules 4K/IT $3
Leprechaun 7-Film Collection HD/VU $12
Les Miserables (2012) HD/VU or IT $2
Let Me Explain HD/IT $2.5
Let's be Cops HD/MA $3.5
Life (2017) HD/MA $3.5
Life of Crime HD/VU $3.5
Life of Pi 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA or IT $3.5
Light of My Life HD/IT $3.5
Like a Boss HD/VU $3.5
Lilo & Stitch 2 Stitch Has a Glitch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Lilo & Stitch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Lincoln Lawyer 4K/VU $6.5 or HD/VU $4
Lion King (1994) HD/GP $3
Lion King (2019) 4K/MA $4 or HD/GP $2
Logan HD/MA $3
Logan Lucky 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Lone Ranger HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lone Survivor HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Long Shot HD/VU $3.5
Longest Ride HD/MA $3
Longest Week HD/VU $3.5
Looper HD/MA $3.5
Lorax (1972) HD/MA $5
Lorax HD/VU $3
Lords of Salem HD/VU $4
Lost World Jurassic Park HD/MA $3
Love & Monsters HD/VU $4
Love Coopers HD/VU or IT $4
Love, Simon HD/MA $3.5
Loving HD/VU or IT $3.5
Luca HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lucy HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Mad Max 2 Road Warrior 4K/VU $5.5
Madagascar 3 Europe's Most Wanted HD/VU or IT $3
Madea's Witness Protection SD/IT $1.5
Magnificent Seven (2016) HD/VU $3
Maleficent 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Maleficent Mistress of Evil HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Mama HD/IT $3
Man Who Shot Liberty Vance 4K/VU $5.5
Mandela Long Walk to Freedom HD/VU $4
Martian HD/MA $3.5
Mary Poppins (1964) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Mary Poppins Returns HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Matrix Resurrections 4K/MA $5.5
Max Steel HD/IT $3
Maze Runner Death Cure HD/MA $3.5
Maze Runner HD/MA $3.5
McKenna Shoots for Stars HD/IT $2
Mechanic Resurrection HD/VU $2.5
Megan Leavey HD/IT $3
Midnight Sun HD/MA $3.5
Midway 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Mile 22 HD/IT $3
Million Dollar Arm HD/GP $2.5
MindGamers HD/MA or IT $3.5
Minions 4K/MA or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Misconduct HD/VU $2.5
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children HD/MA $3
Missing Link HD/MA $4
Mission Impossible 3 4K/VU $4.5
Mission Impossible 4 Ghost Protocol HD/VU $2
Mission Impossible 5 Rogue Nation HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Mission Impossible 6 Fallout 4K/VU or IT $4.5
Mission Impossible 6-film Set 4K/VU $23 or HD/VU $17
Moana HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Moneyball HD/MA $3
Monkey Kingdom HD/MA $3
Monster High Electrified HD/VU or IT $2.5
Monsters University HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Monuments Men HD/MA $3.5
Mortal Engines 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Mortal HD/VU $4
Mortal Instruments City of Bones HD/MA $3 or SD/MA $1.5
Mother! HD/VU $2.5
Mother's Day HD/IT $2.5
Much Ado About Nothing (2013) HD/VU $4
Mud HD/VU $2.5
Mulan (2020) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Mummy (1999) HD/VU $4
Mummy (2017) 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Muppets Most Wanted HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Murder on Orient Express HD/MA $3.5
My All American HD/MA or IT $3.5
My Fair Lady 4K/VU $5.5
Nebraska HD/VU $3
Nerve HD/IT $3.5
New Mutants HD/GP $3
News of World 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Night at Museum Secret of Tomb HD/MA $3
Nightmare Alley 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $3.5
Nightmare Before Christmas HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
No Escape (2015) HD/VU $3
No Strings Attached HD/VU or IT $3.5
No Time to Die 4K/IT $4.5
Noah HD/VU or IT $2.5
Nobody's Fool HD/IT $2.5
Non-Stop HD/VU or IT $3
Norm of North HD/VU $2.5
Nostalgia (2018) HD/MA $3.5
Now You See Me 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Now You See Me HD/VU or IT $2.5 or SD/VU $1
Nutcracker & Four Realms HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Oblivion 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Occupation (2018) HD/VU $3.5
Occupation Rainfall HD/VU $4
Office Christmas Party HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
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submitted by nahimavegan to DigitalCodeSELL [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 18:40 xxsaramazingxx Caught my (35f) husband (35m) stealing my pain meds... This is the fourth time. Can't file a police report because if he gets fired from his job I lose insurance. Only one place else to go but it would be a 5hr round trip for all doctor appointments... Kinda stuck and just sad.

I'm not even where to start, this is long I apologize in advance for errors, I'm on mobile...
Please bare with me as I have multiple chronic illnesses which cause my brain to be mushy 200% of the time... But I'll try to be as detailed as possible, I don't want to give too much away as this is a very serious issue and could get my husband in some serious trouble. Which he deserves to be in, BUT I'm currently waiting on a decision from social security disability so his full time employment means we have a home, food to eat and food for my 3 fur babies. He is supporting me and I do not have anything to fall back on in terms of support so I'm stuck still living with my husband.
The backstory: we've been together for almost ten years now, married for about 3. I have multiple slow progression painful chronic illnesses, I've been sick my whole life and he's taken on a huge responsibility being my partner... He's not particularly a care giver though, he's mainly useful for driving me to surgeries or procedures, but he's not involved in my care. He actually refused to get a vasectomy so I willingly got a tubal ligation, my surgeon refused to talk to him, only speaking to my mom. My husband saw nothing wrong with this... Just one example of many...
I thought he accepted me for who I am not what I can offer. Mind you I'm not completely disabled, I'm able to do light housework, make his lunch for work, care for our pets and make simple dinners daily... So from chronic illness standards I'm doing pretty well for how progressed they are. Multiple of my illnesses causes severe pain so I take high dose pain meds to regulate myself on top of getting regular epidural steroid injections and ablations of the nerves in my spinal column to be able to walk.
Back to the story, about 3 years into our relationship, the first time I noticed my meds were going missing I was on a low dose pain med called tramadol, he lied but eventually admitted to taking "a few". We moved forward but I had to hide my medication. The second time, fast forward a few years and we had moved into our new house. At this point I was taking lower dose Norco, but I was noticing I was light when I shouldn't have been. Confrontation again and I got a lock box. Third time I was spring cleaning and I found an empty checkbook full of my USED fentanyl patches, I had started using those due to not being able to keep my meds down completely. He had shaken them out of my sharps container then stored them away... Still not sure what he was going to do with them, it's basically skin cells by the time I take it off. I was ready to leave at this time but my parents had just moved 2 and a half hours away in a two bedroom small home. I had/have no where to go and no money to use to do anything about it... So we moved forward again ..
Tried couples therapy only for him to walk out of the third session and refuses to go back. He also says he wants to go to therapy but won't take the first steps to actually getting a therapist... And I highly doubt he'll be open and honest with them.
Things seemed fine for a couple years. The lock box was protecting my meds and things seemed ok... But I was still weary... Unfortunately my room in which I stored my lockbox got really cluttered due to many reasons so it became hard to use. Another part of me wanted to trust my husband. Stupid me, right?
Well to break down my dosage - I am prescribed a medium dose Norco 4x a day. Usually I only take 2-3 depending on pain and ration the rest in case of med shortage. But I was noticing my extra meds were not as abundant as they should have been but I thought maybe I was taking a bit extra that month since it was winter.
Due to recent medication shortages, my dose was increased but for 3x a day. Which I downgraded my dose to 2x a day to make sure I had extra as my pharmacy warned me they still can't get any in.
Come to the other day and I open my bottle to notice I only had a small handful... So I emptied the bottle and counted, i only had enough to take 2 a day for the next three days leaving me not only 3 Norco short for those days, but three days worth was completely gone... My heart sank because I knew what happened... I confronted my husband who lied about it at first but I asked him again and he finally admitted to taking "a few". I screamed at him for awhile before telling him to get out of my face and go to work, so he left. Sitting there I calculated not only did he steal about a months worth (1 a day) for May but he had to of stolen another two months worth during the previous months my meds weren't in the lock box... A MINIMUM of 90 Norco was taken from me when I absolutely needed them. This left me halving my Norco so I wouldn't be without and withdrawal from it... Which wasn't as painful as withdrawing but still ranks up there as miserable.
I wanted to file a police report that morning but was stopped by my mom who reminded me that I'm currently depending on him to survive. Only when social security goes through do I have any options of leaving... I currently pay about $315 a month on a student loan I'm not even able to use. It's not for not trying, I started working at the age of 14 but had to stop in 2020 due to multiple flare ups ending me up at 93 pounds plus in and out of the hospital on the regular.
Current situation, it's been 5 days, I asked him if he had anything to say to me at all, he said no. He still says I love you and tries to kiss me... I lean away in disgust... I'm disgusted with his audacity to take the medication that helps me be a person. I'm disgusted with myself that I do still love him but all feelings have been burned from his actions. It's obvious he has no respect for me and I'm not even sure if he married me because he loves me or if he just thought he'd have easy access to my medications for the rest of his life... Well my life. I feel obligated to continue my "wifely duties" such as making his lunch, picking up the house to the best of my abilities, make us dinner at night as he is the only one on the house so it's his, he's letting me stay despite my cold demeanor... Kinda keep the peace until I can figure a way out... It's selfish but so is he.
I do not have money to move on my own and I have to take my two large dogs and cat with me as he will neglect them, not intentionally, he has ADHD so he just forgets things. My parents said I could come up there but that means every doctors appointment I'm driving 5 hours both ways... And I have 5-7 a month. My best friend is in another state, my other bestie has 4 kids a husband and allergic to animals, 3rd friend lives with her aunt and uncle. I could crash at my brother's for a few days but not any longer... And my neighbor can't house my animals... That is my list of people, I have nobody else... Though who would want to roommate with someone who can't pay rent but can contribute to groceries, cook and light cleaning...
I'm not even sure why I'm posting... I'm very lost and confused. I've officially taken off my wedding band, I know I should file a report but he could lose his job which means he loses insurance meaning I lose insurance... I should leave him but I have nowhere to go... I told him the only way I'd even consider working on our relationship again is if he goes to therapy or rehab but he's said he'd go on the past just to not go or go once then never again...
My only plan I can think of is wait for social security to hopefully approve me then I can get my student loan waved, then I can look into low income apartments or housing... But who knows how long that's going to take, it's been in reconsideration since October of last year (22).
I do love him, flaws and all he's my husband, the person I chose to make a family with... But four times is four times too many... he's left me without just so he can get a temporary fix. I do understand addiction, my dad is an alcoholic, his dad before him and I'm totally fine with his marijuana use I have my med card from my doctor and it's legal in my state... But now I'm worried that since he now no longer has access to my meds, he'll seek them elsewhere...
I'm gonna go potato now... Any helpful advice would be magical. Thank you
submitted by xxsaramazingxx to ChronicIllness [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 18:16 JustADude155 A letter I wrote myself half a year ago about my current situation.

This is a letter I wanted to send myself around half a year ago but didn't maybe because of what a bad place I was in (and still am), maybe I just needed to get some of the things out of my system. Today I found it and it reignited some things in me, and I wrote some more words about what is currently happening to me. I changed the names and some other things to remain anonymous. It's long and all over the place and I don't expect anyone to read it all honestly.
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal ideation, Suicide, Depression, Recklessness, Rejection
As before, I wonder what's going on in your life right now, because, honestly, I don't even feel like writing this letter at this point. Things are really bad, and today I have a good enough day to write something up but I don't feel well at all, and it doesn't seem like things will get better, if ever. Part of me knows that things always change and there's a chance that they will change for the better, but from my experience it doesn't usually work out, I seem to be switching from one issue to another, be it writing a thesis, finding a job, or my current state. I really can't seem to catch a break and for once be at least somewhat happy and satisfied with where I'm at in life.
I'm gonna tell a little bit about my situation and refer to some of the things you said in your email. Most of it will be about my "relationship" with Amy, and how much it affected me mentally.
I moved in with Amy and things are bad in ways I can't even describe. First thing is that over the beginning of the last year I fell in love with her and really, badly wanted to matter anything to her and be important to her, and for her to show that somehow for me. We went together on a trip to mountains and generally spend more time together than ever before. I really felt the chemistry between us, i thought we got a long really well. We talked at the fireplace party and she said she's too fucked up to date me, and that she would never do this to me. Since I moved in with her as a flatmate there were some things that bugged me about the way she is, like careless about a lot of things (mainly her safety and well being), horribly under eating in the name of some fucked up "diet", not listening to my guidance about most things, like not taking breaks at the gym, and other minor things that really bugged me and kinda felt conflicting because she doesn't seems childish, in fact quite the opposite, but some of those behaviours certainly felt like that at the time. But generally things were good, at least most of the time, we spent time together, went to gym, watched shows, threw a few parties etc.
As the time went on, things got worse, and I don't even remember every bad situation that happened over the last 5 months. Some early days she cried a lot, but it's this kind of stiff hopeless cry that really gets me. She doesn't feel emotional, she feels empty, her eyes are really scary sometimes... One day she got really drunk, I think it was an anniversary of her best friends passing, I was really anxious, because she didn't seem like she was controlling herself at all, and I don't know, seeing people just empty, hopeless, out of control, careless and drowning themselves in alcohol ALONE just affects me in a really bad way mentally. When we drove the next day to get her a bookstand (which she was really obsessed with getting this exact day) she was acting really manic and on the edge, I was so nervous that I shook her one time when she said something especially deranged (idea of driving with the complete bookshelf in the public commute), I don't know the last time I felt so much out of control of the situation and shaken, even though the whole situation is seemingly so fucking innocent. One day she threw away a line about how it's so stupid that suicide is a sin. We complain a lot about our lives and make dark humor jokes in our group, and yeah, there is always something real beneath them, I sometimes do have dark thoughts, and I feel like I have a lot of issues as well, but this is all heavy stuff that I wouldn't talk about freely and lightheartedly. I didn't thought then how serious she was, well I kinda did, because I asked her the next day about this, and she laughed saying "Are you serious right now? xD" And she said "Yes, of course I was serious". Before that she talked how she was so tired she was barely able to drive and see other cars, which worried me so much that I can't even describe it, and she didn't say it in a worried tone, just like she wanted to brag or something, I don't know why (she does that A LOT). And I don't know, but it was REALLY traumatic for me to hear her say those things like this, I couldn't sleep for days after this, I was in an especially bad place then. She said she first was going to do it when she was a teen, then once her mother dies, and right now since she knows it's a sin and she wants to see her family and friends she has to live to 50, thats how long she expects to live without killing herself. I said that she still has people here, do we not matter to her at all?, and she said that in the afterlife she has more of them. I said that doesn't she care anything about her health?, because she do goes to doctors and stuff, and she said she only does so because of her mother, she never went to a doctor because she wanted to. She said that she doesn't understand how atheists don't kill themselves immediately. She said it all without blinking an eye about how fucked up what she's saying is, it wasn't like confessing, more like explaining basic facts, and that's the thing that I think fucked me up the most, because if I were to say those things I would be shaking and having difficulties with every word, not throwing this stuff this carelessly.
I am writing wild scenarios in my head about how fucked up things she did in her past, in the parties etc. and they make me really anxious and depressed that she's like this and not much more innocent as I usually pictured her (and still sometimes do, because she's not acting toxic or deranged 100% of the time, she actually shows a lot of care for certain things, she loves every kid and animal etc., she never even smoked a cigarette), because she never seemed so much like a typical club party girl that gets into trouble a lot, well I knew she partied and drunk a lot, but she always seemed kinda different from that. Most of the time she's not like that, she can behave with a lot of compassion most certain situations. She talks about all the speeding tickets she got (and got out of by sweet talking the policemen), she texts all the time while driving, she admits to driving recklessly when alone, she lies to her mother all the time about how well mentally she is, how much she's drinking, like she were silently going on all fours between bedroom and bathroom bc she was so drunk, sometimes she even lies about having passengers when driving to the city we live in because she's so unwell she drives alone and makes stops along the way to make it, she lies about how long it took for her to drive. Sometimes I feel like everything is fake because of some of these things, like I am loosing the touch with reality.
One time we drove back to our hometown, and like halfway through she started to get really sleepy, I could see by the corner of my eye that her head was going down for a fraction of a second. I wanted to switch to drive, but she was having none of it, saying that she already planned to drive home herself and if she planned it then it will happen. I started to get really anxious and frantically started to think of the ways to do something, I stupidly suggested that I will drive my car after her once we get to my home, and she said "You really ARE fucked up xD", because she would still be inside her car and how that would help? And I know it wouldn't, but I panically tried to find something, that's just something that I came up with on the spot. I just told her to text me immediately when she gets home (and she did), but the whole situation was just so fucking stressful for me, I even then told my mother about what's happening but without darker details.
She seems to have a problem wich alcohol, although certain situations can prevent her from drinking extensively, like seeing the kids in school the next day. It's kind of scary how much she can drink and then be sober the next day.
One time she was on her period (they get really bad for her) and she wanted to drink some alcohol because of the weekend, but she was on her first week of antidepressants and all those things caused me not to go to my friends and stay with her to look after, she became really tired after a while, she was barely staying on her feet, when she went to take a shower before bed I asked her to not lock the door and she didn't. I went to clean the dishes, and I think I heard something but I didn't pay attention or anything, but later she was in bed and clearly trying to hide from me that she collapsed under the shower. She was okay, but the fact that she didn't want to admit it to me made me really anxious and depressed. She was so out of energy that I had to hold her the water bottle to drink from. I felt so bad, I don't think I could sleep that night.
She doesn't let me drive because once I drove with her when being really nervous and weren't like the best at it, it kinda angers me because it's double standard as fuck, not letting me drive when I'm nervous, but driving when you're almost sleeping. And I don't consider myself a bad driver, apart from once loosing control when going to friends wedding I have never have an accident. She also gets really mad if I'm going to drive after drinking single beer and waiting like 4 hours after it, and that's NOTHING compared to the things she does.
Sometimes I'm hesitant to tell her some of the things I think, partly because it't pointless, and partly because her response would just make me more triggered, angry, anxious and depressed.
Sometimes I don't know what to do, telling anyone about those things (like her mother) seems like breaking her trust, and those are personal things that I really shouldn't tell my friends about, hence I tell them to my therapist.
What's scary and fucked up is that depression is not only hopelessness, sadness and lack of energy, but for some people also being mad about everything, saying really hurtful things to people that love you, hating on and judging literally everyone, becoming really sickly, strongly obsessed about something, behaving carelessly and recklessly. And every attempt at trying to address those things is responded with some hateful, poisonous comments or "I'm just like that", one time I said to her that she should care less about something, and she responded with a lot of hate that I should just stop "shaking my hands when I'm nervous, can I do that? can I?" I feel so fucking bad sometimes, because part of me wants to scream into her face about the things she does, and at the same time:
I know that it's an illness, and I don't know if that would be bad of me to be angry at her about anything
I'm worried about things she would say to me back, she sometimes seems to revel in hurting people emotionally or at least being really good at it and constantly looking for topics when arguing with someone, and I'm really fragile, sensitive and easy to hurt, for some reason especially to things she says to me
I don't feel like I can have any influence on her actions, although she does comment a lot of the time that other people do, like her mother of her one female friend etc. so sometimes I feel like it contradicts itself, although she does say that she needs to be controlled in some way to do what it said, like being yelled at or being put in the position with no choice, and I don't want to be like that and I don't think I have the strength of character to be like that, and never will
She sends a lot of memes about depression to our group chat, and I personally don't think they're helpful, at least for me, I'm not feeling like someone is going through the same thing as me and it helps, it's more like everyone is trying to drag each other down, some of those memes are as hopeless as you can get, making fun of therapy and psychiatrists, never having any happiness (dementors can't do anything to you), missing yourself and thinking its too late now to regain it, generally memes about not being a human anymore and never being again etc., being put into a mental hospital if you tell your therapist everything, about hating and despising other people. There's this friend that she says is way worse than her, and that he doesn't even want help unlike her, that he's so used to it he almost likes it, I honestly don't know if that doesn't also affect her. One time we drove to our hometown, 5 of us with him and a few others, and they were talking about suicide, and some other friend said this cliche line about suicide being the most egotistical thing a person can do, and even though he was quiet the whole ride he just said "Yeah, right" from the back. I don't know, I guess it depends on the person, but for me surrounding myself with this topics would make me feel worse and not understood. She also has a lot of kids in school with mental issues, she has a kid who is supposed to be after a suicide attempt (that's also one of the things that froze my heart, when she said that she knows he and his parents are bullshitting because he would be put to the hospital for 3 months, but how would she know that?), or generally kids that are on SSRIs and that one time kid told her justifying himself that he took the double dose of antidepressants and she was holding herself not to say "me too!". They had a movie night and they played UNO, and she said that out the 3 kids she played with, all of them were in a psychiatric hospital.
One time at a party in front of everyone she said she thought about jumping out of a window, but being crippled her mom would have to deal with that so she wouldn't do it like that. Other time she said she changes the mind when she loses the energy, she would try to hang herself but would become tired and not do it. Once also we talked about unrelated topic, and I said as a trivia that dead bodies can produce sounds like exhaling, and she said she knows that because she know a lot about dead bodies, and she reads a lot about that... Once she said that she doesn't understand that atheists don't immediately kill themselves when someone close to them dies. Once she said something about there not being anything left of her inside. Once she said that her mother was worried she would be locked up in a psychiatric hospital, but she had to assure her that she knows how to mask everything, and she's not dangerous to others so that wouldn't happen.
Am I too innocent for these topics? Sometimes I feel like a kid listening to adults, and that I don't know and don't understand them and I feel small and worthless.
I think there are a lot of different ways to direct that recklessness and negativity through things like exercise, media escapism, music etc. and not things like hard partying, drugs/alcohol, reckless driving, acting angry etc.
I think that deeply believing that chemical imbalance is the cause of depression is very hurtful, because it's not completely proven and might turn some people off from forms of treatment that could potentially help them.
Escapism is a big thing for me, and I think that it helped me cope with a lot of things. Books, movies, music, I spend a lot of time looking for new music and artists.
I'm becoming very nosy and kinda controlling around her (well not actually controlling cause that's impossible with her, but just very nosy), I want to eardrop her conversations with her mother, to always know what she is doing, to know how well she is all the time.
There's no appreciation for me being around, even more so, saying that you don't matter that much, and what do even have or experienced together to be close. And that she can't really be close to people that don't immediately say what they're thinking (like me, she said, even though when i asked if she thinks I'm a fake friend she said no but I'm not honest), but part of me feels that it's bullshit, everyone hides something and only lets a part of themselves out, although it's true that sometimes I act more quietly and like I'm obviously hiding something. I feel inadequate and really bad because of that because the things I experienced in the last months were big for ME, and definitely changed me, but I guess they were nothing to her.
Sometimes she talks about how it's weird to her that normal people have dreams about having homes, vacations etc. One time she said how when she was little she said she never would be boring and bitter like adults, and then depression hit her. Recently she said she finally has a dream, to be able to rent a studio apartment to finally live alone. It kinda affected me, because I DO live with her (apart from others), and that would mean that she wants to get out from me too. One time she said that she hopes someone lively and fun will move in with us once our current flatmate get out, and that would mean that she is bored with me and my character, and she much preferred the previous one.
With the whole moving out thing, she sometimes talks about things getting better, like closer to spring she will renew the gym subscription, we will decorate the balcony for parties and hanging out (of course she said something about sleeping drunk in there...), and generally some things like that. It does make me wonder, do those lower points happen especially in autumn/winter ? I mean, I know there's even a disorder for that but I can't imagine there being such a huge difference.
When she started school, she became really overwhelmed with the amount of exercises she had to do before lessons. Most teachers don't have everything done beforehand but she said she absolutely needs to, and because of that she spent most of the time just doing them or resting, she was so obsessed with doing them she wanted drop out of our mountain vacation trip because she would be too much behind, and she got angry at me for saying that she needs a rest and that my talking doesn't help anything.
Over a month after the school she started the meds, and it doesn't feel like they helped her, at the beginning they only made her really sleepy and out of energy. In some ways i think that they made her worse, or maybe she just didn't have the energy to hide some things. I remember her reading the drug leaflet and noticing loudly that it may strengthen suicidal thoughts, i then read it myself because I was worried. It's honestly a bad thing that she had to check with the psychiatrist only after 2 months and not sooner because it wasn't helping her. On the second visit the doctor was surprised that it didn't help her (which I think might be a bad thing from her since it reinforces the thought that nothing will help her), and decided to up the dose for next 3 weeks to rule out the drug, and mentioned another stronger drug that she will prescribe her, and Amy asked her is it's a drug that is used in a psychiatric hospitals because she wanted to know, and apparently yes. I'm kinda scared what might be happening when she starts it, because the upped dose of current one doesn't seem to change anything. One time she asked me if I think they could lock her up if she caused an accident while driving while on this drug (if its not allowed to drive on it, because she admitted she would anyway), which again messed with my head a lot. The doctor also said that she might be more immune to various drugs than most people, and she said that it's probably true because a lot of the drugs she takes are quite strong, and she takes A LOT of them, hormones for acne and her very strong and long periods, inhaled steroids for asthma, antidepressants, drugs for sleep. Sometimes she ignores signs of some of her illnesses, like anemia. She sometimes offers people prescription drugs like antidepressants or antibiotics, which makes me really angry because those shouldn't be given around like candies, but like I said earlier I never told her it makes me angry. She also said that she only counts on the meds to work, if they won't, she would off herself
I joked a few times that we could get a cat here, I know that it's no cure but animals can certainly be a help for people who are going through rough times. She really took the subject seriously some day and convinced everyone, including our tenant and flatmates, that we should get a cat. She really wanted to have this one specific cat about 2h hour drive from us, so we drove there, but the cat got away from our car, and we couldn't find it. Few hours later when we got home she was convinced that we killed that cat and started asking everyone if they want anyone dead, because she can arrange that, because everyone around her dies, and she didn't want any cat at all anymore. But we eventually took Luna, and the missing cat was found later. After a few weeks with the cat, our flatmates started complaining about about the cat being in the apartment and not only our rooms (WTF?) and about its litter box and food. Amy was already really annoyed by them, especially this guy who is a little dumb, talkative and annoying, but this whole situation took it too whole another level. She almost couldn't control herself with how much they got on her nerves, merely hearing them walk on the corridor would make her furious. One night in the middle of the week she started going to the kitchen to get drunk to be able to sleep because of them. I obviously couldn't ignore that so I went with her to just be there. She changed topics every few seconds, talked about something that its a good thing our knifes are not sharp, she was generally acting very ill, which usually makes me extremely anxious and quiet. I feel like she was noticing that and she said "why aren't you talking with me ? X and Y always had gossips with me in the kitchen...". Then she went to sleep, texted me a lot about 100 different topics, and then went back to drink some more, then when she went to sleep she texted me something that made me feel like my brain is being fried. She send me a receipt of her drug and it said that overdosing it might cause heart problems and even death, and she added "if I found out that suicide is not a sin, or something changes, I already know the way <3". I didn't know what to do with myself for a good few minutes. My mind was racing and frying, my heart was frozen, and it took me a good while to calm down. Eventually I just took our cat and took it to her to sleep with, but didn't bring the subject, I just couldn't, I was too weak.
Next day she started being obsessed with moving out of here, far away from them, she started looking for available apartments and firstly I wanted to move with her, but the more I thought about this, the more I thought I just couldn't handle all of these things mentally. She was pushing me to define my stand on this, and just said "fuck it" angry at me for not being decisive," I'm gonna move with another guy I know", but I don't think that worked out since she eventually started looking for studio apartments for herself. Eventually I went to her and said that I think I want to live alone, that i feel kinda unstable mentally myself, and I wanted to let her know that I'm not wanting to let her go, but she was just like coldly "I'll be fine" without much emotion behind that. I then started to pour out my things about her (at first she said she didn't have the energy for that, but asked her to listen), how sometimes I felt like she has something negative about me that she doesn't tell me, that's she's colder to me than usually, she said that she's like that to everyone now, and I said that I felt like it was more personal, and she denied. I asked her if she thinks that I'm fake and she said "not fake, but you're not telling what you're thinking" and that she couldn't be close with people like that (or something along those lines). She said that I should have told her all of that right then. She always prides herself for always saying exactly what she means and being painfully straightforward. I also tried to confront her about being negative about my therapy, because I said to her I went to therapy, and she said "and you think it will help you ?" kinda ironically, and i was really hurt by that, she doesn't really believe in therapy and said that judging by colleges in our country her mother is a better therapist than most Ts here. She said then that she meant if I THINK its going to help me, not mocking, and when I said that I don't respond to "how was it?" is because I was worried she would mock me, she replied with "whatever , if you say so". I also said that I'm secretive because telling the truth would make other people hurt me, and she said "well of course".
To this day I don't know if I hurt her with that conversation, I'm not even sure if she understood that I'm very bad mentally right now mainly because of her. I felt really guilty about abandoning her, and talked about it extensively on a therapy session. I know that to save anyone you have to save yourself first, but I would be just proving that she's fucked up and everyone will eventually abandon her. On the other hand, I don't know if she cares AT ALL about me leaving her, maybe I really do am just a flatmate and not much else anymore.
Her mood massively affects mine, I could have the best day of my life and one sentence from her could easily ruin that. Sometimes I get anxious when I hear her walking on the corridor or when she gets back from school because I have no idea what mood she might come home with.
Most fucked up thing is that despite all of this is sometimes I'm still attracted to her. All it takes is one smile, one good day and I'm still rethinking if I would ever want to be with her. And there are also very good reasons for that, she can be very caring, lovable, funny and clever. I also fantasize about her sexually to some small extent. And the thing is that I never before found her very attractive and wasn't interested in her.
How does her mother fit in this ? I don't know but she lost her father as a child, she was taking her to therapists and psychiatrists since she was a child . Sometimes I feel like she can make her worse by saying certain things, like when missing cat was found and saying that it was bad and scary and that we could be taking this one right now. She might have been very overprotective (or might have good reasons to) but Amy was being rebellious and reckless anyway, which might have caused how many lies she tells to her.
When it comes to me, I've never been in such a bad state mentally, today is not the worst but the general period is without a doubt the worst time of my life. Even before all of this I was SURE I needed some help with my mental health, but everything that was happening, her darkness sipping into me, triggering me, listening and talking about suicide all the time for literal months can't be good for anyone although I think I try to show her it doesn't affect me that much, me internally reacting very very badly to her strange and sometimes deranged and reckless behaviours, feeling on the edge a lot of the time due to her, not being able to think about anything else, all that made me finally take the step and make an appointment with a therapist. I noticed in myself symptoms of depression, social anxiety and ADHD, I'm still not sure if I would be diagnosed with anything but I do know that something is wrong with me, especially since others don't seem to be so deeply affected by her despite being close to her for longer than me. There were days where I couldn't sleep, in which I had a strong feelings of hopelessness, depressing feelings about her, myself, my life and the whole world, I researched a lot about depression, and some places are really bad to get into because there is no hope in there, people just drag each other down and write that nothing ever worked for them etc. I even thought about reading up about some therapeutic techniques I could use on her, but now I notice how stupid that sounds.
I sometimes think if she realizes how difficult it is to listen to some of the things she says and does. And I'm not talking about her being difficult and with a quick temper, but just genuinely pouring this darkness on those close to her.
In terms of therapy, I'm still not sure if it can help me with anything. I'm not discounting the people that it did help, but I'm just not sure about me. I know that it probably takes time, I do genuinely feel better when someone listens to all of that (even if I feel like a fraud sometimes because there are surely others that come to her with heavier stuff) even if it lasts only some time after the session. I'm not even sure what would therapy do to me, like what exactly could it possibly change about me, will I care less, will I just cope better, will I change my personality, or will it just be something that I can tell myself that I'm doing without actually helping me
That's a weird one, I'm kind of angry at her for being the best or at least very good at a lot of things, that (when she wants to of course) she can befriend literally everyone and people adore her (like the kids in school, parents congratulating and being shocked how great the kids are doing at school), she had a lot of boyfriends and always seem to have some guys trying to get to her. She's shockingly charismatic, talkative and social when she wants or needs to be. I'm always complaining about not having friends and then she scoffs at me for that I don't know what I'm talking about, but I don't interact with 10% amount of people she does even though she ALWAYS ALWAYS talks how antisocial and what a b she is (meaning she's mean to everyone), she knows a shit ton of people, shocking number actually, especially when you think about her mental state
I really try to be a good friend, but that seems to not be enough. I try to help her with everything, doing the shopping, being with her and talking, asking how she feels, figuring out ways to maybe not help but at least show the support.
Right now we're still gonna live together and I'm gonna move in to the bigger room, and I plan to be in our hometown working remotely more to be better mentally, but I'm still unsure how all that is gonna work out...
Sometimes I feel like I'm fluctuating with how much this really affects me, It feels random, some moments I think all of it affects me less and am able to just go somewhere else with my thoughts, but not always.
==== 6 months later====
Some time has passed since I wrote those last paragraphs, actually it's already 6 months, and in some ways things are better, but in some they are much worse. She got better, not all the way she was before, she still hates being with people and is very mean, sarcastic and emotionally careless (she recently found out she'll probably won't be able to have kids and it didn't faze her at all), throws a joke or two about suicide but it doesn't seem so serious now, she got off meds as far as I know (because I don't know much anymore, but I'll get to that), she found a psychiatrist that first wants to make all kind of tests before prescribing her any drugs, she actually talks about plans for the future, is able to cook for herself, is more social, she's even going to a wedding with a friend she almost hooked up with a month ago (that's also a big thing that for me I want to write about later).
As for me, I'm much worse in a few ways. These things she said and did affected me very deeply back then and I wanted a way to cope with that, and I started to call my old friend Jane and tell her some of the situations that were happening here. I felt bad about it but I just couldn't help myself, I had to tell someone. That was before I got my therapist, and I'm mainly talking about everything with her now, but I was so caught up and messed up with everything, that even after starting the therapy I also talked about some of the things with my ex who is still my good friend, I mentioned she has depression and takes meds to one of my colleagues (without any details), and I mentioned that she has some problems and thinks about moving out to another friend, one day I also told everything to my parents (without the most disturbing details) because I was on a verge of a mental breakdown and just couldn't bring myself to come back here. I also once told our new roommate that Amy is very weird and obsessed about some things like loudly closing doors etc. without telling much else though. That's a lot of people and honestly I don't trust myself that I didn't say anything else to anyone although I doubt it as I don't have much friends or interact with people a lot. Not that it excuses me, but she wasn't really too secretive about it and seemed very open to talking about being depressed and hating life etc. I certainly broke her trust and I feel like shit for it, nothing really excuses me and I can't change what I did, which is slowly killing me inside.
She confronted me about it when I came back from my parent house after telling them everything and finally got the courage to text her about the way she treats me, about what I did wrong, if she thinks that I'm hiding something from her or that I'm insincere about everything I do. Because she's very different to me than she was before and it honestly kills me inside. She told me she regurarly catches me lying about irrelevant small things and she has no idea why but recently she doesn't even trust herself, let alone someone else. I don't think I ever deliberately lied to her but I might have unknowningly responded with wrong information so she doesn't get mad ex. who didn't do the dishes or something. The worse thing is that she said that she heard things, certain minor details about herself from people that should know absolutely nothing about her, and she doesn't want anyone to know anything about her. Of course she didn't specify what details (and if they were even something private, but I can only assume yes by her reaction) and what people (to not break their trust) and I've been thinking about it ever since. She said that I was never her friend, I never knew anything about her and she doesn't really consider anyone her friend since O died from cancer. And that you can't just take anyone from the street and befriend them, and that we can just normally live our lives separately and not get too involved with each other, which really, really fucking hurt me to hear from person that I cared so deeply for, that I tried so hard to show that she matters to me, and to which I gave up so much of my own mental wellbeing to the point of feeling mentally ill myself (at least much more than usual).
I of course haven't told a word anyone since that conversation, and not because I was scared someone might tell her again, but I realize what a huge mistake that was and I honestly hate myself more than ever for breaking her trust and being such a piece of shit and not being able to change what happened or even to make up for it.
Our relationship gets kinda better at times, she talks to me normally sometimes mainly about our cat, although never for too long and practically never initiates a conversation, she barely texts with me, ignores me a lot, she doesn't really talk to me about what is happening with her life and work etc. I mostly find out anything from her conversations with others when I'm present, she is a lot more social with her friends recently and when she sends some screenshoted memes on a group chat there's always someone she's texting with, she's online a lot despite not writing me back, she goes out drinking with her friends every few weeks and I'm never a part of it anymore, I never drive with her back to our town on weekends anymore, and all of that while she live behind a wall, and this actually real rejection is quite honestly making me feel actually suicidal at times, and it gets worse with time to the point that I'm worried I might do something to myself, maybe not now or soon, but in the future, and I even sometimes write vague scenarios in my head about it. Apart from still going to therapy (which still doesn't seem to help me) I signed myself up to a psychiatrist despite my therapist saying that she doesn't see anything clinical in me, with the main issue being an ADHD diagnosis, as that's what I thought most accurately explains my struggles (especially RSD), and I did get diagnosed but I feel like I might have bended the reality a little and not actually have it, I am on my 2 days of meds (upped the dose today) and don't really feel much apart from a very light headache and dry mouth, so I guess that won't fix me after all.
When we were on a mountain trip a month ago I was feeling very bad, because while I was still a part of it and went with everyone, she treated everyone completely different to me, she was laughing, joking with them, being nice and talking to and being interested in them, and the others are not really my close friends so I was feeling a bit alone and isolated. The last night of the trip she and one of the guys (the one with which she's going to the wedding) went for a walk in the middle of nowhere together completely drunk, pissing everyone off for being irresponsible. But while everyone was scared and angry, I was depressed and I guess suicidal, I still have feelings for her despite everything, and seeing that she can go out into the night kissing some guy and after everything can't even hold a conversation with me or tell me anything nice was honestly doing very bad things to my head. And I remembered when a year ago she said she can't be with me, she's too fucked up and couldn't do that to me, but she knows this guy for almost 2 years now and considers him a colleague too so how's that different? I don't even smoke but I smoked like a whole pack of cigarettes that night...
When we came back from the trip I was in a very bad place mentally and said that I wanted to talk, I told her that I can't do this anymore and that I can't control the envy that I feel and that I'll probably have to move out even though I don't want that, and I don't want to leave her alone with our cat, she gave me an impression that she wants me to try, she mentioned my ex that's still my friend and that I got over her, and I told her it took me literal years to get over her, and she said that "so it's possible", we talked some more, maybe the most we talked in weeks if not months about various things, and I felt that things were going to get better, But they didn't. A few weeks passed and I feel just as rejected as before.
I can't disinvest emotionally from her, I can't stop thinking about what she thinks of me, if I'm fake and dishonest and always hide my true motives, and I don't think there is a point in confronting her again and apologizing and hoping for forgiveness, I feel like current state of my life will never change and even if we stop seeing and living with each other anymore, it will still take me years (if ever) to get over everything that happened in the last year because I'm not really better mentally when I'm home with my parents, I still think about it all the time. I don't want to leave this place, and I don't want to leave her with a cat she'll have to take care on her own, I don't know what to do anymore.
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2023.06.01 14:15 Aeogeus The Heart of Zeforo: Chapter 23

First Chapter/Previous Chapter
Keoki and Eik pulled on the wire as the container was hauled high into the air. Even with the significantly reduced gravity and the block and tackle taking most of the weight, it took considerable elbow grease to get it in position.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to ignore the smell of rotting flesh. He glanced over at his handy work and immediately had to look away. It had been his idea, and when Keoki had begun constructing it, he had believed he would never get off this ship.
Keoki had been so angry when he had done it, but now that the uren were beaten, he could feel a nagging guilt begin to stir in him. Keoki buried it; there would be time for self-reflection later; right now, there was some stuck-up, fat bastard wanting to make his friends into pets, or worse.
Melia, Polumnus and Qerik arrived shortly after they began to haul another container.
“We’ve got to be ready soon. This will probably be the last cargo fall we can prepare,” Keoki explained as his muscles ached under the strain.
“Where are they?” Melia asked.
“Just two doors away. And from what Ha said, they’re almost through the first one, so I told them to regroup with us; they should be here shortly,” Keoki replied as he and Eik tied off the nanotube wire, and they leapt to the ground.
“I would love to see you people in your natural habitat,” Qerik said, astounded by the height Keoki had fallen without injury.
“It wouldn’t be all that impressive unless you were watching the Olympics. Those people can really move,” Keoki said.
“How many traps could you set up?” Melia asked; this was no time for distraction.
“Seven container falls; we’ve also littered spots with shrapnel; probably won’t get through a good boot, but you know every little helps,” Keoki answered.
“We’ve also set up some barricades to funnel them where we want them to go, we tried to make them look as natural as possible, but time constraints and all that,” Keoki added.
“You did well, but I’ve been discussing it with Polumnus and Qerik, and we cannot attack immediately,” Melia explained.
“Why not?” Keoki said, his eyes fixed squarely on Melia, his heart rate increasing and his knees bent slightly, ready to move the instant his fears came to light.
Polumnus noticed the shift in posture and said, “we’re not selling you out; it’s just with this being a politician of a foreign power, we needed to offer them a chance to leave without a fight, something that will hold up in an inquiry or a trial.
Keoki relaxed, though not entirely. He did not fully trust the vo’rul and was conscious that simply giving up him and the obed would be the fastest way to ensure their own safety. He had not been too worried about the uren, they had shot Tres, and he had counted on anger and the desire for revenge to protect him.
After a brief pause, Keoki said, “I see; I believe it would be best if I am the one who talks with them.”
“Absolutely not, you are a civilian, and we will not risk your life like that,” Melia replied instantly, and her tone brooked no argument.
Keoki was human, however, and the tone did not translate along with her words.
“The Senator appears to be a collector of sorts, as far as we can tell. Whether he has deviant tastes or just likes owning stuff, we cannot say, but if I show up, an utterly unknown alien, then he is far more likely to issue a no-fire order,” Keoki explained.
Melia was about to argue; she could not deny that it made a lot of sense. Even so, Melia was unwilling to let it happen.
“No, Keoki, we will handle it; you are not trained in negotiations; I am,” Melia stated.
“You’re trained in negotiations?” Keoki asked.
“It was part of my officer training, yes,” Melia explained.
“Fine, you’re the professional,” Keoki conceded, though he had doubts she could reason with them.
“Just be ready to spring the trap,” Melia said, approaching the door.
“Just don’t stand underneath the containers when they fall,” Keoki replied.
Melia handed Keoki Tres’s side arm before asking, “do you know how to use this.”
"I know enough to shoot it,” Keoki answered, taking the weapon from her.
“Good enough. What about the obed? Can they use them?” Melia inquired.
“Yes, but not very well. They have to use both hands to operate them,” Keoki explained.
“Get ready!” Melia ordered as they heard the unmistakable sound of a welding torch behind the door and bolt cutters shearing through metal.
As Keoki sat beside Qerik in a hidden nook, he asked the vo’rul, “when Melia said she has training, what are we talking about? Master hostage negotiator or a three-hour slideshow seminar?”
Qerik did not reply immediately, and Keoki felt his heart sink.
“The latter,” Qerik answered.
“Oh, goody,” Keoki said, his voice monotone.

As the door opened, Melia said loudly and firmly, “Parley!”
Several of the Senator's troops pointed their weapons at her. It was an interesting thing to see. The Kireet had two sets of weapons; the first was a rifle, which they aimed by sitting down and aiming the gun with their hind limbs, now unburned by walking. It made the Kireet vulnerable, but their biology limited them; they could not stand upright.
The second was a pair of V.I.-assisted automatic weapons hanging from a harness, meaning the Kireet could lay down considerable firepower.
Luckily the Kireet had sat down before reaching the caltrops, they were well hidden in the gloom, and Melia tried to avoid looking at them, doing her best not to draw the Kireets’ attention.
“Captain Melia,” one of the Kireet said, lowering the weapons of their compatriots.
“Who are you?” Melia asked, her tone neutral, neither aggressive nor compassionate.
“I am Captain Utreka Nor Bar Ioban, of the Grestu Company,” the Kireet explained.
“You’re a mercenary,” Melia said.
“Partially true; I prefer private defence contractor,” Utreka replied.
Melia did not comment on that; call yourself whatever you wanted; a merc was still a merc.
“Well, Captain, could you please explain what you’re doing here after the Senator said you were leaving?” Melia asked.
“Let’s not dance around the trunk Melia; you know why we’re here, now give them to us, and you’ll get to see your home again,” Utreka explained, dropping the facade of civility.
Melia was not too surprised; the mercs were not being paid by the hour and were incentivised to get it done as quickly as possible.
“I have a counter offer surrender, face justice, give up your employer, and you’ll get out of this alive,” Melia stated.
Utreka spoke, and the Kireet raised their weapons. Keoki sighed; they needed to lure them into a trap, not have them fire on Melia immediately.
Keoki came out of hiding and shouted, “time out!” forming the letter T with his hands.
The Kireet paused what they were doing; they were so astounded at the sight of a new alien that they momentarily forgot themselves.
Utreka received a command from the Senator and asked, “who and what are you?”
“I am Keoki, and I am a human,” Keoki replied, looking at Melia. He could only imagine how upset she was with him, but he knew this was the best way to spring their trap.
Utreka got another command and asked Keoki, “what are you doing here?”
“There was an accident with my ship, and I was flung far off course,” Keoki replied, hoping the bastard in charge would get what he was saying and take the bait.
“Why aren’t you wearing a mask like the rest of us?” asked Utreka, instinctively checking his own to be sure it was fitted correctly.
“I am from a world called Earth; I believe you people would designate it a class J planet,” Keoki explained, taking in a lungful of air to emphasise the point.
The Kireet knew that the biohazard was genuine; they had checked it themselves. Another private conversation between the mercenary and the Senator occurred before Utreka said, “The Senator would love to meet with you, Keoki.”
“I’m sure he would,” Keoki said, tapping his head.
“I am inclined to accept the offer, but before I do, they’re something I want to show you all behind those containers,” Keoki added, pointing to the large stack of crates that concealed his macabre art piece.
To the Kireets’ credit, they did not fall for the obvious trap and held their position. As their attention was focused on Keoki, Melia swallowed her pride and slowly made her way to a dark corridor.
“We will have to decline, Keoki; please come with us,” Utreka stated.
Keoki just smiled and began to walk away slowly, his demeanour utterly at odds with the panic he felt.
The Kireet aimed their weapons at Keoki, and Utreka ordered him to stop, but Keoki ignored them.
However, the Gretsu Company did not fire, and Keoki did not doubt that The Senator was giving them orders not to hurt him.
Keoki supposed the Senator already imagined the fantastic enclosure he would build for him.

As he disappeared, Basof demanded that Utreka and his soldier follow after Keoki and bring him back.
Utreka argued, but Basof just offered the man more money, and the mercenary Captian could not argue with that.
Utreka ordered his soldiers to advance with the three on point, backed up by the fourteen behind, with a further thirty in reserve waiting in the corridor.
They did not know how many vo’rul there were, and the human’s capabilities were unknown. So Utreka was playing this safe; he needed enough people to round up the choloshe; the Senator was willing to pay one hundred thousand Pitre for each one brought in alive.
Greed, as usual, got the better of common sense, and as the first three Kireet turned the corner, they froze in their tracks.
“Why are you just standing there?” asked Utreka.
He received no reply.
“Turick, I asked you a question!” Utreka shouted.
Again he received no reply.
Utreka tried to get an answer five more times, but when one of his troops collapsed, Utreka decided that whatever it was, he needed to see it for himself.
In an instant, Utreka understood. The Grestu Company were not good people, and Utreka had ordered more than a few war crimes in his time, but this! This was on a whole other level.
The Zeforo’s crew had never been a concern for them. The uren were just nobodies; their testimony could be easily swept under the rug. Not that Utreka would have spared them, he had a good deal going with the Senator and would not risk for a bunch of smugglers. Utreka would not seek them out, however.
He realised that would not be necessary; the uren were displayed in a grizzly display, broken, eviscerated, flayed and a dozen other synonyms for mutilated.
Sat underneath them, their teeth displayed in a way that could only be described as deranged, was Keoki.
“Do you like my work, mercenary?” Keoki asked.
“Go!” Keoki commanded.
Utreka was inclined to obey; the Senator paid well but not enough to deal with this.
“Bring me that alien, Captain!” Basof ordered; he may have had to endure the delay in his choloshe, but this human was a fine bonus and more than made up for it.
“Grab him!” Utreka ordered.
“YA!” Keoki shouted, and every Kireet halted; they had no idea how such a small person could make a noise so loud.
The Kireet had just raised their weapons when two containers flattened three of them.

Those three Grestu company were probably the lucky ones; their deaths had been swift, almost instantaneous. As the vo’rul opened fire, a few more were brought down by shots to the arms and legs; one was struck in the head, while a second took three plasma rounds to the chests.
As the Kireet scattered for cover, they inevitably ran into the shrapnel, their boots protected them from most of the damage, but a few unlucky sods tripped and were perforated.
One Kireet took cover behind a container before hearing a noise to their right. She had just enough time to look and register a snarling face filled with sharp teeth before her neck snapped and her head torn from her body.
“Ho’opa’i,” Nor said as he retreated to the shadows, his old joints complaining.
Another container fell to the floor, this one did not injure anyone, but it did limit the Kireets’ movement.
Utreka might have been an honorless soldier, but he was not incompetent; he would not have been able to charge the high rates he did if that were the case. He ordered his mercs into a defensible position and signalled the reinforcements to begin flanking the enemy.
Moreover, the Kireet also noticed the other containers suspended in the air and began to shoot at them, bringing them down ahead of schedule and blowing a massive hole in Keoki’s plan.
Though one Kireet did not get an opportunity to celebrate as Keoki emerged from the dark, shot them in the head and retreated.
The tide was turning against the vo’rul, obed and Keoki. Qerik and Melia had both taken a few shots and were forced to fall back. Meanwhile, Keoki and the obed were unable to find any opening to pick off the Grestu.
“Keoki, we need to pull back,” Melia ordered.
“On it,” Keoki replied as he rounded up his friends and told them to retreat to a more defensible position.
As they retreated, they were peppered by fire, but none of them were hit.
“How are we doing?” Melia asked as they sealed the door to the cargo bay.
“Boh took a hit, but her crappy armour sucked up most of it, just a minor burn,” Keoki explained.
“We need a plan B, and we need it fast,” Qerik said, pulling a cabinet from an adjoining room and placing it up against the door. Not that it would do much, but as Keoki had said, "every little helps."
“We can do a fighting retreat, using the corridors as killing fields,” Polumnus suggested.
“Good enough; take positions at the end of the corridor and fire on my mark!” Melia ordered.
They stood there for four minutes without so much as a peep from the door ahead. At which point, Eik tapped Keoki's shoulder and said, “What about other doors?”
“Oh shit!” Keoki said as they were struck by laser fire from the right.
submitted by Aeogeus to HFY [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 09:21 ImANuckleChut The feelings of guilt from defending myself years ago are starting to come back

TL;DR - A homeless man threatened me with a knife and I feel guilty for beating him to a pulp.
Years and years ago I (32M) used to live in a larger city and would go hang out at the gas station cattycorner from my house late at night when I couldn't sleep (I've always had insomnia) and talk to my now girlfriend's brother when he was working (I met him when he worked there long before her and I got together). Fountain drinks were usually less than a buck, so I'd get a few drinks and stay up talking to him late at night before having to go home, grab my stuff, and head off to high school or just go home and sleep if it was the weekend.
This story took place when I was about 16/17ish. I was planning on heading to the gas station, so I got dressed and grabbed this wooden nightstick I had before heading off. I've always been super paranoid of other people, and at that time I wasn't very strong, so I used to carry this police baton on me and kept it tucked in my belt against my back whenever I went out at night, whether it was a nightly excursion or just for a quick drink run and back to the house.
To get to the gas station you had to leave the back of my house and hop the fence before making a sharp turn to walk through an alleyway. There would be a drug store on your right as you walked towards the main road, and diagonally from that drug store across the street would be the gas station. The walk there was uneventful that night. It was spring and kinda chilly, but just an uneventful walk there.
I stood with my girlfriend's brother and talked with him for a few hours. Some people came and went, but we mostly just stood around shooting the shit while he did his gas station attendant duties. I had (I think) three bucks on me and that was it. Around 2 in the morning I decided to get a final drink before I walked home, so I refilled my cup, paid for it, and started the less-than-five-minute walk home.
This is where the story starts. I was walking through the alleyway back to my house. It was quiet like the walk there, with no car noises from the roads, no random cats or other animals, just the hum of the lights from the store. However, when I approached the end of the alleyway I looked to my left and saw this man sitting on the ground leaning back against the dumpster. He was slouched against it, but his head was drooped down and looked like he was sleeping. It was weird because, when I left the house around 10, there wasn't a sign of anyone around and he CERTAINLY wasn't there before.
I got nervous as I went walking past, but I kept looking at him until I was about level with him. He then rolled his head back (NOT just moved his head to look at me, but he ROLLED it along his shoulder and looked at me with his neck bent at an angle) and looked at me and I just about shit a brick. I slowed down a little bit and almost stopped from how bad this dude spooked me, but I tried to not show it by giving him a "sup" nod and saying "Sup?"
He looks at me and goes "Hey man, y'all got any money?" I shook my head and said "No, I spent the last of it on my drink here" and pointed to my cup. He then pushes himself up from the ground. He was a few inches taller than I am, about 5'10" to 6 foot, his clothes were all dirty but not holey or raggedy looking, and his hair was all matted and dirty and stringy looking. He started walking towards me and he yelled "Gimme your fuckin' money". I started backing up a little bit and I told him "I swear I don't have any money on me, man".
I couldn't run toward the end of the alley. I could see it, but I fucked my position up so now my back was facing toward the fence that separated our yard from the alley. It was a tall, wooden plank fence and there was no way in Hell I could have climbed that without him grabbing me. He just kept walking towards me and I was still locked up in fear. That's when he pulled a busted steak knife out of his pants and pointed it at me. He yelled at me again "I SAID GIVE ME YOUR FUCKIN' MONEY!" I'm not really sure how I was able to, given how pants-shittingly terrified I was, but I hatched this plan in my head. My soda was in my left hand. As he was walking towards me with the busted steak knife, my right was slowly making its way to the handle of my nightstick. I don't know if he saw it or thought I was reaching for my wallet or what, but I death-gripped the handle in my palm and chucked my soda at him.
Thankfully the soda cup made contact with his face/chest/chin/SOMETHING and splattered all over him and blinded him. The next part was kind of a blur, but somehow I whipped my nightstick out and busted him in the side of the head with it as he was wiping the Diet Mountain Dew out of his eyes. He crumpled to the ground and dropped his weapon (which I could now clearly see was a busted steak knife in the light of the parking lot), but he kept trying to get back up and I was terrified he was going to hurt me if he did, so I just stood over him with the nightstick and just wailed him repeatedly. Any opened part I could reach, I'd hit it. I don't know how many times I hit him, I don't know how long I hit him for, but I do remember busting his head a few times, busting his hands and arms and shoulders and elbows, I think smacked him in the ribs a few times... I don't know how long I stood over him and beat the shit out of him, but I know I was tired and drenched in sweat when I finally stopped... And he wasn't moving. He was breathing, but he wasn't moving.
I don't remember running and jumping the fence back into my yard, nor do I really remember much of getting back into my room, but I know when I got back upstairs I locked my bedroom door, I was soaked in sweat, I was shaking really bad, I was hyperventilating, and I didn't realize it at the time but I clearly pissed my pants out of fear. I couldn't sleep well for weeks after it. Every time I'd close my eyes I'd just see his angry face screaming at me for money and him waving that knife at me. At that moment I thought I killed this guy and now I thought the cops were going to come after me, but nothing ever really came of it. No dead body in a parking lot, no cops, no follow-up in the news, nothing. When I did sleep, I had nightmares about it for months and I didn't leave the house at night for a long, long, long time.
I could justify everything in that moment. It was all from a place of primal fear. I really thought he was going to hurt me or kill me. I should have just given him what little pocket change I did have (it was somewhere between a nickel and thirty cents, I really don't remember how much but it wasn't a lot at all). I should have just ran away. Maybe if I just hit him with my soda to blind him and took off... I don't know. It was either me or him, and I guess I decided I didn't want to be gutted in a CVS alleyway. Thanks to him I've been even more paranoid of people, especially at night, and I refuse to leave my house unless I'm armed. Recently the memory resurfaced and that guilt I'd felt when I was a teenager came welling up again and thought I should come to confess.
submitted by ImANuckleChut to offmychest [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 05:42 Guilty_Chemistry9337 Hide Behind the Cypress Tree, pt. 2

They didn’t tell us the name of the next kid that disappeared. They didn’t tell us another kid had disappeared at all. We could all tell by the silence what had happened. It spoke volumes. I’m sure they talked about it in great detail amongst themselves. In PTA meetings and City Councils. My parents made sure to turn off the TV at 5 o’clock before the news came on, at least in my home. They’d turn it back on for the 11 o’clock news, when were were in bed and couldn’t hear the details.
The strange thing is, they never told us to just stop going outside. They told us to go in groups, sure, but they never decided, or as far as I could tell even though, to keep us all indoors. I guess that sort of freedom wasn’t something they were willing to give up. Instead, they did the neighborhood watch thing. For those few months, I remember my folks meeting more of our neighbors than in all the time previously, or since. Retirees would spend their days out in their front lawns, watching kids and everybody else coming and going. They’d even set up lawn furniture, with umbrellas, even all through the rains of spring. Cops stopped sitting in ambushes on the highways waiting for speeders and instead started patrolling the streets, chatting with us as we’d pass by. Weekends would see all the adults out in their yards, working on cars in the driveways, fixing the gutters, and so on. They had this weird way of looking at you as you’d ride by. Not hostile stares, but it was like they were cataloging your presence. Boy, eight years old, red raincoat silver bike, about 11:30 in the morning, heading south on Sorensen. Seemed fine.
The next time we saw it, it wasn’t in our neighborhood, and I was the one who saw it first. We were visiting Russ, a sort of 5th semi-friend from school. We rarely hung out, mostly owing to geography. His house wasn’t far as the crow flies, but it was up a steep hill. We spent a Saturday afternoon returning a cache of comic books we’d borrowed. The distance we covered was substantial, as we had decided to take lots of extra streets as switchbacks, rather than slowly push our bikes up the too-steep hills.
The descent was going to be the highlight of the trip, up until I saw the Hidebehind. We were on a curving road, a steep forested bluff on one side. The uphill slope was mostly ivy-covered raised foundations for the neighborhood’s houses. That side of the road was lined with parked cars, and the residents of the homes had to ascend steep staircases to get to their front doors.
I was ayt the back of the pack when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Movement, something brown squatting between two closely parked cars. My head snapped as I zoomed past, and despite not getting a good look, I knew it was that terrible thing. “It’s behind us!” I shouted and started pedaling hard. The others looked for themselves as I quickly rushed past them, but they soon joined my pace.
Ralph’s earlier idea of directly confronting the thing was set aside. We were moving too fast, and down too narrow a street to turn around. Then we saw it again it was to our left, off-road, between the trees. Suddenly it leaped from behind one tree trunk to the next and disappeared again. That hardly made sense, the base of the trees must have been thirty feet below the deck of the street we rode down. One of us, I think it was India, let out one of those strangled screams.
There it was again, back on the right, disappearing behind a mailbox as we approached. That couldn’t have been, it must have outpaced us and crossed in front of us. Logic would suggest there was more than one, but somehow the four of us knew it was the same thing. More impossible still, the pole holding up the mailbox was too thin, maybe two inches in diameter, yet that thing had disappeared behind it, like a Warner Bros. cartoon character. It was just enough to catch a better glimpse of it though. All brown. A head seemingly too bulbous and large for its body. Its limbs were thin but far longer, like a gibbon’s. Only a gibbon had normal elbows and knees. This thing bent its joints all wrong like it wasn’t part of the natural order. We were all terrified to wit’s end.
“The trail!” Ralph shouted, and the other three of us knew exactly what he meant. The top of it was only just around the curve. It was a dirt footpath for pedestrians ascending and descending South Hill, cutting through the woods on our left. It was too steep for cars, and to be honest, too steep for bikes. We’d played on it before, challenging each other to see how high up they could go, then descend back down without using our brakes. A short paved cul-de-sac at the bottom was enough space to stop before running into a cross street.
Ralph had held the previous group record, having climbed three-quarters of the way before starting his mad drop. India’s best was just short of that, I had only dared about halfway up, Ben only a third. This time, with certain death on our heels, the trail seemed the only way out. Nothing could have outrun a kid on a bike flying down that hill.
We followed Ralph’s lead, swinging to the right gutter of the street, then hanging a fast wide left up onto the curb, over a patch of gravel, between two boulders set up as bollards, lest a car driver mistake the entrance for a driveway, and then, like a roller coaster cresting the first hill, the bottom fell out.
It was the most overwhelming sensation of motion I’ve ever had, before or since. I suppose the danger behind us was the big reason, and being absolutely certain that only our speed was keeping us alive. I remember thinking it was like the speeder bike scene from Return of the Jedi, also a recent movie from the time. Only this was real. I didn’t just see the trees flashing past it, I could hear the motion as well. Cold air attacked my eyes and long streamers of tears rushed over my cheeks and the drops flew past my ears, I didn’t dare blink. Each little stone my tires struck threatened to up-end me and end it all. Yet, and perhaps worse, half the time it felt like I wasn’t in contact with the ground at all. I was going so fast that those same small stones were sending me an inch or two into the air, and the arc of the flights so closely matched the slope that by the time I contacted the trail again, I was significantly further down the hill.
At the same time, I had never felt more relief, as the thing behind us had no way of catching us now. Somehow, maybe the seriousness of the escape gave us both the motive and the seriousness to keep ourselves under control. Looking back, I marvel that at least one of us didn’t lose control and end up splitting our skulls open.
We hit the pavement of the cul-de-sac below, and didn’t bother to slow down. We raced through the cross-street, one angry driver screeching to a halt and laying on his horn. This brought out the neighborhood watch. Just a few of them at first. Still, we didn’t slow down, our momentum carried us back up the much shallower slope of our neighborhood. Witnesses saw us depart at high speed, and this only brought out more of the watch. We heard whistles behind us, just like our P.E. teacher’s whistle. We figured that was the watch’s alarm siren. Regardless of what happened to that thing, it was behind us. We returned to our homes, shaken, but safe and sound, our inertia taking us almost all of the way there.
Another kid disappeared that Sunday, up on South Hill. We’d suspected it because we could see the lights of the police cars on a high road, surrounding the spot where it would turn out later, one of the kid’s shoes had been found. Russ confirmed it at school on Monday. It was a kid he’d known, lived down the road from his place, went to private school which is why we didn’t recognize his name.
I remember seeing Ralph’s face the next day when he arrived at school. He looked angry. Strong. Like he’d been crying really hard, and now it was over and he was resolved. He said he’d felt guilty because the thing we’d escaped from had gotten the other kid instead. He tried to tell his old man about it, then his mom, then any adult he could. He’d tell them about the monster who hides behind things. They needed to focus on finding and stopping that instead of looking for some sort of creeper or serial killer. Of course, nobody had listened to him. They hadn’t listened to the rest of us either when we’d tried to tell.
So he’d devised a plan. He was calling it the “Fight Patrol,” which we didn’t argue with. If the adults wouldn’t do something, we would. We’d patrol our neighborhood on our bikes, the four of us, maybe a couple more if we could talk others into it. We’d chase it off like that first time, maybe for good, or maybe corner it. Clearly, it could not handle being caught.
Naturally, we brought up the scare on South Hill. He argued that was a bad place. Too isolated, couldn’t turn around easily. We needed to stay on our home turf, lots of visibility, and plenty of the Neighborhood Watch within earshot. Maybe we and the adults working together was the key, even if the adults didn’t understand the problem.
Well, that convinced us. Our first patrol was that afternoon, after school. We watched everybody’s back like hawks. Nothing had a chance to sneak up on us. Nothing could step out from behind a bush without getting spotted. By Friday afternoon there were eight of us. The next week we split up to extend our territory to the next neighborhoods over.
Nothing happened. We never saw anything. Ben thought it was because we were scaring it away. Ralph just thought we were failing, and took it personally. I myself thought the thing had just moved to different parts of town, where the new disappearances were taking place. I told him we should keep it up until the thing was caught.
It was all for naught.
One day, India didn’t show up for school. I asked everybody, the teachers, the office staff, the custodian, my parents. All of them said they didn’t know, and it was so easy to tell that they were lying. That would mark the end of the Fight Patrol.
Ben didn’t show up a couple of days after that. When I got home and collapsed into bed, my mother came in to tell me that Ben’s mother had called. She’d taken him out of school and they were moving elsewhere. I called up Ralph to let him know the news, and he was relieved too.
My last day was Friday, and then I was taken out. Again, I called Ralph so he wouldn’t worry. I guess when there were only two weeks left of school, and it was just grade school, a couple missed weeks don’t amount to much. So I ended up spending the bulk of the summer out in the country, with my grandparents, which was why I brought up my grandpa in the first place.
I suppose I did fine out on their farmhouse. I was safe. There was certainly no shortage of things for a kid to do. I think my mom felt a strong sense of relief too. Things slipped through the cracks.
My grandparents didn’t have cable, too far out of town. They just had an old-school antenna and got a couple of TV stations transmitting out of Canada, Vancouver specifically. I remember one July day, sitting in their living room. My grandmother had just fixed lunch for me and my grandfather and had gone out to do some gardening as we watched the news at noon.
My grandfather was already being ravaged by his illnesses. He was able to get around, but couldn’t do any real labor anymore. He’d lounge in front of the TV in a special lounge chair. He hardly talked, and when he did he’d just mumble some discomfort or complaint to my grandma.
The lead story on the news was the current situation in Farmingham, despite being in the neighboring country, it was still big news in Vancouver, and the whole rest of the region. It seemed the disappearances were declining, but the police were still frantically searching for a supposed serial killer. I didn’t pick up much about what they were talking about, I was a kid after all, but my grandfather was watching intently, despite his infirmity.
He mumbled something, I didn’t catch. I asked him was he said, and as I approached I heard him say “fearsome critters.”
He turned his eyes to me and said again, distinct and in a normal tone of voice, “fearsome critters,” then returned his attention to the screen. “I don’t know why they call them that. Fearsome, sure. But ‘critters?” Makes it sound silly. Like it's some sort of fairy tale that it ain’t. Guess it’s like whistling past the graveyard. Well, they don’t have to worry about them no more, guess they can call them what they like.”
Then he turned to me. “Do you know what it is?” he asked. “Squonk? Hodag? Gouger? Hidebehind?”
“Hidebehind,” I whispered, and he turned back to the TV with a sneer. I had no idea what on earth he was talking about. Remember, this would be years before I learned he spent his youth as a lumberjack. And yet, somehow, I knew exactly what we were talking about.
“Hidebehind,” he repeated. “That will do it. They give them such stupid names. The folk back East, that is. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Ohio. Way back in the old days, before my grandfather would have been your age. Back when those places were covered by forests. They didn’t give them silly names back then, no. Back then they were something to worry about. Then they moved on, though. They all went out West, to here, followed the loggers. So as once they didn’t have to worry about them anymore, they started making up silly stories, silly names. “Fearsome critters,” they’d call them. Just tall tales to tell the greenhorns and scare them out of their britches. Then they’d make them even sillier, and tell the stories to little kids to spook them.”
“Not out here they didn’t tell no stories nor make up any names. It was bad enough they followed us out. I had no clue they even existed until I saw one for myself. Bout your age, I suppose. Maybe a little older. Nobody ever talks about them. Not even when they take apart a work crew, one by one. They just pull the crews back. Wait till mid-summer when the land is dry but not too dry. Then they move the crews in, a lot of them. Do some burning, make a lot of smoke. Drives them deeper into the woods, you know. Then you can cut the whole damn place down. But nobody asks why, nobody tells why. The people who know just take care of it.”
“I guess that’s why they’re coming to us now. All the old woods are almost gone. So they’ve got to. Like mountain lions. I supposed it’s going to happen sooner or later.”
We heard my grandma come into the back door to the utility room, and stomp the dirt off her boots. My grandfather turned to me one last time and said, “Whichever way you look at it, somebody’s just got to take care of it.” Then my grandmother came in from the utility room and asked us how our lunch had been.
Now that I look back at it, that might have been the last time my grandfather and I really had a meaningful talk.
We moved back home in late August. I had been having a fantastic summer. Though looking back, I suppose it could be rough for a still-young woman to be living in her aging parents' house when she’s got a perfectly good husband and house of her own in town.
First thing I did was visit Ralph. He’d been busy. He’d fortified his treehouse into a proper, well, tree fort. He’d nailed a lot of reinforcing plywood over everything. He hadn’t gone out on patrols by himself, of course, but the height of the tree fort afforded him a view of the nearest streets. He’d also made some makeshift weapons out of old baseball bats, a hockey stick, and a garden rake. The sharp rocks he’d attached to them with masking tape didn’t look very secure, but it’d only take one or two good blows with that kind of firepower. He also explained he’d been teaching himself kung fu, by copying all the movies he saw on kung fu movies late at night on the unpopular cable channels. That was classic Ralph.
As for the monster, it seemed to be going away. Its last victim had disappeared weeks previously, part of the reason my mom felt it was time to go back. This had been at night too. What’s more, the victim had been a college student, a very petite lady, barely five feet tall, under a hundred pounds. The news had speculated that their presumptive serial killer had assumed she was a child. I remember thinking the Hidebehind didn’t care. Maybe it just thought she couldn’t run fast enough to get away or put up a fight when he caught her. Like a predator.
At any rate, the college students were incensed. Of course, they’d been hyper-alert and concerned when it was just local kids going missing. Now that it was one of their own the camel’s back had broken. They really went hard on the protests, blaming the local police for not doing enough.
They started setting up their own patrols, and at night too. Marches with sometimes dozens of students at a time. They called it “Take Back the Night.” They’d walk the streets, making sure they’d be heard. Some cared drums or tambourines. They’d help escort people home, and sometimes they’d unintentionally stop random crimes they’d happen across. I felt like this was what the Fight Patrol could have been, if we’d just been old enough, or had been listened to. This would be the endgame for the Hidebehind, one way or another.
I stayed indoors the rest of the summer, and really there wasn’t much left. It doesn’t get too hot in the Pacific Northwest, nobody has air conditioners, or at least we didn’t back then. It will get stuffy though, in August, and I liked to sleep with my window open. I could hear the chants and challenges from the student patrols on their various routes. Sometimes I could hear them coming from far away, and every now and then they’d pass down my street. It felt like a wonderful security blanket.
I also liked the honeysuckle my mother had planted around the perimeter of the house. Late at night, if I was struggling to fall asleep, the air in my bedroom would start to circulate. Cold air would start pouring in over my windowsill, bringing the sweet scent of that creepervine with it, and I’d the sensation before finally passing out.
This one night, and I have no knowledge if I was awake, asleep, or drifting off, but the air in the room changed, and cooler air poured over the windowsill and swept over my bed, but it didn’t carry the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Regardless of my initial state, I was alert pretty quickly. It was a singularly unpleasant smell. A bit like death, which at that age I was mostly unfamiliar with, except a time some animal had died underneath the crawlspace of our house. There was more to it, though. The forest, the deep forest. I don’t know and still don’t know, what that meant. Most smells I associate with the forest are pleasant. Cedar, pine needles, thick loam of the forest floor, campfires, even the creosote and turpentine of those old timey-logging camps. This was none of those smells. Maybe… rotting granite, and the spores of slime molds. Mummified hemlocks and beds of needles compressed into something different than soil. It disturbed me.
So I sat up in bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but I’d been sweating, just lightly in the stuffy summer night heat. Now it was turning cold. Before me was my bedroom window. A lit rectangle in a pitch-dark room. To either side were my white, opened curtains, the one on the right, by the open half of the window, stirred just slightly in the barely perceptible breeze.
Most of the rectangle was the black form of the protective cypress tree. Only the slight conical nature of the tree distinguished it from a perfectly vertical column. To either side was a dim soft orange glow coming from the sodium lamps of the street passing by our house. It was perhaps a bit diffuse from the screen set in my window to keep out mosquitos. In the distance was the sound of an approaching troupe of the Take Back the Night patrol. They were neither drumming nor chanting, but still making plenty of noise. They were, perhaps, three or four blocks away, and heading my way.
For some reason that I didn’t understand, I got up, off of the foot of the bed. The window, being closer, appeared bigger. I took a silent step further. The patrol approached closer. Another step. I leaned to my right, just a bit, getting a slightly wider view to the left of the cypress tree. That was the direction the patrol was coming from.
That was when it resolved. The deeper black silhouette within the black silhouette of the cypress tree. A small lithe frame with a too-bulbous head. It too leaned, in its case, to the left, to see around the cypress tree as the patrol approached. They reached our block,on the other side of the street. A dozen rowdy college students, not trying to be quiet. None of them fearing the night. Each feeling safe and determined, and absorbed in their own night out rather than being overtly sensitive to their surroundings. They were distracted, unfocused If they had been peering into the shadows, if just one of them had looked towards my house, behind the cypress tree, they might have seen the Hidebehind, poking its face out and watching them transit past. But they didn’t notice.
It hid behind the cypress tree, and I hid behind it, hoping that the blackness of my bedroom would protect me. I stood absolutely still, as I had done once when a hornet had once landed on the back of my neck. Totally assure that if I made the slightest movement or made the slightest sound that I’d be stung. I hardly even breathed.
The patrol passed, from my perspective, behind the cypress tree and temporarily out of view. The Hidebehind straightened, ready to lean to the right and watch the patrol pass, only it didn’t lean. Even as I watched the patrol pass on to the right, it stood there, stock still, just as I was doing.
It was then I became aware that my room had become stuffy again. The scent was gone. The air had shifted and was now flowing out through the screen again, carrying my own scent with it. I knew what this meant, and yet I was too paralyzed to react. The thing started to turn, very slowly. It was a predator understanding that it might have become victim to its own game. It turned as if it was thinking the same thing I had been thinking, that the slightest movement might give it away.
It turned, and I saw its face. Like some kind of rotting desiccated, shriveling fruit, it was covered in wrinkles. Circles within concentric circles surrounded its two great eyes, eyes which took up so much of its face. I couldn’t, and still struggle, to think of words to describe it. Instead, I still think in terms of analogies. At the time I thought of the creature from the film E.T., only twisted and distorted into a thing of nightmares. Almost all eyelids, and a little drooping sucker mouth. Now that I’m more worldly, it reminds of creatures of ancient artworks. The key defining feature were the long horizontal slits it had for eyes. You see that in old masks carved in West Africa, or by the Inuit long ago. You see it in what’s called the “slit-eyed dogu” of ancient Japan.
As I watched the wrinkles on the face seemed to multiply. Then I realized this was the result of its eyes slowly widening. It’s mouth, too, slowly dilated, revealing innumerable small razor-sharp teeth. A person, standing in its location, shouldn’t have been able to see in. Light from the sodium streetlamps lit the window’s screen, obscuring the interior. It was no person. It could see me, and it was reacting to my presence. Its eyes grew huge, black.
My own eyes would have been just as wide if not for my own anatomical limitations. I was still watching when it disappeared. It didn’t see it move to the right. I didn’t see it move to the left, nor did I see it drop down out of view. It simply disappeared. One fraction of a second it was there, and then it decided to leave, and so it did. It was not a thing of this world.
There were no more disappearances after that poor woman from the university. I don’t think it had anything to do with me. The media and police all speculated their “serial killer” had gone into a “dormant phase”. There was no shortage of people who tried to take credit. Maybe they deserve it. The thing’s hunting had been on the decline. All the neighborhood watches and student patrols, I think that maybe all that commotion was making it too hard for the Hidebehind to go about its business. Maybe it had gone back to the woods.
Then again, maybe Ralph had been right the whole time. Maybe it really, really, really didn’t like to be seen.
So.
Now I’ve got some decisions to make. I think the first thing I should do is look at social media and dig up Ralph. It’s been a good thirty years since I last talked to him. He ought to know the Hidebehind is back. He’s probably made plans.
Then, there’s the issue of my son. He’s up in his bedroom now, probably still mad at me. Probably confused about why I’d be so strict. Maybe he’s inventing explanations as to why.
I’m not sure, but I’m leaning toward telling him everything. He deserves to know. It’d probably be safer if he knows. I think people have this instinct where, when they see or know something that they’re not supposed to know, they just bottle it up. I think that was the problem with grown-ups when I was a kid. It was the issue with my grandfather, telling me so little when it was almost too late. I think people do it because we’re social animals, and we’re afraid of being ostracized. Go along to get along.
Hell, my son is probably going to think I’m crazy. It might even make him more mad at me. And even more confused. He knows about the disappearances. “The Farmingham Fiend” the media would end up dubbing the serial killer that didn’t really exist. It’s become local “true crime” history. Kids tell rumors about it. It was almost forty years ago, so it probably feels safe to wonder about.
So yeah, I suppose when I say I know who the real killer was, a magical monster from the woods that stalks its prey by hiding behind objects, then impossibly disappears- that I’m going to look like a total nut. I’d think that if I were in his shoes.
Except… people are going to start disappearing again, it’s only a matter of time. The media will say that the Farmingham Fiend is back in the game. Will my son buy that? He’ll start thinking about what I told him, and how I predicted it. Then he’ll remember that he saw the thing himself, he and his friends, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye.
I hope, sooner or later, he’ll believe me. I could use his help. Maybe Ralph is way ahead of me, but I’m thinking we should get the Fight Patrol back together. Father and son, this time. Multigenerational, get the retirees involved too.
Old farts of my generation, for reasons I don’t understand, like to wax nostalgic over their own false sense of superiority. We rode our bikes without helmets and had distant if not irresponsible parents. Yeah, yeah, what a load. I think every new generation is better than the last, because every generation is a progression from the last, Kids these days? They’ve got cell phones, with cameras. And helmet cams. GoPros you can attach to bikes. Doorbell cameras.
It seems the Hidebehind loathes being seen. This time around, with my grandfather’s spirit, my own memories, and my boy’s energy? I think this time we’re finally going to beat it.
submitted by Guilty_Chemistry9337 to EBDavis [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 05:13 TheOriginalCelestial I feel stuck in a friendship and am trying to cut them off, does anyone have any advice

Hi! So as the title say I feel stuck in a friendship and am trying to end the relationship, but am having issues and feel really guilty because we've been friends for almost six years. For background I'm 19 (NB) and my friend is 20 (F), I'm going to use the name Sarah when I reference her (not her real name). We've known each other since we were freshman in highschooler, she transferred to my school at the end of the first semester, I noticed no one was talking to her and she seemed kind of lonely, so I approached knowing how it feels to be the new kid, extending an olive branch so she wouldn't feel so alone in a completely new school and new community. I had done stuff like that several times, helping new students and kids open up and start making more friends and most the time we simply lost touch just because the social circles changed, but when that started to happen with Sara, she started hanging with a group with some questionable idealogies (I'm talking like racist, homophobic, sexist, ect.) and I wasn't comfortable so I started distancing myself from her, I'm guessing she noticed or realized she didn't really vibe with those people because she removed herself from that group adding herself into my very close friend circle. It didn't really bother me as much because she seemed like a decent person but she would butt heads with a couple of my really close friends. I should also say during most of my life I was a bit of a push over, people pleaser and didn't really enforce boundaries with anyone until my junior year after starting therapy. So our dynamic was dominant/aggressive (Sarah) and Submissive/passive (me) and over the six year friendship this dynamic has stayed almost the exact same, despite us both changing and its frustrating. I've tried addressing it with her, but she shut me down with comments like "this just works for us!" on top of the fact she constantly disrespected me and my time, and still does, she was one of the first people I came out to and she still deadnames me and misgenders me, knowing how uncomfortable my deadname makes me, after trying to correct her for six months i just gave up and just put up with it. Recently she has done both of those but has also begun disrespecting my relationships with my partners (I'm poly, she's very well aware of this) we took a weekend trip after not seeing each other for over a year to try and she kept changing the plans last minute and didn't confirm our tickets after i asked her multiple times to make sure we weren't wasting time and money to go to a city for a specific thing, she told me the night we got there that she didn't have the tickets, and guilted me into spending almost $300 dollars for a ticket, but the thing that bugged me the most is when we started talking about relationships, she has been taking a break from relationships after going through a couple bad ones, which is fair, I even encouraged her to take time for herself instead of jumping into another relationship. She decided to do a couple hook-ups to meet her needs which makes sense and she was always honest with the guys she was hooking up with, however she values certain assets in a relationship, ending very good and healthy relationships over the guys not meeting that asset. And it wasn't that weren't listening to her or her needs, which is an understandable thing to end a relationship over, it was about things they couldn't change about their body, which rubs me the wrong way because she takes it to such an extreme. We have very different needs/wants for our relationships, considering I'm demisexual/graysexual (meaning i don't really value sex as a necessity and that it makes me very uncomfortable most of the time and i have to feel very emotionally connected to the person). While on this trip I expressed how I really loved my partners and could see myself with them for the rest of my life, she took the conversation into intimate areas asking what all me and my partners have done, when I responded nothing much past making out and that we hadn't gone all the way yet, she looked at me, and in completely seriousness asked me, if you haven't f*cked how do you know you want to spend the rest of your life with them, when I told her that kind of thing isn't all that necessary in a relationship for me she kept prodding insisting I couldn't love my partners if I hadn't gone all the way with them, even going a far as to say I had to get with a guy with a big asset, I expressed how, I'm not interested in cis men, and that kind of asset actually turns me off and makes me feel uncomfortable, she refused to let it go, until i had to aggressively force a change of topic. I've tried distancing myself and have tried enforcing boundaries but anytime i do she gets really nasty, even getting upset with me about my chronic illnesses because i had a severe episode on our weekend, then she repeated suggested things I had already told her wouldn't work. She got so upset with me she started giving me the silent treatment, after she dragged me along to a brunch, mall and Disney springs after I only agreed to brunch, when I expressed I didn't want to go to all of them because i wasn't feeling well, making her get upset at me. And no I couldn't leave because I was her ride, and she didn't have another ride or transportation readily available, I have severe anxiety and trauma, and hate driving on highways and main roads after dark, something I told her about. I also told her that, I had things to do at home and needed to be home by three p.m. I couldn't leave until 8 p.m. because she kept running off, the people she had guilted me into meeting up with said they would take her home and that I could leave since I was obviously tired, and starting to struggle with my chronic issue and mobility issues. These people were actually great and treated me better than Sarah did. The only reason I haven't cut her off or expressed all of my concerns and issues is because she has a history of going ballistic air people's personal information when that upset her. And that scares me because I have a lot of medical issues and have gone through some really dark times while knowing her, nothing I've told her is bad, but plenty of it is extremely personal and are not things I want shared with people I don't know. I feel stuck and have been trying to slowly remove myself but she constantly blows up my phone and socials if I don't respond, and she only ever reaches out if she wants to complain and its always one way, even if i try to make it a two way conversation. I don't know what to do, so any advice would be great.
P.S. - I apologize it this kind of rambles its a lot, and I know it jumps around a lot. If anyone needs any clarifications or any questions just ask!
submitted by TheOriginalCelestial to Advice [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 05:06 Citylight1010 Register : Lycan (By me)

"You register tomorrow, how are you feeling?"
I extended and retracted my claws nervously. It had barely been three days since we realized I was a werewolf.
"Nervous," I said. "I knew they… we existed, and were even somewhat common. But I honestly never expected myself to end up as one."
"No one ever really does," she said. "But hey, it's pretty cool, at least. Don't you think?"
"I do think it's cool, yeah. But it's still a massive change from before. I just hope I can go on living as normal. You know, like from every werewolf movie ever? I don't want to be, like, hunted down and 'studied' if you know what I mean."
"You know that doesn't happen, the science is past that, at the very least. You'll go in, you'll register, then leave and move on. Just like a doctor monitoring any other condition. You know this already, chill out."
"I'll try," I said. "I hate doctors."
She laughed at this.
"You're a funny guy. But now we need to make lunch. Go slice some tomatoes, moon-sniffer."
"Ha-ha, very funny. You could be one too, you know."
"I know." She giggled. "But for now I get to tease you about it."
"Fiiine," I drawled sarcastically. "You make eggs or something then, I'm not doing all the work."
"Alright."
————————————————————
I woke up with a start, as usual. My alarm always scared the crap out of me in the mornings. Only something was different this time. My hand was caught in the blanket. I looked down in the dim light and saw my claws had involuntarily extended and shredded half my blanket.
"Well, crap." I muttered to myself. "That was 30 bucks."
I turned off my alarm and got dressed. I was really thankful it wasn't winter and the moon wasn't still out at 7am. I wasn't sure what happened with the whole "werewolf under the full moon" thing, but I didn't want to find out. I now wish I had taken that course in school.
Breakfast went as usual, I pretty much just drank coffee and didn't eat until lunch. My appointment wasn't for two hours, so I had time to nervously extend and retract my claws for another thirty minutes. I almost stabbed my phone through, but apparently being a werewolf comes with enhanced reflexes as well.
That done, I got ready and headed out. The clinic was only a 20 minute walk away, so I had plenty of time. The door seemed to slam as I shut it, despite not putting any more force than usual.
"Darn it," I thought to myself. "That was weirdly loud."
It was a really nice spring day and I could hear birds chirping, though they seemed far closer than normal despite the lack of trees on my street. I could hear everything better in general. As well as this, everything looked far brighter than before. I tried to shake it off, it didn't really affect me. Come to think of it, all my senses seemed to be functioning much better than I was used to. As I shook my head, I realized I could smell almost everything. Although, that was something I didn't really want to think about until I had to.
Twenty minutes later, I arrived. The clinic was a rather inconspicuous building, made of the same blue-gray brick as the other buildings on the street. It also wasn't much different from most family doctors, despite being licensed to register werewolves and shifters. I shook my head ruefully. Despite being probably the coolest thing ever to happen to me, I was still nervous about it. Good old humans and our hatred of change. As my sister had teased me about yesterday, it was supposedly just like any other doctor visit. I just hoped that was really true. Not in the least because I hated needles and people.
The bell above the door gave a cheerful ching, in stark contrast to my nervous state. I was 10 minutes early as I had planned, so I sat down to wait. I took a bag of peanuts out of my back and snacked on them while I scrolled reddit. Out of nowhere, I bit my lip.
"Ow!" I said far louder than I had intended.
This earned me a few stares, but everyone else in the waiting room soon went back to what they were doing. I touched where I had bit down, and was surprised to find blood. Not just a little, but the amount you'd expect from a full-on cut. I pulled out a random napkin I had in my pack and started to dab at it. Why did it do that? I had bitten my lip before, but never this bad. Having dabbed as much blood as I could, I threw the napkin out and turned my attention to the room.
It was a typical doctor's office waiting room. There were chairs lining the wall with the door I had come in, a reception desk and hallway opposite that, and posters covering the other two walls. The wall with the door was nearly all window, with sun-faded blinds pulled up on all of them. The reception desk was built in to the left wall of the room and extended most of the way across, with a gap at the end the width of the hallway behind it. All the posters, as with any doctor's office, displayed various medical processes and information. However, my eyes were drawn to the one on werewolves. I skim-read it in my mind:
"Two kinds, pathogen, moonlight, uncontrollable, rabies…"
Wait? Rabies? What the heck was that about? But just as I was shaking my head to try and calm down and read through more thoroughly, the receptionist called my name.
"Soren Crow?" She called.
I took a deep breath, stood up, and went up to the desk. The receptionist nodded at me.
"Right this way," She gestured down the hall. "Room four, last one on the right."
"Thank you." I replied.
I walked down the hall and into the room. It was a typical doctor's office. On the left side was one of those mechanical beds with the sheet of paper on it. On the right was a gray-laminate desk with a computer that looked like it became obsolete in 2009. Above this was a shelf full of binders and a couple jars and medical objects I didn't understand. On the far wall was a yellow and red box labeled "SHARPS" in bold font.
"Oh great," I muttered to myself. "Needles, yay."
I sighed and sat down on the bed. It had already been a strange day. First I shred my blanket, then every noise is unusually loud, then I nearly impale my face by biting my lip. I hope the exam goes somewhat normally. My head snapped toward the door then. I could hear footsteps. But they sounded really far away. At this point I rolled my eyes. I wasn't an idiot, I could put two and two together. Apparently becoming a werewolf came with hearing upgrades. Hopefully doctor bro would tell me it came with composure upgrades as well.
Then he walked in. He was of average hight, with black hair and gray glasses. He wore a white outfit that looked like a lab coat.
"Good morning." He said pleasantly, then looked down at his clipboard. "Soren Crow?"
"Yep," I replied.
"Perfect." He sat down on a stool by the desk and turned to face me.
"So it says you're here for a general exam because you're a werewolf?"
"Yes."
"Well, I have good news. You're a lycanshifter, not a true werewolf. That basically means you can transform at will between your human body, a humanoid wolf, and regular wolf forms. Some people also keep their claws in human form as well. Finally, your hearing, smell, and eyesight all self-correct to 20/20. Congrats." He smirked at me. "Anyway, how do you feel? Have you had any unusual symptoms?"
"Not really, " I said. "My appetite has been bigger and I accidentally shredded my blanket last night, but that's it."
"That's normal," He said. "Just like you learned to walk when you were little, you'll learn to control your claws through practise. Would you extend and retract them once for me?"
"Sure." I said, and I did. They were almost the same color as my fingernails, but with a distinct dark gray hue.
"Good news, they look healthy." He said. "Come back if they start feeling itchy or get infected or inflamed. Otherwise, you're good to go."
"That's it?" I asked. "I'm not going to turn into a rabid monster or anything?"
He chuckled. "No, you have nothing to worry about. Lycanshifting is perfectly safe. Just don't stab yourself. I'll put this in your file, and like I said, come back in if anything I described happens. Ok?"
"Alright. Thank you. I actually feel relieved now."
"No problem, have a good day."
We both walked out of the room. He turned down another hall, and I started walking home.
"Lycanshifting, huh?" I thought to myself. This was sure to be interesting. I knew the super-senses would come in handy regularly, but I wasn't sure what I would do with other forms or claws. Maybe it'll help chop vegetables, I don't know. On the way home, the sky seemed a little bluer than normal, the birds' songs seemed clearer, and the sun a little brighter. Unfortunately, this also meant the traffic was louder and the car exhaust smelled worse. Thankfully, nothing else noteworthy happened. I unlocked the door and went in.
"Welcome home!" My sister called from the kitchen. "How'd it go?"
"Pretty great," I said as I walked in. "Turns out I'm not actually a werewolf, but a lycanshifter. You know, the one that's not a monster."
"That's awesome! But you're still a moon sniffer." She quipped.
"You just watch it, you might be yet." I retorted.
We both laughed, and got on with our day
submitted by Citylight1010 to Citylight1010 [link] [comments]