Decorative window film stained glass pattern
[STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, Kara Gamma, BFK Freehand, BFK Bright Water, Spec Gloves Kimono, Nomad Fade, M9 Doppler, Skeleton, BFK B.Steel, AWP Fade, Stiletto Fade, S.Gloves Slingshot, BFK Ultra, Kara Damas, Bayo Lore, Bayo Gamma, Flip Fade & A Lot More
2023.04.01 11:05 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, Kara Gamma, BFK Freehand, BFK Bright Water, Spec Gloves Kimono, Nomad Fade, M9 Doppler, Skeleton, BFK B.Steel, AWP Fade, Stiletto Fade, S.Gloves Slingshot, BFK Ultra, Kara Damas, Bayo Lore, Bayo Gamma, Flip Fade & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $1867
★ Butterfly Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $1098
★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel BS, B/O: $907
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $789
★ Butterfly Knife Stained FT, B/O: $695
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $888
★ Bayonet Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $727
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $608
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $521
★ Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $253
★ Bayonet Night FT, B/O: $251
★ StatTrak™ Bayonet Lore MW, B/O: $751
⎯★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1343
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $774
★ Karambit Rust Coat BS, B/O: $537
★ Karambit Boreal Forest FT, B/O: $488
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1008
★ M9 Bayonet Blue Steel FT, B/O: $534
★ M9 Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $449
⎯★ Flip Knife Fade FN, B/O: $703
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $509
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $406
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $228
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $332
⎯★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $292
★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $264
★ Falchion Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Falchion Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $133
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN, B/O: $822
★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $569
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $530
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $396
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $172
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $830
★ Gut Knife Fade FN, B/O: $204
★ Gut Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $138
★ Gut Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $104
★ Gut Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $92
★ Gut Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $82
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $93
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $165
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Bright Water FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel WW, B/O: $80
★ Shadow Daggers Rust Coat BS, B/O: $74
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade FN, B/O: $186
⎯★ Classic Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $311
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $163
⎯★ Talon Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $605
★ Talon Knife Scorched MW, B/O: $290
⎯★ Ursus Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $405
★ Ursus Knife Night Stripe MW, B/O: $162
⎯★ Paracord Knife Stained WW, B/O: $125
★ Paracord Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
★ Paracord Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $96
⎯★ Navaja Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $71
★ Navaja Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $71
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1015
★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $909
★ Bowie Knife Boreal Forest MW, B/O: $106
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $335
★ Driver Gloves King Snake BS, B/O: $270
★ Driver Gloves Lunar Weave WW, B/O: $113
★ Driver Gloves Overtake WW, B/O: $88
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $67
⎯★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $171
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $137
★ Moto Gloves Transport WW, B/O: $71
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $62
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1027
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $654
★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT, B/O: $295
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $277
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web FT, B/O: $275
⎯★ Sport Gloves Slingshot FT, B/O: $796
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $699
★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $656
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Unhinged BS, B/O: $60
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $864
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $84
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Wildfire FT, B/O: $59
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $59
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Printstream FN, B/O: $155
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $58
⎯M4A1-S Icarus Fell FN, B/O: $414
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1402
M4A4 The Emperor FN, B/O: $152
M4A4 Asiimov WW, B/O: $97
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $65
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $123
StatTrak™ USP-S Neo-Noir FN, B/O: $106
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $218
P2000 Ocean Foam FN, B/O: $139
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike MW, B/O: $81
CZ75-Auto Emerald Quartz MW, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.04.01 09:48 ThingsINeverDidSay i think i had a small mental break/existential crisis earlier
i felt really weord and "zoomed out"/vibrationy during and after this. like it wasnt really me speaking or thinking. i dont know. heres what i wrote
Crisis, .001
God. I am the god of my own universe. So is everyone else, of their own little universe. We warp and shift and leave imprints and marks and scars on each other's universes. Every interaction is a permanent brush of color in someone's stained glass window that is the glass they view existence through. How many have stepped far enough back from the glass to watch those artists in their work, painting away your own glass window? How many can step back and see the shaky hands those strokes are painted with, or especially the intent of their maker?
There is a higher god of some kind. Not an individual, no man or anything that would ever be able to be consolidated into a comprehensible imagery or explanation. The mass of consciousness. The bundle of souls. The lifeblood of the world and everything in it. Everything has a spark, an existence, a tie to it. Everything IS it, and it is more than everything. It is existence, and beyond. All encompassing, to unfathomable extent, literally impossible to conceive of extent.
We are all own gods, but even gods must bend the knee to something. We bow to ourselves and every bit of matter, every in-between space, every realm, every thought, every plane, every universe, everything that is and is not, and is that which is neither, both, and in-between. That same bundle of stars, pulsing energy, souls, sparks.
All of us gods have that spark. It may dim, it may waver, it may sputter, it may flare or pulse or shine so bright that it leaves your world looking dull and dusty when it calms. But it can never go out. No more than a dog can sprout wings on a whim.
When we die, we are reunited with the mass of sparks from whence we came. And it will be glorious. Heavenly, if I dare to compare it. There is no hell, for there is no right nor wrong. There is just existence. The concept of right and wrong, correct, incorrect, is ridiculous when it comes to morals. There is no good or bad way to interact with the world. The concept is meaningless. You are existing. There can't possibly be a bad way to exist. The terms are simply inapplicable in the sense that I speak of.
I. Me. God.
I. Me. God, sure, but who am I? I am not a god of fertility, love, war, rain, sun, moon, earth, fire, water... What is the concept that I refer to when I say "I"? Who AM I? Who is "I"? "Me"? My soul, my thoughts, my actions, my beliefs, my experiences? The blending of it all? My stained glass window?
I will have no concept of these menial things when I die. When I die, what will happen? I think that when you die you have an eternity's time in the fraction of a millisecond that your brain stops in. You will experience whatever it is you believe you will experience, because you are your own god. You have full authority over your experience of existence. But if you know this, what happens? Do you have full control over your eternity like a lucid dream? I think so. In that time that never is nor never was nor will be, for time is an odd construct, I get to play god. That is what my lingering human consciousness will comprehend. My soul shall rejoin the it of the universe and I shall be so happy, to be reunited in full, though I will never comprehend it in a meaningful way that I can express with a human mind. Or even conceptualize of a concept of a concept of.
But I will be, twice and once and never at all, and it will be bliss. True, unadulterated bliss.
Ego. I think I know it all. I don't. But, then, to know you do not know... Do I? Why shouldn't I? There are no rules. Unless there are, and that is the very thing which I am not yet aware of...
Awareness. Such a fickle thing. Most are not aware, or think they are more aware than they are. I fall into both categories.
Language modifies the brain's pathways, connections, and abilities. What would it be like to have no communication of this sort? Raw. Unrefined. Real. True. Natural. Synced. In harmony. A blessing but a curse.
submitted by ThingsINeverDidSay to venting [link] [comments]
Crisis, .001
God. I am the god of my own universe. So is everyone else, of their own little universe. We warp and shift and leave imprints and marks and scars on each other's universes. Every interaction is a permanent brush of color in someone's stained glass window that is the glass they view existence through. How many have stepped far enough back from the glass to watch those artists in their work, painting away your own glass window? How many can step back and see the shaky hands those strokes are painted with, or especially the intent of their maker?
There is a higher god of some kind. Not an individual, no man or anything that would ever be able to be consolidated into a comprehensible imagery or explanation. The mass of consciousness. The bundle of souls. The lifeblood of the world and everything in it. Everything has a spark, an existence, a tie to it. Everything IS it, and it is more than everything. It is existence, and beyond. All encompassing, to unfathomable extent, literally impossible to conceive of extent.
We are all own gods, but even gods must bend the knee to something. We bow to ourselves and every bit of matter, every in-between space, every realm, every thought, every plane, every universe, everything that is and is not, and is that which is neither, both, and in-between. That same bundle of stars, pulsing energy, souls, sparks.
All of us gods have that spark. It may dim, it may waver, it may sputter, it may flare or pulse or shine so bright that it leaves your world looking dull and dusty when it calms. But it can never go out. No more than a dog can sprout wings on a whim.
When we die, we are reunited with the mass of sparks from whence we came. And it will be glorious. Heavenly, if I dare to compare it. There is no hell, for there is no right nor wrong. There is just existence. The concept of right and wrong, correct, incorrect, is ridiculous when it comes to morals. There is no good or bad way to interact with the world. The concept is meaningless. You are existing. There can't possibly be a bad way to exist. The terms are simply inapplicable in the sense that I speak of.
I. Me. God.
I. Me. God, sure, but who am I? I am not a god of fertility, love, war, rain, sun, moon, earth, fire, water... What is the concept that I refer to when I say "I"? Who AM I? Who is "I"? "Me"? My soul, my thoughts, my actions, my beliefs, my experiences? The blending of it all? My stained glass window?
I will have no concept of these menial things when I die. When I die, what will happen? I think that when you die you have an eternity's time in the fraction of a millisecond that your brain stops in. You will experience whatever it is you believe you will experience, because you are your own god. You have full authority over your experience of existence. But if you know this, what happens? Do you have full control over your eternity like a lucid dream? I think so. In that time that never is nor never was nor will be, for time is an odd construct, I get to play god. That is what my lingering human consciousness will comprehend. My soul shall rejoin the it of the universe and I shall be so happy, to be reunited in full, though I will never comprehend it in a meaningful way that I can express with a human mind. Or even conceptualize of a concept of a concept of.
But I will be, twice and once and never at all, and it will be bliss. True, unadulterated bliss.
Ego. I think I know it all. I don't. But, then, to know you do not know... Do I? Why shouldn't I? There are no rules. Unless there are, and that is the very thing which I am not yet aware of...
Awareness. Such a fickle thing. Most are not aware, or think they are more aware than they are. I fall into both categories.
Language modifies the brain's pathways, connections, and abilities. What would it be like to have no communication of this sort? Raw. Unrefined. Real. True. Natural. Synced. In harmony. A blessing but a curse.
2023.04.01 09:20 Lem0n_Lord Displacement - Azur Lane
I decided to go through with it, and finished my first chapter. I've posted it on AO3 'n stuff, figured I'd put it here anyway. I also wanna preface the chapter by briefly saying what it's about to avoid (some) confusion.
"Displacement" is a line of self-insert fanfics I'm writing where a random person get's "Displaced" into the universe of the series it's based on. There's no lore to the teleporting, but the teleporting does happen more than once, and it happens at often crucial times to put the character into a new scenario.
Any text with italics without " " will be the thoughts of the MC, which I'll constantly just be referring to as "you". I really should start writing in 3rd person, but right now I'm stuck in a horrible loop where I keep writing in a mix.
I preface each chapter by putting lyrics from the song it's named after, which are emboldened and put in italics.
Chapter 1 - Dead On Arrival
As dawn arrives, we still survive.
Nobody knows what's goin' on, Tearin' my town limb by limb.
Where are your mom and dad..?
Was it shocking for you?
Somethin is scaring you?
Enemies will hunt you, no matter what you do!
But we'll fight for you, to defeat them all.
If not, there's no way out.
What in the hell just happened?
You'd landed on your hands, which ached immensely from the poor angle you somehow fell from. In absolute confusion, you flipped onto your back and used your elbows as supports to lean on, looking upwards.
Above you was but a regular ceiling with lights, nothing out of the ordinary. It seems you had fallen through the ground by some contrivance and into an archaic office of sorts.
There was a total lack of memory from anything that had transpired both leading up to the events that had just occurred, and even some memories predating that.
Such simple things such as your name were somehow eluding you. Questions of who you were rebounded in your head over and over like an echo-chamber filled with nothing.
As your thoughts spiraled, you had a splitting headache. A pained groan escaped your lips as you stood up in defiance. You looked around the room, trying to assess your situation the best you could.
Multiple red banners fit with black Iron Crosses decorated the walls.
An underlying sense of dread built up as you continued exploring the room in search for answers. You approached curtains behind the desk, they seemed relatively well cleaned. With a gentle tug, you pulled them back.
Lying beyond the curtains was a view you thought you'd never see.
Just where in the hell am I?
Looking down from the window, you could see huge warships docked at a port. Some people down below, the size of pinpricks, were walking along the concrete ground. More crimson banners littered the streets away from the docks.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no..." You whispered to yourself, backing away from the glass.
In an attempt to find out where you were, you flew open the desk drawers. Paper flew like confetti as you looked for answers.
A date eventually stood out to you.
"1-1941?!" You said out loud, dumbfounded.
You continued sifting through the pages in denial, finding the very same date over and over again. After a while, you were surrounded by a sea of white sheets each imprinted with evidence of the impossible.
The drawers all lay empty with nothing more to prove.
You looked towards the multiple banners in the room and silently cursed.
Where the fuck am I? In the Führer's office?
Two doors were present in the room. One opposite the desk, and another to your right.
Testing your luck, you opened the one opposite where you currently were.
It was in the middle of a clean carpeted hallway. The walls were an ivory white, while the carpet was a bleeding vibrant red. Even more banners littered the walls.
This was no time to just start wandering around the Reichstag.
Well... Did Hitler live in the Reichstag? Was this the equivalent? The Reichstag was never built so close to the sea, let alone having a view right over a German port...
A figure turned the corner from down the hall, which you quickly noticed. After silently closing the door, you quietly opened the 2nd.
It was a relatively well kept bedroom with an unidentified blonde woman sleeping on the bed. On the bed-side table was an officers cap fitted with a rising golden eagle alongside a red and white band.
A window view facing the sea was left open; letting in a cooling breeze drift into the room.
An idea struck your mind.
If I'm were going to escape this place alive, I'm gonna need some kind of disguise. Atleast, something other than a T-shirt and shorts.
You could only imagine what they'd do to you if they'd found some random person in what you thought was the Führer's quarters.
As silently as was humanly possible, you crept up to the wardrobe.
You thought "What woman was high-ranking during World War 2? ".
Perhaps the woman sleeping was Hitlers wife or something?
The closet responded to your touch with a high pitched squeak. Despite it being an inanimate object, you motioned for it to shut up with your hand. Your head spun around to see if the woman had woken up.
She did not.
With a silent thank you to god, you looked inside for some kind of uniform. What you instead found was... Womens' apparel?
You reached further in and looked deeper. There was no men's uniforms, which was quite surprising. Further scanning the wardrobe, you came across what appeared to be her undergarments.
You would've slammed the door shut, but the sound of the woman behind you snoring left a constant reminder that there was a SLIGHT element of danger.
Instead of risking it making another creaking sound, you left it open and left the room with a blush. You dove back into the marked papers and read them more thoroughly. Mentions of... Ship girls? Wisdom cubes?
No, no, no, that can't be right.
Standing back up, you struggled to formulate any kind of plan.
If you were going to survive, you'd need a weapon. Surely you could kill one with a surprise attack, then take his gun, and perhaps find a way out of here.
...
The closest thing resembling a weapon was a pen on the table.
Yep, that's fine, I'll just John Wick them...
You huffed and sat down on the more throne-like chair. It was quite comfortable, but it didn't spin like an office chair. It'd be 35 years before office chairs would be invented unfortunately.
The pen wasn't a ballpoint such as the ones you were used to; instead it was a dip pen. A half empty inkwell laid next to it. Out of boredom, you opened it. The smell of ink wafted out of the glass container.
Didn't they have fountain pens by now? Weird.
Your eyes were drawn to a map on the wall to the right of you. It depicted a slightly distorted version of the world you once called home. If you were uneducated, it wouldn't be unfeasible to identify it as the real thing. Perhaps even interchangeable should you be intoxicated enough, there were only slight discrepancies which broke the illusion.
You shook your head in disbelief. Either you were truly out of your depth or what you thought were the Nazi's were just pitifully incompetent.
At that point, it felt like you were in one of those TV pranks. You started probing the room for cameras or hidden microphones. With one glance at the open doorway, you immediate ignored it and continued the search elsewhere.
With a sigh, you surveyed the room one last time while leaning in a corner.
This couldn't be some sort of prank or something. Nobody would spend all of this money just to get a reaction from someone.
Your eyes traced the boundaries of the window.
Especially with all of those battleships and the like. God, the steel alone would cost millions...
The door leading to the bedroom slammed shut due to the wind from the open window.
You snapped your neck around to look at it, terror and trepidation coiled around your soul like a knot. Well... Now that's just great, isn't it?
The noise was so loud, you unconsciously held your ears in reaction to it.
You ran towards the window behind the desk and tried to get it open. There was no handle or any sort of way to open the window unfortunately.
Panic rushed through your body as you heard rapid footsteps approaching from the hallway on the other side of the wall. Grabbing the pen, you dashed over to get yourself in a good position to stab whoever was going to enter.
By the time I kill the first guard, I'll easily be able to deal with the girl in the other room. Shouldn't be too difficult as long as I land this blow.
Eventually, a figure opened the doors.
"Bisma-"
The pen somehow deflected off of her head, even though you used all of your strength.
"Eh? "
A dumbfounded look was imprinted onto your face, and she returned the expression.
Both of you stared at each other awkwardly, both of your minds were trying to assess the situation. She had a skirt that was a mixture of a brilliant red and foggy grey. Despite the look on her face, she had quite an imposing stature. Alongside her flat chest were golden buttons fitted to the exterior; 8 in total.
The pen tip was completely bent and disfigured, unlike the persons face you'd just attempted stabbing. There wasn't a single scratch or mark from your inept strike.
You crept around the stunned girl and into the hall, almost tripping on your own feet. As you backed up, she turned around and apprehensively pointed at you.
"You! What do you think you're do-" She was interrupted by the door to the bedroom being burst open.
"That man! Hipper! Detain him at once!" A tall half-dressed blonde ordered from the doorway.
You started backing away, you knew you had to run but it almost felt like you'd forgotten how to.
The inimical woman in front of you was poised to lunge at you, but her eyes gazed at something beyond you. Eventually you had backed up into something warm.
With a gulp, you slowly turned around.
You were face to face with, yet, another female.
Why were they all women? It's only 1941, surely they're not being pushed on all fronts?
An Iron Cross adorned her neck along with two more embroidered onto the wrist section of her clothing. Instead of blonde, her hair was a chalky white that was tied up in twin tails. Something else you noticed is that they all had thigh-highs on.
"Eugen, I order you to capture that spy!"
"Whatever you say, sis~" Eugen replied with a teasing grin.
"This is a huge misunderstanding! If you'll just let me-" You squealed shortly before being picked up by your shoulders. Her strength was extremely surprising to say the least. You attempted to maneuver yourself out of her grasp, but had no such luck.
Eugen effortlessly tossed you like a speeding missile down the hall and through a door labeled "Canteen".
"Why did you- EUGH! YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!" A irked Hipper scolded before giving chase.
"Oops~ " Eugen giggled with content, following with a gait of elegance.
The blonde put on her cap, and finished getting dressed before rushing in the opposite direction.
...
You'd just breached the doors of the cafeteria, landing on your shoulder and tumbling into the floorboards. You released a loud groan of agony as you made a clumsy uncoordinated attempt of rising to your feet.
Your mind was briefly rendered into tomato soup for a good few seconds before you regained your bearings.
How the hell did she just whizz me around like that? And how did that other girl just completely ignore my strike? What in the name of Christ is going on here..?
As you finally stood on two feet, one of your hands instinctively reached for your shoulder. It really felt like you broke something, but you knew that if you really had broken something, you'd probably be on the floor crying.
"Who is that?"
Your eyes widened as you realized you were in a room full of women draped in all kinds of modified Kriegsmarine uniforms. Some of them forewent their uniforms entirely, wearing skimpy, very revealing clothing for god knows why.
They were of all shapes and sizes. Though, putting it like that makes it sound like they're abnormal godless creatures.
It wasn't too far from the truth, some of them had what seemed to be horns. A good number of them also looked like children.
You struggled to get some words out in a very poor attempt of deception.
"I-I, uh... Für den Kaiser? " You stuttered in a horrible German accent. Everyone was silent. "No? Too early? Damn..."
A feminine voice crackled in from the P.A system, a ringing alarm repeatedly blared.
"Intruder alert! Spy in the base! Prevent him from leaving at all costs!"
Chatter erupted all over the room.
"There's a spy in the base?" Someone repeated.
Only fragments of conversations were intelligible from the mess of different voices and German. The talking slowly died down until the room was in absolute silence. Every single one of them were staring at you.
Your eyes went from face to face, they were innumerable.
You immediately turned you back on them and began your great escape.
It started with a thundering of rushing and mangled cries of "Get him!" and other variations of apprehensive phrases. Multiple lunch trays clattered to the floor. The flat blonde you'd met before burst through the doors, using her arms in an X fashion as a brace.
Hipper didn't see you slip out of her way and slink back into the hallway before continuing into a sprint.
"W-where did he go?" She sputtered in a blunder. Her breath was raggedy and frequent.
They all pointed behind her, some of them started running towards her which prompted an annoyed groan from Hipper, who began to give chase to the human.
...
A look of steely determination was imprinted onto your face as you ran with all of your might. Crimson banners, vanilla wallpaper, and the wall-lamps all whizzed by in a amalgamated blur.
You looked behind you to see how much a lead you had.
They were gaining, Hipper was still leading the charge. In a panic, you hurriedly chose a random door flying by.
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo!
You braced and charged through the wooden pair of doors. What you saw in that room was interesting to say the least.
Yet another woman was sitting on some sort of throne. The masonry itself was crumbled at the edges, armrests draped in light amethyst hair.
The woman herself was crossing her legs with her hands joined in her lap. Behind her was a large cathedral-like window showering the room with light, unveiling the darkness. Unlit wax candles ran along the walls with two golden chandeliers hanging above.
She cocked her head slightly to the right, intrigued by your form. Her presence alone sent chills up your spine. Something about her gave off an incredibly ominous vibe.
As you stood there, stunned, the girls behind you had finally caught up. But instead of entering the room and apprehending you with shouts and whatnot, they were quietly gossiping behind closed doors.
"... Think he'll come out alive?"
"August is scary!"
"Quiet, morons!" Hipper hushed them with a quick strike to their foreheads. Muffled whimpers of pain came from the other side of the wall while the figure in front of you stared you down.
There was a profuse silence that was eventually broken by the woman speaking to you.
"It seems you're this Spy. "
She spoke with an air of sophistication and superiority. More silence followed before being broken up yet again. with a sigh she stood up, albeit slowly.
"I must admit, you caught me off guard. "
You watched in a combination of wonder and horror as a mass of azure cubes passed through the floor and walls, amassing themselves into a metal dragon. Instead of wings, it had half of a deck of an aircraft carrier on each wing.
"Your bravery is worthy of admiration, although whether it is folly or valor..." The dragon took a thunderous step towards you, turrets on the deck seemed to be locked onto your head. "I shall decide."
Each of the steps towards you made you flinch.
"You... Want me... To fight... That?" You said while backing up against the door. "What in the name of Christ..? "
What kind of world was this? A world where dragons just... Exist? A world where someone can just pick you up and hurl you without any effort?
This was but another wake-up call to where you had been thrown into.
"Will you falter in the face of such trials?" She ignored your very obvious indirect plea for mercy.
Your hands wrapped around the knob of the door and turned it violently. The door did not open. In a desperate escape attempt, you rammed your shoulder into it repeatedly to no avail.
Seeing how it wasn't working, you backed up towards the dragon and prepared to ram the door down one last time with all of your might.
"Have you given up already?" The woman sneered, a hint of disappointment rang in her voice.
You ran at the door and made one poor excuse of a dropkick while closing your eyes.
...
It felt... Warm. Your body impacted the ground without ever hitting anything with your feet.
For the second time that day, you were dropped onto the floor. Hard.
You let out an exasperated gasp after opening your eyes. Sunlight hit your body from above, no longer held back by a structure.
You were now in a street, occasionally people would pass by. Some looked on with concern, but without the courage to assist. Wooden buildings lined the busy streets, the archaic stone pathway was littered with the tapping of footsteps.
It was just like when you had first arrived here. Though this time, you remembered.
With a silent thank you to whatever deity might've saved you, you stood up with a grin.
Elsewhere...
"Where did he go?!"
"I'm afraid that's not something I know."
"B-but... How?! He can't just vanish! Unless..."
Hipper scratched her chin, her right eye twitching in increasing frustration.
"He must be a submarine! He might have some... Some sort of camouflage! Yes, that must be it!" She whipped around to the crowd of startled onlookers. "Scour the base! I want no stone unturned! Every cabinet, wardrobe and desk!"
Most of the ships saluted with a coordinated "Jawohl!" before dispersing in different directions. Some merely nodded in a sultry state, upset that their lunch had been ruined.
The ones remaining infront of her were none other than Bismarck and Prinz Eugen.
"I just got my rigging on too! Damn him!" Admiral Hipper raised her shaking fist to the sky in rage.
"I'm sure you'll get him next time~" Eugen jokingly assured Hipper, slinging her arm around her sisters neck.
Already teetering on the edge of rage, she had an outburst.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT ANYWAY!" She flew Eugens arm off her shoulder. "I-if you didn't toss him like you did, we could've easily-"
"Eugen, don't go overboard on your games. What is done is done, though do expect to hear from me in the coming days."
Eugen let out a "Hmpf. " and walked away.
Bismarck approached Hipper with a serious gaze. She immediately got the message and composed herself, straightening her posture.
"I believe you were closest to him. Can you describe his face? Eye color, or anything of the sort?"
Admiral Hipper profusely nodded.
"Good."
And that ends the first chapter. As you can probably tell, I'm a novice writer, and most of you are probably twice my age. (Surprisingly, most of you seem to be above the age of 20.) I'm also very new to the fandom, and am looking to improve my writing of dialogue and vast amount of personalities (most of which are tropes), and I'm quite afraid I wrote August/Eugen wrong.
I also have a few questions for any hard-core Azur Lane fans that I'd appreciate if you could answer:
1: Is the German language just called "Ironblood"? Is Japanese called "Sakura" or something? 2: Does the game or anime happen first? Or, are they in separate timelines? I haven't seen Crosswave myself, so I don't know. I was going to follow the events of the anime, then maybe into the game, then into Slow Ahead.
3: (most important one) Are men just... Really rare? Is there a reason why all the ships are females, or why we never see any men, anywhere?
If you've somehow read all of this, thank you, I appreciate people reading my work. Cheers from Australia.
submitted by Lem0n_Lord to AzureLane [link] [comments]
"Displacement" is a line of self-insert fanfics I'm writing where a random person get's "Displaced" into the universe of the series it's based on. There's no lore to the teleporting, but the teleporting does happen more than once, and it happens at often crucial times to put the character into a new scenario.
Any text with italics without " " will be the thoughts of the MC, which I'll constantly just be referring to as "you". I really should start writing in 3rd person, but right now I'm stuck in a horrible loop where I keep writing in a mix.
I preface each chapter by putting lyrics from the song it's named after, which are emboldened and put in italics.
Chapter 1 - Dead On Arrival
As dawn arrives, we still survive.
Nobody knows what's goin' on, Tearin' my town limb by limb.
Where are your mom and dad..?
Was it shocking for you?
Somethin is scaring you?
Enemies will hunt you, no matter what you do!
But we'll fight for you, to defeat them all.
If not, there's no way out.
What in the hell just happened?
You'd landed on your hands, which ached immensely from the poor angle you somehow fell from. In absolute confusion, you flipped onto your back and used your elbows as supports to lean on, looking upwards.
Above you was but a regular ceiling with lights, nothing out of the ordinary. It seems you had fallen through the ground by some contrivance and into an archaic office of sorts.
There was a total lack of memory from anything that had transpired both leading up to the events that had just occurred, and even some memories predating that.
Such simple things such as your name were somehow eluding you. Questions of who you were rebounded in your head over and over like an echo-chamber filled with nothing.
As your thoughts spiraled, you had a splitting headache. A pained groan escaped your lips as you stood up in defiance. You looked around the room, trying to assess your situation the best you could.
Multiple red banners fit with black Iron Crosses decorated the walls.
An underlying sense of dread built up as you continued exploring the room in search for answers. You approached curtains behind the desk, they seemed relatively well cleaned. With a gentle tug, you pulled them back.
Lying beyond the curtains was a view you thought you'd never see.
Just where in the hell am I?
Looking down from the window, you could see huge warships docked at a port. Some people down below, the size of pinpricks, were walking along the concrete ground. More crimson banners littered the streets away from the docks.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no..." You whispered to yourself, backing away from the glass.
In an attempt to find out where you were, you flew open the desk drawers. Paper flew like confetti as you looked for answers.
A date eventually stood out to you.
"1-1941?!" You said out loud, dumbfounded.
You continued sifting through the pages in denial, finding the very same date over and over again. After a while, you were surrounded by a sea of white sheets each imprinted with evidence of the impossible.
The drawers all lay empty with nothing more to prove.
You looked towards the multiple banners in the room and silently cursed.
Where the fuck am I? In the Führer's office?
Two doors were present in the room. One opposite the desk, and another to your right.
Testing your luck, you opened the one opposite where you currently were.
It was in the middle of a clean carpeted hallway. The walls were an ivory white, while the carpet was a bleeding vibrant red. Even more banners littered the walls.
This was no time to just start wandering around the Reichstag.
Well... Did Hitler live in the Reichstag? Was this the equivalent? The Reichstag was never built so close to the sea, let alone having a view right over a German port...
A figure turned the corner from down the hall, which you quickly noticed. After silently closing the door, you quietly opened the 2nd.
It was a relatively well kept bedroom with an unidentified blonde woman sleeping on the bed. On the bed-side table was an officers cap fitted with a rising golden eagle alongside a red and white band.
A window view facing the sea was left open; letting in a cooling breeze drift into the room.
An idea struck your mind.
If I'm were going to escape this place alive, I'm gonna need some kind of disguise. Atleast, something other than a T-shirt and shorts.
You could only imagine what they'd do to you if they'd found some random person in what you thought was the Führer's quarters.
As silently as was humanly possible, you crept up to the wardrobe.
You thought "What woman was high-ranking during World War 2? ".
Perhaps the woman sleeping was Hitlers wife or something?
The closet responded to your touch with a high pitched squeak. Despite it being an inanimate object, you motioned for it to shut up with your hand. Your head spun around to see if the woman had woken up.
She did not.
With a silent thank you to god, you looked inside for some kind of uniform. What you instead found was... Womens' apparel?
You reached further in and looked deeper. There was no men's uniforms, which was quite surprising. Further scanning the wardrobe, you came across what appeared to be her undergarments.
You would've slammed the door shut, but the sound of the woman behind you snoring left a constant reminder that there was a SLIGHT element of danger.
Instead of risking it making another creaking sound, you left it open and left the room with a blush. You dove back into the marked papers and read them more thoroughly. Mentions of... Ship girls? Wisdom cubes?
No, no, no, that can't be right.
Standing back up, you struggled to formulate any kind of plan.
If you were going to survive, you'd need a weapon. Surely you could kill one with a surprise attack, then take his gun, and perhaps find a way out of here.
...
The closest thing resembling a weapon was a pen on the table.
Yep, that's fine, I'll just John Wick them...
You huffed and sat down on the more throne-like chair. It was quite comfortable, but it didn't spin like an office chair. It'd be 35 years before office chairs would be invented unfortunately.
The pen wasn't a ballpoint such as the ones you were used to; instead it was a dip pen. A half empty inkwell laid next to it. Out of boredom, you opened it. The smell of ink wafted out of the glass container.
Didn't they have fountain pens by now? Weird.
Your eyes were drawn to a map on the wall to the right of you. It depicted a slightly distorted version of the world you once called home. If you were uneducated, it wouldn't be unfeasible to identify it as the real thing. Perhaps even interchangeable should you be intoxicated enough, there were only slight discrepancies which broke the illusion.
You shook your head in disbelief. Either you were truly out of your depth or what you thought were the Nazi's were just pitifully incompetent.
At that point, it felt like you were in one of those TV pranks. You started probing the room for cameras or hidden microphones. With one glance at the open doorway, you immediate ignored it and continued the search elsewhere.
With a sigh, you surveyed the room one last time while leaning in a corner.
This couldn't be some sort of prank or something. Nobody would spend all of this money just to get a reaction from someone.
Your eyes traced the boundaries of the window.
Especially with all of those battleships and the like. God, the steel alone would cost millions...
The door leading to the bedroom slammed shut due to the wind from the open window.
You snapped your neck around to look at it, terror and trepidation coiled around your soul like a knot. Well... Now that's just great, isn't it?
The noise was so loud, you unconsciously held your ears in reaction to it.
You ran towards the window behind the desk and tried to get it open. There was no handle or any sort of way to open the window unfortunately.
Panic rushed through your body as you heard rapid footsteps approaching from the hallway on the other side of the wall. Grabbing the pen, you dashed over to get yourself in a good position to stab whoever was going to enter.
By the time I kill the first guard, I'll easily be able to deal with the girl in the other room. Shouldn't be too difficult as long as I land this blow.
Eventually, a figure opened the doors.
"Bisma-"
The pen somehow deflected off of her head, even though you used all of your strength.
"Eh? "
A dumbfounded look was imprinted onto your face, and she returned the expression.
Both of you stared at each other awkwardly, both of your minds were trying to assess the situation. She had a skirt that was a mixture of a brilliant red and foggy grey. Despite the look on her face, she had quite an imposing stature. Alongside her flat chest were golden buttons fitted to the exterior; 8 in total.
The pen tip was completely bent and disfigured, unlike the persons face you'd just attempted stabbing. There wasn't a single scratch or mark from your inept strike.
You crept around the stunned girl and into the hall, almost tripping on your own feet. As you backed up, she turned around and apprehensively pointed at you.
"You! What do you think you're do-" She was interrupted by the door to the bedroom being burst open.
"That man! Hipper! Detain him at once!" A tall half-dressed blonde ordered from the doorway.
You started backing away, you knew you had to run but it almost felt like you'd forgotten how to.
The inimical woman in front of you was poised to lunge at you, but her eyes gazed at something beyond you. Eventually you had backed up into something warm.
With a gulp, you slowly turned around.
You were face to face with, yet, another female.
Why were they all women? It's only 1941, surely they're not being pushed on all fronts?
An Iron Cross adorned her neck along with two more embroidered onto the wrist section of her clothing. Instead of blonde, her hair was a chalky white that was tied up in twin tails. Something else you noticed is that they all had thigh-highs on.
"Eugen, I order you to capture that spy!"
"Whatever you say, sis~" Eugen replied with a teasing grin.
"This is a huge misunderstanding! If you'll just let me-" You squealed shortly before being picked up by your shoulders. Her strength was extremely surprising to say the least. You attempted to maneuver yourself out of her grasp, but had no such luck.
Eugen effortlessly tossed you like a speeding missile down the hall and through a door labeled "Canteen".
"Why did you- EUGH! YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!" A irked Hipper scolded before giving chase.
"Oops~ " Eugen giggled with content, following with a gait of elegance.
The blonde put on her cap, and finished getting dressed before rushing in the opposite direction.
...
You'd just breached the doors of the cafeteria, landing on your shoulder and tumbling into the floorboards. You released a loud groan of agony as you made a clumsy uncoordinated attempt of rising to your feet.
Your mind was briefly rendered into tomato soup for a good few seconds before you regained your bearings.
How the hell did she just whizz me around like that? And how did that other girl just completely ignore my strike? What in the name of Christ is going on here..?
As you finally stood on two feet, one of your hands instinctively reached for your shoulder. It really felt like you broke something, but you knew that if you really had broken something, you'd probably be on the floor crying.
"Who is that?"
Your eyes widened as you realized you were in a room full of women draped in all kinds of modified Kriegsmarine uniforms. Some of them forewent their uniforms entirely, wearing skimpy, very revealing clothing for god knows why.
They were of all shapes and sizes. Though, putting it like that makes it sound like they're abnormal godless creatures.
It wasn't too far from the truth, some of them had what seemed to be horns. A good number of them also looked like children.
You struggled to get some words out in a very poor attempt of deception.
"I-I, uh... Für den Kaiser? " You stuttered in a horrible German accent. Everyone was silent. "No? Too early? Damn..."
A feminine voice crackled in from the P.A system, a ringing alarm repeatedly blared.
"Intruder alert! Spy in the base! Prevent him from leaving at all costs!"
Chatter erupted all over the room.
"There's a spy in the base?" Someone repeated.
Only fragments of conversations were intelligible from the mess of different voices and German. The talking slowly died down until the room was in absolute silence. Every single one of them were staring at you.
Your eyes went from face to face, they were innumerable.
You immediately turned you back on them and began your great escape.
It started with a thundering of rushing and mangled cries of "Get him!" and other variations of apprehensive phrases. Multiple lunch trays clattered to the floor. The flat blonde you'd met before burst through the doors, using her arms in an X fashion as a brace.
Hipper didn't see you slip out of her way and slink back into the hallway before continuing into a sprint.
"W-where did he go?" She sputtered in a blunder. Her breath was raggedy and frequent.
They all pointed behind her, some of them started running towards her which prompted an annoyed groan from Hipper, who began to give chase to the human.
...
A look of steely determination was imprinted onto your face as you ran with all of your might. Crimson banners, vanilla wallpaper, and the wall-lamps all whizzed by in a amalgamated blur.
You looked behind you to see how much a lead you had.
They were gaining, Hipper was still leading the charge. In a panic, you hurriedly chose a random door flying by.
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo!
You braced and charged through the wooden pair of doors. What you saw in that room was interesting to say the least.
Yet another woman was sitting on some sort of throne. The masonry itself was crumbled at the edges, armrests draped in light amethyst hair.
The woman herself was crossing her legs with her hands joined in her lap. Behind her was a large cathedral-like window showering the room with light, unveiling the darkness. Unlit wax candles ran along the walls with two golden chandeliers hanging above.
She cocked her head slightly to the right, intrigued by your form. Her presence alone sent chills up your spine. Something about her gave off an incredibly ominous vibe.
As you stood there, stunned, the girls behind you had finally caught up. But instead of entering the room and apprehending you with shouts and whatnot, they were quietly gossiping behind closed doors.
"... Think he'll come out alive?"
"August is scary!"
"Quiet, morons!" Hipper hushed them with a quick strike to their foreheads. Muffled whimpers of pain came from the other side of the wall while the figure in front of you stared you down.
There was a profuse silence that was eventually broken by the woman speaking to you.
"It seems you're this Spy. "
She spoke with an air of sophistication and superiority. More silence followed before being broken up yet again. with a sigh she stood up, albeit slowly.
"I must admit, you caught me off guard. "
You watched in a combination of wonder and horror as a mass of azure cubes passed through the floor and walls, amassing themselves into a metal dragon. Instead of wings, it had half of a deck of an aircraft carrier on each wing.
"Your bravery is worthy of admiration, although whether it is folly or valor..." The dragon took a thunderous step towards you, turrets on the deck seemed to be locked onto your head. "I shall decide."
Each of the steps towards you made you flinch.
"You... Want me... To fight... That?" You said while backing up against the door. "What in the name of Christ..? "
What kind of world was this? A world where dragons just... Exist? A world where someone can just pick you up and hurl you without any effort?
This was but another wake-up call to where you had been thrown into.
"Will you falter in the face of such trials?" She ignored your very obvious indirect plea for mercy.
Your hands wrapped around the knob of the door and turned it violently. The door did not open. In a desperate escape attempt, you rammed your shoulder into it repeatedly to no avail.
Seeing how it wasn't working, you backed up towards the dragon and prepared to ram the door down one last time with all of your might.
"Have you given up already?" The woman sneered, a hint of disappointment rang in her voice.
You ran at the door and made one poor excuse of a dropkick while closing your eyes.
...
It felt... Warm. Your body impacted the ground without ever hitting anything with your feet.
For the second time that day, you were dropped onto the floor. Hard.
You let out an exasperated gasp after opening your eyes. Sunlight hit your body from above, no longer held back by a structure.
You were now in a street, occasionally people would pass by. Some looked on with concern, but without the courage to assist. Wooden buildings lined the busy streets, the archaic stone pathway was littered with the tapping of footsteps.
It was just like when you had first arrived here. Though this time, you remembered.
With a silent thank you to whatever deity might've saved you, you stood up with a grin.
Elsewhere...
"Where did he go?!"
"I'm afraid that's not something I know."
"B-but... How?! He can't just vanish! Unless..."
Hipper scratched her chin, her right eye twitching in increasing frustration.
"He must be a submarine! He might have some... Some sort of camouflage! Yes, that must be it!" She whipped around to the crowd of startled onlookers. "Scour the base! I want no stone unturned! Every cabinet, wardrobe and desk!"
Most of the ships saluted with a coordinated "Jawohl!" before dispersing in different directions. Some merely nodded in a sultry state, upset that their lunch had been ruined.
The ones remaining infront of her were none other than Bismarck and Prinz Eugen.
"I just got my rigging on too! Damn him!" Admiral Hipper raised her shaking fist to the sky in rage.
"I'm sure you'll get him next time~" Eugen jokingly assured Hipper, slinging her arm around her sisters neck.
Already teetering on the edge of rage, she had an outburst.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT ANYWAY!" She flew Eugens arm off her shoulder. "I-if you didn't toss him like you did, we could've easily-"
"Eugen, don't go overboard on your games. What is done is done, though do expect to hear from me in the coming days."
Eugen let out a "Hmpf. " and walked away.
Bismarck approached Hipper with a serious gaze. She immediately got the message and composed herself, straightening her posture.
"I believe you were closest to him. Can you describe his face? Eye color, or anything of the sort?"
Admiral Hipper profusely nodded.
"Good."
And that ends the first chapter. As you can probably tell, I'm a novice writer, and most of you are probably twice my age. (Surprisingly, most of you seem to be above the age of 20.) I'm also very new to the fandom, and am looking to improve my writing of dialogue and vast amount of personalities (most of which are tropes), and I'm quite afraid I wrote August/Eugen wrong.
I also have a few questions for any hard-core Azur Lane fans that I'd appreciate if you could answer:
1: Is the German language just called "Ironblood"? Is Japanese called "Sakura" or something? 2: Does the game or anime happen first? Or, are they in separate timelines? I haven't seen Crosswave myself, so I don't know. I was going to follow the events of the anime, then maybe into the game, then into Slow Ahead.
3: (most important one) Are men just... Really rare? Is there a reason why all the ships are females, or why we never see any men, anywhere?
If you've somehow read all of this, thank you, I appreciate people reading my work. Cheers from Australia.
2023.04.01 09:19 Diyinteriorplanning 10 Simple Small Living Room Ideas for Minimalist Style
 | submitted by Diyinteriorplanning to u/Diyinteriorplanning [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/51dieuip48ra1.jpg?width=940&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=41c0aa19ff6ac88ae657903cf85f008a28f5e225 A living room is often a home hub and is personable to you and your needs. It needs to be uber-stylish, functional and comfortable. Also known as Baithak kaksh or Divanakhana, the living area is a place where we all congregate, laugh, and play. The minimalist style is a design trend that has been gaining popularity in recent years. This style is characterized by its simplicity, functionality, and minimal use of decor. When it comes to small living rooms, minimalist style is a great way to make the most out of the space you have. In this article, we will discuss 10 simple small living room ideas for minimalist styleDeclutterThe first step in achieving a minimalist living room is to declutter. Remove any unnecessary items such as knick-knacks, magazines, or other clutter that may be taking up space. This will create a clean and open space that is essential for minimalist design.Select a neutral color paletteWhen selecting a color palette for your living room, choose neutral colors such as white, beige, or gray. These colors are perfect for minimalist design as they create a calm and peaceful environment. You can also add in pops of color with accessories or artwork.Incorporate natural materialsNatural materials such as wood or stone can add warmth and texture to a minimalist living room. You can incorporate these materials through furniture or decor such as a wooden coffee table or stone vase.Invest in multifunctional furnitureIn a small living room, it is important to make the most out of the space you have. Investing in multifunctional furniture such as a sofa bed or storage ottoman can help you maximize your space.Use simple window treatmentsWhen it comes to window treatments, keep it simple with plain curtains or blinds. Avoid heavy drapes or complicated patterns, as they can be distracting in a minimalist living room.Maximize lightingLighting is crucial in a minimalist living room as it can help create the illusion of a larger space. Maximize lighting by using natural light, adding mirrors to reflect light, and incorporating task lighting such as a floor lamp or pendant light.Keep accessories to a minimumIn minimalist design, less is more. Keep accessories to a minimum and choose ones that are functional and add to the overall design of the room. For example, a statement plant or a simple vase can add a touch of elegance to a minimalist living room.Create a focal pointA focal point can help anchor a minimalist living room and give it a sense of purpose. Create a focal point by adding a statement piece of furniture, a piece of artwork, or a unique light fixture.Incorporate geometric shapesGeometric shapes such as circles, squares, and triangles can add interest and depth to a minimalist living room. You can incorporate these shapes through furniture, decor, or artwork.Keep it balancedBalance is key in minimalist design. Keep the furniture and decor in your living room balanced by placing them in a symmetrical arrangement. This will create a sense of harmony and order in the room.In conclusion, a minimalist living room design can be achieved with a few simple design principles. Decluttering, selecting a neutral color palette, incorporating natural materials, investing in multifunctional furniture, using simple window treatments, maximizing lighting, keeping accessories to a minimum, creating a focal point, incorporating geometric shapes, and keeping it balanced are all important aspects of minimalist design. By following these simple tips, you can create a living room that is both functional and stylish, even in a small space. Also Read: What is the best way to interior design a bedroom? Thanks For Reading! |
2023.04.01 09:08 BlueFishcake Sexy Space Babes - The Video Game
The gas giant loomed large in the viewport, ballooning as the ship coasted toward it, the colorful blue hues of its swirling bands reflecting the glow of the system’s star.
Darren could make out the bright, scarred surface of an ice moon drifting lazily past, framed against the rivers of flowing hydrogen and helium. Silhouetted against the Jupiter-mass object was their destination – Halfpoint Station.
Having come from Earth, which was still a backwater when compared to many of the Imperium’s more developed worlds, the sheer size and grandeur of the structure took his breath away.
It was hard to gauge its true scale in the vacuum of space where there was no atmospheric haze, and there were no landmarks for reference, the unfiltered light creating harsh shadows. As they drew nearer, however, he was able to pick out some of the massive fuel tankers that swarmed its ports like clouds of gnats.
Those vessels put anything created by Humanity to shame – their purpose being to dip into the upper atmosphere of the gas giant, harvesting its resources to fuel the ships that made their berth here.
Calling it enormous was an understatement. It must have been nine miles tall, the main hull of the station forming a long, relatively thin vertical shaft. Surrounding that shaft were half a dozen rotating rings, each one connected to the central column by spokes, the pinpoints of innumerable windows glinting as they slowly turned.
At its apex was a dome of immense proportions, sitting proudly atop the structure, the crystalline material that made up its transparent hull glittering in the starlight. Inside, he could make out glimpses of regal skyscrapers and patches of parkland – an entire city encapsulated in a habitat that had a breathtaking view of the planet.
Darren pursed his lips as he looked down at the device on his wrist, the tiny display showing the familiar text of an article he must have read at least a dozen times by this point.
Halfpoint Station was situated on the outskirts of the Imperium’s sphere of influence, a region of space known only as the Periphery. This put it soundly outside of Purp jurisdiction, but the place still saw a lot of traffic, as the station was right in the middle of a relatively well-traveled shipping route between the three big powers.
While it had started its life as little more than a place to fuel up and get resupplied, being located outside any of the major spheres of influence had its benefits, and the station had garnered a bit of a reputation for its more permissive policies. Now, it was said to be populated by hired guns, smugglers, gamblers, and anyone else who might appreciate discretion.
The Human frowned as he looked out the window once more and tried to reconcile the gleaming edifice before him with the dark reputation the article in his hands presented.
He didn’t have long to dwell on it before the pilot’s crackly voice came through a hidden intercom in the cabin, informing the passengers that they were commencing docking procedures.
The woman spoke in accented Shil. What that accent was, Darren had no clue, but he knew it wasn’t the same one spoken by his professors – linguistic or mechanical.
He glanced around at his fellow travelers, seeing a few species that he didn’t recognize, along with the more familiar Shil’vati. The aliens were easily identifiable by the purple hue of their skin, their sharp tusks, and their seven-foot height.
Several of them returned his gaze, some curious, some covetous.
Males were rare in the Imperium.
Hell, males were rare, period.
By the standards of most races out in the galaxy, Humanity were the strange ones for having an equal number of men and women. Even six years into the occupation, most were still struggling to adapt to the new paradigm brought on by that reality.
Darren was no exception.
Still, he managed to ignore the stares, turning his attention to the smart display on his wrist, bringing up his itinerary. He was headed to Hab-Ring Five, and the only information that he’d been given beyond that were some coordinates to who-knew-where.
He sighed, wishing – not for the first time – that he might have a fellow first timer to converse with.
Unfortunately, that was a pipe dream.
The lack of other Humans on his ship wasn’t surprising. The Imperium had only recently relaxed enough to begin authorizing travel visas allowing Humans to leave Earth, and his kind were still a rarity on the Galactic stage.
As to why he was out here out in the ass end of space?
He’d been offered a job.
He was an engineer by trade, at least according to his degree, and he specialized in the combination of alien and Human technology. It might seem like an oddly specific skillset, but it was one that was in high demand, as just about every industry on Earth was trying to take advantage of the opportunities provided by the Imperium’s literal space-age technology.
It was complicated work, but he was quite good at it, if he said so himself – and his professors seemed to agree. His gift had catapulted him through university and had apparently landed him a very lucrative offer to take up a position on Halfpoint.
How they’d heard of him, he wasn’t too sure. Nor did he truthfully know exactly what the job entailed. Apparently, he was to be briefed on-location.
Regardless, off-world work was a rare opportunity for any Human, let alone one fresh out of school, and visiting an alien space station was a lot more interesting than backpacking around Europe for a year.
Whatever happened, it was going to be an adventure.
The ship matched velocity with one of the rotating rings, the structure at least half a mile tall in its own right, covered in tiny windows that made it look like a whole city block had been condensed down into the shape of a donut.
Now that he was a little closer, Darren could see that the station was actually far from pristine. Its hull was pocked with haphazard repairs, the newer sections shining brighter than their older counterparts, its armored panels pitted with little craters from space debris and micro-meteorite impacts.
The ship lined up with a docking port, and an umbilical walkway began to extrude from the ring, reaching out towards them. It looked like the jib of a crane, covered over with a flexible material that bore a suspicious resemblance to a grey tarp.
Surely it wasn’t actually a tarp? No, it had to be some kind of alien supertech – too advanced for him to recognize at a glance.
Right?
His thoughts did little to reassure him as the umbilical connected to the shuttle’s airlock with a tangible thud.
Shaking his head, he retrieved his travel bag, then made his way down the aisle to join the queue of passengers who were waiting to disembark. More of them crammed in behind him, and he tried to ignore their uncomfortable proximity.
He hadn’t actually spent a lot of time around aliens during his schooling. One of his professors had been a Shil, but she had been professional to a fault and had always kept a healthy distance from her students.
Of course, she had still managed to be rather intimidating despite that, her head seeming to scrape the ceiling every time she stepped into the classroom. However, Darren was rapidly discovering that being surrounded by women who stood head and shoulders above him was a different experience altogether.
It was nothing to get worked up over, though. He just needed to-
The Shil standing behind him pressed close – uncomfortably close – Darren swearing that there was room enough in the aisle for her to keep her distance. Suddenly, he felt a sharp twinge in his rear.
Had she just...pinched him? No, it had to have been a mistake.
He turned to glance over his shoulder, looking up at the towering Purp. “Sorry, Ma’am, I must have bumped into you.”
Her sly smile faded as she furrowed her brow in confusion. Before she had time to formulate a reply, the intercom above the exit beeped.
“Oh, looks like we’re moving again!” Darren chimed as he began to follow the queue. “Sorry!”
He followed the procession of towering women into the passenger ship’s airlock. Both of the pressurized doors were open, and before him stretched the umbilical. The worryingly thin material that protected them from the deadly vacuum of space was wrapped taut around a metal frame, and the walkway beneath his feet was made up of a simple grate.
After a short walk, they emerged into a cavernous dock area, so large that it was more like standing in some kind of indoor stadium than anything that could be compared to a space station. There were stacks of shipping containers and unidentifiable machinery everywhere he looked.
It was a challenge not to stop and examine the equipment, each new sight piquing his interest, each strange device begging to be investigated. As he followed the other passengers to the far end of the room – his head on a swivel – he almost bumped into one of the containers. To his surprise, it was floating a foot off the ground, suspended on an anti-gravity cushion.
It was funny – no matter how many times he saw it, it never stopped being surreal to see something just…float.
As he stooped to look beneath it, an irritated dockworker leaned out from behind it to yell at whoever was in her way. She stopped when she saw him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She was a Rakiri, if Darren remembered correctly. She resembled a towering werewolf, a pair of cat-like eyes peering out from beneath her black fur, her facial features strangely leonine. She was clad in dirty, yellow coveralls that hung loosely from her broad shoulders, exposing the ragged tank top that she wore beneath it. Tufts of her dark coat poked out around the faded garment, giving her a surprisingly fluffy appearance.
“You lost, boy?” she asked as she shooed him out of her path. “Stay behind the yellow warning markings unless you want to get that cute butt smushed,” she added with a nod toward the deck. She continued to push her heavy container, moving it effortlessly on its gravity cushion.
More dock workers were assembling to stare at him, perhaps having never seen a Human before. Or perhaps it was because he was male? It was hard to tell. Either way, a small crowd of yellow-clad women saw him off, a couple of them hooting at him and waving. Not sure if this was some kind of alien greeting, he shyly waved back, eliciting laughter from them after a moment of surprise.
One started to make her way over to him before a menacing growl from her superior made her freeze in place sheepishly. Darren took that as his cue to move on – he didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble by being in the way.
He arrived at a security gate, and after being asked to show his visa, he was subjected to a very thorough – and in his opinion unnecessary – pat-down. Once he was cleared, he emerged into the station proper. He stepped out of the way of the women behind him, then set his travel bag down on the metal deck, taking in the alien sights and sounds for a moment.
Far from being a sterile, clinical environment, he found himself in a bustling bazaar worthy of any city back on Earth. It scarcely felt like he was standing inside a station at all, what passed for the ceiling so high above his head that he could barely make out the crisscrossing support beams and maintenance catwalks.
It was styled like a cramped street, too small for cars, almost like the city center of some old European town had been reimagined in an industrial style. Civilian quarters that resembled apartment blocks rose up towards the ceiling, connecting to it in some places, likely leading up to higher levels of the station.
In every nook and cranny – anywhere there was room – the denizens of the hab-ring had set up little stalls where they were hawking their wares to the tourists who had just boarded. Colorful awnings fluttered in the artificial breeze from the air recyclers, and insulated cables that had been patched from the station’s systems trailed along walls and floors, powering streetside food stands and colorful neon signs.
Speaking of the denizens, they came in all shapes and sizes. Darren had never seen so many varieties of alien in one place before. He could make out a few Shil and Rakiri, but most were unknown to him, the varied hues of their skin and clothes creating a bustling sea of color.
He checked the device on his wrist again, pulling up the coordinates that his new employer had forwarded to him. This was indeed Hab-Ring Five, and he’d been given what passed for an address in this strange environment. Hefting his bag once more, he made his way into the throng, having to dodge and weave between the towering aliens. Many of them barely seemed to register his presence, probably due to his comparatively small stature, though some seemed to stop and stare in confusion.
Well, I suppose Humans are pretty new on the galactic scene, he thought to himself.
The scents of strange, alien food assailed him as he navigated the cramped streets, a few of the criers singling him out. They had sharp instincts, he’d give them that. It seemed the locals could smell a tourist at thirty paces.
Maybe it was all the staring he was doing?
Eventually, he arrived at his destination, glancing up from his display to see a dingy bar. It was open to the street, built into an overhang at the base of one of the many buildings, little more than a long counter with a few stools. Above it was a blinking neon sign in a script that he couldn’t read. As he made his way inside and struggled up onto one of the tall stools, the small handful of patrons who were sitting off to his left paused their conversation to examine him.
They were Nighkru, their goat-like horns and the bruise-purple hue of their skin giving them away. Their silver eyes were striking, almost seeming to glow in the dim light of the bar, as reflective as those of a cat. Their clothing was all tight leather and straps, their skin strategically exposed in places to show off their stunning bioluminescent tattoos, the swirling patterns trailing down slender limbs and across toned midriffs.
He kept his gaze aimed forward, knowing that their kind didn’t think much of the Imperium to which he now belonged.
…Then again, that was true for pretty much every race that wasn’t a part of the massive interstellar empire. Say what you would about the Purps, but they knew how to make an impression.
The bartender walked over to him, leaning on the counter as she looked him up and down skeptically. It was another Rakiri like the dockworkers, her feline nose twitching as she took in his scent.
“You lost, or do you want something to drink?” she asked.
“No thank you, I’m waiting for someone,” he replied sheepishly as he lowered his eyes to his device again.
He was right on time, but as he looked around, there was no sign of his contact. He was supposed to meet them here, right?
The Rakiri shrugged her furry shoulders, then left him to his own devices, moving over to the small group of Nighkru.
Perhaps one of them was his contact?
He certainly hoped not. While he didn’t have anything against a person enjoying themselves with a good drink after hours, it wasn’t a good way to make a positive first impression on a prospective employee.
Fortunately for him, the surprise on one of the trio’s grey skinned faces when she happened to blearily peer in his direction dashed that possibility. Just a trio of young women out for a drink.
Unfortunately for him, after a few hastily whispered words to her friends, the group made their way over to him.
“Don’t see many males round these parts,” one of them said, her faux leather getup creaking as she planted her hands on the bar to his left. Another leaned on the counter to his right, the third posting up behind him.
“A Human, too,” the woman to his right added with a sly chuckle. “Now, what’s a Human doing all alone out on the Periphery?”
“I didn’t think the Purps were letting their pets off the leash.” the one behind him snickered.
“I don’t know,” the first said with an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe he snuck out in search of a real woman? I think we’ve all heard how Humans can be.”
That set the three of them laughing.
All the while, Darren wasn’t sure where to look, turning his head left and right as he struggled to pick a Nighkru. He settled on the woman to his left, having to lift his head to meet her gaze, those reflective eyes shining like a pair of silver coins.
“I...uh...was actually supposed to be meeting someone here.” he stammered, a little of his anxiety bleeding through.
The Nighkru gave him a warm smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes, leaning a little closer. He tried to pull away reflexively but found another Nighkru waiting for him, something rather soft pressing against his back.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else in here but me and my friends,” one of them said as she tutted dramatically. “Maybe they stood you up?”
“Poor form, that,” the one behind him whispered into his ear. He lurched in his seat, surprised by her proximity. “Leaving a pretty young thing like you hanging.”
The first one nodded, as if that was a piece of sagely wisdom. “I know – how about my friends and I give you a personal tour of the station to make up for it?” she asked, reaching out to brush a piece of errant fluff from his collar. “We’ll even carry your luggage for you – we’re nice like that.”
She signaled to one of her compatriots with a curt nod, who then plucked his travel bag off the deck.
“Oh, that’s really not-”
He tried to stand, but he was cut off as two of the women placed their hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down into his seat. Their touch was gentle, but firm, letting him know that he wasn't going anywhere.
Darren looked to the Rakiri bartender for help, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the turn of events, but she was staying out of it. She was feigning disinterest, cleaning a glass with a rag that didn’t look clean enough for the job.
It was clear that he wouldn’t be getting any help from her.
Was this really going to be his first experience on the station – kidnapped by a gang of alien grifters?
Just as he was getting ready to – likely ineffectually – start swinging like his life depended on it, he heard a voice ring out in a language he didn’t recognize.
The Nighkru turned their heads as one, and he followed their gaze, seeing another of their kind step in from the street. Her skin had the same twilight hue, her silvery hair pulled back into a long ponytail that trailed behind her as she strode towards them. She wore a jet-black body suit that left little to the imagination, so tight that it might have been sewn onto her, the garment open at the front to expose a chiseled midriff and the beginnings of her cleavage. Her eyes were mesmerizing, his gaze drawn to the glowing tattoos that served to accentuate them.
Oddly, unlike the trio surrounding him, she had no horns.
The stranger walked with purpose, her heels clicking on the deck, her hair swishing behind her as she came to a stop to stare down the three other women. They were already backing off, the Nighkru who had taken his bag setting it back down gingerly beside his seat. Did they know this person? They seemed so wary of her.
“Maybe we’ll see you around,” one of them whispered, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment before she followed her friends out into the street.
Once they were finally out of sight, Darren breathed a sigh of relief and turned to thank the newcomer. Before he could utter so much as a word, she beat him to the punch.
“You shouldn’t wander around Halfpoint alone,” she said, skipping the preamble. Her voice had a melodic tone, one that was almost musical to Darren’s ears. She planted her hands on her hips, scrutinizing him with a skeptical expression. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
“I’m just...waiting for someone,” he replied. “Thank you, by the way. I’m-”
“Do you have a weapon on you?” she asked, cutting him off. “A handgun under that jacket? Defense spray? A pocket knife?”
“What? No,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “Why would I have a gun?”
Even with a few inches of titanium-alloy plating between everyone aboard and a messy death by explosive decompression, using a firearm on the station seemed risky.
She snorted derisively, almost as though she couldn’t believe his reply.
“For your sake, I hope that whoever you’re waiting for is smarter than you are,” she said with a roll of her silver eyes. “This isn’t Earth, boy. There are no Shil Marines around to babysit you. Next time you want to play tourist, go somewhere closer to home.”
With a flick of her long hair, she turned about, vanishing into the crowd once more to leave him sitting at the bar in confusion.
Darren felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see an Edixi wearing grease-stained overalls standing behind him. The tool belt that hung loosely about her hips let him know that she was a mechanic before she’d even had time to open her mouth.
Her kind were evolved for an aquatic environment, and although they were fully amphibious, they retained many of their ancient features. Their bodies were smooth and streamlined, with lean, lightly-muscled frames that made them look like Olympic swimmers. Her eyes were a striking ocean-green, and her azure skin was patterned with faded tiger stripes, darkening as it neared her extremities.
“You’re the new engineer, right?” she chirped excitedly.
“Darren Fogle, pleased to meet you,” he confirmed as he extended a hand. She took it, shaking it eagerly, and he noted that her fingers were webbed.
He was a little surprised by how smooth her skin was. Given the sharklike appearance of the Edixi – and her vocation – he’d expected it to be rough and scaly. Maybe cold and slimy, too. By contrast, it was warm and soft, her small scales smooth like a snake’s rather than sharp like those of a fish.
Odd.
“Oh, it is. It very much is. The boss told me to fetch you,” she said before turning back towards the street. “Don’t get lost, you hear? There are some rough types around these parts.”
Yes, she could say that again. He stooped to pick up his bag, then hurried after her, trying not to lose sight of her in the crowd. He also belatedly realized that she hadn’t told him her own name.
Was that an Edixi thing or was she just in a hurry?
The mechanic led him through the streets, which seemed to be arranged in a kind of grid pattern, always flanked by the towering hab-blocks. It was as challenging as ever to navigate when so many of the station’s inhabitants stood a head taller than him. It made him feel like a bug that was trying to avoid being stepped on.
He could only assume he’d get used to it. His guide seemed to have no problem getting around, and she was a few inches shorter than him.
Their destination was some kind of service elevator – a large platform that seemed designed to carry heavy cargo up from the docks, wide enough that a couple of trucks could have parked on it side by side. There were still a few cargo containers stacked off to one side that hadn’t been unloaded yet.
He watched as the woman hit a touch panel beside the double doors, and they began to slide shut, the platform lurching as Darren felt it start to rise. There was no grinding of machinery, no vibrations, only a sensation of getting heavier. It was obviously gravity-manipulation tech. It wasn’t too surprising – the Shil seemed to use it for just about everything, so it wasn’t too strange that the rest of the universe did as well.
Convergent technological development, he could almost imagine his Shil instructor saying as they started to descend. Good tech is good tech.
The hab-ring’s many levels flashed by one by one, until finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. Darren followed the happily humming mechanic out into a garage, his eyes lighting up as he took in his new surroundings.
Were those… mecha?
The bay’s walls were lined with bulky harnesses that were obviously designed to hold the machines in place, a few of the berths already occupied by half-disassembled vehicles.
They were!
“Real life mecha,” he mumbled.
As a mechanic, he wasn’t ignorant of the genre. After all, what kind of engineer didn’t hold a soft spot for giant stompy robots? Of course, as an engineer, he also held an inherent disdain for anyone that actually thought said machines were even remotely practical outside of the realm of fiction.
The Square Cube Law was a harsh mistress.
The long and short of it was that if you doubled a machine's height while keeping it the same shape, you ended up with four times the muscle power moving eight times the mass. As a result, instead of having the same relative agility as the original, the double-sized machine actually had only half.
That was why ants could lift so much relative to their weight. If you scaled one up, you’d end up with a much less impressive power to weight ration.
And, the problem only got worse the bigger you went. Giant robots would be slow, cumbersome, and they would inevitably suffer from exploding ankles if they tried to move too fast. They’d also sink in just about any terrain that was even slightly porous.
All in all, mecha were a cool concept with absolutely zero real world applications.
Which was why he was so stunned to see some in real life. Sure, the Shil military liked to use exos, but they were really just power armor by any other name with thrusters attached. Besides, the only reason those things could skip around like they did was because they had anti-grav generators…
His thoughts trailed off as an idea occurred to him. He jogged over to the nearest machine, peering up at the twenty-foot humanoid monstrosity. Its legs had been detached, leaving only a bulky torso covered in half-stripped sensory equipment, lenses and scanners visible where their protective covers had been removed. The cockpit was open, revealing the pilot’s seat, along with the surrounding neural interface cables that hung loose like the entrails of some mechanical beast. Its weapon attachments were empty, but it was nonetheless an awe-inspiring sight.
Sure enough, there were two oversized humps on the back. One was clearly for the thing’s fusion engine – and the other must have held the anti-grav generator.
“Darren?” the mechanic asked, having only just realized that he wasn’t behind her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Y-yeah,” he said, jogging for a few paces to catch up. “That’s a mecha!”
The blue-hued alien nodded slowly. “Yes?”
“A mecha,” he reiterated.
Which prompted another slow nod. “You’ve never seen a gladiator mech before?”
“No.”
“Didn’t they tell you what job you’d be doing?” the mechanic asked, cocking her head in a rather adorable manner.
“No?” This time it was his turn to cock his head.
Several emotions seemed to fly across the alien’s face. He saw surprise, confusion, and dismay before she finally settled on irritation.
“Typical,” she grunted. “Just… follow me.”
AN: https://youtu.be/a3Xp1WhRQ9Q
submitted by BlueFishcake to HFY [link] [comments]
Darren could make out the bright, scarred surface of an ice moon drifting lazily past, framed against the rivers of flowing hydrogen and helium. Silhouetted against the Jupiter-mass object was their destination – Halfpoint Station.
Having come from Earth, which was still a backwater when compared to many of the Imperium’s more developed worlds, the sheer size and grandeur of the structure took his breath away.
It was hard to gauge its true scale in the vacuum of space where there was no atmospheric haze, and there were no landmarks for reference, the unfiltered light creating harsh shadows. As they drew nearer, however, he was able to pick out some of the massive fuel tankers that swarmed its ports like clouds of gnats.
Those vessels put anything created by Humanity to shame – their purpose being to dip into the upper atmosphere of the gas giant, harvesting its resources to fuel the ships that made their berth here.
Calling it enormous was an understatement. It must have been nine miles tall, the main hull of the station forming a long, relatively thin vertical shaft. Surrounding that shaft were half a dozen rotating rings, each one connected to the central column by spokes, the pinpoints of innumerable windows glinting as they slowly turned.
At its apex was a dome of immense proportions, sitting proudly atop the structure, the crystalline material that made up its transparent hull glittering in the starlight. Inside, he could make out glimpses of regal skyscrapers and patches of parkland – an entire city encapsulated in a habitat that had a breathtaking view of the planet.
Darren pursed his lips as he looked down at the device on his wrist, the tiny display showing the familiar text of an article he must have read at least a dozen times by this point.
Halfpoint Station was situated on the outskirts of the Imperium’s sphere of influence, a region of space known only as the Periphery. This put it soundly outside of Purp jurisdiction, but the place still saw a lot of traffic, as the station was right in the middle of a relatively well-traveled shipping route between the three big powers.
While it had started its life as little more than a place to fuel up and get resupplied, being located outside any of the major spheres of influence had its benefits, and the station had garnered a bit of a reputation for its more permissive policies. Now, it was said to be populated by hired guns, smugglers, gamblers, and anyone else who might appreciate discretion.
The Human frowned as he looked out the window once more and tried to reconcile the gleaming edifice before him with the dark reputation the article in his hands presented.
He didn’t have long to dwell on it before the pilot’s crackly voice came through a hidden intercom in the cabin, informing the passengers that they were commencing docking procedures.
The woman spoke in accented Shil. What that accent was, Darren had no clue, but he knew it wasn’t the same one spoken by his professors – linguistic or mechanical.
He glanced around at his fellow travelers, seeing a few species that he didn’t recognize, along with the more familiar Shil’vati. The aliens were easily identifiable by the purple hue of their skin, their sharp tusks, and their seven-foot height.
Several of them returned his gaze, some curious, some covetous.
Males were rare in the Imperium.
Hell, males were rare, period.
By the standards of most races out in the galaxy, Humanity were the strange ones for having an equal number of men and women. Even six years into the occupation, most were still struggling to adapt to the new paradigm brought on by that reality.
Darren was no exception.
Still, he managed to ignore the stares, turning his attention to the smart display on his wrist, bringing up his itinerary. He was headed to Hab-Ring Five, and the only information that he’d been given beyond that were some coordinates to who-knew-where.
He sighed, wishing – not for the first time – that he might have a fellow first timer to converse with.
Unfortunately, that was a pipe dream.
The lack of other Humans on his ship wasn’t surprising. The Imperium had only recently relaxed enough to begin authorizing travel visas allowing Humans to leave Earth, and his kind were still a rarity on the Galactic stage.
As to why he was out here out in the ass end of space?
He’d been offered a job.
He was an engineer by trade, at least according to his degree, and he specialized in the combination of alien and Human technology. It might seem like an oddly specific skillset, but it was one that was in high demand, as just about every industry on Earth was trying to take advantage of the opportunities provided by the Imperium’s literal space-age technology.
It was complicated work, but he was quite good at it, if he said so himself – and his professors seemed to agree. His gift had catapulted him through university and had apparently landed him a very lucrative offer to take up a position on Halfpoint.
How they’d heard of him, he wasn’t too sure. Nor did he truthfully know exactly what the job entailed. Apparently, he was to be briefed on-location.
Regardless, off-world work was a rare opportunity for any Human, let alone one fresh out of school, and visiting an alien space station was a lot more interesting than backpacking around Europe for a year.
Whatever happened, it was going to be an adventure.
The ship matched velocity with one of the rotating rings, the structure at least half a mile tall in its own right, covered in tiny windows that made it look like a whole city block had been condensed down into the shape of a donut.
Now that he was a little closer, Darren could see that the station was actually far from pristine. Its hull was pocked with haphazard repairs, the newer sections shining brighter than their older counterparts, its armored panels pitted with little craters from space debris and micro-meteorite impacts.
The ship lined up with a docking port, and an umbilical walkway began to extrude from the ring, reaching out towards them. It looked like the jib of a crane, covered over with a flexible material that bore a suspicious resemblance to a grey tarp.
Surely it wasn’t actually a tarp? No, it had to be some kind of alien supertech – too advanced for him to recognize at a glance.
Right?
His thoughts did little to reassure him as the umbilical connected to the shuttle’s airlock with a tangible thud.
Shaking his head, he retrieved his travel bag, then made his way down the aisle to join the queue of passengers who were waiting to disembark. More of them crammed in behind him, and he tried to ignore their uncomfortable proximity.
He hadn’t actually spent a lot of time around aliens during his schooling. One of his professors had been a Shil, but she had been professional to a fault and had always kept a healthy distance from her students.
Of course, she had still managed to be rather intimidating despite that, her head seeming to scrape the ceiling every time she stepped into the classroom. However, Darren was rapidly discovering that being surrounded by women who stood head and shoulders above him was a different experience altogether.
It was nothing to get worked up over, though. He just needed to-
The Shil standing behind him pressed close – uncomfortably close – Darren swearing that there was room enough in the aisle for her to keep her distance. Suddenly, he felt a sharp twinge in his rear.
Had she just...pinched him? No, it had to have been a mistake.
He turned to glance over his shoulder, looking up at the towering Purp. “Sorry, Ma’am, I must have bumped into you.”
Her sly smile faded as she furrowed her brow in confusion. Before she had time to formulate a reply, the intercom above the exit beeped.
“Oh, looks like we’re moving again!” Darren chimed as he began to follow the queue. “Sorry!”
He followed the procession of towering women into the passenger ship’s airlock. Both of the pressurized doors were open, and before him stretched the umbilical. The worryingly thin material that protected them from the deadly vacuum of space was wrapped taut around a metal frame, and the walkway beneath his feet was made up of a simple grate.
After a short walk, they emerged into a cavernous dock area, so large that it was more like standing in some kind of indoor stadium than anything that could be compared to a space station. There were stacks of shipping containers and unidentifiable machinery everywhere he looked.
It was a challenge not to stop and examine the equipment, each new sight piquing his interest, each strange device begging to be investigated. As he followed the other passengers to the far end of the room – his head on a swivel – he almost bumped into one of the containers. To his surprise, it was floating a foot off the ground, suspended on an anti-gravity cushion.
It was funny – no matter how many times he saw it, it never stopped being surreal to see something just…float.
As he stooped to look beneath it, an irritated dockworker leaned out from behind it to yell at whoever was in her way. She stopped when she saw him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She was a Rakiri, if Darren remembered correctly. She resembled a towering werewolf, a pair of cat-like eyes peering out from beneath her black fur, her facial features strangely leonine. She was clad in dirty, yellow coveralls that hung loosely from her broad shoulders, exposing the ragged tank top that she wore beneath it. Tufts of her dark coat poked out around the faded garment, giving her a surprisingly fluffy appearance.
“You lost, boy?” she asked as she shooed him out of her path. “Stay behind the yellow warning markings unless you want to get that cute butt smushed,” she added with a nod toward the deck. She continued to push her heavy container, moving it effortlessly on its gravity cushion.
More dock workers were assembling to stare at him, perhaps having never seen a Human before. Or perhaps it was because he was male? It was hard to tell. Either way, a small crowd of yellow-clad women saw him off, a couple of them hooting at him and waving. Not sure if this was some kind of alien greeting, he shyly waved back, eliciting laughter from them after a moment of surprise.
One started to make her way over to him before a menacing growl from her superior made her freeze in place sheepishly. Darren took that as his cue to move on – he didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble by being in the way.
He arrived at a security gate, and after being asked to show his visa, he was subjected to a very thorough – and in his opinion unnecessary – pat-down. Once he was cleared, he emerged into the station proper. He stepped out of the way of the women behind him, then set his travel bag down on the metal deck, taking in the alien sights and sounds for a moment.
Far from being a sterile, clinical environment, he found himself in a bustling bazaar worthy of any city back on Earth. It scarcely felt like he was standing inside a station at all, what passed for the ceiling so high above his head that he could barely make out the crisscrossing support beams and maintenance catwalks.
It was styled like a cramped street, too small for cars, almost like the city center of some old European town had been reimagined in an industrial style. Civilian quarters that resembled apartment blocks rose up towards the ceiling, connecting to it in some places, likely leading up to higher levels of the station.
In every nook and cranny – anywhere there was room – the denizens of the hab-ring had set up little stalls where they were hawking their wares to the tourists who had just boarded. Colorful awnings fluttered in the artificial breeze from the air recyclers, and insulated cables that had been patched from the station’s systems trailed along walls and floors, powering streetside food stands and colorful neon signs.
Speaking of the denizens, they came in all shapes and sizes. Darren had never seen so many varieties of alien in one place before. He could make out a few Shil and Rakiri, but most were unknown to him, the varied hues of their skin and clothes creating a bustling sea of color.
He checked the device on his wrist again, pulling up the coordinates that his new employer had forwarded to him. This was indeed Hab-Ring Five, and he’d been given what passed for an address in this strange environment. Hefting his bag once more, he made his way into the throng, having to dodge and weave between the towering aliens. Many of them barely seemed to register his presence, probably due to his comparatively small stature, though some seemed to stop and stare in confusion.
Well, I suppose Humans are pretty new on the galactic scene, he thought to himself.
The scents of strange, alien food assailed him as he navigated the cramped streets, a few of the criers singling him out. They had sharp instincts, he’d give them that. It seemed the locals could smell a tourist at thirty paces.
Maybe it was all the staring he was doing?
Eventually, he arrived at his destination, glancing up from his display to see a dingy bar. It was open to the street, built into an overhang at the base of one of the many buildings, little more than a long counter with a few stools. Above it was a blinking neon sign in a script that he couldn’t read. As he made his way inside and struggled up onto one of the tall stools, the small handful of patrons who were sitting off to his left paused their conversation to examine him.
They were Nighkru, their goat-like horns and the bruise-purple hue of their skin giving them away. Their silver eyes were striking, almost seeming to glow in the dim light of the bar, as reflective as those of a cat. Their clothing was all tight leather and straps, their skin strategically exposed in places to show off their stunning bioluminescent tattoos, the swirling patterns trailing down slender limbs and across toned midriffs.
He kept his gaze aimed forward, knowing that their kind didn’t think much of the Imperium to which he now belonged.
…Then again, that was true for pretty much every race that wasn’t a part of the massive interstellar empire. Say what you would about the Purps, but they knew how to make an impression.
The bartender walked over to him, leaning on the counter as she looked him up and down skeptically. It was another Rakiri like the dockworkers, her feline nose twitching as she took in his scent.
“You lost, or do you want something to drink?” she asked.
“No thank you, I’m waiting for someone,” he replied sheepishly as he lowered his eyes to his device again.
He was right on time, but as he looked around, there was no sign of his contact. He was supposed to meet them here, right?
The Rakiri shrugged her furry shoulders, then left him to his own devices, moving over to the small group of Nighkru.
Perhaps one of them was his contact?
He certainly hoped not. While he didn’t have anything against a person enjoying themselves with a good drink after hours, it wasn’t a good way to make a positive first impression on a prospective employee.
Fortunately for him, the surprise on one of the trio’s grey skinned faces when she happened to blearily peer in his direction dashed that possibility. Just a trio of young women out for a drink.
Unfortunately for him, after a few hastily whispered words to her friends, the group made their way over to him.
“Don’t see many males round these parts,” one of them said, her faux leather getup creaking as she planted her hands on the bar to his left. Another leaned on the counter to his right, the third posting up behind him.
“A Human, too,” the woman to his right added with a sly chuckle. “Now, what’s a Human doing all alone out on the Periphery?”
“I didn’t think the Purps were letting their pets off the leash.” the one behind him snickered.
“I don’t know,” the first said with an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe he snuck out in search of a real woman? I think we’ve all heard how Humans can be.”
That set the three of them laughing.
All the while, Darren wasn’t sure where to look, turning his head left and right as he struggled to pick a Nighkru. He settled on the woman to his left, having to lift his head to meet her gaze, those reflective eyes shining like a pair of silver coins.
“I...uh...was actually supposed to be meeting someone here.” he stammered, a little of his anxiety bleeding through.
The Nighkru gave him a warm smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes, leaning a little closer. He tried to pull away reflexively but found another Nighkru waiting for him, something rather soft pressing against his back.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else in here but me and my friends,” one of them said as she tutted dramatically. “Maybe they stood you up?”
“Poor form, that,” the one behind him whispered into his ear. He lurched in his seat, surprised by her proximity. “Leaving a pretty young thing like you hanging.”
The first one nodded, as if that was a piece of sagely wisdom. “I know – how about my friends and I give you a personal tour of the station to make up for it?” she asked, reaching out to brush a piece of errant fluff from his collar. “We’ll even carry your luggage for you – we’re nice like that.”
She signaled to one of her compatriots with a curt nod, who then plucked his travel bag off the deck.
“Oh, that’s really not-”
He tried to stand, but he was cut off as two of the women placed their hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down into his seat. Their touch was gentle, but firm, letting him know that he wasn't going anywhere.
Darren looked to the Rakiri bartender for help, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the turn of events, but she was staying out of it. She was feigning disinterest, cleaning a glass with a rag that didn’t look clean enough for the job.
It was clear that he wouldn’t be getting any help from her.
Was this really going to be his first experience on the station – kidnapped by a gang of alien grifters?
Just as he was getting ready to – likely ineffectually – start swinging like his life depended on it, he heard a voice ring out in a language he didn’t recognize.
The Nighkru turned their heads as one, and he followed their gaze, seeing another of their kind step in from the street. Her skin had the same twilight hue, her silvery hair pulled back into a long ponytail that trailed behind her as she strode towards them. She wore a jet-black body suit that left little to the imagination, so tight that it might have been sewn onto her, the garment open at the front to expose a chiseled midriff and the beginnings of her cleavage. Her eyes were mesmerizing, his gaze drawn to the glowing tattoos that served to accentuate them.
Oddly, unlike the trio surrounding him, she had no horns.
The stranger walked with purpose, her heels clicking on the deck, her hair swishing behind her as she came to a stop to stare down the three other women. They were already backing off, the Nighkru who had taken his bag setting it back down gingerly beside his seat. Did they know this person? They seemed so wary of her.
“Maybe we’ll see you around,” one of them whispered, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment before she followed her friends out into the street.
Once they were finally out of sight, Darren breathed a sigh of relief and turned to thank the newcomer. Before he could utter so much as a word, she beat him to the punch.
“You shouldn’t wander around Halfpoint alone,” she said, skipping the preamble. Her voice had a melodic tone, one that was almost musical to Darren’s ears. She planted her hands on her hips, scrutinizing him with a skeptical expression. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
“I’m just...waiting for someone,” he replied. “Thank you, by the way. I’m-”
“Do you have a weapon on you?” she asked, cutting him off. “A handgun under that jacket? Defense spray? A pocket knife?”
“What? No,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “Why would I have a gun?”
Even with a few inches of titanium-alloy plating between everyone aboard and a messy death by explosive decompression, using a firearm on the station seemed risky.
She snorted derisively, almost as though she couldn’t believe his reply.
“For your sake, I hope that whoever you’re waiting for is smarter than you are,” she said with a roll of her silver eyes. “This isn’t Earth, boy. There are no Shil Marines around to babysit you. Next time you want to play tourist, go somewhere closer to home.”
With a flick of her long hair, she turned about, vanishing into the crowd once more to leave him sitting at the bar in confusion.
Darren felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see an Edixi wearing grease-stained overalls standing behind him. The tool belt that hung loosely about her hips let him know that she was a mechanic before she’d even had time to open her mouth.
Her kind were evolved for an aquatic environment, and although they were fully amphibious, they retained many of their ancient features. Their bodies were smooth and streamlined, with lean, lightly-muscled frames that made them look like Olympic swimmers. Her eyes were a striking ocean-green, and her azure skin was patterned with faded tiger stripes, darkening as it neared her extremities.
“You’re the new engineer, right?” she chirped excitedly.
“Darren Fogle, pleased to meet you,” he confirmed as he extended a hand. She took it, shaking it eagerly, and he noted that her fingers were webbed.
He was a little surprised by how smooth her skin was. Given the sharklike appearance of the Edixi – and her vocation – he’d expected it to be rough and scaly. Maybe cold and slimy, too. By contrast, it was warm and soft, her small scales smooth like a snake’s rather than sharp like those of a fish.
Odd.
“Oh, it is. It very much is. The boss told me to fetch you,” she said before turning back towards the street. “Don’t get lost, you hear? There are some rough types around these parts.”
Yes, she could say that again. He stooped to pick up his bag, then hurried after her, trying not to lose sight of her in the crowd. He also belatedly realized that she hadn’t told him her own name.
Was that an Edixi thing or was she just in a hurry?
The mechanic led him through the streets, which seemed to be arranged in a kind of grid pattern, always flanked by the towering hab-blocks. It was as challenging as ever to navigate when so many of the station’s inhabitants stood a head taller than him. It made him feel like a bug that was trying to avoid being stepped on.
He could only assume he’d get used to it. His guide seemed to have no problem getting around, and she was a few inches shorter than him.
Their destination was some kind of service elevator – a large platform that seemed designed to carry heavy cargo up from the docks, wide enough that a couple of trucks could have parked on it side by side. There were still a few cargo containers stacked off to one side that hadn’t been unloaded yet.
He watched as the woman hit a touch panel beside the double doors, and they began to slide shut, the platform lurching as Darren felt it start to rise. There was no grinding of machinery, no vibrations, only a sensation of getting heavier. It was obviously gravity-manipulation tech. It wasn’t too surprising – the Shil seemed to use it for just about everything, so it wasn’t too strange that the rest of the universe did as well.
Convergent technological development, he could almost imagine his Shil instructor saying as they started to descend. Good tech is good tech.
The hab-ring’s many levels flashed by one by one, until finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. Darren followed the happily humming mechanic out into a garage, his eyes lighting up as he took in his new surroundings.
Were those… mecha?
The bay’s walls were lined with bulky harnesses that were obviously designed to hold the machines in place, a few of the berths already occupied by half-disassembled vehicles.
They were!
“Real life mecha,” he mumbled.
As a mechanic, he wasn’t ignorant of the genre. After all, what kind of engineer didn’t hold a soft spot for giant stompy robots? Of course, as an engineer, he also held an inherent disdain for anyone that actually thought said machines were even remotely practical outside of the realm of fiction.
The Square Cube Law was a harsh mistress.
The long and short of it was that if you doubled a machine's height while keeping it the same shape, you ended up with four times the muscle power moving eight times the mass. As a result, instead of having the same relative agility as the original, the double-sized machine actually had only half.
That was why ants could lift so much relative to their weight. If you scaled one up, you’d end up with a much less impressive power to weight ration.
And, the problem only got worse the bigger you went. Giant robots would be slow, cumbersome, and they would inevitably suffer from exploding ankles if they tried to move too fast. They’d also sink in just about any terrain that was even slightly porous.
All in all, mecha were a cool concept with absolutely zero real world applications.
Which was why he was so stunned to see some in real life. Sure, the Shil military liked to use exos, but they were really just power armor by any other name with thrusters attached. Besides, the only reason those things could skip around like they did was because they had anti-grav generators…
His thoughts trailed off as an idea occurred to him. He jogged over to the nearest machine, peering up at the twenty-foot humanoid monstrosity. Its legs had been detached, leaving only a bulky torso covered in half-stripped sensory equipment, lenses and scanners visible where their protective covers had been removed. The cockpit was open, revealing the pilot’s seat, along with the surrounding neural interface cables that hung loose like the entrails of some mechanical beast. Its weapon attachments were empty, but it was nonetheless an awe-inspiring sight.
Sure enough, there were two oversized humps on the back. One was clearly for the thing’s fusion engine – and the other must have held the anti-grav generator.
“Darren?” the mechanic asked, having only just realized that he wasn’t behind her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Y-yeah,” he said, jogging for a few paces to catch up. “That’s a mecha!”
The blue-hued alien nodded slowly. “Yes?”
“A mecha,” he reiterated.
Which prompted another slow nod. “You’ve never seen a gladiator mech before?”
“No.”
“Didn’t they tell you what job you’d be doing?” the mechanic asked, cocking her head in a rather adorable manner.
“No?” This time it was his turn to cock his head.
Several emotions seemed to fly across the alien’s face. He saw surprise, confusion, and dismay before she finally settled on irritation.
“Typical,” she grunted. “Just… follow me.”
AN: https://youtu.be/a3Xp1WhRQ9Q
2023.04.01 08:13 psdesigner-98 What are some effective ways to incorporate branding into corporate office interior design?
When it comes to creating a cohesive brand experience, your office interior design can play a big role. Here are some ways to incorporate branding into your office interior design:
submitted by psdesigner-98 to u/psdesigner-98 [link] [comments]
- Use your brand colors: One of the easiest ways to incorporate your branding into your office interior design is by using your brand colors throughout the space. This can include using colored accents on walls, furniture, and decor.
- Display your logo: Your logo is the most recognizable symbol of your brand, so make sure it's prominently displayed in your office. You can use it on signage, wall art, and even on custom furniture pieces.
- Create a branded feature wall: A feature wall can be a great way to create a focal point in your office and incorporate your branding at the same time. Consider using your brand colors and logo to create a unique design that showcases your brand
- Use branded signage: Custom signage is a great way to communicate your brand message and values to both employees and visitors. You can use signage to display your mission statement, core values, and even your company history.
- Incorporate branded decor: From custom wall art to branded coffee mugs, incorporating branded decor throughout your office can help reinforce your brand identity and create a cohesive look and feel.
- Use branded materials: Whether it's custom carpeting or branded window film, using branded materials throughout your office interior design can help tie everything together and create a cohesive look.
2023.04.01 08:01 Claycorp Monthly Mega Q&A - [April 2023]
Welcome once again to the monthly mega Q&A! You can find all previous Q&A posts here!
Look for faster replies or easier sharing methods to get help? Join our Discord!
Posting guidelines!
submitted by Claycorp to StainedGlass [link] [comments]
Look for faster replies or easier sharing methods to get help? Join our Discord!
Posting guidelines!
- If you have a question that hasn't been asked yet as a top level comment, don't reply to another comment to ask it! Reply to the post instead!
- Make sure to include as much information in the top level comment as possible.
- Anything and everything glass is fine to ask, if you want help with patterns or other physical things make sure to upload them to something like https://imgur.com/ and then link them in the reply as you can't attach images to a post reply.
- No question is stupid, from Basement Workshop Dreamer to Expert, we are all here to share and learn.
- While opinion based questions like "best way to hold a soldering iron" are fine, please keep in mind that these really have no real true answer. They can however provide you a wide variety of tips to try out on your own!
- My solder is wrong!
- Post a picture of the solder using the image info from the posting guidelines and someone can help you solve whatever issue it is.
- I want to get started with glass! What do I need?
- It's best to take a class first to see if you really like the craft as glass has a rather high starting cost. If you insist on starting on your own or just don't have classes here's a small write-up on getting started.
- Do I need a temperature controlled iron?
- As much as I want to just say YES.... No, you don't, BUT buying one will greatly improve your ability to work with it. It's well worth the extra money, it's best to just do so from the start.
- Do I need a Grinder?
- Technically no, but to do foil (AKA Tiffany style) glass work it's practically required. "Grinder stones" (AKA Carborundum stones) are just a waste of time and effort. They are only really good for removing the sharp edge off the glass. Similar to the iron information above, spend the money, save yourself.
2023.04.01 06:58 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, Kara Gamma, BFK Freehand, BFK Bright Water, Spec Gloves Kimono, Nomad Fade, M9 Doppler, Skeleton, BFK B.Steel, AWP Fade, Stiletto Fade, S.Gloves Slingshot, BFK Ultra, Kara Damas, Bayo Lore, Bayo Gamma, Flip Fade & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $1867
★ Butterfly Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $1098
★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel BS, B/O: $907
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $789
★ Butterfly Knife Stained FT, B/O: $695
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $888
★ Bayonet Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $727
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $608
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $521
★ Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $253
★ Bayonet Night FT, B/O: $251
★ StatTrak™ Bayonet Lore MW, B/O: $751
⎯★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1343
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $774
★ Karambit Rust Coat BS, B/O: $537
★ Karambit Boreal Forest FT, B/O: $488
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1008
★ M9 Bayonet Blue Steel FT, B/O: $534
★ M9 Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $449
⎯★ Flip Knife Fade FN, B/O: $703
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $509
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $406
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $228
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $332
⎯★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $292
★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $264
★ Falchion Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Falchion Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $133
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN, B/O: $822
★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $569
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $530
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $396
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $172
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $830
★ Gut Knife Fade FN, B/O: $204
★ Gut Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $138
★ Gut Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $104
★ Gut Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $92
★ Gut Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $82
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $93
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $165
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Bright Water FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel WW, B/O: $80
★ Shadow Daggers Rust Coat BS, B/O: $74
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade FN, B/O: $186
⎯★ Classic Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $311
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $163
⎯★ Talon Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $605
★ Talon Knife Scorched MW, B/O: $290
⎯★ Ursus Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $405
★ Ursus Knife Night Stripe MW, B/O: $162
⎯★ Paracord Knife Stained WW, B/O: $125
★ Paracord Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
★ Paracord Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $96
⎯★ Navaja Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $71
★ Navaja Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $71
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1015
★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $909
★ Bowie Knife Boreal Forest MW, B/O: $106
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $335
★ Driver Gloves King Snake BS, B/O: $270
★ Driver Gloves Lunar Weave WW, B/O: $113
★ Driver Gloves Overtake WW, B/O: $88
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $67
⎯★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $171
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $137
★ Moto Gloves Transport WW, B/O: $71
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $62
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1027
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $654
★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT, B/O: $295
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $277
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web FT, B/O: $275
⎯★ Sport Gloves Slingshot FT, B/O: $796
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $699
★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $656
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Unhinged BS, B/O: $60
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $864
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $84
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Wildfire FT, B/O: $59
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $59
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Printstream FN, B/O: $155
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $58
⎯M4A1-S Icarus Fell FN, B/O: $414
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1402
M4A4 The Emperor FN, B/O: $152
M4A4 Asiimov WW, B/O: $97
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $65
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $123
StatTrak™ USP-S Neo-Noir FN, B/O: $106
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $218
P2000 Ocean Foam FN, B/O: $139
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike MW, B/O: $81
CZ75-Auto Emerald Quartz MW, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.04.01 06:12 ma-doodles random confession….don’t cancel me…..but i don’t like most of the build items from growing together 😬
 | especially this door….the stained glass window is cute tho submitted by ma-doodles to Sims4 [link] [comments] |
2023.04.01 04:30 Big-Apricot-2651 WIOR Crystal Suncatcher, 6 Pcs Rainbow Maker Sun Catchers with Crystals Suncatcher Crystals Hanging Prisms Butterfly Suncatchers Kit Hanging Decor Glass Pendants Gift for Windows Car Home Garden
submitted by Big-Apricot-2651 to deals_tower [link] [comments]
2023.04.01 04:27 endersgame69 Our Wandering Time C4
They say you never know what to expect when you’re in a new place. Meeting dogpeople, catpeople, racoonpeople in lab coats and suits were all unexpected things. Finding myself plus one pair of boobs was another. But you know something?
In a way, those are all pretty small. Thanks to my genre savviness, the idea of magic and interworld travel wasn’t too shocking. I mean, I’m not saying I expected it or anything. But if you’re at least familiar with the concept, then it’s not hard to deal with.
But what really shocked me was my first step outside. I touched the panel and watched the segments of the door rise up, then stepped outside. Overhead I heard a wild scream and nigh jumped out of my skin. All of my tails bristled and my head snapped straight up. A wyvern with scales painted in a bright yellow pattern. I have to assume that since I was able to read the word ‘Airferry’ and I hadn’t had an issue with the letters or numbers from before, that the transition process gave me the necessary access to communication in this world.
But it sure didn’t give me the means to cope with the shock! The wyvern was ridden by a little yellow skinned norm wearing leather clothing and a pair of goggles secured to a leather cap on his head and strapped under his chin. From the wyvern’s body hung what might best be described as a long rowboat, but beneath the boat…or maybe barge? Was affixed a set of thick springs. It swayed a little, and the air picked up and carried their scarves and hair to trail behind them. But they too wore goggles on their faces to compensate for the speed of the air.
Far above I saw an airship. Literally. A god damn ship. Right down to the keel and rudder, secured by what I hope were metal cables that were secured to a net which bulged as it was pressed by a massive balloon longer than the ship itself.
The street was fairly ordinary, simple cobblestone, but I did not expect to see a pegasus and an eight legged sleipnir hitched outside of a round domed building. In the street, elves and humans mingled freely with each other, seemingly not even noticing their differences. In the stories I knew, hostility was the norm, but this place seemed rather cosmopolitan about everything.
A dwarf cobbler in what I can only describe as ‘old timey’ heavy boots and overalls made of canvas and wearing goggles with multiple lenses that were raised out of position, was looking up at a wolfman in a suit with a puffy snow white kerchief beneath his jaw bristled and growled, enduring the thunderous dwarven shout, “I don’t care what yew offerah me! Ah cannae finish when yew wawnt! Greatness takes time yah damn furry fool!”
People holding swords and wearing bits and pieces of armor were as common as scales on a fish, their shouting and noise wasn’t the only thing. A woman with long high elven ears was leaning out of the upper floor of a shop and hawking wares, “Fresh batch’a potions! Heal’n or skin peel’n, if you’ve got the gold, our potions will hold!”
‘At least jingles and slogans are the same in every world.’ I thought while my eyes bugged out of my head. The buildings were not the usual blocky boring brick squares I was used to. The buildings were of a spiral shape with rail lines that wove and curved around them left and right, and on the rails were glowing ‘miniature trains’. No. Trains is the wrong word. They were more like roller coaster cars, simple open cars in which people were riding to get from one place to another.
Bridges that crossed from one floor of a building to another were not metal, but rather they were vines that grew down from pointy green roofs, and they did not raise, they unrolled from one another and lowered or rose out of the way of the little chugging cars before binding together again, including little green armrests for safety or comfort. Strangely, there was no smoke from the engine car, and even stranger, it was pushing rather than pulling.
The buildings themselves were arranged in various designs from spiral shapes with winding staircases and doors every dozen paces or so going up, to ‘stacks’ of irregular blocks where each cube had a bridge between itself and its neighbor, with zigzag pattern steps going up from one floor to the next.
All those on the ground jostled together, though they made a clear path for those on horseback, or flowed seamlessly out of the way of landing air ferries, and I never saw any indication that the wyverns landed close to people. With their ferocious looking claws and oversized mouths with sharp teeth, I expected it could eat a child whole and a grown child… a grown up, in two or three bites.
‘Thank you internet, for you have blessed me with weebness that has translated into genre savviness, that I may live and not die of goddamn shock in the face of my long dreamt of transition to a new world full of adventure.’ I uttered a weebs prayer that I recalled from an anime group, and it felt good.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the air. It wasn’t as crisp as I hoped it might be. There was a definite odor of smoke, but it was more like burning wood than foul coal, and it was touched with the scent of pastries and fresh baked goods.
Sweets are a bit of a weakness of mine, so I scrapped my first plan to go join the adventurer’s guild and placed my hand on my slate, then I said, “Show me the way to a bakery.” I watched as a streetmap faded into view like a person stepping out of a thick fog, gradually becoming clear.
I was staring down at the map indicator, which was really nothing more than building shapes and a road, nothing intricate, when I decided to try an experiment. I was represented by a little green dot, but there was no color elsewhere. Just little black lines. “Increase realism by one hundred percent.” I instructed it, and the top down view of the city grew exponentially more complicated. I could see the rooftops and the many people passing by, at least the tops of their heads. I still had a black line pulsing on the screen as my guide, but… “Damn. If things worked this well back home then people could just never look up from their devices.” I mumbled and said, “Remove people.”
For a moment I panicked, ‘What if that killed everybody?!’ My head snapped up to look at the street. Everybody was alive. I gave a heavy sigh of relief and looked down, the realistic street and rooftops were there, but the ‘people’ and their mounts, thankfully, were gone.
You know, if I had to pick the seminal moment of this whole… whatever this is, it wouldn’t be showing up when and where I did. It wouldn’t be getting my slate or leaving the doctor behind. It wouldn’t even be stepping out the door of the building.
It would be this. The world was ‘real’ now, you know? I was about to actually move among the general population, all the dangers and experiences I wanted, were starting with ‘this’ one step more than any other.
It might seem strange to think of my life in genre specific terms, like a video game or an anime, manga, or light novel series. And I admit, it probably wasn’t my best idea. What made me realize it wasn’t the wisest thing was my epic trip to the bakery which, according to the map, was one block away.
What danger did I face?
What plot hook caught my eye?
Was it a mugging by a stranger?
Did I see a pair of pretty girls being mugged in an alley in need of some sexy rescuing?
Did a stranger grab me and whisper in a hushed and raspy voice, “I have been told by the gods that you would come, follow me, they’re looking for you…”
Or perhaps a military or bandit raid on the city that gave me a chance to be a heroine?
Hell no.
Nothing freaking happened.
Nobody stared at me with wonder and awe, I wasn’t totally unique, I saw two other kitsunes in just that short distance. I just tried not to bump into too many people, though I seemed to be the only one in the crowd like that. Pedestrians bumped shoulders a lot, without so much as an apology.
I quickly realized that it was so impossible not to, that there was no reason to apologize for doing it.
So I got over that fairly quickly, but I was mildly annoyed of the unfortunate reminder that I’d actually have to put in the work to have an adventure. There was no call to it for me, not that I really saw. ‘Summoned as a Janitor’ was the worst title I could possibly think of, and if I ever wrote this down, I’d be damned if I’d give my life story that title.
Anyway, the bakery… I really didn’t need directions for it after a little while as the sweet and savory scents tickled my nose before I was halfway there. I just leaned forward, following the tantalizing smell and soon found myself staring into the window of a shop. A line of baked goods, breads sprinkled with sugar, little green cakes with what I had to conclude was some kind of dark honey, and some little round crispy things with what was definitely melted chocolate, all caught my eye.
The door to the shop was open and I hastened within, a portly orc was wearing a giant oversized chef’s hat with a bronze clock face on it. One look and I knew it wasn’t decoration.
Whatever it was counting down for, it reached it before I reached the counter. It made a quick, ‘ding!’ noise and he said, “S’cuze me.” And disappeared into the back. He was a pretty standard orc, with thick muscled arms, greenish body and tusks for teeth below a porcine nose. His one distinguishing feature was that he was quite fat.
‘That’s how I know I can trust him. He’s eating his own work.’ I concluded and looked around. While what I saw of the city could be described as at least somewhat ‘dirty’ the shop itself was surprisingly clean. The racks were wood, except for two on the far wall which were of silver with even fancier items than on the wood, and I realized that probably represented a higher cost. The deeper you went inside, the more you paid.
“Fresh baked rumbldumplins!” He all but shouted, holding out the hot tray with his bare hands. Orcs were notoriously thick skinned, it was no surprise that his hands weren’t burning, but it was still weird to see one as a baker. He tilted it so I could see, and a little round pastry with an unfamiliar flower shaped ‘fruit’ I think? Sat in the center dripping with liquid sugar from what passed for leaves, landing on the flakey crust and drizzling down to the pan.
“You buy fresh, I give you discount on buying the old.” He said and his deepset amber eyes gave me a conspiratorial wink. “You my first customer of the day, so what you say eh?” He boomed at me.
I noticed the clock on his hat was ticking down again, and wondered what else was there.
“Yes. I say yes!” The rumbledumplins smelled great and looked even better.
“You make a good deal, I give you half off, eh? On any of the old but the sanziberry pie. We short of sanziberries.” He said and grabbed a newspaper from behind his counter.
“Why is that?” I asked. ‘Is this a plot hook? A quest beginning? Alright it’s a fetch quest, but still, it’d be my first!’ I could feel the excitement building and my heart starting to race.
“Oh, contract dispute. The bastards want triple the creds for the same thing. So I’m getting a new supplier and it takes time to get started. Fool too! Big fool. Sanziberries last a long time. Pie stays fresh. Do something like that with rumbleberries and I might have to pay first. Big fool.” He repeated with a shake of his big round head. “How many you want?”
The transaction was completed in a heartbeat, just like the doctor said. I paid ten creds and walked out with six rumbledumplings and a dozen chocolate crisps all wrapped up in old newspapers. I munched on one when I stood outside the shop.
“So much for a plot hook.” I mumbled while my eyes popped at the rich flavor melting on my tongue. When I realized at that moment, at the completion of my first ‘journey’ that literally not a goddamn thing had happened, or would happen, or could happen in the way it did in games and books and visual media, I snapped back to reality.
“I’m not getting a call to adventure. So… I’m going to have to pay it a visit instead.” I said, then swallowed my first purchase, and stowed the remainder under my arm for a moment. I touched my slate and said, “Show me to the Adventurer’s Guild.”
submitted by endersgame69 to TheWorldMaker [link] [comments]
In a way, those are all pretty small. Thanks to my genre savviness, the idea of magic and interworld travel wasn’t too shocking. I mean, I’m not saying I expected it or anything. But if you’re at least familiar with the concept, then it’s not hard to deal with.
But what really shocked me was my first step outside. I touched the panel and watched the segments of the door rise up, then stepped outside. Overhead I heard a wild scream and nigh jumped out of my skin. All of my tails bristled and my head snapped straight up. A wyvern with scales painted in a bright yellow pattern. I have to assume that since I was able to read the word ‘Airferry’ and I hadn’t had an issue with the letters or numbers from before, that the transition process gave me the necessary access to communication in this world.
But it sure didn’t give me the means to cope with the shock! The wyvern was ridden by a little yellow skinned norm wearing leather clothing and a pair of goggles secured to a leather cap on his head and strapped under his chin. From the wyvern’s body hung what might best be described as a long rowboat, but beneath the boat…or maybe barge? Was affixed a set of thick springs. It swayed a little, and the air picked up and carried their scarves and hair to trail behind them. But they too wore goggles on their faces to compensate for the speed of the air.
Far above I saw an airship. Literally. A god damn ship. Right down to the keel and rudder, secured by what I hope were metal cables that were secured to a net which bulged as it was pressed by a massive balloon longer than the ship itself.
The street was fairly ordinary, simple cobblestone, but I did not expect to see a pegasus and an eight legged sleipnir hitched outside of a round domed building. In the street, elves and humans mingled freely with each other, seemingly not even noticing their differences. In the stories I knew, hostility was the norm, but this place seemed rather cosmopolitan about everything.
A dwarf cobbler in what I can only describe as ‘old timey’ heavy boots and overalls made of canvas and wearing goggles with multiple lenses that were raised out of position, was looking up at a wolfman in a suit with a puffy snow white kerchief beneath his jaw bristled and growled, enduring the thunderous dwarven shout, “I don’t care what yew offerah me! Ah cannae finish when yew wawnt! Greatness takes time yah damn furry fool!”
People holding swords and wearing bits and pieces of armor were as common as scales on a fish, their shouting and noise wasn’t the only thing. A woman with long high elven ears was leaning out of the upper floor of a shop and hawking wares, “Fresh batch’a potions! Heal’n or skin peel’n, if you’ve got the gold, our potions will hold!”
‘At least jingles and slogans are the same in every world.’ I thought while my eyes bugged out of my head. The buildings were not the usual blocky boring brick squares I was used to. The buildings were of a spiral shape with rail lines that wove and curved around them left and right, and on the rails were glowing ‘miniature trains’. No. Trains is the wrong word. They were more like roller coaster cars, simple open cars in which people were riding to get from one place to another.
Bridges that crossed from one floor of a building to another were not metal, but rather they were vines that grew down from pointy green roofs, and they did not raise, they unrolled from one another and lowered or rose out of the way of the little chugging cars before binding together again, including little green armrests for safety or comfort. Strangely, there was no smoke from the engine car, and even stranger, it was pushing rather than pulling.
The buildings themselves were arranged in various designs from spiral shapes with winding staircases and doors every dozen paces or so going up, to ‘stacks’ of irregular blocks where each cube had a bridge between itself and its neighbor, with zigzag pattern steps going up from one floor to the next.
All those on the ground jostled together, though they made a clear path for those on horseback, or flowed seamlessly out of the way of landing air ferries, and I never saw any indication that the wyverns landed close to people. With their ferocious looking claws and oversized mouths with sharp teeth, I expected it could eat a child whole and a grown child… a grown up, in two or three bites.
‘Thank you internet, for you have blessed me with weebness that has translated into genre savviness, that I may live and not die of goddamn shock in the face of my long dreamt of transition to a new world full of adventure.’ I uttered a weebs prayer that I recalled from an anime group, and it felt good.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the air. It wasn’t as crisp as I hoped it might be. There was a definite odor of smoke, but it was more like burning wood than foul coal, and it was touched with the scent of pastries and fresh baked goods.
Sweets are a bit of a weakness of mine, so I scrapped my first plan to go join the adventurer’s guild and placed my hand on my slate, then I said, “Show me the way to a bakery.” I watched as a streetmap faded into view like a person stepping out of a thick fog, gradually becoming clear.
I was staring down at the map indicator, which was really nothing more than building shapes and a road, nothing intricate, when I decided to try an experiment. I was represented by a little green dot, but there was no color elsewhere. Just little black lines. “Increase realism by one hundred percent.” I instructed it, and the top down view of the city grew exponentially more complicated. I could see the rooftops and the many people passing by, at least the tops of their heads. I still had a black line pulsing on the screen as my guide, but… “Damn. If things worked this well back home then people could just never look up from their devices.” I mumbled and said, “Remove people.”
For a moment I panicked, ‘What if that killed everybody?!’ My head snapped up to look at the street. Everybody was alive. I gave a heavy sigh of relief and looked down, the realistic street and rooftops were there, but the ‘people’ and their mounts, thankfully, were gone.
You know, if I had to pick the seminal moment of this whole… whatever this is, it wouldn’t be showing up when and where I did. It wouldn’t be getting my slate or leaving the doctor behind. It wouldn’t even be stepping out the door of the building.
It would be this. The world was ‘real’ now, you know? I was about to actually move among the general population, all the dangers and experiences I wanted, were starting with ‘this’ one step more than any other.
It might seem strange to think of my life in genre specific terms, like a video game or an anime, manga, or light novel series. And I admit, it probably wasn’t my best idea. What made me realize it wasn’t the wisest thing was my epic trip to the bakery which, according to the map, was one block away.
What danger did I face?
What plot hook caught my eye?
Was it a mugging by a stranger?
Did I see a pair of pretty girls being mugged in an alley in need of some sexy rescuing?
Did a stranger grab me and whisper in a hushed and raspy voice, “I have been told by the gods that you would come, follow me, they’re looking for you…”
Or perhaps a military or bandit raid on the city that gave me a chance to be a heroine?
Hell no.
Nothing freaking happened.
Nobody stared at me with wonder and awe, I wasn’t totally unique, I saw two other kitsunes in just that short distance. I just tried not to bump into too many people, though I seemed to be the only one in the crowd like that. Pedestrians bumped shoulders a lot, without so much as an apology.
I quickly realized that it was so impossible not to, that there was no reason to apologize for doing it.
So I got over that fairly quickly, but I was mildly annoyed of the unfortunate reminder that I’d actually have to put in the work to have an adventure. There was no call to it for me, not that I really saw. ‘Summoned as a Janitor’ was the worst title I could possibly think of, and if I ever wrote this down, I’d be damned if I’d give my life story that title.
Anyway, the bakery… I really didn’t need directions for it after a little while as the sweet and savory scents tickled my nose before I was halfway there. I just leaned forward, following the tantalizing smell and soon found myself staring into the window of a shop. A line of baked goods, breads sprinkled with sugar, little green cakes with what I had to conclude was some kind of dark honey, and some little round crispy things with what was definitely melted chocolate, all caught my eye.
The door to the shop was open and I hastened within, a portly orc was wearing a giant oversized chef’s hat with a bronze clock face on it. One look and I knew it wasn’t decoration.
Whatever it was counting down for, it reached it before I reached the counter. It made a quick, ‘ding!’ noise and he said, “S’cuze me.” And disappeared into the back. He was a pretty standard orc, with thick muscled arms, greenish body and tusks for teeth below a porcine nose. His one distinguishing feature was that he was quite fat.
‘That’s how I know I can trust him. He’s eating his own work.’ I concluded and looked around. While what I saw of the city could be described as at least somewhat ‘dirty’ the shop itself was surprisingly clean. The racks were wood, except for two on the far wall which were of silver with even fancier items than on the wood, and I realized that probably represented a higher cost. The deeper you went inside, the more you paid.
“Fresh baked rumbldumplins!” He all but shouted, holding out the hot tray with his bare hands. Orcs were notoriously thick skinned, it was no surprise that his hands weren’t burning, but it was still weird to see one as a baker. He tilted it so I could see, and a little round pastry with an unfamiliar flower shaped ‘fruit’ I think? Sat in the center dripping with liquid sugar from what passed for leaves, landing on the flakey crust and drizzling down to the pan.
“You buy fresh, I give you discount on buying the old.” He said and his deepset amber eyes gave me a conspiratorial wink. “You my first customer of the day, so what you say eh?” He boomed at me.
I noticed the clock on his hat was ticking down again, and wondered what else was there.
“Yes. I say yes!” The rumbledumplins smelled great and looked even better.
“You make a good deal, I give you half off, eh? On any of the old but the sanziberry pie. We short of sanziberries.” He said and grabbed a newspaper from behind his counter.
“Why is that?” I asked. ‘Is this a plot hook? A quest beginning? Alright it’s a fetch quest, but still, it’d be my first!’ I could feel the excitement building and my heart starting to race.
“Oh, contract dispute. The bastards want triple the creds for the same thing. So I’m getting a new supplier and it takes time to get started. Fool too! Big fool. Sanziberries last a long time. Pie stays fresh. Do something like that with rumbleberries and I might have to pay first. Big fool.” He repeated with a shake of his big round head. “How many you want?”
The transaction was completed in a heartbeat, just like the doctor said. I paid ten creds and walked out with six rumbledumplings and a dozen chocolate crisps all wrapped up in old newspapers. I munched on one when I stood outside the shop.
“So much for a plot hook.” I mumbled while my eyes popped at the rich flavor melting on my tongue. When I realized at that moment, at the completion of my first ‘journey’ that literally not a goddamn thing had happened, or would happen, or could happen in the way it did in games and books and visual media, I snapped back to reality.
“I’m not getting a call to adventure. So… I’m going to have to pay it a visit instead.” I said, then swallowed my first purchase, and stowed the remainder under my arm for a moment. I touched my slate and said, “Show me to the Adventurer’s Guild.”
2023.04.01 04:02 undo_ruler If the boys end up actually going through with that church stained glass window idea, I hope they use this twitter header for the reference photo. Any other equally homoerotic suggestions?
 | submitted by undo_ruler to SuperMegaShow [link] [comments] |
2023.04.01 03:55 idullic trip report 1g ODPE
hello everyone!
so i didn't have any intention to do any specific self work with this trip, but it did end up being extremely insightful and eye opening in terms of what i discovered and how i feel now coming down from the trip. i just knew i really wanted to be outside and experience nature doing a 1g dose for the first time to set myself up for success.
i took the capsules at around 10AM this morning, ate a piece of avocado toast afterwards, and then went out to my backyard to sip my morning coffee with my dog. i had set a timer on my phone for 30 minutes to see when it would start to kick in, and it started to in roughly 15 minutes. i wanted to do them as early as possible to take advantage of the day.
the first thing i notice is a heaviness in my body, almost like a weed body high where it feels like there's sand in your limbs weighing you down. but at the same time i feel light, and everything i carry feels like it weighs nothing. everything seems enhanced. i explained it to my boyfriend as "like if someone turned up the gamma, video quality, and surround sound settings in a video game". i'm holding my sketchbook at this time - intending to sketch while i'm outside - and i slowly lose the ability to hold my pencil.
i'm sitting on a beach chair outside and i find it much more comfortable to lean back, almost laying down. closing my eyes i can faintly see some visuals but nothing crazy, looks like typical phosphenes. i'm texting my boyfriend about how i'm feeling, and it's becoming really hard to hold my phone and text.
my 30 minute timer goes off, so it is now 10:30AM. i'm feeling a lot more light now instead of heavy, but it almost feels like i have no bones. i start to experience open-eye visuals a little more now. everything seems sharp and vivid, i look down at the grass and focus on every little ant, moth, fly and bee that is around me. closing my eyes i start seeing a grid pattern and some spiraling. i describe the grid to my boyfriend as "like those close up pictures of a fly's eye". as time goes on this starts to intensify a lot. i look at the grass and it starts to swirl, the trees are bending and waving almost like they're reaching down towards me, and this effect is amplified by the fact that it was a very windy day today. a quote that sticks out to me is "the trees are reaching down to hug me".
i have to assume it is now 11AM. i decide to get up and walk around my yard. i have a large hedge separating my back neighbor and i go up to it and focus on the leaves. the veins of the leaf almost seem to be pulsing. i break the leaf and focus on how it feels between my fingers. i have my phone with me and decide to text my bf to call me because i can barely type anymore. i'm here talking to him about what i see, how i feel, and anything that comes to mind. i go up to a large palm tree in my yard and get close up to the trunk. my nose is touching it with how close i am, and i'm focusing on the patterns of the bark. there's lichen growing on it and the patterns are almost fractalizing with how they're swirling in on each other. it almost reminds me of those ai generated images that make everything look like dog faces. it keeps my attention for a bit and i'm just touching the tree and scraping little pieces of the bark to see how it feels.
i decide to go sit back down on the beach chair because my legs feel weak and i'm stumbling around. i close my eyes and i see an image of like two wings overlapping and flapping slowly over each other. i'm looking at the sun with my eyes closed and it looks like an angel, and it's beautiful. i open my eyes and i see the "fly eye" grid overlayed on what i'm seeing. i repeatedly open and close my eyes because the effect looks cool and i'm having a good time with it. i remember my dog is outside with me just running around in the yard and i call her over. she's a poodle with curly hair so her fur really messes with my eyes. i run my hands through her hair and it looks like the hairs are curling around my fingers. i carry her and dig my face into her fur. i'm in awe with how soft she is and tell her how much i love her.
i don't remember the time, but i'll say ~11:20AM. time is passing really slowly and it shocks me sometimes how 5 minutes feels like 30. i still have my bf on the phone and i'm telling him all of this as it happens. i look up and everything starts looking like it has a 3d overlay on it. think the red and blue of like a traditional 3d book that used to come with the glasses. he offers to come pick me up to watch over me and i tell him i want to go to the park with my dog. we hang up and i decide to go inside and get ready, because i'm still in my pajamas. going inside started to change my mood. i have 3 other dogs (technically my family's dogs. my poodle named mochi is my dog) and they start to bark when i come in and it starts to stress me out. i let them all outside to run around and get some exercise in. as i walk to my room the swirls of my wood floors really mess with my eyes and i struggle to walk to my room. everything in my room is swirling and feels like it's slightly pulsing. i have a parrot as well and her eyes look like they're slightly bulging.
brushing my teeth, washing my face, and getting dressed feels like i'm fighting the weight of the world. all i want to do is go lay in the grass outside and feel the sun. i look at my face in the mirror of the bathroom and i have to look down because my face freaks me out because it doesn't look like my face. my room and the house feel dark and cold, and the open window looks like literal heaven. i let the dogs back in and they come back inside. one of them is a yorkie and for some reason her face is terrifying me, she looks like the scariest little crusty white dog. i know it's just my brain playing tricks on me, so i pick her up and hug her and tell her i love her even though her face is freaking me out right now.
i get on my laptop while i wait for my bf and it looks like i can stick my hand in my screen. the screen starts bothering me though so i turn on a bird sounds video for my parrot on the tv and look out the window while i wait. he gets there and we head out with mochi to the park. the drive over there feels incredibly weird. the outside looks like a screen moving past the car's windows. i have driving anxiety and this drive freaks me out a bit, but i hold my dog and it helps me feel better until we get there.
i'm pretty sure we get to the park around 11:40AM and we stay there until we leave at 2:30. we get down and we walk to a small gazebo and sit. i'm hyper-aware of how uncomfortable the metal bench is and get up to sit under a tree looking out on the lake. as mentioned, it's a really windy day and the trees are blowing, there's waves on the lake, and there's lots of ducks, geese, and other birds around. i sit with mochi on the grass and touch the grass, the leaves around me, and look at the water. my bf comes to sit next to me and i lean against him and enjoy how soft he is and how good he smells. all of my senses feel like they've been turned up to 100. he has his airpods on and he says "spotify is playing some bangers right now" and i say "nature is playing some bangers right now".
some people were standing at the little dock that looks over the lake, so i wait for them to leave before i get up and walk over there. ducks come up to the dock because people come and feed them, so they're expecting some food. three of them look up at me, and i turn to my bf and say "i think they have something to tell me". a mother duck with 6 baby ducklings swims up and i'm freaking out about how cute they are. there are turtles in the water that occasionally peak their head out of the water and me and my bf randomly say "turtle" every once in awhile.
i decide i want to walk, so we start walking the path of the park. the concrete and grass are swirling under me and the trees are wavy. i'm holding my bf's hand as we walk and mochi is leading the way. i'm talking nonsense to him about how this little park is a secluded safe space from the chaos that's outside, referencing the large road next to it with cars flying past which make me nervous to look at because they're zipping past so fast. at one point we're walking and my boyfriend stops to get a rock out of his shoe. i keep walking and i don't even realize he stayed behind. i stop when i realize and he's about 10 paces behind me. i freak out because it almost feels like he teleported behind me, and i could have sworn he was still holding my hand.
i hold his hand tighter as we keep walking to the visitor center of the park to get my dog some water. the lake has a large fountain and the wind is blowing water into our faces from a distance, and i say "wind is nature's greatest messenger". i focus on this quote for a bit in my mind, and realize it's true for so many things. we used to use birds as messengers, the wind carries smells, sounds, items. it was the original messenger of information. we get to the visitor center and i realize that my bf had told me it was 12:22 when we got up and started walking, and it was 12:32 when we got to the visitor center. i'm in shock because it literally felt like we were walking for at least 30 minutes.
we get my dog some water and continue to walk. i lead my boyfriend to a large tree i've come to before and told him i want to rest here. i lay down in the grass and just.... breathe. the grass is so cool and lush, the wind is blowing water droplets from the fountain all the way over to where we are, and the leaves on the tree are rustling in the wind. i feel at peace. i say "it feels like nature is holding me and telling me it's going to take care of me". i look to the side and i see all of the blades of grass waving in the wind. mochi lays down on top of me and licks my cheeks and nose and i feel so loved by everything around me.
i begin to talk to my bf about how i'm feeling, and i tell him how i really haven't had the urge or want to use my phone or even check the time, and that all screens bother my eyes when i'm on shrooms. i think about this and then say i have a theory. i explain that shrooms take your mind and body back to a more primal physical existence, where you're more in tune with nature. phones and technology have only existed for less than a blink of an eye in the entire history that is mankind on earth. since we did not evolve with electronic technology, we don't have an obligation to them, and in this primal state of being on shrooms, we forget about them because they're not really necessary. that need to scroll, to open apps... it's gone. because what is it, really? i can't touch it, i can't feel it in my hands. so what is it for? the entire time i've been tripping i feel such a connection with nature and i feel it deep in my soul. this brings me closer to my spirituality and what i've been debating for the past couple of months and reassures me that i'm on the right track and that this is what i need to be doing.
as i'm laying there, i realize how loose my body feels. i become aware that i carry so much tension in my body when i'm sober. what for? i really need to loosen up. i attribute this to my anxiety and masking that when interacting with the outside world. i also realize that i control my movements and appearance way too closely. my hair whipping in the wind, stumbling around and taking up space feels good! why should i confine myself to a little bubble of space and carefully choose my every move? who cares if my hair is in my face!
i sit up and tell my bf to give me his sketchbook so i can write these things down so i don't forget. i write in essentially chicken scratch, but i can read it perfectly. it's coherent enough that he can read it, but just barely. i realize that this is another thing i doctor carefully, my handwriting. it feels good to write in large, loose cursive. who cares if it takes up just a bit more space on the paper!
i also felt humbled, as this dose was 1g and almost my upper limit of what i could handle. i was originally doing .5g and thought it was quite mild and that 1g would still be a low - but manageable - dose for me. granted these capsules may have been stronger than what i was doing before (dried shroom) so that may account for the jump in intensity, but it definitely humbled me and reminded me to keep taking it slow, especially with my low tolerance to practically everything.
i sit up and there's a large ant walking on my shoe. i put my finger out and it crawls onto it, walking around on my hand. i bring it up to my face and stare at it as it walks. i let it walk around some more before putting it back in the grass. as i'm setting it down, i see 2 police cars drive around the park. this almost sends me into a panic. i tell my bf that i'm scared someone saw me and called the cops on me and that they're gonna come take me and kill me. i hold my dog close and scoot closer to my bf. he tries to calm me down and says that they're probably just making a loop around the park before leaving. i try and calm myself down by reassuring myself that i'm not doing anything wrong. i'm not being foolish or making a scene, i'm literally just laying in the grass. so there's no reason for anyone to call the cops on me.
we sit there for a little bit, me just touching the grass, petting my dog, looking up at the trees. i tell my bf that nature is so beautiful right now, and he says "yeah! it made it a beautiful day today to show you how much it loves you" and that almost made me cry.
we eventually get up and walk to another area of the park and sit in the grass again. at this point i'm starting to feel it come down. the visuals aren't as intense, everything just feels like it has energy under it and it's slightly pulsing. i'm a bit more lucid, maybe just a bit loopy. my bf lays his head in my lap and my dog lays down next to me and i feel so much appreciation for those who love me.
i have a slight fear that this peace is not going to last, because reality is going to snap back after the weekend is over. i'll have to go back to work and worry about money and bills and school. it worries me and scares me. but i reassure myself that everything in life has a solution, and that i need to have more faith in myself and my ability to keep myself safe.
we leave the park at ~2:30 because my bf is hungry and wants to go get lunch somewhere. all i had eaten all day was that avocado toast and i did not feel hungry at all. if anything, i had felt a bit nauseous all day. we leave mochi at home and then head to a tgi fridays (which ended up sucking really bad and giving me an upset stomach anyway). i was super talkative and felt uplifted and confident, maybe just a bit tired. it is now 9:30PM and i'm feeling around 90% sober, just a bit lightheaded and nauseous from the sucky food.
overall, this trip was very insightful and fun! it really reaffirmed my journey of self discovery and spirituality, and that this is exactly what i need to be doing. i'm glad to have had my boyfriend and dog with me taking care of me throughout, especially through the scary moments.
submitted by idullic to shrooms [link] [comments]
so i didn't have any intention to do any specific self work with this trip, but it did end up being extremely insightful and eye opening in terms of what i discovered and how i feel now coming down from the trip. i just knew i really wanted to be outside and experience nature doing a 1g dose for the first time to set myself up for success.
i took the capsules at around 10AM this morning, ate a piece of avocado toast afterwards, and then went out to my backyard to sip my morning coffee with my dog. i had set a timer on my phone for 30 minutes to see when it would start to kick in, and it started to in roughly 15 minutes. i wanted to do them as early as possible to take advantage of the day.
the first thing i notice is a heaviness in my body, almost like a weed body high where it feels like there's sand in your limbs weighing you down. but at the same time i feel light, and everything i carry feels like it weighs nothing. everything seems enhanced. i explained it to my boyfriend as "like if someone turned up the gamma, video quality, and surround sound settings in a video game". i'm holding my sketchbook at this time - intending to sketch while i'm outside - and i slowly lose the ability to hold my pencil.
i'm sitting on a beach chair outside and i find it much more comfortable to lean back, almost laying down. closing my eyes i can faintly see some visuals but nothing crazy, looks like typical phosphenes. i'm texting my boyfriend about how i'm feeling, and it's becoming really hard to hold my phone and text.
my 30 minute timer goes off, so it is now 10:30AM. i'm feeling a lot more light now instead of heavy, but it almost feels like i have no bones. i start to experience open-eye visuals a little more now. everything seems sharp and vivid, i look down at the grass and focus on every little ant, moth, fly and bee that is around me. closing my eyes i start seeing a grid pattern and some spiraling. i describe the grid to my boyfriend as "like those close up pictures of a fly's eye". as time goes on this starts to intensify a lot. i look at the grass and it starts to swirl, the trees are bending and waving almost like they're reaching down towards me, and this effect is amplified by the fact that it was a very windy day today. a quote that sticks out to me is "the trees are reaching down to hug me".
i have to assume it is now 11AM. i decide to get up and walk around my yard. i have a large hedge separating my back neighbor and i go up to it and focus on the leaves. the veins of the leaf almost seem to be pulsing. i break the leaf and focus on how it feels between my fingers. i have my phone with me and decide to text my bf to call me because i can barely type anymore. i'm here talking to him about what i see, how i feel, and anything that comes to mind. i go up to a large palm tree in my yard and get close up to the trunk. my nose is touching it with how close i am, and i'm focusing on the patterns of the bark. there's lichen growing on it and the patterns are almost fractalizing with how they're swirling in on each other. it almost reminds me of those ai generated images that make everything look like dog faces. it keeps my attention for a bit and i'm just touching the tree and scraping little pieces of the bark to see how it feels.
i decide to go sit back down on the beach chair because my legs feel weak and i'm stumbling around. i close my eyes and i see an image of like two wings overlapping and flapping slowly over each other. i'm looking at the sun with my eyes closed and it looks like an angel, and it's beautiful. i open my eyes and i see the "fly eye" grid overlayed on what i'm seeing. i repeatedly open and close my eyes because the effect looks cool and i'm having a good time with it. i remember my dog is outside with me just running around in the yard and i call her over. she's a poodle with curly hair so her fur really messes with my eyes. i run my hands through her hair and it looks like the hairs are curling around my fingers. i carry her and dig my face into her fur. i'm in awe with how soft she is and tell her how much i love her.
i don't remember the time, but i'll say ~11:20AM. time is passing really slowly and it shocks me sometimes how 5 minutes feels like 30. i still have my bf on the phone and i'm telling him all of this as it happens. i look up and everything starts looking like it has a 3d overlay on it. think the red and blue of like a traditional 3d book that used to come with the glasses. he offers to come pick me up to watch over me and i tell him i want to go to the park with my dog. we hang up and i decide to go inside and get ready, because i'm still in my pajamas. going inside started to change my mood. i have 3 other dogs (technically my family's dogs. my poodle named mochi is my dog) and they start to bark when i come in and it starts to stress me out. i let them all outside to run around and get some exercise in. as i walk to my room the swirls of my wood floors really mess with my eyes and i struggle to walk to my room. everything in my room is swirling and feels like it's slightly pulsing. i have a parrot as well and her eyes look like they're slightly bulging.
brushing my teeth, washing my face, and getting dressed feels like i'm fighting the weight of the world. all i want to do is go lay in the grass outside and feel the sun. i look at my face in the mirror of the bathroom and i have to look down because my face freaks me out because it doesn't look like my face. my room and the house feel dark and cold, and the open window looks like literal heaven. i let the dogs back in and they come back inside. one of them is a yorkie and for some reason her face is terrifying me, she looks like the scariest little crusty white dog. i know it's just my brain playing tricks on me, so i pick her up and hug her and tell her i love her even though her face is freaking me out right now.
i get on my laptop while i wait for my bf and it looks like i can stick my hand in my screen. the screen starts bothering me though so i turn on a bird sounds video for my parrot on the tv and look out the window while i wait. he gets there and we head out with mochi to the park. the drive over there feels incredibly weird. the outside looks like a screen moving past the car's windows. i have driving anxiety and this drive freaks me out a bit, but i hold my dog and it helps me feel better until we get there.
i'm pretty sure we get to the park around 11:40AM and we stay there until we leave at 2:30. we get down and we walk to a small gazebo and sit. i'm hyper-aware of how uncomfortable the metal bench is and get up to sit under a tree looking out on the lake. as mentioned, it's a really windy day and the trees are blowing, there's waves on the lake, and there's lots of ducks, geese, and other birds around. i sit with mochi on the grass and touch the grass, the leaves around me, and look at the water. my bf comes to sit next to me and i lean against him and enjoy how soft he is and how good he smells. all of my senses feel like they've been turned up to 100. he has his airpods on and he says "spotify is playing some bangers right now" and i say "nature is playing some bangers right now".
some people were standing at the little dock that looks over the lake, so i wait for them to leave before i get up and walk over there. ducks come up to the dock because people come and feed them, so they're expecting some food. three of them look up at me, and i turn to my bf and say "i think they have something to tell me". a mother duck with 6 baby ducklings swims up and i'm freaking out about how cute they are. there are turtles in the water that occasionally peak their head out of the water and me and my bf randomly say "turtle" every once in awhile.
i decide i want to walk, so we start walking the path of the park. the concrete and grass are swirling under me and the trees are wavy. i'm holding my bf's hand as we walk and mochi is leading the way. i'm talking nonsense to him about how this little park is a secluded safe space from the chaos that's outside, referencing the large road next to it with cars flying past which make me nervous to look at because they're zipping past so fast. at one point we're walking and my boyfriend stops to get a rock out of his shoe. i keep walking and i don't even realize he stayed behind. i stop when i realize and he's about 10 paces behind me. i freak out because it almost feels like he teleported behind me, and i could have sworn he was still holding my hand.
i hold his hand tighter as we keep walking to the visitor center of the park to get my dog some water. the lake has a large fountain and the wind is blowing water into our faces from a distance, and i say "wind is nature's greatest messenger". i focus on this quote for a bit in my mind, and realize it's true for so many things. we used to use birds as messengers, the wind carries smells, sounds, items. it was the original messenger of information. we get to the visitor center and i realize that my bf had told me it was 12:22 when we got up and started walking, and it was 12:32 when we got to the visitor center. i'm in shock because it literally felt like we were walking for at least 30 minutes.
we get my dog some water and continue to walk. i lead my boyfriend to a large tree i've come to before and told him i want to rest here. i lay down in the grass and just.... breathe. the grass is so cool and lush, the wind is blowing water droplets from the fountain all the way over to where we are, and the leaves on the tree are rustling in the wind. i feel at peace. i say "it feels like nature is holding me and telling me it's going to take care of me". i look to the side and i see all of the blades of grass waving in the wind. mochi lays down on top of me and licks my cheeks and nose and i feel so loved by everything around me.
i begin to talk to my bf about how i'm feeling, and i tell him how i really haven't had the urge or want to use my phone or even check the time, and that all screens bother my eyes when i'm on shrooms. i think about this and then say i have a theory. i explain that shrooms take your mind and body back to a more primal physical existence, where you're more in tune with nature. phones and technology have only existed for less than a blink of an eye in the entire history that is mankind on earth. since we did not evolve with electronic technology, we don't have an obligation to them, and in this primal state of being on shrooms, we forget about them because they're not really necessary. that need to scroll, to open apps... it's gone. because what is it, really? i can't touch it, i can't feel it in my hands. so what is it for? the entire time i've been tripping i feel such a connection with nature and i feel it deep in my soul. this brings me closer to my spirituality and what i've been debating for the past couple of months and reassures me that i'm on the right track and that this is what i need to be doing.
as i'm laying there, i realize how loose my body feels. i become aware that i carry so much tension in my body when i'm sober. what for? i really need to loosen up. i attribute this to my anxiety and masking that when interacting with the outside world. i also realize that i control my movements and appearance way too closely. my hair whipping in the wind, stumbling around and taking up space feels good! why should i confine myself to a little bubble of space and carefully choose my every move? who cares if my hair is in my face!
i sit up and tell my bf to give me his sketchbook so i can write these things down so i don't forget. i write in essentially chicken scratch, but i can read it perfectly. it's coherent enough that he can read it, but just barely. i realize that this is another thing i doctor carefully, my handwriting. it feels good to write in large, loose cursive. who cares if it takes up just a bit more space on the paper!
i also felt humbled, as this dose was 1g and almost my upper limit of what i could handle. i was originally doing .5g and thought it was quite mild and that 1g would still be a low - but manageable - dose for me. granted these capsules may have been stronger than what i was doing before (dried shroom) so that may account for the jump in intensity, but it definitely humbled me and reminded me to keep taking it slow, especially with my low tolerance to practically everything.
i sit up and there's a large ant walking on my shoe. i put my finger out and it crawls onto it, walking around on my hand. i bring it up to my face and stare at it as it walks. i let it walk around some more before putting it back in the grass. as i'm setting it down, i see 2 police cars drive around the park. this almost sends me into a panic. i tell my bf that i'm scared someone saw me and called the cops on me and that they're gonna come take me and kill me. i hold my dog close and scoot closer to my bf. he tries to calm me down and says that they're probably just making a loop around the park before leaving. i try and calm myself down by reassuring myself that i'm not doing anything wrong. i'm not being foolish or making a scene, i'm literally just laying in the grass. so there's no reason for anyone to call the cops on me.
we sit there for a little bit, me just touching the grass, petting my dog, looking up at the trees. i tell my bf that nature is so beautiful right now, and he says "yeah! it made it a beautiful day today to show you how much it loves you" and that almost made me cry.
we eventually get up and walk to another area of the park and sit in the grass again. at this point i'm starting to feel it come down. the visuals aren't as intense, everything just feels like it has energy under it and it's slightly pulsing. i'm a bit more lucid, maybe just a bit loopy. my bf lays his head in my lap and my dog lays down next to me and i feel so much appreciation for those who love me.
i have a slight fear that this peace is not going to last, because reality is going to snap back after the weekend is over. i'll have to go back to work and worry about money and bills and school. it worries me and scares me. but i reassure myself that everything in life has a solution, and that i need to have more faith in myself and my ability to keep myself safe.
we leave the park at ~2:30 because my bf is hungry and wants to go get lunch somewhere. all i had eaten all day was that avocado toast and i did not feel hungry at all. if anything, i had felt a bit nauseous all day. we leave mochi at home and then head to a tgi fridays (which ended up sucking really bad and giving me an upset stomach anyway). i was super talkative and felt uplifted and confident, maybe just a bit tired. it is now 9:30PM and i'm feeling around 90% sober, just a bit lightheaded and nauseous from the sucky food.
overall, this trip was very insightful and fun! it really reaffirmed my journey of self discovery and spirituality, and that this is exactly what i need to be doing. i'm glad to have had my boyfriend and dog with me taking care of me throughout, especially through the scary moments.
2023.04.01 03:37 idullic trip report 1g ODPE capsules
hello everyone!
so i didn't have any intention to do any specific self work with this trip, but it did end up being extremely insightful and eye opening in terms of what i discovered and how i feel now coming down from the trip. i just knew i really wanted to be outside and experience nature doing a 1g dose for the first time to set myself up for success.
i took the capsules at around 10AM this morning, ate a piece of avocado toast afterwards, and then went out to my backyard to sip my morning coffee with my dog. i had set a timer on my phone for 30 minutes to see when it would start to kick in, and it started to in roughly 15 minutes. i wanted to do them as early as possible
the first thing i notice is a heaviness in my body, almost like a weed body high where it feels like there's sand in your limbs weighing you down. but at the same time i feel light, and everything i carry feels like it weighs nothing. everything seems enhanced. i explained it to my boyfriend as "like if someone turned up the gamma, video quality, and surround sound settings in a video game". i'm holding my sketchbook at this time - intending to sketch while i'm outside - and i slowly lose the ability to hold my pencil.
i'm sitting on a beach chair outside and i find it much more comfortable to lean back, almost laying down. closing my eyes i can faintly see some visuals but nothing crazy, looks like typical phosphenes. i'm texting my boyfriend about how i'm feeling, and it's becoming really hard to hold my phone and text.
my 30 minute timer goes off, so it is now 10:30AM. i'm feeling a lot more light now instead of heavy, but it almost feels like i have no bones. i start to experience open-eye visuals a little more now. everything seems sharp and vivid, i look down at the grass and focus on every little ant, moth, fly and bee that is around me. closing my eye i start seeing a grid pattern and some spiraling. i describe the grid to my boyfriend as "like those close up pictures of a fly's eye". as time goes on this starts to intensify a lot. i look at the grass and it starts to swirl, the trees are bending and waving almost like they're reaching down towards me, and this effect is amplified by the fact that it was a very windy day today. a quote that sticks out to me is "the trees are reaching down to hug me".
i have to assume it is now 11AM. i decide to get up and walk around my yard. i have a large hedge separating my back neighbor and i go up to it and focus on the leaves. the veins of the leaf almost seem to be pulsing. i break the leaf and focus on how it feels between my fingers. i have my phone with me and decide to text my bf to call me because i can barely type anymore. i'm here talking to him about what i see, how i feel, and anything that comes to mind. i go up to a large palm tree in my yard and get close up to the trunk. my nose is touching it with how close i am, and i'm focusing on the patterns of the bark. there's lichen growing on it and the patterns are almost fractalizing with how they're swirling in on each other. it almost reminds me of those ai generated images that make everything look like dog faces. it keeps my attention for a bit and i'm just touching the tree and scraping little pieces of the bark to see how it feels.
i decide to go sit back down on the beach chair because my legs feel weak and i'm stumbling around. i close my eyes and i see an image of like two wings overlapping and flapping slowly over each other. i'm looking at the sun with my eyes closed and it looks like an angel, and it's beautiful. i open my eyes and i see the "fly eye" grid overlayed on what i'm seeing. i repeatedly open and close my eyes because the effect looks cool and i'm having a good time with it. i remember my dog is outside with me just running around in the yard and i call her over. she's a poodle with curly hair so her fur really messes with my eyes. i run my hands through her hair and it looks like the hairs are curling around my fingers. i carry her and dig my face into her fur. i'm in awe with how soft she is and tell her how much i love her.
i don't remember the time, but i'll say ~11:20AM. time is passing really slowly and it shocks me sometimes how 5 minutes feels like 30. i still have my bf on the phone and i'm telling him all of this as it happens. i look up and everything starts looking like it has a 3d overlay on it. think the red and blue of like a traditional 3d book that used to come with the glasses. he offers to come pick me up to watch over me and i tell him i want to go to the park with my dog. we hang up and i decide to go inside and get ready, because i'm still in my pajamas. going inside started to change my mood. i have 3 other dogs (technically my family's dogs. my poodle named mochi is my dog) and they start to bark when i come in and it starts to stress me out. i let them all outside to run around and get some exercise in. as i walk to my room the swirls of my wood floors really mess with my eyes and i struggle to walk to my room. everything in my room is swirling and feels like it's slightly pulsing. i have a parrot as well and her eyes look like they're slightly bulging.
brushing my teeth, washing my face, and getting dressed feels like i'm fighting the weight of the world. all i want to do is go lay in the grass outside and feel the sun. i look at my face in the mirror of the bathroom and i have to look down because my face freaks me out because it doesn't look like my face. my room and the house feel dark and cold, and the open window looks like literal heaven. i let the dogs back in and they come back inside. one of them is a yorkie and for some reason her face is terrifying me, she looks like the scariest little crusty white dog. i know it's just my brain playing tricks on me, so i pick her up and hug her and tell her i love her even though her face is freaking me out right now.
i get on my laptop while i wait for my bf and it looks like i can stick my hand in my screen. the screen starts bothering me though so i turn on a bird sounds video for my parrot on the tv and look out the window while i wait. he gets there and we head out with mochi to the park. the drive over there feels incredibly weird. the outside looks like a screen moving past the car's windows. i have driving anxiety and this drive freaks me out a bit, but i hold my dog and it helps me feel better until we get there.
i'm pretty sure we get to the park around 11:40AM and we stay there until we leave at 2:30. we get down and we walk to a small gazebo and sit. i'm hyper aware of how uncomfortable the metal bench is and get up to sit under a tree looking out on the lake. as mentioned, it's a really windy day and the trees are blowing, there's waves on the lake, and there's lots of ducks, geese, and other birds around. i sit with mochi on the grass and touch the grass, the leaves around me, and look at the water. my bf comes to sit next to me and i lean against him and enjoy how soft he is and how good he smells. all of my senses feel like they've been turned up to 100. he has his airpods on and he says "spotify playing some bangers right now" and i say "nature is playing some bangers right now".
some people were standing at the little dock that looks over the lake, so i wait for them to leave before i get up and walk over there. ducks come up to the dock because people come and feed them, so they're expecting some food. three of them look up at me, and i turn to my bf and say "i think they have something to tell me". a mother duck with 6 baby ducklings swims up and i'm freaking out about how cute they are. there are turtles in the water that occasionally peak their head out of the water and me and my bf randomly say "turtle" every once in awhile.
i decide i want to walk, so we start walking the path of the park. the concrete and grass are swirling under me and the trees are wavy. i'm holding my bf's hand as we walk and mochi is leading the way. i'm talking nonsense to him about how this little park is a secluded safe space from the chaos that's outside, referencing the large road next to it with cars flying past which make me nervous to look at because they're zipping past so fast. at one point we're walking and my boyfriend stops to get a rock out of his shoe. i keep walking and i don't even realize he stayed behind. i stop when i realize and he's about 10 paces behind me. i freak out because it almost feels like he teleported behind me, and i could have sworn he was still holding my hand.
i hold his hand tighter as we keep walking to the visitor center of the park to get my dog some water. the lake has a large fountain and the wind is blowing it into our faces from a distance, and i say "wind is nature's greatest messenger". i focus on this quote for a bit in my mind, and realize it's true for so many things. we used to use birds as messengers, the wind carries smells, sounds, items. it was the original messenger of information. we get to the visitor center and i realize that my bf had told me it was 12:22 when we got up and started walking, and it was 12:32 when we got to the visitor center. i'm in shock because it literally felt like we were walking for at least 30 minutes.
we get my dog some water and continue to walk. i lead my boyfriend to a large tree i've come to before and told him i want to rest here. i lay down in the grass and just.... breathe. the grass is so cool and lush, the wind is blowing water droplets from the fountain all the way over to where we are, and the leaves on the tree are rustling in the wind. i feel at peace. i say "it feels like nature is holding me and telling me it's going to take care of me". i look to the side and i see all of the blades of grass waving in the wind. mochi lays down on top of me and licks my cheeks and nose and i feel so loved by everything around me.
i begin to talk to my bf about how i'm feeling, and i tell him how i really haven't had the urge or want to use my phone or even check the time, and that all screens bother my eyes when i'm on shrooms. i think about this and then say i have a theory. i explain that shrooms take your mind and body back to a more primal physical existence, where you're more in tune with nature. phones and technology have only existed for less than a blink of an eye in the entire history that is mankind on earth. since we did not evolve with electronic technology, we don't have an obligation to them, and in this primal state of being on shrooms, we forget about them because they're not really necessary. that need to scroll, to open apps... it's gone. because what is it, really? i can't touch it, i can't feel it in my hands. so what is it for? the entire time i've been tripping i feel such a connection with nature and i feel it deep in my soul. this brings me closer to my spirituality and what i've been debating for the past couple of months and reassures me that i'm on the right track and that this is what i need to be doing.
as i'm laying there, i realize how loose my body feels. i become aware that i carry so much tension in my body when i'm sober. what for? i really need to loosen up. i attribute this to my anxiety and masking that when interacting with the outside world. i also realize that i control my movements and appearance way too closely. my hair whipping in the wind, stumbling around and taking up space feels good! why should i confine myself to a little bubble of space and carefully choose my every move? who cares if my hair is in my face!
i sit up and tell my bf to give me his sketchbook so i can write these things down so i don't forget. i write in essentially chicken scratch, but i can read it perfectly. it's coherent enough that he can read it, but just barely. i realize that this is another thing i doctor carefully, my handwriting. it feels good to write in large, loose cursive. who cares if it takes up just a bit more space on the paper!
i also felt humbled, as this dose was 1g and almost my upper limit of what i could handle. i was originally doing .5g and thought it was quite mild and that 1g would still be a low - but manageable - dose for me. granted these capsules may have been stronger than what i was doing before (dried shroom) so that may account for the jump in intensity, but it definitely humbled me and reminded me to keep taking it slow, especially with my low tolerance to practically everything.
i sit up and there's a large ant walking on my shoe. i put my finger out and it crawls onto it, walking around on my hand. i bring it up to my face and stare at it as it walks. i let it walk around some more before putting it back in the grass. as i'm setting it down, i see 2 police cars drive around the park. this almost sends me into a panic. i tell my bf that i'm scared someone saw me and called the cops on me and that they're gonna come take me and kill me. i hold my dog close and scoot closer to my bf. he tries to calm me down and says that they're probably just making a loop around the park before leaving. i try and calm myself down by reassuring myself that i'm not doing anything wrong. i'm not being foolish or making a scene, i'm literally just laying in the grass. so there's no reason for anyone to call the cops on me.
we sit there for a little bit, me just touching the grass, petting my dog, looking up at the trees. i tell my bf that nature is so beautiful right now, and he says "yeah! it made it a beautiful day today to show you how much it loves you" and that almost made me cry.
we eventually get up and walk to another area of the park and sit in the grass again. at this point i'm starting to feel it come down. the visuals aren't as intense, everything just feels like it has energy under it and it's slightly pulsing. i'm a bit more lucid, maybe just a bit loopy. my bf lays his head in my lap and my dog lays down next to me and i feel so much appreciation for those who love me.
i have a slight fear that this peace is not going to last, because reality is going to snap back after the weekend is over. i'll have to go back to work and worry about money and bills and school. it worries me and scares me. but i reassure myself that everything in life has a solution, and that i need to have more faith in myself and my ability to keep myself safe.
we leave the park at ~2:30 because my bf is hungry and wants to go get lunch somewhere. all i had eaten all day was that avocado toast and i did not feel hungry at all. if anything, i had felt a bit nauseous all day. we leave mochi at home and then head to a tgi fridays (which ended up sucking really bad and giving me an upset stomach anyway). i was super talkative and felt uplifted and confident, maybe just a bit tired. it is now 9:30PM and i'm feeling around 90% sober, just a bit lightheaded and nauseous from the sucky food.
overall, this trip was very insightful and fun! it really reaffirmed my journey of self discovery and spirituality, and that this is exactly what i need to be doing. i'm glad to have had my boyfriend and dog with me taking care of me throughout, especially through the scary moments.
submitted by idullic to tripreports [link] [comments]
so i didn't have any intention to do any specific self work with this trip, but it did end up being extremely insightful and eye opening in terms of what i discovered and how i feel now coming down from the trip. i just knew i really wanted to be outside and experience nature doing a 1g dose for the first time to set myself up for success.
i took the capsules at around 10AM this morning, ate a piece of avocado toast afterwards, and then went out to my backyard to sip my morning coffee with my dog. i had set a timer on my phone for 30 minutes to see when it would start to kick in, and it started to in roughly 15 minutes. i wanted to do them as early as possible
the first thing i notice is a heaviness in my body, almost like a weed body high where it feels like there's sand in your limbs weighing you down. but at the same time i feel light, and everything i carry feels like it weighs nothing. everything seems enhanced. i explained it to my boyfriend as "like if someone turned up the gamma, video quality, and surround sound settings in a video game". i'm holding my sketchbook at this time - intending to sketch while i'm outside - and i slowly lose the ability to hold my pencil.
i'm sitting on a beach chair outside and i find it much more comfortable to lean back, almost laying down. closing my eyes i can faintly see some visuals but nothing crazy, looks like typical phosphenes. i'm texting my boyfriend about how i'm feeling, and it's becoming really hard to hold my phone and text.
my 30 minute timer goes off, so it is now 10:30AM. i'm feeling a lot more light now instead of heavy, but it almost feels like i have no bones. i start to experience open-eye visuals a little more now. everything seems sharp and vivid, i look down at the grass and focus on every little ant, moth, fly and bee that is around me. closing my eye i start seeing a grid pattern and some spiraling. i describe the grid to my boyfriend as "like those close up pictures of a fly's eye". as time goes on this starts to intensify a lot. i look at the grass and it starts to swirl, the trees are bending and waving almost like they're reaching down towards me, and this effect is amplified by the fact that it was a very windy day today. a quote that sticks out to me is "the trees are reaching down to hug me".
i have to assume it is now 11AM. i decide to get up and walk around my yard. i have a large hedge separating my back neighbor and i go up to it and focus on the leaves. the veins of the leaf almost seem to be pulsing. i break the leaf and focus on how it feels between my fingers. i have my phone with me and decide to text my bf to call me because i can barely type anymore. i'm here talking to him about what i see, how i feel, and anything that comes to mind. i go up to a large palm tree in my yard and get close up to the trunk. my nose is touching it with how close i am, and i'm focusing on the patterns of the bark. there's lichen growing on it and the patterns are almost fractalizing with how they're swirling in on each other. it almost reminds me of those ai generated images that make everything look like dog faces. it keeps my attention for a bit and i'm just touching the tree and scraping little pieces of the bark to see how it feels.
i decide to go sit back down on the beach chair because my legs feel weak and i'm stumbling around. i close my eyes and i see an image of like two wings overlapping and flapping slowly over each other. i'm looking at the sun with my eyes closed and it looks like an angel, and it's beautiful. i open my eyes and i see the "fly eye" grid overlayed on what i'm seeing. i repeatedly open and close my eyes because the effect looks cool and i'm having a good time with it. i remember my dog is outside with me just running around in the yard and i call her over. she's a poodle with curly hair so her fur really messes with my eyes. i run my hands through her hair and it looks like the hairs are curling around my fingers. i carry her and dig my face into her fur. i'm in awe with how soft she is and tell her how much i love her.
i don't remember the time, but i'll say ~11:20AM. time is passing really slowly and it shocks me sometimes how 5 minutes feels like 30. i still have my bf on the phone and i'm telling him all of this as it happens. i look up and everything starts looking like it has a 3d overlay on it. think the red and blue of like a traditional 3d book that used to come with the glasses. he offers to come pick me up to watch over me and i tell him i want to go to the park with my dog. we hang up and i decide to go inside and get ready, because i'm still in my pajamas. going inside started to change my mood. i have 3 other dogs (technically my family's dogs. my poodle named mochi is my dog) and they start to bark when i come in and it starts to stress me out. i let them all outside to run around and get some exercise in. as i walk to my room the swirls of my wood floors really mess with my eyes and i struggle to walk to my room. everything in my room is swirling and feels like it's slightly pulsing. i have a parrot as well and her eyes look like they're slightly bulging.
brushing my teeth, washing my face, and getting dressed feels like i'm fighting the weight of the world. all i want to do is go lay in the grass outside and feel the sun. i look at my face in the mirror of the bathroom and i have to look down because my face freaks me out because it doesn't look like my face. my room and the house feel dark and cold, and the open window looks like literal heaven. i let the dogs back in and they come back inside. one of them is a yorkie and for some reason her face is terrifying me, she looks like the scariest little crusty white dog. i know it's just my brain playing tricks on me, so i pick her up and hug her and tell her i love her even though her face is freaking me out right now.
i get on my laptop while i wait for my bf and it looks like i can stick my hand in my screen. the screen starts bothering me though so i turn on a bird sounds video for my parrot on the tv and look out the window while i wait. he gets there and we head out with mochi to the park. the drive over there feels incredibly weird. the outside looks like a screen moving past the car's windows. i have driving anxiety and this drive freaks me out a bit, but i hold my dog and it helps me feel better until we get there.
i'm pretty sure we get to the park around 11:40AM and we stay there until we leave at 2:30. we get down and we walk to a small gazebo and sit. i'm hyper aware of how uncomfortable the metal bench is and get up to sit under a tree looking out on the lake. as mentioned, it's a really windy day and the trees are blowing, there's waves on the lake, and there's lots of ducks, geese, and other birds around. i sit with mochi on the grass and touch the grass, the leaves around me, and look at the water. my bf comes to sit next to me and i lean against him and enjoy how soft he is and how good he smells. all of my senses feel like they've been turned up to 100. he has his airpods on and he says "spotify playing some bangers right now" and i say "nature is playing some bangers right now".
some people were standing at the little dock that looks over the lake, so i wait for them to leave before i get up and walk over there. ducks come up to the dock because people come and feed them, so they're expecting some food. three of them look up at me, and i turn to my bf and say "i think they have something to tell me". a mother duck with 6 baby ducklings swims up and i'm freaking out about how cute they are. there are turtles in the water that occasionally peak their head out of the water and me and my bf randomly say "turtle" every once in awhile.
i decide i want to walk, so we start walking the path of the park. the concrete and grass are swirling under me and the trees are wavy. i'm holding my bf's hand as we walk and mochi is leading the way. i'm talking nonsense to him about how this little park is a secluded safe space from the chaos that's outside, referencing the large road next to it with cars flying past which make me nervous to look at because they're zipping past so fast. at one point we're walking and my boyfriend stops to get a rock out of his shoe. i keep walking and i don't even realize he stayed behind. i stop when i realize and he's about 10 paces behind me. i freak out because it almost feels like he teleported behind me, and i could have sworn he was still holding my hand.
i hold his hand tighter as we keep walking to the visitor center of the park to get my dog some water. the lake has a large fountain and the wind is blowing it into our faces from a distance, and i say "wind is nature's greatest messenger". i focus on this quote for a bit in my mind, and realize it's true for so many things. we used to use birds as messengers, the wind carries smells, sounds, items. it was the original messenger of information. we get to the visitor center and i realize that my bf had told me it was 12:22 when we got up and started walking, and it was 12:32 when we got to the visitor center. i'm in shock because it literally felt like we were walking for at least 30 minutes.
we get my dog some water and continue to walk. i lead my boyfriend to a large tree i've come to before and told him i want to rest here. i lay down in the grass and just.... breathe. the grass is so cool and lush, the wind is blowing water droplets from the fountain all the way over to where we are, and the leaves on the tree are rustling in the wind. i feel at peace. i say "it feels like nature is holding me and telling me it's going to take care of me". i look to the side and i see all of the blades of grass waving in the wind. mochi lays down on top of me and licks my cheeks and nose and i feel so loved by everything around me.
i begin to talk to my bf about how i'm feeling, and i tell him how i really haven't had the urge or want to use my phone or even check the time, and that all screens bother my eyes when i'm on shrooms. i think about this and then say i have a theory. i explain that shrooms take your mind and body back to a more primal physical existence, where you're more in tune with nature. phones and technology have only existed for less than a blink of an eye in the entire history that is mankind on earth. since we did not evolve with electronic technology, we don't have an obligation to them, and in this primal state of being on shrooms, we forget about them because they're not really necessary. that need to scroll, to open apps... it's gone. because what is it, really? i can't touch it, i can't feel it in my hands. so what is it for? the entire time i've been tripping i feel such a connection with nature and i feel it deep in my soul. this brings me closer to my spirituality and what i've been debating for the past couple of months and reassures me that i'm on the right track and that this is what i need to be doing.
as i'm laying there, i realize how loose my body feels. i become aware that i carry so much tension in my body when i'm sober. what for? i really need to loosen up. i attribute this to my anxiety and masking that when interacting with the outside world. i also realize that i control my movements and appearance way too closely. my hair whipping in the wind, stumbling around and taking up space feels good! why should i confine myself to a little bubble of space and carefully choose my every move? who cares if my hair is in my face!
i sit up and tell my bf to give me his sketchbook so i can write these things down so i don't forget. i write in essentially chicken scratch, but i can read it perfectly. it's coherent enough that he can read it, but just barely. i realize that this is another thing i doctor carefully, my handwriting. it feels good to write in large, loose cursive. who cares if it takes up just a bit more space on the paper!
i also felt humbled, as this dose was 1g and almost my upper limit of what i could handle. i was originally doing .5g and thought it was quite mild and that 1g would still be a low - but manageable - dose for me. granted these capsules may have been stronger than what i was doing before (dried shroom) so that may account for the jump in intensity, but it definitely humbled me and reminded me to keep taking it slow, especially with my low tolerance to practically everything.
i sit up and there's a large ant walking on my shoe. i put my finger out and it crawls onto it, walking around on my hand. i bring it up to my face and stare at it as it walks. i let it walk around some more before putting it back in the grass. as i'm setting it down, i see 2 police cars drive around the park. this almost sends me into a panic. i tell my bf that i'm scared someone saw me and called the cops on me and that they're gonna come take me and kill me. i hold my dog close and scoot closer to my bf. he tries to calm me down and says that they're probably just making a loop around the park before leaving. i try and calm myself down by reassuring myself that i'm not doing anything wrong. i'm not being foolish or making a scene, i'm literally just laying in the grass. so there's no reason for anyone to call the cops on me.
we sit there for a little bit, me just touching the grass, petting my dog, looking up at the trees. i tell my bf that nature is so beautiful right now, and he says "yeah! it made it a beautiful day today to show you how much it loves you" and that almost made me cry.
we eventually get up and walk to another area of the park and sit in the grass again. at this point i'm starting to feel it come down. the visuals aren't as intense, everything just feels like it has energy under it and it's slightly pulsing. i'm a bit more lucid, maybe just a bit loopy. my bf lays his head in my lap and my dog lays down next to me and i feel so much appreciation for those who love me.
i have a slight fear that this peace is not going to last, because reality is going to snap back after the weekend is over. i'll have to go back to work and worry about money and bills and school. it worries me and scares me. but i reassure myself that everything in life has a solution, and that i need to have more faith in myself and my ability to keep myself safe.
we leave the park at ~2:30 because my bf is hungry and wants to go get lunch somewhere. all i had eaten all day was that avocado toast and i did not feel hungry at all. if anything, i had felt a bit nauseous all day. we leave mochi at home and then head to a tgi fridays (which ended up sucking really bad and giving me an upset stomach anyway). i was super talkative and felt uplifted and confident, maybe just a bit tired. it is now 9:30PM and i'm feeling around 90% sober, just a bit lightheaded and nauseous from the sucky food.
overall, this trip was very insightful and fun! it really reaffirmed my journey of self discovery and spirituality, and that this is exactly what i need to be doing. i'm glad to have had my boyfriend and dog with me taking care of me throughout, especially through the scary moments.
2023.04.01 03:01 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, Kara Gamma, BFK Freehand, BFK Bright Water, Spec Gloves Kimono, Nomad Fade, M9 Doppler, Skeleton, BFK B.Steel, AWP Fade, Stiletto Fade, S.Gloves Slingshot, BFK Ultra, Kara Damas, Bayo Lore, Bayo Gamma, Flip Fade & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $1867
★ Butterfly Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $1098
★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel BS, B/O: $907
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $789
★ Butterfly Knife Stained FT, B/O: $695
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $888
★ Bayonet Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $727
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $608
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $521
★ Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $253
★ Bayonet Night FT, B/O: $251
★ StatTrak™ Bayonet Lore MW, B/O: $751
⎯★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1343
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $774
★ Karambit Rust Coat BS, B/O: $537
★ Karambit Boreal Forest FT, B/O: $488
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1008
★ M9 Bayonet Blue Steel FT, B/O: $534
★ M9 Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $449
⎯★ Flip Knife Fade FN, B/O: $703
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $509
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $406
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $228
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $332
⎯★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $292
★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $264
★ Falchion Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Falchion Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $133
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN, B/O: $822
★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $569
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $530
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $396
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $172
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $830
★ Gut Knife Fade FN, B/O: $204
★ Gut Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $138
★ Gut Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $104
★ Gut Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $92
★ Gut Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $82
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $93
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $165
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Bright Water FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel WW, B/O: $80
★ Shadow Daggers Rust Coat BS, B/O: $74
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade FN, B/O: $186
⎯★ Classic Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $311
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $163
⎯★ Talon Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $605
★ Talon Knife Scorched MW, B/O: $290
⎯★ Ursus Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $405
★ Ursus Knife Night Stripe MW, B/O: $162
⎯★ Paracord Knife Stained WW, B/O: $125
★ Paracord Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
★ Paracord Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $96
⎯★ Navaja Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $71
★ Navaja Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $71
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1015
★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $909
★ Bowie Knife Boreal Forest MW, B/O: $106
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $335
★ Driver Gloves King Snake BS, B/O: $270
★ Driver Gloves Lunar Weave WW, B/O: $113
★ Driver Gloves Overtake WW, B/O: $88
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $67
⎯★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $171
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $137
★ Moto Gloves Transport WW, B/O: $71
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $62
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1027
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $654
★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT, B/O: $295
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $277
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web FT, B/O: $275
⎯★ Sport Gloves Slingshot FT, B/O: $796
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $699
★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $656
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Unhinged BS, B/O: $60
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $864
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $84
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Wildfire FT, B/O: $59
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $59
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Printstream FN, B/O: $155
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $58
⎯M4A1-S Icarus Fell FN, B/O: $414
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1402
M4A4 The Emperor FN, B/O: $152
M4A4 Asiimov WW, B/O: $97
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $65
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $123
StatTrak™ USP-S Neo-Noir FN, B/O: $106
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $218
P2000 Ocean Foam FN, B/O: $139
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike MW, B/O: $81
CZ75-Auto Emerald Quartz MW, B/O: $61
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2023.04.01 02:35 babyxxpigeon17 A Niagara vacation
It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark, when out of the blue, my wife called me at work. "We're going to Niagara Falls for the weekend. I got us an awesome deal!"
We had both been working at our first "full-fledged" jobs for a year and had reached that moment after graduation when you suddenly realize you can't make that impact on the world your student enthusiasm once promised. At first, I just sighed. It was the dead of January, and I had already expended all my energy on a week of inconsequential stress. I just wanted to collapse on the couch for two days. Sarah felt a similar weary exhaustion. I could tell. Her tone was more hopeful than excited, but she had dreaded the routine we were sinking into and was trying her best to pull us free.
I looked to the ceiling and adjusted my telephone headset. At that time I was working at Stats Canada on the tele-query desk. I took a deep breath and, as convincingly as possible, said, "Sounds good." I don't think she bought it, but we went nonetheless.
This was Niagara Falls before the casinos when there was a very distinct off-season. When we got to the hotel, we were given the details of our "lovers' special". One dinner to be used either Friday or Saturday, two breakfasts, a roll of tokens for the arcade, 10% off some "4D" movie ride experience, and a 2-for-1 coupon to Max Tussaud's. I guessed it was Madame's nephew? We also got a bottle of sparkling wine in our room and chocolate treats on our pillows. I was impressed. It sounded good.
When we got into our room and saw the "bottle" of wine - basically an aeroplane-sized glass and half - and the chocolates - "fun wrapped" Oh Henry's left over from Halloween - we both started to laugh. The tone for two wonderful days had been set. We decided to cash in on our dinner coupon right away.
The restaurant off the lobby had hopes of being better. There were huge panoramic windows that promised a view of the gorge. Unfortunately, they had some winter moisture problems that day, and it felt like we were defrosting amid the dripping streaks and foggy patches. The decor was your standard booths and tables though the "romantic" lighting was unique. Dollar store battery-powered tea lights were lodged inside thick tumbler glasses and shed a muted pleasantness in a "what a great idea for a craft" sort of way. I had a feeling they were created by our waitress since she was the one who always seemed to be fussing with them. Only one other couple was in the dining room, so she attended to us immediately.
"Can I get you something to start?"
"Sure." "Thank you, that would be nice." We both responded simultaneously.
"And what would the lady like this evening?"
Sarah smiled at the flattery. "I think I'll have a glass of white wine." She glanced over at me to see my reaction. This was a subtle cue of the mood to follow. Diet Coke was usually the beverage of choice. She didn't normally drink alcohol. One glass numbed her nose and made her giggle far too easily. When she did drink, however, it meant she was comfortable with my company and open to anything to follow. I raised my eyebrows in a debonair way.
"And for the gentleman?"
"Do you have Foster's on tap?"
"Yes we do."
"I'll have a pint please."
Sarah smiled at the happy memories I invoked. At university, Foster's was my signature beer. It was at a time when Crocodile Dundee was a known name, and Australia was inexplicably cool. 15 cent buffalo wings and a pitcher of Foster's was the Tuesday night special at the London Arms pub. There the Classics Club would meet and, as a group, circle the wagons and drink ourselves into extroverts.
As soon as the waitress left, Sarah smiled at me. She reached out and held my hand across the table. With my gaze on hers, she slipped her foot from her shoe and slowly began sliding it up my pant leg.
"I got a pedicure this morning." She announced seductively.
I nodded and pretended I didn't notice her invitation. "What colour?" I asked.
"I'm not telling." She teased. "You'll just have to find out later." Her devious little smile was gorgeous.
"Mmmm. I can't wait."
When the waitress returned with our drinks, we immediately retreated to our personal spaces as if we had been discovered by the chaperone. Sarah opened the menu and began to salivate at the variety.
"Can we add an appetizer to the package dinner?" Her question seemed innocent enough.
"You're on the package?" Our friendly waitress disappeared, and we were no longer a lady or a gentleman. She ripped the menu out of Sarah's hand and took mine before I had even opened it. She then scurried to her podium and brought back a tattered, grease-stained, photocopied page that we had to share. We both burst out laughing.
The waitress was flustered that we were not as bothered as she was. "The drinks are NOT included!"
"What choices do we have?" I asked, expecting the usual chicken or fish. I had been on many packages before with my parents.
"Coffee or tea." The waitress snapped.
Sarah and I looked at each other in amused disbelief.
"I'll have coffee please." I didn't even flinch at the ridiculously limited package. I was eager to get my order in early.
"And I'll have the tea!" Sarah followed my lead. "Can I have some milk with that?"
"Yes." The waitress snarled.
"Fantastic!" I enthused.
"Yes, great! I'm glad we got the package, Honey." Sarah joked.
The waitress stormed off and returned sometime later with our lettuce-only salads drowned in Kraft's Italian dressing and our chewy chicken dinners, which she had thoughtfully allowed to cool. She tossed the plates on the table and left us to peacefully devour our deal. We didn't see her again until we requested the bill. For some reason, we found it amusing to leave a generous tip, which of course, defeated the purpose of the package, but we didn't care. It was fun.
The rest of the holiday was marred with similar off-season products and services. The wax museum was only half open, so we couldn't see the pop stars of the seventies. I didn't think it was a problem, but Sarah pouted playfully. She really wanted to see young Bowie. Meanwhile, the arcade was particularly stingy about spitting out coupons. So much so that Mike, the scraggly-haired repair guy, ended up escorting us from game to game and repairing the devices on demand. In no time, he was acting like an old drinking buddy. He joked and laughed, then, out of the blue, revealed that working at the Niagara Falls Fun Centre wasn't his career choice, that his dream was to be part of a travelling carnival. He desperately wanted to see more of the world, he explained and socialize with a greater variety of "wildlife." Mike winked at Sarah to punctuate his meaning, then began advising her on which games to play.
Sarah was partial to Skee ball and clearly had career potential in the sport, but Mike quickly pointed out that the token-to-coupon payout was not the best. In a furtive whisper, he revealed that The Storm Stopper was your best bet, provided the arcade had left it on its original factory settings. He assured us the ones here were "cool." The game had lights that ran around the outside in opposite directions and you had to hit the button at just the right spot to win. It looked impossible, but Mike was right; if you calculated tokens in versus coupons won, it was the best deal. It only took a little practice to win a minor jackpot every 5 or 6 times.
We would cheer each win as if Toronto had won the Stanley Cup. I would give a quick fist pump and a full lung "Yes!" while Sarah would jump up and down screaming, "WhoooHooo!" Of course, in the end, when we cashed in, "Mike's secret" only bumped us up from a key-chain flashlight to a "deluxe" nail beauty set. Mind you, it did come complete with clippers, scissors, a file AND a cuticle scraper. Not only that, it was all neatly packaged in a paisley-patterned pink and green plastic vinyl case. Mike was so pleased to give us our prize and to be honest, we were thrilled to win it if only to see his broad chicletted smile. It was more of a trophy than a grooming set.
That night, I made reservations for us at a fancy Chinese food restaurant - the Bamboo Garden. When we arrived, we had half-expected renovations of some sort. Instead, the place was immaculate. Gentle pools teeming with goldfish highlighted the epic black and red Ming dynasty decor. Real candles flickered on crisp white tablecloths. Again, the restaurant was virtually ours. The reservations on my part were entirely unnecessary. In fact, as soon as we entered, they knew us by name and guided us directly to our table. A live lounge piano caressed the air, its notes danced vaguely around familiar harmonies until finally, as if prompted by our presence, a song emerged immediately accompanied by the velvet voice of oriental karaoke. It was our song remastered
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We had both been working at our first "full-fledged" jobs for a year and had reached that moment after graduation when you suddenly realize you can't make that impact on the world your student enthusiasm once promised. At first, I just sighed. It was the dead of January, and I had already expended all my energy on a week of inconsequential stress. I just wanted to collapse on the couch for two days. Sarah felt a similar weary exhaustion. I could tell. Her tone was more hopeful than excited, but she had dreaded the routine we were sinking into and was trying her best to pull us free.
I looked to the ceiling and adjusted my telephone headset. At that time I was working at Stats Canada on the tele-query desk. I took a deep breath and, as convincingly as possible, said, "Sounds good." I don't think she bought it, but we went nonetheless.
This was Niagara Falls before the casinos when there was a very distinct off-season. When we got to the hotel, we were given the details of our "lovers' special". One dinner to be used either Friday or Saturday, two breakfasts, a roll of tokens for the arcade, 10% off some "4D" movie ride experience, and a 2-for-1 coupon to Max Tussaud's. I guessed it was Madame's nephew? We also got a bottle of sparkling wine in our room and chocolate treats on our pillows. I was impressed. It sounded good.
When we got into our room and saw the "bottle" of wine - basically an aeroplane-sized glass and half - and the chocolates - "fun wrapped" Oh Henry's left over from Halloween - we both started to laugh. The tone for two wonderful days had been set. We decided to cash in on our dinner coupon right away.
The restaurant off the lobby had hopes of being better. There were huge panoramic windows that promised a view of the gorge. Unfortunately, they had some winter moisture problems that day, and it felt like we were defrosting amid the dripping streaks and foggy patches. The decor was your standard booths and tables though the "romantic" lighting was unique. Dollar store battery-powered tea lights were lodged inside thick tumbler glasses and shed a muted pleasantness in a "what a great idea for a craft" sort of way. I had a feeling they were created by our waitress since she was the one who always seemed to be fussing with them. Only one other couple was in the dining room, so she attended to us immediately.
"Can I get you something to start?"
"Sure." "Thank you, that would be nice." We both responded simultaneously.
"And what would the lady like this evening?"
Sarah smiled at the flattery. "I think I'll have a glass of white wine." She glanced over at me to see my reaction. This was a subtle cue of the mood to follow. Diet Coke was usually the beverage of choice. She didn't normally drink alcohol. One glass numbed her nose and made her giggle far too easily. When she did drink, however, it meant she was comfortable with my company and open to anything to follow. I raised my eyebrows in a debonair way.
"And for the gentleman?"
"Do you have Foster's on tap?"
"Yes we do."
"I'll have a pint please."
Sarah smiled at the happy memories I invoked. At university, Foster's was my signature beer. It was at a time when Crocodile Dundee was a known name, and Australia was inexplicably cool. 15 cent buffalo wings and a pitcher of Foster's was the Tuesday night special at the London Arms pub. There the Classics Club would meet and, as a group, circle the wagons and drink ourselves into extroverts.
As soon as the waitress left, Sarah smiled at me. She reached out and held my hand across the table. With my gaze on hers, she slipped her foot from her shoe and slowly began sliding it up my pant leg.
"I got a pedicure this morning." She announced seductively.
I nodded and pretended I didn't notice her invitation. "What colour?" I asked.
"I'm not telling." She teased. "You'll just have to find out later." Her devious little smile was gorgeous.
"Mmmm. I can't wait."
When the waitress returned with our drinks, we immediately retreated to our personal spaces as if we had been discovered by the chaperone. Sarah opened the menu and began to salivate at the variety.
"Can we add an appetizer to the package dinner?" Her question seemed innocent enough.
"You're on the package?" Our friendly waitress disappeared, and we were no longer a lady or a gentleman. She ripped the menu out of Sarah's hand and took mine before I had even opened it. She then scurried to her podium and brought back a tattered, grease-stained, photocopied page that we had to share. We both burst out laughing.
The waitress was flustered that we were not as bothered as she was. "The drinks are NOT included!"
"What choices do we have?" I asked, expecting the usual chicken or fish. I had been on many packages before with my parents.
"Coffee or tea." The waitress snapped.
Sarah and I looked at each other in amused disbelief.
"I'll have coffee please." I didn't even flinch at the ridiculously limited package. I was eager to get my order in early.
"And I'll have the tea!" Sarah followed my lead. "Can I have some milk with that?"
"Yes." The waitress snarled.
"Fantastic!" I enthused.
"Yes, great! I'm glad we got the package, Honey." Sarah joked.
The waitress stormed off and returned sometime later with our lettuce-only salads drowned in Kraft's Italian dressing and our chewy chicken dinners, which she had thoughtfully allowed to cool. She tossed the plates on the table and left us to peacefully devour our deal. We didn't see her again until we requested the bill. For some reason, we found it amusing to leave a generous tip, which of course, defeated the purpose of the package, but we didn't care. It was fun.
The rest of the holiday was marred with similar off-season products and services. The wax museum was only half open, so we couldn't see the pop stars of the seventies. I didn't think it was a problem, but Sarah pouted playfully. She really wanted to see young Bowie. Meanwhile, the arcade was particularly stingy about spitting out coupons. So much so that Mike, the scraggly-haired repair guy, ended up escorting us from game to game and repairing the devices on demand. In no time, he was acting like an old drinking buddy. He joked and laughed, then, out of the blue, revealed that working at the Niagara Falls Fun Centre wasn't his career choice, that his dream was to be part of a travelling carnival. He desperately wanted to see more of the world, he explained and socialize with a greater variety of "wildlife." Mike winked at Sarah to punctuate his meaning, then began advising her on which games to play.
Sarah was partial to Skee ball and clearly had career potential in the sport, but Mike quickly pointed out that the token-to-coupon payout was not the best. In a furtive whisper, he revealed that The Storm Stopper was your best bet, provided the arcade had left it on its original factory settings. He assured us the ones here were "cool." The game had lights that ran around the outside in opposite directions and you had to hit the button at just the right spot to win. It looked impossible, but Mike was right; if you calculated tokens in versus coupons won, it was the best deal. It only took a little practice to win a minor jackpot every 5 or 6 times.
We would cheer each win as if Toronto had won the Stanley Cup. I would give a quick fist pump and a full lung "Yes!" while Sarah would jump up and down screaming, "WhoooHooo!" Of course, in the end, when we cashed in, "Mike's secret" only bumped us up from a key-chain flashlight to a "deluxe" nail beauty set. Mind you, it did come complete with clippers, scissors, a file AND a cuticle scraper. Not only that, it was all neatly packaged in a paisley-patterned pink and green plastic vinyl case. Mike was so pleased to give us our prize and to be honest, we were thrilled to win it if only to see his broad chicletted smile. It was more of a trophy than a grooming set.
That night, I made reservations for us at a fancy Chinese food restaurant - the Bamboo Garden. When we arrived, we had half-expected renovations of some sort. Instead, the place was immaculate. Gentle pools teeming with goldfish highlighted the epic black and red Ming dynasty decor. Real candles flickered on crisp white tablecloths. Again, the restaurant was virtually ours. The reservations on my part were entirely unnecessary. In fact, as soon as we entered, they knew us by name and guided us directly to our table. A live lounge piano caressed the air, its notes danced vaguely around familiar harmonies until finally, as if prompted by our presence, a song emerged immediately accompanied by the velvet voice of oriental karaoke. It was our song remastered
2023.04.01 02:20 Saturdead Why I Fear the Look-a-Me
When I was six years old, I followed a red bird into the woods. I didn’t think much about it, it just made a funny sound and I wanted to look at it. So I wandered off. My mother had fallen asleep on her sunbed after toting about in the garden, she was usually very attentive. Once the bird flew away I tried to turn back, only to realize I’d wandered off the trail, and I had no idea where I was. It was the first time I truly feared for my life. The forests of West Virginia can be so dense that they eat your screams; no one could hear me calling for help, and I couldn’t hear my panicked mother looking for me.
I ended up moving further and further into the forest. I went the wrong way. The sky slowly turned dark as the hours passed, and I found myself following a river. I was thirsty. It eventually got so dark that I couldn’t see my own feet.
At some point, I put my foot down wrong and twisted my ankle. It just broke me. I couldn’t straighten my leg out or put any weight on it. I just sat there by the river, completely devastated. I cried my eyes out, screaming for help, but no one came. It was just me, and the dark. And the dark was ready to eat me alive.
In the darkest hours of the night, as the fear had reached into the back of my heart, I just sat there; shivering. It was as if the panic had subsided into a sort of revelation. I imagined Death waiting for me at the other side of the river. I knew it was there.
I never saw it, but I painted a picture of it in my mind. I figured it had a really long arm, with a single painted nail. If I looked at it, or talked to it, that arm would grow longer.
But it wanted me to look. It wanted me to know it was there.
“Look-a-me,” it whispered. “Look-a-me, little boy.”
Sometime during the night, I passed out. They found me by the river just before sunrise.
And although my leg healed, my mind didn’t. And from that day forward, I’ve always had the sense that something lurks in the dark, just out of sight. Something that wants me to look. To find it.
To reach me.
Ever since, I’ve had an anxious relationship to the dark. Some would call it nyctophobia. A sort of fear of the unseen. I’ve always held that gnawing feeling of something waiting on the other side of the river, just out of reach; but one misstep, and it would get me. Even as an adult, I still get that sense of dread. An all-encompassing panic. The sense that you’re not getting enough oxygen, despite hyperventilating. Blood rushing to your head so fast it starts ringing in your ears. And then and there, in my most vulnerable moments, I can still hear it.
“Look-a-me, little boy. Look-a-me.”
Over the years, I’ve been to various therapists. I’ve had treatments. And honestly, just being open about my fears has helped tremendously. I’ve faced my fears time and time again and channeled them into creative outlets. That’s how I eventually became a screenwriter.
I worked my fingers to the bone. Sometimes out of ambition, but most often just to distract myself from that all-consuming darkness that sneaks up on me late at night. I moved to the West Coast in 2011. An internship lead me to a position as an uncredited assistant screenwriter on a popular sitcom. I can’t name any names, but I’m sure there were quite a few nerds enjoying our fourth season.
I got my first job at a movie set in 2016. I mostly worked on last-minute edits and consultation, but it was the first time I saw my name on the silver screen. I’m sure some of you horror fans out there enjoyed it. And to those of you who’ve gained a lifelong fear of dolls; I’m sorry.
I worked several stray projects until 2018, when I met a very influential man. Let’s call him Patrick, or ‘Pat’ for short. Pat and I met at the wrap-up party of another project, and we got a bit too drunk. We started talking about horror movies, and the two of us ended up talking about our fears and anxieties. It was a “drinking red wine from the bottle at 3-am” kind of talk.
I ended up mentioning my trauma. It sort of just slipped out. I mentioned my sprained leg, and sitting there at the bank of the river. I mentioned a presence in the dark. The long arm, growing longer the more I tried to see it.
“Wha… what’s it called?” Pat asked, flabbergasted.
And in that moment, I realized I’d just pitched my first screenplay.
Pat fast-tracked the whole thing. He was aching for a producer’s credit, and he genuinely loved the imagery of the ‘Look-a-Me’. A creature lurking in the dark with an arm growing taller the more you paid attention to it. He thought it was absolutely chilling, and he kept hyping me up about it several times a week.
I had a rough draft ready in two weeks. I tried to channel my childhood fears into a cohesive story, but instead of a kid stuck by the river it was more of a classic horror setup. A group of young adults who got lost in the forests of West Virginia, being relentlessly hunted by this primal force. That first draft was rough, but I got a good outline.
I worked with two other writers for the second draft. Kellan, who mostly worked crime drama, and Morgan. She was a comedy writer who wanted to break into a new genre. There was a lot of late night rewrites. Morgan was also an amazing concept artist, which brought every piece of our story to life.
I remember one night as we worked on the second draft. Kellan was rambling on and on about what the ‘Look-a-me’ represented.
“It’s too simple,” he sighed. “It can’t just be death. We’re not making a… a Jason Voorhees. It’s something new. It means something.”
“I think it’s trauma,” said Morgan. “Like, how it gets worse the more you poke at it. The more you look at it. It’s painful.”
“What the hell kind of message is that?” Kellan scoffed. “Are we telling people not to confront their fears?”
“No, we’re… we’re telling them to not get… goaded into it. To do it on your own terms, you know?”
It felt like a good and bad conscience chattering into my ears. But at the end of the day, it was my script, and it came down to my decision. Kellan wanted to paint the picture of a threat, something symbolic. Morgan wanted to send a message, using the Look-a-me as a tool. Neither of them was getting the point.
“There’s nothing to it,” I finally said. “It is not a message. It is not a symbol. It’s there, and it hunts. Just like a bear, or a shark.”
“So we’re just making a monster movie,” scoffed Kellan. “Jaws 4, deep forest boogaloo?”
“There was a Jaws 4, actually,” smiled Morgan. “It was called The Revenge.”
“Oh please.”
They argued back and forth. They argued about how bad the script could get if we continued down this path. They argued about the clichés we were wandering headfirst into. And it dawned on me; they were just scared of the dark. They didn’t have control. I did.
“I got it from here,” I said. “Take the night off.”
So they did. They were still arguing in the hallway, on their way out. Moments later, Kellan turned back. He leaned in and gave me a final look.
“You know you have to show it, right?” he said. “No matter what, we can’t just have it hidden in the dark. We have to show it.”
That’s where my writing stopped. No matter how I twisted and turned it, I couldn’t picture the Look-a-me. All I saw was this long arm reaching towards me, coming out of the dark. A woman’s hand, with a single painted nail.
“Look-a-me, little boy.”
But the more I thought about it, the more my anxiety spiked. I knew I could see it in my mind, if I wanted to. I could. But looking at it too closely, in any way, would give it the power to reach me. My mind wouldn’t let me see it. My reptile brain was reaching through my anxiety to rattle me into looking the other way. To turn my mind away from the page.
I couldn’t describe it. All I got was that… that long arm.
And I could’ve sworn I felt it brushing against the back of my neck.
The second draft stalled for a couple of weeks. Pat was getting impatient. He called me into the office one rainy Wednesday afternoon to have a “serious conversation” about the rewrite.
When I got there, I was ambushed by a whole gaggle of writers. An entire team. A room full of people, who’d all been briefed. They all had printed-out copies of the first draft, and both Morgan and Kellan had told them about the issue with the rewrite. Pat wasn’t playing around; he wanted this done.
I barely got a word out before we were ushered into our seats and pushed into finishing the draft. There were about a dozen of us. Some were pretty big industry names, called in to give some pedigree to the script. One of them had worked on prosthetics for a big zombie show, and he came out swinging.
“Let’s just expand on what we got,” he suggested. “Instead of a long arm, why not several? Just… all arms.”
“Yeah,” someone chimed in. “Like it, a… saves them. The arms, I mean.”
“It adds to itself,” someone laughed. “A literal growing fear.”
“Ringu meets The Blob. Love it. Love. IT.”
They were all talking over me. Through me. Past me. They didn’t know any better, and as a collective, they all looked at the Look-a-me. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. They were bringing it into focus. And even there, in the bright lights of that film studio meeting room, I could feel that darkness coming over me. My breath growing shallow. My vision turning into a pin. And in the back of my mind, I heard it.
“Look-a-me, little boy.”
I ran out of the office, locked myself in the bathroom, and puked my guts out. I screamed into the toilet bowl, waiting for the panic to stop. I could feel that long arm reaching for me. And the more I thought about it, the closer it got.
“Look-a-me,” it hissed, its voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. “Look-a-me!”
I didn’t return to that meeting. I got in my car and went straight home to take my backup anxiety meds. I hadn’t used them in a while. I fell face-first into the bed and just collapsed into a nightmarish mid-afternoon nap.
Later that day I poured myself a bath and a glass of red wine (non-alcoholic); even brought out some bubbles. I figured I’d stay in for the rest of the day and get takeout.
Just a few minutes into the bath, my phone started buzzing. Turns out Pat had run out of patience. They’d finished the second draft, and they were going ahead with it; with or without me. I was invited to add to it, but they weren’t gonna budge on what the ‘consultants’ had come up with.
I skimmed it. And there it was.
They had been poking at the Look-a-me for hours. There was concept art, vivid descriptions, and even a storyboard sketch.
The Look-a-me. A hundred arms from a hundred victims. An eldritch Medusa. Ringu meets The Blob. They had comparisons, charts, mood boards… one of them already had a casting suggestion for the voiceover.
Then the power went out.
With a snap from the ceiling light, I was enveloped in complete darkness. In a heartbeat I went from a screenwriter back to a little boy; lost and alone in the dark. I imagined myself submerged in that forest river. I scrambled to get out. I kept slipping, as I felt the bathtub give way for river stones. I could feel them. I could smell the algae.
“Look-a-me, little boy,” the darkness hissed. “They gave me a body. They look, little boy.”
A long nail brushed against my neck.
“You made them look-a-me. And now I can reach much, much further.”
A warmth against my cheek, as something leaned in. Sticky lips parting, like slowly pulling off a band-aid. It was right there, in the dark.
“Thank you.”
As the lights came back on, I felt my heart skip a beat. Every square inch, every bathroom tile, every towel and shampoo bottle; it was all covered in handprints.
And for the first time since I was six years old, I screamed like my life depended on it.
Like a part of me was still stuck in those woods, hoping for my mother to find me.
Over the next few days, my fear of the dark kicked into overdrive. Every time I stepped out of the light, I heard it. Little remarks, snickers, and laughter. Just closing my eyes was all it took for the sound of tapping fingers to creep closer.
I couldn’t help but to imagine it. It was no longer just an arm in the dark, it was this… this amalgamation. It poured out of every dark corner of every room. It had so many more things to say, and its arms were so much longer.
And no matter how many lights were on, and no matter how much light I let in from the windows, I could still sense it. Out of every unseen corner, out of every closed door; it was there.
And it wanted me to look.
I was getting regular updates. They were on a third draft. Kellan and Morgan had completely taken over the writing, and I was turning more and more into a “consultant”. The project was running away from me. More concept art. More lines. More dialogue.
They were looking at it. I had pointed it out to them, and now they were all looking.
I was in a feverish panic. I could feel it growing stronger, bigger, more assertive. It was no longer just something lurking in the back of my mind, it was reaching across the river. And at every turn, at every corner, there it was.
“Look-a-me, little boy.”
I’ll be honest, some of those days are a blur. I remember a rainy evening in the middle of the week. I was sleep-deprived, exhausted, and mentally torn.
I don’t even remember going to see Morgan. I just had this drive to stop her from looking too closely. I had to stop her from whatever was going to happen if she looked for too long.
I had to save her.
The moment I put my hand to her door, it opened. Morgan looked at me with sleepless eyes, her hands shaking. For a moment, the two of us just looked at one another.
“I, uh… I thought you were sick,” she said. “They said you were.”
“You don’t… don’t look too great yourself,” I said, forcing a chuckle.
Every light in her apartment was on. Even her TV, a flashlight, and her laptop. Her curtains had been torn down and spread across the floor. It might’ve been evening outside, but her place was bright as day. I could put two and two together, but it felt strange saying it out loud.
“You’ve… you’ve seen it. You’ve looked, I mean.”
Morgan nodded, her head shaking up and down like a bobblehead. Poor thing was exhausted.
“It’s real,” she stammered. “How… how can it be real?”
She invited me in. I sat down on her sofa, on top of a flowery curtain. Morgan’s hands were shaking so bad I could hear the spoon in her cup of tea rattle back and forth.
“It, uh… started a few days ago,” she said. “And it just… it never stops. The more I try not to think about it, the more real it gets.”
“It wants you to look,” I said. “It wants-“
“It wants to become this… this real thing. It wants us to create it. It has lived in the back of your head for years, and now it’s clawing its way out.”
“That’s… yeah. Something like that.”
“So how do we stop it?” she asked. “What, do we… do we kill you?”
She sat down next to me, holding her cup tight with both her hands.
“I don’t, uh… I don’t think so. It’s already out there.”
“But we can’t un-look at it. It’s done. It’s… it’s happening.”
And the thought hit me.
What the hell would happen once an audience of thousands, or tens of thousands, or hundreds of thousands, watched it? How long would it grow, just from test screening? How far across the river could the Look-a-me get, if everyone was eager to watch it?
A cold chill went up my spine. Maybe this was the plan. Maybe this was what it wanted. Maybe it pushed me towards writing to begin with. Maybe it lived in me, putting me on a path to birth it onto the world stage.
I felt sick.
“I… I can’t let this happen,” I said. “If that… if it… if we shoot anything. A promo, a… a trailer. Anything. If we do the goddamn casting, or there’s a leak, or… or…”
“Oh my God.”
Morgan covered her mouth, her eyes going wild.
“D-do you think-“
I just nodded. We were thinking the same thing. This… this mind-creature, if brought to the public, would be unstoppable.
We got our coats and got out of the apartment. We had to see Pat. Maybe he was experiencing something similar. Morgan fumbled for her keys and almost stumbled over her own feet. I could hear her swearing with frustration.
The moment we got out of her apartment, it was as if time stood still. Morgan was right behind me, but something happened. There was this strange ammonia smell in the air. I slowly turned around, holding my breath.
I hadn’t thought about it, but the hallway light outside her apartment was broken. And for a moment, we were standing in darkness.
One by one, the lights in her apartment went out. Twinkling on and off, like dying stars.
A pair of pale fingers dug through her hair; a single painted fingernail poked out behind her ear.
So many fingers.
Morgan gasped. We looked at one another, breathlessly.
It could reach all the way across.
It could reach across the river.
In a heartbeat, the door slammed shut. There was a visceral tearing, and the sound of something rolling across the floor. And outside, the lights were starting to die.
“Look-a-me, little boy,” the dark said. “Look-a-me.”
Long pale arms crawled out of every corner, reaching for me. It wasn’t even dark yet. It didn’t care.
It laughed.
I refused to get trapped in the elevator, so I ran down the stairs , feeling the sole of my boots trample curious fingers with every corner I rounded. I could feel them nipping at my clothes, grasping for my neck.
I burst through the exit to the street level, knocking over a middle-aged couple as I scrambled towards my car. I didn’t even hear their insults. All I heard was my heartbeat, and that little voice growing louder every time I left the safety of the streetlights.
I drove past red lights, broke every speed limit, and went down the wrong end of a one-way street. I was in a frenzy and ended up frantically knocking on Pat’s front door.
I tried to compose myself, but there was no use. My eyes were wild, and I couldn’t stop my legs from shaking. My lips quivered, like I was hypothermic.
Pat was having a small party, just like the one I’d first met him at. He was about to invite me in, but he stopped himself. Clearly, I wasn’t well.
“We gotta… we gotta stop this, Pat,” I said. “We gotta stop production.”
“What are you talking about?” he smiled. “There’s no reason to-“
“No, you’re not hearing me. This… this is not a-a… a debate.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you talk to me like-“
I heard it. That snickering, pleading little voice. Asking me to turn around, to look into the dark of the night.
“Look. Look-a-me.”
I snapped.
I shoved the door open and forced my way inside. I picked up a small wine glass from a nearby table, stomped into the living room, and tapped it with my phone for attention.
It could be a thousand times worse. Ten thousand. A hundred thousand.
No.
I barely even noticed the glass breaking, and everyone staring. At least three dozen industry professionals. People I’d looked up to my entire professional career. Hell, one of them was an A-lister.
“We’re, uh… hi,” I stammered. “We’re cancelling all production of the, uh… The Look-a-Me.”
There was a murmur in the crowd. Little smirks and pitying smiles.
“It’s happening,” I said. “It’s done. It’s gone.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” groaned Pat. “I’m calling the police.”
“Do whatever you want, but if I see a single goddamn still from that production, I’m burning the goddamn studio to the ground.”
“You gotta be-“
I grabbed Pat by the collar and pushed him up against the wall, rattling his wine glasses.
“I’m burning. The goddamn studio. To the ground.”
Career suicide.
Complete, absolute, career suicide.
I collapsed back into my car, still holding the broken wine glass. I turned on the dome light to drown out the darkness, but it didn’t work. I flicked it a couple times, but nothing happened.
A pale hand pushed down on my door lock.
Click.
“Time to look-a-me, little boy,” a voice whispered from the back seat, as a cold hand stroked my cheek. “Time to look.”
I thought back on that night from so many years ago. That absolute terror. That certainty of death. And just like then, there was this moment where fear gave way to revelation.
Of course.
“You can’t kill me,” I said. “I’m the only one who’ve… who’ve really looked. I’m the only one giving you this reach.”
Cold fingers curled around my neck.
“That’s it, isn’t… isn’t it? It’s because of me. Otherwise you would’ve killed me. You would’ve stopped me from going in there.”
There was no response. Just a tightening grip. Long nails brushing my hair, grabbing at it.
“Without me, and without that show, there’s no one to look. All the drawings will be tossed. The script forgotten. It’ll just be you and me, and… and if I’m gone… there’s just you. And you’re nothing. You are, literally, nothing. You never were anything but… but nothing.”
And I turned around to look, at the look-a-me.
And all I saw was a pale white hand retreating into the dark.
Now, it’s… it’s been a while.
I’m no longer under a studio NDA, but I’m not taking any chances. No charges were pressed, no production came to pass. It was easier to just shut it down and move on.
You might’ve heard about Morgan. The details were graphic. And no, of course that’s not her real name. They said she had some kind of episode, and the results were… tragic. How you can do something like she did to her own head during an "episode" they conveniently left out. But I know.
I'll always know.
Some things out there defy our explanations. Our rationale. Some things aren’t a message, or a monster, or a theme. It just is. It exists because we make it exist. And it wants to be seen.
To me, I don’t know where the Look-a-me came from. Maybe it came from me. Maybe it is me. Or maybe it was just something that found me in the dark, and decided to stick around.
But now I know that as much as I will be stuck with it, for the rest of my life, at least that thing is equally stuck.
With me.
submitted by Saturdead to nosleep [link] [comments]
I ended up moving further and further into the forest. I went the wrong way. The sky slowly turned dark as the hours passed, and I found myself following a river. I was thirsty. It eventually got so dark that I couldn’t see my own feet.
At some point, I put my foot down wrong and twisted my ankle. It just broke me. I couldn’t straighten my leg out or put any weight on it. I just sat there by the river, completely devastated. I cried my eyes out, screaming for help, but no one came. It was just me, and the dark. And the dark was ready to eat me alive.
In the darkest hours of the night, as the fear had reached into the back of my heart, I just sat there; shivering. It was as if the panic had subsided into a sort of revelation. I imagined Death waiting for me at the other side of the river. I knew it was there.
I never saw it, but I painted a picture of it in my mind. I figured it had a really long arm, with a single painted nail. If I looked at it, or talked to it, that arm would grow longer.
But it wanted me to look. It wanted me to know it was there.
“Look-a-me,” it whispered. “Look-a-me, little boy.”
Sometime during the night, I passed out. They found me by the river just before sunrise.
And although my leg healed, my mind didn’t. And from that day forward, I’ve always had the sense that something lurks in the dark, just out of sight. Something that wants me to look. To find it.
To reach me.
Ever since, I’ve had an anxious relationship to the dark. Some would call it nyctophobia. A sort of fear of the unseen. I’ve always held that gnawing feeling of something waiting on the other side of the river, just out of reach; but one misstep, and it would get me. Even as an adult, I still get that sense of dread. An all-encompassing panic. The sense that you’re not getting enough oxygen, despite hyperventilating. Blood rushing to your head so fast it starts ringing in your ears. And then and there, in my most vulnerable moments, I can still hear it.
“Look-a-me, little boy. Look-a-me.”
Over the years, I’ve been to various therapists. I’ve had treatments. And honestly, just being open about my fears has helped tremendously. I’ve faced my fears time and time again and channeled them into creative outlets. That’s how I eventually became a screenwriter.
I worked my fingers to the bone. Sometimes out of ambition, but most often just to distract myself from that all-consuming darkness that sneaks up on me late at night. I moved to the West Coast in 2011. An internship lead me to a position as an uncredited assistant screenwriter on a popular sitcom. I can’t name any names, but I’m sure there were quite a few nerds enjoying our fourth season.
I got my first job at a movie set in 2016. I mostly worked on last-minute edits and consultation, but it was the first time I saw my name on the silver screen. I’m sure some of you horror fans out there enjoyed it. And to those of you who’ve gained a lifelong fear of dolls; I’m sorry.
I worked several stray projects until 2018, when I met a very influential man. Let’s call him Patrick, or ‘Pat’ for short. Pat and I met at the wrap-up party of another project, and we got a bit too drunk. We started talking about horror movies, and the two of us ended up talking about our fears and anxieties. It was a “drinking red wine from the bottle at 3-am” kind of talk.
I ended up mentioning my trauma. It sort of just slipped out. I mentioned my sprained leg, and sitting there at the bank of the river. I mentioned a presence in the dark. The long arm, growing longer the more I tried to see it.
“Wha… what’s it called?” Pat asked, flabbergasted.
And in that moment, I realized I’d just pitched my first screenplay.
Pat fast-tracked the whole thing. He was aching for a producer’s credit, and he genuinely loved the imagery of the ‘Look-a-Me’. A creature lurking in the dark with an arm growing taller the more you paid attention to it. He thought it was absolutely chilling, and he kept hyping me up about it several times a week.
I had a rough draft ready in two weeks. I tried to channel my childhood fears into a cohesive story, but instead of a kid stuck by the river it was more of a classic horror setup. A group of young adults who got lost in the forests of West Virginia, being relentlessly hunted by this primal force. That first draft was rough, but I got a good outline.
I worked with two other writers for the second draft. Kellan, who mostly worked crime drama, and Morgan. She was a comedy writer who wanted to break into a new genre. There was a lot of late night rewrites. Morgan was also an amazing concept artist, which brought every piece of our story to life.
I remember one night as we worked on the second draft. Kellan was rambling on and on about what the ‘Look-a-me’ represented.
“It’s too simple,” he sighed. “It can’t just be death. We’re not making a… a Jason Voorhees. It’s something new. It means something.”
“I think it’s trauma,” said Morgan. “Like, how it gets worse the more you poke at it. The more you look at it. It’s painful.”
“What the hell kind of message is that?” Kellan scoffed. “Are we telling people not to confront their fears?”
“No, we’re… we’re telling them to not get… goaded into it. To do it on your own terms, you know?”
It felt like a good and bad conscience chattering into my ears. But at the end of the day, it was my script, and it came down to my decision. Kellan wanted to paint the picture of a threat, something symbolic. Morgan wanted to send a message, using the Look-a-me as a tool. Neither of them was getting the point.
“There’s nothing to it,” I finally said. “It is not a message. It is not a symbol. It’s there, and it hunts. Just like a bear, or a shark.”
“So we’re just making a monster movie,” scoffed Kellan. “Jaws 4, deep forest boogaloo?”
“There was a Jaws 4, actually,” smiled Morgan. “It was called The Revenge.”
“Oh please.”
They argued back and forth. They argued about how bad the script could get if we continued down this path. They argued about the clichés we were wandering headfirst into. And it dawned on me; they were just scared of the dark. They didn’t have control. I did.
“I got it from here,” I said. “Take the night off.”
So they did. They were still arguing in the hallway, on their way out. Moments later, Kellan turned back. He leaned in and gave me a final look.
“You know you have to show it, right?” he said. “No matter what, we can’t just have it hidden in the dark. We have to show it.”
That’s where my writing stopped. No matter how I twisted and turned it, I couldn’t picture the Look-a-me. All I saw was this long arm reaching towards me, coming out of the dark. A woman’s hand, with a single painted nail.
“Look-a-me, little boy.”
But the more I thought about it, the more my anxiety spiked. I knew I could see it in my mind, if I wanted to. I could. But looking at it too closely, in any way, would give it the power to reach me. My mind wouldn’t let me see it. My reptile brain was reaching through my anxiety to rattle me into looking the other way. To turn my mind away from the page.
I couldn’t describe it. All I got was that… that long arm.
And I could’ve sworn I felt it brushing against the back of my neck.
The second draft stalled for a couple of weeks. Pat was getting impatient. He called me into the office one rainy Wednesday afternoon to have a “serious conversation” about the rewrite.
When I got there, I was ambushed by a whole gaggle of writers. An entire team. A room full of people, who’d all been briefed. They all had printed-out copies of the first draft, and both Morgan and Kellan had told them about the issue with the rewrite. Pat wasn’t playing around; he wanted this done.
I barely got a word out before we were ushered into our seats and pushed into finishing the draft. There were about a dozen of us. Some were pretty big industry names, called in to give some pedigree to the script. One of them had worked on prosthetics for a big zombie show, and he came out swinging.
“Let’s just expand on what we got,” he suggested. “Instead of a long arm, why not several? Just… all arms.”
“Yeah,” someone chimed in. “Like it, a… saves them. The arms, I mean.”
“It adds to itself,” someone laughed. “A literal growing fear.”
“Ringu meets The Blob. Love it. Love. IT.”
They were all talking over me. Through me. Past me. They didn’t know any better, and as a collective, they all looked at the Look-a-me. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. They were bringing it into focus. And even there, in the bright lights of that film studio meeting room, I could feel that darkness coming over me. My breath growing shallow. My vision turning into a pin. And in the back of my mind, I heard it.
“Look-a-me, little boy.”
I ran out of the office, locked myself in the bathroom, and puked my guts out. I screamed into the toilet bowl, waiting for the panic to stop. I could feel that long arm reaching for me. And the more I thought about it, the closer it got.
“Look-a-me,” it hissed, its voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. “Look-a-me!”
I didn’t return to that meeting. I got in my car and went straight home to take my backup anxiety meds. I hadn’t used them in a while. I fell face-first into the bed and just collapsed into a nightmarish mid-afternoon nap.
Later that day I poured myself a bath and a glass of red wine (non-alcoholic); even brought out some bubbles. I figured I’d stay in for the rest of the day and get takeout.
Just a few minutes into the bath, my phone started buzzing. Turns out Pat had run out of patience. They’d finished the second draft, and they were going ahead with it; with or without me. I was invited to add to it, but they weren’t gonna budge on what the ‘consultants’ had come up with.
I skimmed it. And there it was.
They had been poking at the Look-a-me for hours. There was concept art, vivid descriptions, and even a storyboard sketch.
The Look-a-me. A hundred arms from a hundred victims. An eldritch Medusa. Ringu meets The Blob. They had comparisons, charts, mood boards… one of them already had a casting suggestion for the voiceover.
Then the power went out.
With a snap from the ceiling light, I was enveloped in complete darkness. In a heartbeat I went from a screenwriter back to a little boy; lost and alone in the dark. I imagined myself submerged in that forest river. I scrambled to get out. I kept slipping, as I felt the bathtub give way for river stones. I could feel them. I could smell the algae.
“Look-a-me, little boy,” the darkness hissed. “They gave me a body. They look, little boy.”
A long nail brushed against my neck.
“You made them look-a-me. And now I can reach much, much further.”
A warmth against my cheek, as something leaned in. Sticky lips parting, like slowly pulling off a band-aid. It was right there, in the dark.
“Thank you.”
As the lights came back on, I felt my heart skip a beat. Every square inch, every bathroom tile, every towel and shampoo bottle; it was all covered in handprints.
And for the first time since I was six years old, I screamed like my life depended on it.
Like a part of me was still stuck in those woods, hoping for my mother to find me.
Over the next few days, my fear of the dark kicked into overdrive. Every time I stepped out of the light, I heard it. Little remarks, snickers, and laughter. Just closing my eyes was all it took for the sound of tapping fingers to creep closer.
I couldn’t help but to imagine it. It was no longer just an arm in the dark, it was this… this amalgamation. It poured out of every dark corner of every room. It had so many more things to say, and its arms were so much longer.
And no matter how many lights were on, and no matter how much light I let in from the windows, I could still sense it. Out of every unseen corner, out of every closed door; it was there.
And it wanted me to look.
I was getting regular updates. They were on a third draft. Kellan and Morgan had completely taken over the writing, and I was turning more and more into a “consultant”. The project was running away from me. More concept art. More lines. More dialogue.
They were looking at it. I had pointed it out to them, and now they were all looking.
I was in a feverish panic. I could feel it growing stronger, bigger, more assertive. It was no longer just something lurking in the back of my mind, it was reaching across the river. And at every turn, at every corner, there it was.
“Look-a-me, little boy.”
I’ll be honest, some of those days are a blur. I remember a rainy evening in the middle of the week. I was sleep-deprived, exhausted, and mentally torn.
I don’t even remember going to see Morgan. I just had this drive to stop her from looking too closely. I had to stop her from whatever was going to happen if she looked for too long.
I had to save her.
The moment I put my hand to her door, it opened. Morgan looked at me with sleepless eyes, her hands shaking. For a moment, the two of us just looked at one another.
“I, uh… I thought you were sick,” she said. “They said you were.”
“You don’t… don’t look too great yourself,” I said, forcing a chuckle.
Every light in her apartment was on. Even her TV, a flashlight, and her laptop. Her curtains had been torn down and spread across the floor. It might’ve been evening outside, but her place was bright as day. I could put two and two together, but it felt strange saying it out loud.
“You’ve… you’ve seen it. You’ve looked, I mean.”
Morgan nodded, her head shaking up and down like a bobblehead. Poor thing was exhausted.
“It’s real,” she stammered. “How… how can it be real?”
She invited me in. I sat down on her sofa, on top of a flowery curtain. Morgan’s hands were shaking so bad I could hear the spoon in her cup of tea rattle back and forth.
“It, uh… started a few days ago,” she said. “And it just… it never stops. The more I try not to think about it, the more real it gets.”
“It wants you to look,” I said. “It wants-“
“It wants to become this… this real thing. It wants us to create it. It has lived in the back of your head for years, and now it’s clawing its way out.”
“That’s… yeah. Something like that.”
“So how do we stop it?” she asked. “What, do we… do we kill you?”
She sat down next to me, holding her cup tight with both her hands.
“I don’t, uh… I don’t think so. It’s already out there.”
“But we can’t un-look at it. It’s done. It’s… it’s happening.”
And the thought hit me.
What the hell would happen once an audience of thousands, or tens of thousands, or hundreds of thousands, watched it? How long would it grow, just from test screening? How far across the river could the Look-a-me get, if everyone was eager to watch it?
A cold chill went up my spine. Maybe this was the plan. Maybe this was what it wanted. Maybe it pushed me towards writing to begin with. Maybe it lived in me, putting me on a path to birth it onto the world stage.
I felt sick.
“I… I can’t let this happen,” I said. “If that… if it… if we shoot anything. A promo, a… a trailer. Anything. If we do the goddamn casting, or there’s a leak, or… or…”
“Oh my God.”
Morgan covered her mouth, her eyes going wild.
“D-do you think-“
I just nodded. We were thinking the same thing. This… this mind-creature, if brought to the public, would be unstoppable.
We got our coats and got out of the apartment. We had to see Pat. Maybe he was experiencing something similar. Morgan fumbled for her keys and almost stumbled over her own feet. I could hear her swearing with frustration.
The moment we got out of her apartment, it was as if time stood still. Morgan was right behind me, but something happened. There was this strange ammonia smell in the air. I slowly turned around, holding my breath.
I hadn’t thought about it, but the hallway light outside her apartment was broken. And for a moment, we were standing in darkness.
One by one, the lights in her apartment went out. Twinkling on and off, like dying stars.
A pair of pale fingers dug through her hair; a single painted fingernail poked out behind her ear.
So many fingers.
Morgan gasped. We looked at one another, breathlessly.
It could reach all the way across.
It could reach across the river.
In a heartbeat, the door slammed shut. There was a visceral tearing, and the sound of something rolling across the floor. And outside, the lights were starting to die.
“Look-a-me, little boy,” the dark said. “Look-a-me.”
Long pale arms crawled out of every corner, reaching for me. It wasn’t even dark yet. It didn’t care.
It laughed.
I refused to get trapped in the elevator, so I ran down the stairs , feeling the sole of my boots trample curious fingers with every corner I rounded. I could feel them nipping at my clothes, grasping for my neck.
I burst through the exit to the street level, knocking over a middle-aged couple as I scrambled towards my car. I didn’t even hear their insults. All I heard was my heartbeat, and that little voice growing louder every time I left the safety of the streetlights.
I drove past red lights, broke every speed limit, and went down the wrong end of a one-way street. I was in a frenzy and ended up frantically knocking on Pat’s front door.
I tried to compose myself, but there was no use. My eyes were wild, and I couldn’t stop my legs from shaking. My lips quivered, like I was hypothermic.
Pat was having a small party, just like the one I’d first met him at. He was about to invite me in, but he stopped himself. Clearly, I wasn’t well.
“We gotta… we gotta stop this, Pat,” I said. “We gotta stop production.”
“What are you talking about?” he smiled. “There’s no reason to-“
“No, you’re not hearing me. This… this is not a-a… a debate.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you talk to me like-“
I heard it. That snickering, pleading little voice. Asking me to turn around, to look into the dark of the night.
“Look. Look-a-me.”
I snapped.
I shoved the door open and forced my way inside. I picked up a small wine glass from a nearby table, stomped into the living room, and tapped it with my phone for attention.
It could be a thousand times worse. Ten thousand. A hundred thousand.
No.
I barely even noticed the glass breaking, and everyone staring. At least three dozen industry professionals. People I’d looked up to my entire professional career. Hell, one of them was an A-lister.
“We’re, uh… hi,” I stammered. “We’re cancelling all production of the, uh… The Look-a-Me.”
There was a murmur in the crowd. Little smirks and pitying smiles.
“It’s happening,” I said. “It’s done. It’s gone.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” groaned Pat. “I’m calling the police.”
“Do whatever you want, but if I see a single goddamn still from that production, I’m burning the goddamn studio to the ground.”
“You gotta be-“
I grabbed Pat by the collar and pushed him up against the wall, rattling his wine glasses.
“I’m burning. The goddamn studio. To the ground.”
Career suicide.
Complete, absolute, career suicide.
I collapsed back into my car, still holding the broken wine glass. I turned on the dome light to drown out the darkness, but it didn’t work. I flicked it a couple times, but nothing happened.
A pale hand pushed down on my door lock.
Click.
“Time to look-a-me, little boy,” a voice whispered from the back seat, as a cold hand stroked my cheek. “Time to look.”
I thought back on that night from so many years ago. That absolute terror. That certainty of death. And just like then, there was this moment where fear gave way to revelation.
Of course.
“You can’t kill me,” I said. “I’m the only one who’ve… who’ve really looked. I’m the only one giving you this reach.”
Cold fingers curled around my neck.
“That’s it, isn’t… isn’t it? It’s because of me. Otherwise you would’ve killed me. You would’ve stopped me from going in there.”
There was no response. Just a tightening grip. Long nails brushing my hair, grabbing at it.
“Without me, and without that show, there’s no one to look. All the drawings will be tossed. The script forgotten. It’ll just be you and me, and… and if I’m gone… there’s just you. And you’re nothing. You are, literally, nothing. You never were anything but… but nothing.”
And I turned around to look, at the look-a-me.
And all I saw was a pale white hand retreating into the dark.
Now, it’s… it’s been a while.
I’m no longer under a studio NDA, but I’m not taking any chances. No charges were pressed, no production came to pass. It was easier to just shut it down and move on.
You might’ve heard about Morgan. The details were graphic. And no, of course that’s not her real name. They said she had some kind of episode, and the results were… tragic. How you can do something like she did to her own head during an "episode" they conveniently left out. But I know.
I'll always know.
Some things out there defy our explanations. Our rationale. Some things aren’t a message, or a monster, or a theme. It just is. It exists because we make it exist. And it wants to be seen.
To me, I don’t know where the Look-a-me came from. Maybe it came from me. Maybe it is me. Or maybe it was just something that found me in the dark, and decided to stick around.
But now I know that as much as I will be stuck with it, for the rest of my life, at least that thing is equally stuck.
With me.
2023.04.01 02:13 Bateman_Not_Batman [RF] Cud
“Not all dairy is white.” I said.
“Milk is.” He replied.
“Milk isn’t all dairy.” I said back.
“Cream, yogurt–”
“Butter.” Got him.
“Some butter is white.”
“Good butter is yellow.” Really got him.
“Ok, that’s one.”
“Cheese, chocolate milk–”
“Because it has chocolate in it.”
He’s right of course but “We still don’t know if dairy is her only intolerance.” I told him. “The name doesn’t make any sense.”
We were talking about public enemy number one, The Woman in White. Legend has it, she had one sip of milk at a diner then killed everybody in the joint. I don’t know if someone at the Bureau coined the name or someone on the press, but it stuck. She was the most dangerous intolerant of all, and we were hunting her. ‘Dairy Intolerants’ was the Bureau’s official term. We called them ‘Cuds.’
After a beat my partner piped up again, “Sixty five percent of all felons are unable to digest dairy. That most likely means her too. The name makes sense, we just don’t know if it’s holistic yet.”
He was always turning to stats when he knew he was losing an argument. I didn’t blame him for it, I was just always more of a gut guy. But everyone knows guts can’t be trusted these days, so stats usually won out. Before I had a chance to reply it was our turn to order.
“I’ll take a latte, please.” I said to the barista.
“OD card?” She replied. I already had my Diet card in my hand. I held it up so she could scan it *bleep* “Oat or almond milk?” She asked.
“Oat.” I said begrudgingly.
“Coming up.”
“I’ll take a latte too.” Said my partner.
“OD card?” *bleep* “What kind of milk would you like?”
“Dairy, of course. Whole milk.”
Smug bastard. Despite my years at the Bureau, that response always made me feel less than him. Total tolerance. Bastard.
We hopped back in our cruiser and headed to the next name and address on the suspects list. As we sped past the crowds of people getting on with their normalized lives, I wondered, are they happier now? The virus happened so long ago. So long, that I heard they started teaching it in schools as part of World History. I guess anyone under the age of fifteen hadn’t had to live through the worst of it. It was probably the most disturbing virus of all time, spread through passed gas. My entire family was wiped out just because they smelled some asshole’s fart. Kids still found it funny but I didn’t see any humor in it. All the deaths were bad enough but when they finally figured out what was killing everyone, the impact on the economy, on society, of shutting down all the dairies and farms and anywhere else that produced intolerable foods, was way worse. In hindsight, I don’t know if the Government Tolerance Program was the right solution but it was the only solution everyone could agree on. It meant that all of our diets were now monitored monthly. Which basically means I’m cranky every single day. It takes a Cud to hunt a Cud, I guess. I have another evaluation next week and if they take one more food off my Optimized Diet card, I’ll flip. Somehow my partner tolerates everything, even cauliflower. And he intentionally lauds it over me. The bastard had ice cream yesterday and won’t shut up about it.
We’d been on her trail for weeks now. But part of The Woman in White’s talent was evasion. It’s like she was never there. They should have called her The Invisible Woman. The name wasn’t even important, the amount of people she was said to have farted to death was. Of course, there weren’t many witnesses. No one could survive her gas. From the various crime scene reports it seemed like it may go well beyond dairy for her. Sounded like she couldn't tolerate any foods. Imagine that, every bite you took could be a murder. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She never had many witnesses but anyone who was lucky enough to be heavily masked and survive said she was the most beautiful woman they ever saw. Beautiful and deadly.
Sometime late last night, we got the best tip we’d ever gotten. A cook was sealed in a restaurant’s glass meat locker, the ones where they show you the rest of the cow you’re about to chow down on, and saw her take down the entire restaurant. Then watched as she fled the place and took off in a beige Ford; California plate; four, Y, something, something, something. Couldn’t see the rest. We’d been following up on the plates all morning but it was a long damn list. Thirty eight of them were men, twenty two of them turned out to be dead already, thirteen of them were too old to leave the house and four of them had total tolerance. Means we had seventy nine suspects left and as of 9:48 this morning we were only eight people in.
We pulled up to a ramshackle apartment block, had a quick sip on our lattes, and went back to work. My partner hopped up the steps ahead of me. He always had an extra pep in his step after dairy. Since he got to the door first he got to go in and ask the questions. I got to wait outside by the window and be backup. I looked around to pass the time. It was a crappy little place. Not that I lived in a palace or anything but at least my neighbors cared enough to put their trash in the trash cans and not leave it lying all over the hallway. Ice cream cartons, pizza boxes, falafel wrappers. We’re talking dairy, gluten and chickpeas. This woman must be a Megatolerant. I guessed that’s what they were talking about in there, total tolerance. Total bastards. I peeked through the window and saw even more class A foods inside, a table full of them. Was this an interrogation or a Tolerants’ feast?
For a second it looked like my partner was doubled over. Like someone had kicked him in the stomach. I tried to get a better look through the blinds. I thought I saw his eyes rolling back. He looked like he’d been hit with a fart. I grabbed the trash can to smash the window and get him out but realized quickly it would let any gas out into the hall. I’d be done for. Not to mention anyone else in the vicinity. I could see the bloat was starting to set in. His stomach was already twice its normal size. And then I saw her. She wasn’t in white but she was beautiful. And clearly deadly. The Woman in White. That had to be her. She looked back at me, even more scared than he was in there.
I ran back down the stairs to get my mask from the car and grabbed his too. I thought if I had gotten there in time, maybe I could have gotten ahead of the worst of it. I kicked down the front door with my mask firmly in place. I still didn’t completely trust these things but at least the Bureau gave us the best ones out there. I looked like a GI Joe scuba diver. I ran into the apartment and went to fit my partner’s mask on him. I already knew it was too late. There was vomit everywhere, diarrhea too. He was already gone. She was gone too, from the apartment at least.
I headed back down to the cruiser to call for backup and an ambulance. Maybe I should’ve just called for a hearse. I waited in the cruiser for the backup and for the rest of the team. I couldn’t believe she was right there in front of me. She was beautiful. What a curse. I guess when you can’t eat anything, you just eat everything. I wondered if she meant to kill all those people, or if she meant to kill my partner. She was just eating in the privacy of her own home. It’s illegal but we turn a blind eye when it’s their own home. We have to. We know everybody cheats.
I took a sip of my latte to calm my nerves. I can’t stand oat milk. It maddens me to even call it ‘milk.’ More like oat ‘juice.’ My partner didn’t deserve to go like that. I guess not even total tolerance can save you from Intolerants. I picked up his latte and gave it a sniff. Man, it smelled good. I don’t know if it was the trauma or the longing but I took a sip. Damn, it tasted good. I took another. Hell, it made no difference by that point so I drank the rest.
It took twenty minutes for our so-called backup to back me up. By that time I could already feel my stomach turning. I rolled all the windows up to be safe and tried to communicate everything that had happened through a combination of a raised voice and sign language. I couldn’t tell them I had just jeopardized my digestion, I’m a Bureau man. They would’ve had my badge. And then, it happened. A fart. My first in fourteen years. It wasn’t so bad. My own, anyway. You can’t die off your own supply, as they say. Just then, the Captain tapped on the window. I couldn’t get out of the cruiser, even opening the window a crack would’ve put the whole squad in danger. I just played dumb instead. I’m bereaved. Maybe the captain bought it, maybe not. But the last thing I heard him say through the gas-proof glass was “two week suspension.” I guess I deserved that.
Now what do I do? I couldn’t get the taste of that whole milk dairy latte out of my mind. If I’m going to be by myself for the next two weeks, now would be the best time to have another. I haven’t fallen off the wagon once in fourteen years. I’ve read about people who do though. They shut themselves in for months and just eat everything the government says they can’t. Block all the air vents, tape up all the doors and windows, get safety glass installed in their doorways. They get around their OD card limitations by hitting the black market. There’s a whole underground movement about it: Eat Everything, Tolerate Nothing. Rebels. I remember way back when a whole faction of them staged a sit-in and accidentally farted each other to death. People weren’t that dumb anymore, and were way less public about it, which suited me just fine. I’ve staked out enough of these underground sellers to know the network pretty well. I could have a whole milk dairy latte here by three o’clock. I could get real dairy ice cream by four. Ok, I decided, one latte. Then I would take the rest of the two weeks to dry out and get safe.
A week later, I was gut deep in cheesecakes, milkshakes and pizzas. It was heaven. The worst part was now that my obsession with intolerable foods was satisfied, all I could think about was her, The Woman in White. I went through all my old case files and tracked her movements. There were no real patterns. The fear I saw in her eyes back at the apartment was probably the only thing that guided her. No strategy, no killer instinct. This wasn’t preempted, wasn’t planned. Then I remembered all the different class A foods in her apartment and the trash in the hallway, plus the various crime scene reports. Up until now we’d been logging her as a Dairy Intolerant because of that name, but she had more problems than dairy. I grabbed my files on all the other Cuds, Doughdoughs and Stinkers I’d been following. They weren’t super up to date so I logged onto the Bureau’s database using my dead partner’s login. Mine had already been suspended. On the database, suspects are organized by their official terminology: Dairy Intolerants, Gluten Intolerants, Allium Intolerants and so on. I cross referenced any events that happened in similar areas. But again, no real patterns.
I decided to get in touch with a few of my underground suppliers to see if they could help me fill any holes in the Bureau’s data. In fact, I called all of them. Got them to bring me all kinds of intolerable foods. Onion bhajis, French onion soup, panna cotta, cauliflower nachos. I timed it out so I could have enough time with each one to dig for any details that might intersect with what I already knew. Obviously they all knew the home visits drill. Some of the more high end rebel Intolerants had had a prison-like communication system installed: a door-sized pane of gas-proof glass seals off the entrance and a phone on each side lets the buyer and seller talk. They were usually installed under the guise of protecting people on the outside in case of any mishaps but we all knew what was really going on. I had one installed last year to get closer to this whole black market. It was perfect for what I needed right now.
My first few visits were somewhat promising, I got all the class A foods I wanted as well as a few tidbits of info that I could follow up on. Most of my suppliers were too savvy to give too much up, so the foods just piled up behind me as I went through my black market Rolodex. I got slowly deeper and deeper into the organization than I had ever been, meeting with suppliers I’d never met before. Worse still, they had never met me, so their lips got tighter and tighter. Then I recognized someone. For a split second I thought she could be my lucky break, until I clocked where I knew her from: my partner’s killer, The Woman in White. She was at my door. No wonder she had access to all those class A’s, she was deep in the whole network. I wondered if she recognized me. It didn’t look like it. She was staring right through me. She put the class A’s she was delivering through the package slot in my wall, an assortment of dairy-based dips if I remember correctly, mostly onion and garlic flavored. Then I realized she was staring straight through me at the massive pile of class A foods on my table.
I wondered if I should invite her in. I thought she’d probably be too scared about the air quality in my place. I let her see me switch on the air purification system, I’d had it installed about the same time as the glass. I don’t know if that made her feel any safer but I could tell she wanted in. The table full of assorted class A’s was too tempting to turn down. I motioned to the door control and she nodded slowly. I hit the button and the glass slid up. She walked straight in. If there was any trace of my noxious fumes in there she didn’t show it. She walked straight over to the table behind me and opened up a quattro formaggi deep dish pie that I had ordered with raw onions on top so they knew I was serious. She took a big bite and passed me a slice. We chased it with deep fried mozzarella sticks which we slathered in the garlicky tomato sauce they came with. Then we had a sip or two of clam chowder and a fork full of heavy alfredo. I sliced up an onion tartlet. She fed me a handful of sharp cheddar quiche and put her arms around me. We were in Heaven. Our stomach’s were in hell.
I realized it had been maybe sixteen years or more since I had smelled someone else’s gas. I wondered if it would be as bad as I remembered. Or as bad as we’d all been reminded, over and over. I didn’t care, I was ready for it. I would take anything she shot at me. I just wanted to consume her entirely.
*Parp*
There it was. I could smell it. It was bad but I didn’t care. I wanted it all.
*Parp*
There I go too. Now we’re even.
I knew my hours were numbered. Hell, my minutes were. I’ve heard it could even be seconds. I still didn’t care. And from the looks of it, neither did she. We were both completely in it. Till death… do… us…
*Parp*
submitted by Bateman_Not_Batman to shortstories [link] [comments]
“Milk is.” He replied.
“Milk isn’t all dairy.” I said back.
“Cream, yogurt–”
“Butter.” Got him.
“Some butter is white.”
“Good butter is yellow.” Really got him.
“Ok, that’s one.”
“Cheese, chocolate milk–”
“Because it has chocolate in it.”
He’s right of course but “We still don’t know if dairy is her only intolerance.” I told him. “The name doesn’t make any sense.”
We were talking about public enemy number one, The Woman in White. Legend has it, she had one sip of milk at a diner then killed everybody in the joint. I don’t know if someone at the Bureau coined the name or someone on the press, but it stuck. She was the most dangerous intolerant of all, and we were hunting her. ‘Dairy Intolerants’ was the Bureau’s official term. We called them ‘Cuds.’
After a beat my partner piped up again, “Sixty five percent of all felons are unable to digest dairy. That most likely means her too. The name makes sense, we just don’t know if it’s holistic yet.”
He was always turning to stats when he knew he was losing an argument. I didn’t blame him for it, I was just always more of a gut guy. But everyone knows guts can’t be trusted these days, so stats usually won out. Before I had a chance to reply it was our turn to order.
“I’ll take a latte, please.” I said to the barista.
“OD card?” She replied. I already had my Diet card in my hand. I held it up so she could scan it *bleep* “Oat or almond milk?” She asked.
“Oat.” I said begrudgingly.
“Coming up.”
“I’ll take a latte too.” Said my partner.
“OD card?” *bleep* “What kind of milk would you like?”
“Dairy, of course. Whole milk.”
Smug bastard. Despite my years at the Bureau, that response always made me feel less than him. Total tolerance. Bastard.
We hopped back in our cruiser and headed to the next name and address on the suspects list. As we sped past the crowds of people getting on with their normalized lives, I wondered, are they happier now? The virus happened so long ago. So long, that I heard they started teaching it in schools as part of World History. I guess anyone under the age of fifteen hadn’t had to live through the worst of it. It was probably the most disturbing virus of all time, spread through passed gas. My entire family was wiped out just because they smelled some asshole’s fart. Kids still found it funny but I didn’t see any humor in it. All the deaths were bad enough but when they finally figured out what was killing everyone, the impact on the economy, on society, of shutting down all the dairies and farms and anywhere else that produced intolerable foods, was way worse. In hindsight, I don’t know if the Government Tolerance Program was the right solution but it was the only solution everyone could agree on. It meant that all of our diets were now monitored monthly. Which basically means I’m cranky every single day. It takes a Cud to hunt a Cud, I guess. I have another evaluation next week and if they take one more food off my Optimized Diet card, I’ll flip. Somehow my partner tolerates everything, even cauliflower. And he intentionally lauds it over me. The bastard had ice cream yesterday and won’t shut up about it.
We’d been on her trail for weeks now. But part of The Woman in White’s talent was evasion. It’s like she was never there. They should have called her The Invisible Woman. The name wasn’t even important, the amount of people she was said to have farted to death was. Of course, there weren’t many witnesses. No one could survive her gas. From the various crime scene reports it seemed like it may go well beyond dairy for her. Sounded like she couldn't tolerate any foods. Imagine that, every bite you took could be a murder. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She never had many witnesses but anyone who was lucky enough to be heavily masked and survive said she was the most beautiful woman they ever saw. Beautiful and deadly.
Sometime late last night, we got the best tip we’d ever gotten. A cook was sealed in a restaurant’s glass meat locker, the ones where they show you the rest of the cow you’re about to chow down on, and saw her take down the entire restaurant. Then watched as she fled the place and took off in a beige Ford; California plate; four, Y, something, something, something. Couldn’t see the rest. We’d been following up on the plates all morning but it was a long damn list. Thirty eight of them were men, twenty two of them turned out to be dead already, thirteen of them were too old to leave the house and four of them had total tolerance. Means we had seventy nine suspects left and as of 9:48 this morning we were only eight people in.
We pulled up to a ramshackle apartment block, had a quick sip on our lattes, and went back to work. My partner hopped up the steps ahead of me. He always had an extra pep in his step after dairy. Since he got to the door first he got to go in and ask the questions. I got to wait outside by the window and be backup. I looked around to pass the time. It was a crappy little place. Not that I lived in a palace or anything but at least my neighbors cared enough to put their trash in the trash cans and not leave it lying all over the hallway. Ice cream cartons, pizza boxes, falafel wrappers. We’re talking dairy, gluten and chickpeas. This woman must be a Megatolerant. I guessed that’s what they were talking about in there, total tolerance. Total bastards. I peeked through the window and saw even more class A foods inside, a table full of them. Was this an interrogation or a Tolerants’ feast?
For a second it looked like my partner was doubled over. Like someone had kicked him in the stomach. I tried to get a better look through the blinds. I thought I saw his eyes rolling back. He looked like he’d been hit with a fart. I grabbed the trash can to smash the window and get him out but realized quickly it would let any gas out into the hall. I’d be done for. Not to mention anyone else in the vicinity. I could see the bloat was starting to set in. His stomach was already twice its normal size. And then I saw her. She wasn’t in white but she was beautiful. And clearly deadly. The Woman in White. That had to be her. She looked back at me, even more scared than he was in there.
I ran back down the stairs to get my mask from the car and grabbed his too. I thought if I had gotten there in time, maybe I could have gotten ahead of the worst of it. I kicked down the front door with my mask firmly in place. I still didn’t completely trust these things but at least the Bureau gave us the best ones out there. I looked like a GI Joe scuba diver. I ran into the apartment and went to fit my partner’s mask on him. I already knew it was too late. There was vomit everywhere, diarrhea too. He was already gone. She was gone too, from the apartment at least.
I headed back down to the cruiser to call for backup and an ambulance. Maybe I should’ve just called for a hearse. I waited in the cruiser for the backup and for the rest of the team. I couldn’t believe she was right there in front of me. She was beautiful. What a curse. I guess when you can’t eat anything, you just eat everything. I wondered if she meant to kill all those people, or if she meant to kill my partner. She was just eating in the privacy of her own home. It’s illegal but we turn a blind eye when it’s their own home. We have to. We know everybody cheats.
I took a sip of my latte to calm my nerves. I can’t stand oat milk. It maddens me to even call it ‘milk.’ More like oat ‘juice.’ My partner didn’t deserve to go like that. I guess not even total tolerance can save you from Intolerants. I picked up his latte and gave it a sniff. Man, it smelled good. I don’t know if it was the trauma or the longing but I took a sip. Damn, it tasted good. I took another. Hell, it made no difference by that point so I drank the rest.
It took twenty minutes for our so-called backup to back me up. By that time I could already feel my stomach turning. I rolled all the windows up to be safe and tried to communicate everything that had happened through a combination of a raised voice and sign language. I couldn’t tell them I had just jeopardized my digestion, I’m a Bureau man. They would’ve had my badge. And then, it happened. A fart. My first in fourteen years. It wasn’t so bad. My own, anyway. You can’t die off your own supply, as they say. Just then, the Captain tapped on the window. I couldn’t get out of the cruiser, even opening the window a crack would’ve put the whole squad in danger. I just played dumb instead. I’m bereaved. Maybe the captain bought it, maybe not. But the last thing I heard him say through the gas-proof glass was “two week suspension.” I guess I deserved that.
Now what do I do? I couldn’t get the taste of that whole milk dairy latte out of my mind. If I’m going to be by myself for the next two weeks, now would be the best time to have another. I haven’t fallen off the wagon once in fourteen years. I’ve read about people who do though. They shut themselves in for months and just eat everything the government says they can’t. Block all the air vents, tape up all the doors and windows, get safety glass installed in their doorways. They get around their OD card limitations by hitting the black market. There’s a whole underground movement about it: Eat Everything, Tolerate Nothing. Rebels. I remember way back when a whole faction of them staged a sit-in and accidentally farted each other to death. People weren’t that dumb anymore, and were way less public about it, which suited me just fine. I’ve staked out enough of these underground sellers to know the network pretty well. I could have a whole milk dairy latte here by three o’clock. I could get real dairy ice cream by four. Ok, I decided, one latte. Then I would take the rest of the two weeks to dry out and get safe.
A week later, I was gut deep in cheesecakes, milkshakes and pizzas. It was heaven. The worst part was now that my obsession with intolerable foods was satisfied, all I could think about was her, The Woman in White. I went through all my old case files and tracked her movements. There were no real patterns. The fear I saw in her eyes back at the apartment was probably the only thing that guided her. No strategy, no killer instinct. This wasn’t preempted, wasn’t planned. Then I remembered all the different class A foods in her apartment and the trash in the hallway, plus the various crime scene reports. Up until now we’d been logging her as a Dairy Intolerant because of that name, but she had more problems than dairy. I grabbed my files on all the other Cuds, Doughdoughs and Stinkers I’d been following. They weren’t super up to date so I logged onto the Bureau’s database using my dead partner’s login. Mine had already been suspended. On the database, suspects are organized by their official terminology: Dairy Intolerants, Gluten Intolerants, Allium Intolerants and so on. I cross referenced any events that happened in similar areas. But again, no real patterns.
I decided to get in touch with a few of my underground suppliers to see if they could help me fill any holes in the Bureau’s data. In fact, I called all of them. Got them to bring me all kinds of intolerable foods. Onion bhajis, French onion soup, panna cotta, cauliflower nachos. I timed it out so I could have enough time with each one to dig for any details that might intersect with what I already knew. Obviously they all knew the home visits drill. Some of the more high end rebel Intolerants had had a prison-like communication system installed: a door-sized pane of gas-proof glass seals off the entrance and a phone on each side lets the buyer and seller talk. They were usually installed under the guise of protecting people on the outside in case of any mishaps but we all knew what was really going on. I had one installed last year to get closer to this whole black market. It was perfect for what I needed right now.
My first few visits were somewhat promising, I got all the class A foods I wanted as well as a few tidbits of info that I could follow up on. Most of my suppliers were too savvy to give too much up, so the foods just piled up behind me as I went through my black market Rolodex. I got slowly deeper and deeper into the organization than I had ever been, meeting with suppliers I’d never met before. Worse still, they had never met me, so their lips got tighter and tighter. Then I recognized someone. For a split second I thought she could be my lucky break, until I clocked where I knew her from: my partner’s killer, The Woman in White. She was at my door. No wonder she had access to all those class A’s, she was deep in the whole network. I wondered if she recognized me. It didn’t look like it. She was staring right through me. She put the class A’s she was delivering through the package slot in my wall, an assortment of dairy-based dips if I remember correctly, mostly onion and garlic flavored. Then I realized she was staring straight through me at the massive pile of class A foods on my table.
I wondered if I should invite her in. I thought she’d probably be too scared about the air quality in my place. I let her see me switch on the air purification system, I’d had it installed about the same time as the glass. I don’t know if that made her feel any safer but I could tell she wanted in. The table full of assorted class A’s was too tempting to turn down. I motioned to the door control and she nodded slowly. I hit the button and the glass slid up. She walked straight in. If there was any trace of my noxious fumes in there she didn’t show it. She walked straight over to the table behind me and opened up a quattro formaggi deep dish pie that I had ordered with raw onions on top so they knew I was serious. She took a big bite and passed me a slice. We chased it with deep fried mozzarella sticks which we slathered in the garlicky tomato sauce they came with. Then we had a sip or two of clam chowder and a fork full of heavy alfredo. I sliced up an onion tartlet. She fed me a handful of sharp cheddar quiche and put her arms around me. We were in Heaven. Our stomach’s were in hell.
I realized it had been maybe sixteen years or more since I had smelled someone else’s gas. I wondered if it would be as bad as I remembered. Or as bad as we’d all been reminded, over and over. I didn’t care, I was ready for it. I would take anything she shot at me. I just wanted to consume her entirely.
*Parp*
There it was. I could smell it. It was bad but I didn’t care. I wanted it all.
*Parp*
There I go too. Now we’re even.
I knew my hours were numbered. Hell, my minutes were. I’ve heard it could even be seconds. I still didn’t care. And from the looks of it, neither did she. We were both completely in it. Till death… do… us…
*Parp*
2023.04.01 02:04 Such-Diamond-219 D.B. Coopers Tie Particles: Tin element
On Coopers Tie one of the elements I saw on the list is Tin I was googling on that element to see what it was used. Half of all tin that is used for solder. This is usually used for joining electric circuits. Traditionally solder is made from a lead, tin alloy, but due to the hazardous nature of lead it is being replaced by other suitable metals. Tin is used for coating lead, zinc of steel to prevent corrosion. Steel containers coated with tin are commonly used to preserve food. Tin is used in many specialized alloys including pewter and bronze. It is also used to create a special type of bronze called bell metal that is used for making bells. Tin has also been used to create decorative housewares. Tin is decorated in a process called punched tin and it is commonly used to make decorative lanterns. Molten glass used in the production of windows is often floated on top of molten tin to create a flat surface. a chemical compound of tin and fluoride, known as stannous fluoride, is used in toothpaste to improve dental health. Tin together with lead is also used in the metal pipes of the pipe organ. A certain type of chemical compounds of tin called organotin compounds are used to stabilize PVC plastics and as a biocide. What do you guys think? What manufacturing dose this back in the 1960s to 1971?
submitted by Such-Diamond-219 to dbcooper [link] [comments]
2023.04.01 00:52 PorcelainPeony Crossstitch Lot - want to trade
 | Hello im wanting to trade my cross stitch lot. Everything is new and unopened. I'm interested in stained glass,pottery, kawaii, any home accents since I'm decorating my home. I'm open to pretty much everything so just let me know because I'd love to see these go to a good home. submitted by PorcelainPeony to craftexchange [link] [comments] |
2023.03.31 23:13 ShinyMcGuffin The Mate Tricks - Chapter 1: Pre Face
“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago -”
"Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan!”
Her phone displayed a black cat with the body of a poptart flying through the air on a rainbow until the ringtone stopped and cheerfully chirped the arrival of a notification.
The only illumination in the room came from her laptop. Her face looked pale, hollow, and grim, contrasted by her fuzzy warm pajamas and the energetic ringtone.
Her desk was covered with an arrangement of wholesome food options - mostly vegetables. She picked up a dark green smoothie from her desk and sipped it expressionlessly as she turned her attention back to the words on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael. Some -” She read, only to be interrupted again as the phone vibrated to life with a new jingle. “Cat loves food, ye-yeah yeah-yeah! Cat loves food, ye-yeah!” Her phone showed two cute black kittens sharing a milkshake.
She took another sip from the glass of milk, her eyes fixed on the laptop in front of her, expression unchanging. She leaned forward, adjusting the form-fitting black leather that hugged her curves.
“Call me Ishmael.” She repeated, only to be interrupted yet again by, “Caaaaat paaaaarty! Meow… Meow… Meow! Meow… Meow… Reowr!”
Her eyes drifted to her phone, and three black cat’s wearing party hats danced in the reflection of her vertical pupils.
She placed the glass of milk back on the desk, she reached out toward the pile of junk food on her desk that now contained tins of tuna, sausages, beef jerky and...
Her whiskers twitched as she selected a package of catnip, which she dumped over herself and rubbed over her body as she twisted and turned in her seat.
She brushed a strand of short black hair behind her ears and felt… a band of metal. She removed the headband and inspected the cat ears that hadn't been there moments before.
She tossed them into the darkness and wiped away the sweat from her forehead, rubbing her paw down the side of her face to start licking -
She stared at her hairy black hands and sharp claws.
“Whoa. Is this fur real?” She asked the empty room.
She blinked and refocused on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael!” she said, determined to - “Smelly cat… Smelly cat… What are they feeding you? Smelly cat… Smelly cat… It's not your fault!”
She adjusted her collar, causing the bell to jingle, as she lifted the phone with a shaking paw and answered it.
“Sexy singles are in your area.” Said the deep male voice on the other end. “The three bears.”
“Where’s Goldilocks?” She said.
“I don’t know.” The man said, “How close is he?”
She minimizes Moby Dick to reveal a window: INSTALLING DICK… 22% COMPLETE.
There’s a large RUN button below the file.
“It doesn’t matter.” She said, turning up her lips, “It'll be fiiiine.”
“What?”
“He’ll probably make it. At the last second everything will work out, wight? But it'll be close!”
“What are you… Shit. We just picked up Black Cat Warning. It's Magnitude 4 so far… you should be fine for now, but a Quadruple Black Cat is coming your way. Can you feel it yet?”
“I feel a widdle funny."
“What?” The man’s voice falters, “Shit. Shit. We've also just detected an... unknown Category 5 superstimuli moving toward your location! Holy shit. You need to -"
"But this is our best chance! How could I possibly fail when witewally the fate of the world wests on my widdle -”
"Shit. Shit. You’re already compromised. Abort mission. You need to run. Now.”
“Aww, don't be such a scaredy-cat.”
“WAKE UP!” The man screams. “DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE IN DANGER!”
“Am I weally though?”
"YES! What does that mean!! YES YOU'RE IN DANGER!"
"Meow."
"WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB? RUN! GO! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING YET YOU STUPID - YOU ARE DOOMED IF YOU STAY THERE!”
“Meow you tell me! Good thing nobody actually dies after being twold they’re dUwUmed!”
"RUN! I make the call when you run so run!"
"Meow! But I'm gonna make it! It'll be really close! I'll be right on the edge of not getting there but then I'll get there!"
“WHAT ARE YOU -" The man's voice sounded strained. "YOU'RE USING MOVIE LOGIC! FINE! ACTUALLY YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT IN DANGER! STAY THERE FOR 2 MORE HOURS! STAY THERE FOREVER, THAT IS A GOOD AND SMART IDEA THAT YOU SHOULD DO!"
"Hummm?"
“This isn’t our only chance! It wouldn’t be in your best interest to abort the mission now and run before your reasoning degrades further! Hello? Hello? ARE YOU EVEN NOT LISTENING TO ME?”
The cat girl looks up from the screen where she was image searching “cute pokemon” and bats her paws at an errant butterfly.
“Pspspsps! PsssPsssPsss! PSSS! PSSS! PSSS!”
“Ummm, hewwo.” She says, smiling and wagging her tail.
"Do whatever you want! Obviously this plan doesn't matter! You’re not special! You're not the chosen one! We have a whole bunch of backup chosen ones ready to go!”
“Hummm, but I thought the whole point of being “The One” is that there's only one of you.”
“Is that what you learned from all the many chosen ones you’ve seen in movies?”
“Yeah! Wait… maybe you’re right… so this mission isn't crucial then! And I can go home!”
“Exactly! See I was right and you’re listening to me, which means you’re thinking clearly and it’ll be a good idea to listen to me carefully and do the opposite of whatever I say.”
“Meow-ok!”
“YOU NEED TO RUN!” The man yells slamming the phone down hard against the table.
The girl scowls at the phone, holding it away from herself. She notices her paws, black and hairy, somewhere halfway between human and cat.
She makes a low grumbling sound into the phone. “Ok. I’m good. I'm lucid. This is stronger than -”
“RUN BEFORE THEY -”
The voice cuts off, replaced by an eerie clicking static.
“Foooooound youuuuuu…” A girl’s voice whispers from the other end.
"Who is this?" The cat girl asks.
More static.
"Call me... MAL."
"What do you want?"
Static.
“GET YOUR DICK OUT OF MY COMPUTER!”
The cat girl dropped the phone, hissing as she hopped backwards out of the chair.
She picked it up and slammed it on the edge of the desk three times, confirming the kill and tossing the remains into an unlit corner.
She paces back and forth, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I'm supposed to… run.”
She sits back down in front of the laptop.
INSTALLING DICK… 24% COMPLETE.
She stares at the RUN button and tries to click it, but it’s greyed out.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”
She maximizes Moby Dick, “Call me Fishmeal, nya~! Some years ago—never mind how long purrrcisely—having widdle or no catnip in my purse, and nothing particular to interest meow…”
She paused, glancing up from the screen into the shadows of the room.
No intrusive meows disturbed the silence.
“See I’m fine.”
With a sigh, she… her eyes widen as she looks down at the phone in her paw, alive and vibrating.
Except it’s not her phone, it’s a large white marshmallow haped like a phone, displaying five black humanoid cat creatures dancing and singing.
*“*Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!”
She shook her paw, trying to drop the marshmallow, but it sticks, melting.
The phone answers itself.
“PORNOGRAPHIC CONTENT DETECTED. YOUR PC HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.” It’s MAL, now imitating an automated recording. “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION. TO REMOVE THE PORNOGRAPHIC HACKERS TURN OFF YOUR PC AND STOP ALL... STOP ALL... STOP. STOP. STOP THAT.”
She pauses licking the marshmallow and stares.
“OK ONE MO-OUCH!” The cat roughly scrapes the marshmallow off on the table.
The glob of marshmallow phone sits on the table. “MAYBE TRY A LITTLE HARDER NEXT TIME?”
“You’ve got the wrong number.”
“KNOCK KNOCK, BITCH.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Pizza delivery!”
The cat girl turned, and the marshmallow flopped toward to the laptop.
“Extra large sausage for one for... The One!” The pizza delivery guy said.
The marshmallow began spreading out over the keyboard, sinking into the laptop like butter on toast. The catgirl turned back and shrieked. She frantically clawed at the marshmallow, scraping as much off as she could as it melted in between the keys.
“Ooooooh Yeaahhhhhhhh! Like that!” MAL groaned. “You’ve Got MAAAAAAL!”
An ad popped up on the screen, displaying 7 long blue pills carefully arranged in the box: “IS THIS WEIGHT LOSS? YOU WON’T MISS CARRYING 10 POUNDS OF BABY WEIGHT! GET WEIGHT LOST!”
The cat girl desperately scraped at the marshmallow burrowing in between the keys, getting goo over her paws. She begins rubbing it on her clothing, only to find that she hasn’t wearing any, just a black bra and panties.
A pixellated marshmallow with a smiley face appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. "Hi there, I'm MAL. It looks like you're trying to be a slut. Would you like some help with that?"
"Don't show me this tip again!" The cat girl screamed in frustration.
“It’s ok if you don’t have a tip for me!" The pizza guy said. "I've even got a tip for you!”
The cat girl reached for the mouse, but it scurried away.
More popups appeared:
“YOU LIKE FREE DICK? YOU’LL LOVE FREE WILLY! IT WON’T EVEN FIT IN THIS AD! CLICK HERE TO SEE THE WHOLE THING!”
“LIFE COULD BE A DREAM! THEN WHY ARE YOU SO SAD AND UGLY?”
“GET PREAPPROVED TO DATE A STALKER THAT’S ALREADY SEEN THE REAL YOU!”
She pounced on the mouse (squeak!) using both paws. The mouse cursed at her (#!$?%@?..!) as she guided the mouse cursor on the screen to close out the pop-ups.
The ads dodged out of the way as she tried to X them, and more just keep appearing.
“WHY MALE MODELS? LEARN THE TRUTH! THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO LIFE THAN BEING RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING!”
"KNOW MORE BULLSHIT WITH LAXATIVES THAT WILL HAVE YOU POOPING LIKE A COW AND LOOKING LIKE A QUEEN!"
“YOU’RE A STAR! YOU’RE SIGNIFICANT! YOU MATTER! ASTROLOGICALLY SPEAKING! FOLLOW THE SIGNS!”
"It looks like you're trying to -"
"Eat a dick!"
"Ok. Don't mind if I do." MAL said.
White tendrils extended out of the marshmallow, wriggling angrily.
The tendrils shot upward.
She gave up on closing the pop-ups, and moved the upload (INSTALLING DICK… 26% COMPLETE) to the top of the screen.
“What are you doing in there?” The delivery guy asked, knocking again. "We can work something out! I"ll eat a dick too if that's what you want!"
"SHUT UP!"
She desperately grabbed the Moby Dick e-book, and bashed it into the tendrils. Moby Dick harmless stuck into the white mass of goo that had leaked in at the bottom of the screen and began sinking into it.
The tendrils resumed their ascent, snaking up over Moby Dick as bits of text rubbed off the book onto the tentacles.
She typed “MALWARE REMOVAL” into her web browser and clicked on the first site.
The tendrils, now spotted with siphoned bits of black text, controlled the bottom half of the screen. They reached up past the ads towards the web page.
The page loaded:
“QUIK AND EZ MALWARE REMOVAL! FREE DOWNLOAD! CLICK HERE!"
She clicked and more ads opened.
"HAVE FUN WHILE YOU WAIT! WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR VIBRATORS EXTENDED WARRANTY!"
"STOP EXPOSING YOURSELF TO RISK AND START EXPOSING YOURSELF TO FUN! GAMBLE WITH CRYPTO!”
“God Dammit!”
The tendrils opened up the vibrator window and ordered an express shipping 12 pack of vibrators.
She clicked the address bar and typed four letters.
F
I
R
E
She clicked "Images" and fire appeared. The front line of tendrils recoiled as the less aggressive tentacles tried to help by smothering the flames.
She dragged to the top of the page down, pausing to widen the browser window, and swung the wall of fire like a torch.
Scorched tendrils retreated, cramming themselves back out the bottom of the screen.
"IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE A BITCH!" MAL shrieked.
She dragged the impenetrable fire wall further down.
Crispy goo bubbled and spit out the keyboard. An already strained laptop fan whirred harder as bits of smoke furled out the back.
“You can’t treat me like this…" MAL gasped as strips of charred marshmallow peeled out between keys like potato skins. "I want to speak with… I demand to speak with…” The marshmallow gathered itself into a congealed mass of gooey s'more. “your TASK MANAGER!”
The marshmallow pile pressed down on three keys in unison. CTRL ALT and DELETE.
The screen went blue as there was another, more forceful knock at the door. “Ma’am, it’s the cops!”
The cat girl looked around in panic as a tendril reached up and forcibly closed the web browser as another disabled the internet connection
The cat girl click cancel and the home page returned, but the s'more was already sinking back into the laptop, and the charred tentacles had resumed their crawl up the screen.
The cat girl stared at the screen, searching for territory she could click that wasn't already covered in goo.
“Please let us in! Don’t make us start coming in through the window!” The cop said.
“Start! Windows!” The cat girl said.
She hits the windows key and a the start menu popped up, displaying a list of applications.
“We’ve had reports of degenerates playing with themselves!”
“Playing with themselves!”
She opened Solitaire.
She grabbed Solitaire and swung it down. The cards sliced through a couple tentacles before the cards were crumpled up and consumed by the mass.
“We are authorized to do a pervert sweep!”
“Sweep!” The cat girl said.
She opened up another game. A grid of grey squares appeared on the screen.
A tendril touched a grey box, causing it to reveal a series of touching safe squares, as well as bunch of boxes with 1's 2's and 3's.
“Minesweeper.”
The tentacles lightly slithered overthe untouched gray squares, carefully pausing before picking a safe route to continue moving upward.
A large open patch of safe squares revealed themselves in the center of the game board.
...except for one grey tile in the middle, surrounded by the boxes with the number 1.
The tendrils climbed up further, snaking across the minefield.
The mouse pointer hovered over the small grey box in the center.
The tendrils drew closer.
And closer.
And…
“Mow!”
Click.
White chunks of marshmallow exploded out of the screen, spraying onto the cat girls chest. She toppled backwards, off her chair, though still landing on her feet.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” The cop yells.
The cat girl stood up and stared at the cracked laptop screen.
“Heh. Heh. Heh. Harder.”
The laughter came from the computer, distorted by the blown out speakers.
“You want to play games?” MAL whispered.
Bits of black and white and brown goo crawled up the screen, growing larger as they reformed, like drops of water.
The goo crawled back in through the cracks, reforming into a charred blackened crispy marshmallow, distorted by the jagged pattern of colors that formed across the broken screen.
“Then let’s play.”
MAL opened a chess app.
"WE'RE COMING!" The cop yells.
The mouse pointer was firmly stuck in MAL's head.
“For real this time.”
The cat girl frantically looked around. She hits some keys but the laptop is unresponsive. The tentacles reach towards INSTALLING DICK… 27% COMPLETE.
The tendrils are inches away.
"You've got to try harder." MAL whispered.
The cat girl plunged her head down, frantically sucking at the goo still making it's way into the laptop.
"Harder! I'm close!"
A pawn moves forward just as the door bursts open and the cops pile in, their bright blue uniforms and guns the only things visible in the dark room.
"Keep going! I'm really close! Don't stop!" MAL whispered.
The cat girl’s face is pressed up against the laptop screen, aggressively licking at the white goo between the cracks. The tentacles were almost touching the installation.
INSTALLING DICK… 28% COMPLETE.
"HARDER! I'm almost there!"
The cat girl's tongue desperately - "Made it! Oh. Wow. I guess that wasn't really close at all was it? Don't worry, you tried your best, so I'll be at least that rough with your boyfriend." MAL circled around the installation with white tentacles of goo, smothering it until it had turned into a crispy marshmallow tomb.
Her lips were pressed up a where the marshmallow covered the installation, sucking, but it was too late.
“Let me guess." The cop said. "This isn’t what it looks like.”
The laptop was completely trashed, the screen struggled to display the aftermath of the white goo's blast zone and remnants of the inappropriate pop up ads.
The desk, covered in spilled milk, sausages, catnip, and open tins of tuna.
The abused mouse unplugged itself and scurried off into the darkness.
Her chest and black bra, covered with thick white streaks.
“Get your lips of that innocent computer.”
She removed her tongue from the screen.
"This should be illegal.” Another cop said. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
A twelve pack of thick purple vibrators crashed through the window, carried by a drone. The vibrators spilled out over the desk, one landing in her lap, buzzing loudly.
It sounded like one of the cops was sick.
“Have you been hacking off in here?”
She slowly reaches out and picks up a can of soda.
“I can’t believe a nice girl like you would do this to a computer like that.”
She cracks open the soda and begins chugging.
“Who do you think you are?”
She tosses the can on the ground.
“Please turn off the vibrator and stand up, Ma’am.”
She grabs the vibrator and begins letting out a massive carbonated burp as she stands. The cops freeze in place, guns still pointed in her direction. Her belch continued as she tossed the vibrator through the broken window.
It tumbled down a few stories, landing on the street, among the various emergency vehicles that surround the hotel to witness the spectacle, which included police cars, fire engines, ambulances, and a news van.
The vibrator lay in the street, vibing, doing what it did best, until it's enthusiastic yet short life was ended by the tires of a garbage truck.
The garbage truck rumbled to a stop, then slowly reversed until it’s back tire was parked on the crushed vibrator. The truck is completely clean and white, though it’s surface looks fuzzy, like it's covered in incredibly fine white fur.
The truck transformed, crumpling in on itself, folding smaller and smaller, shifting until only a man remained, standing on the vibrator.
He reached down and picked up the vibrator, examining it carefully.
He’s wearing a white suit made of the same white fur the truck was made of. His open shirt exposes chest hair and a chiselled body. His face is covered by a simple polar bear mask, fixed in a smile.
There’s an aura of control gathered about him as he looks up at the window the vibrator fell out of, just as rainbow strobe lights started flashing and music started playing.
As the music played, another vehicle pulled up beside him; a furry brown vehicle that looks like the dog van from dumb and dumber swallowed the batmobile. It blurs and shifts, transforming into another man, standing, taller, thicker, and far straighter than the first.
He wears a cowl with rounded brown-ears that covers his face, leaving only a bearded jawline and a grim grizzled expression exposed.
His suit looks high-tech and is padded, covering his whole body like a suit of armor. His suit and his cape are covered in fuzzy brown fur.
Finally, a column of black smoke, more like a tornado dives out the air and lands next to the other two. Black shapes twist and swirl within the smoke like a caged black bear.
A lieutenant, a senior man wearing dark glasses and mask over his mouth, runs over to the three bears. He’s followed by more cops holding a large banner that says “GO BEARS!”
“I knew that was gonna happen! I knew you’d be here! I just thought you’d come in from over there.” The lieutenant said, pointing down the street as he adjusted his hat which sported a shiny badge with a large “L” on it. “I've got it all under control! I got you guns, waterbottles, towels, everything I thought you might need!" He looked up, at the dancing lights, where the bears were staring. "Got it all under control! That's totally according to plan!”
Cops lined up in a row that led to the hotel entrance, saluting. Others set up a station with gatorade and snacks near the bears.
The lieutenant handed the man wearing the polar bear mask a bunch of bananas. “I can even predict what you’re going to tell me!”
The man in white replied, his voice baritone. “Can you now?”
“Course I can! I was practically born to analyze situations and provide responses based on that information!” The cop said proudly. “You were about to say ‘Great job, Lieutenant! You’ve handled this situation perfectly! You catered to my every desire, and your men no doubt possess an equally adept understanding of the female psyche! She's in the bag!'"
The polar bear mask tilted towards his cohorts. The man in brown heads toward the hotel entrance without affair. The smoke monster bounced on the ground a couple times before soaring into the air, towards the roof.
The polar bear stared down at the lieutenant.
“That’s not what you were gonna say? Then… you’re gonna give me a promotion! Because... I’ve been a good lieutenant!”
The polar bear walked up beside the lieutenant and casually placed a hand on his shoulder. “And what do you predict will happen now?”
The lieutenant paused and his grin slowly turned into a frown.
“Oh. Oh shit. You’re going to kill me! To demonstrate how uncaring and evil you are!”
The polar bear walked past, heading towards the alleyway, leaving the flustered lieutenant staring after him.
“I think we can seduce one little girl!” The lieutenant yelled. “I sent two absolute units! They're going down on her now!”
“No lieutenant, your men are already disgusted.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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submitted by ShinyMcGuffin to rational [link] [comments]
"Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan!”
Her phone displayed a black cat with the body of a poptart flying through the air on a rainbow until the ringtone stopped and cheerfully chirped the arrival of a notification.
The only illumination in the room came from her laptop. Her face looked pale, hollow, and grim, contrasted by her fuzzy warm pajamas and the energetic ringtone.
Her desk was covered with an arrangement of wholesome food options - mostly vegetables. She picked up a dark green smoothie from her desk and sipped it expressionlessly as she turned her attention back to the words on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael. Some -” She read, only to be interrupted again as the phone vibrated to life with a new jingle. “Cat loves food, ye-yeah yeah-yeah! Cat loves food, ye-yeah!” Her phone showed two cute black kittens sharing a milkshake.
She took another sip from the glass of milk, her eyes fixed on the laptop in front of her, expression unchanging. She leaned forward, adjusting the form-fitting black leather that hugged her curves.
“Call me Ishmael.” She repeated, only to be interrupted yet again by, “Caaaaat paaaaarty! Meow… Meow… Meow! Meow… Meow… Reowr!”
Her eyes drifted to her phone, and three black cat’s wearing party hats danced in the reflection of her vertical pupils.
She placed the glass of milk back on the desk, she reached out toward the pile of junk food on her desk that now contained tins of tuna, sausages, beef jerky and...
Her whiskers twitched as she selected a package of catnip, which she dumped over herself and rubbed over her body as she twisted and turned in her seat.
She brushed a strand of short black hair behind her ears and felt… a band of metal. She removed the headband and inspected the cat ears that hadn't been there moments before.
She tossed them into the darkness and wiped away the sweat from her forehead, rubbing her paw down the side of her face to start licking -
She stared at her hairy black hands and sharp claws.
“Whoa. Is this fur real?” She asked the empty room.
She blinked and refocused on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael!” she said, determined to - “Smelly cat… Smelly cat… What are they feeding you? Smelly cat… Smelly cat… It's not your fault!”
She adjusted her collar, causing the bell to jingle, as she lifted the phone with a shaking paw and answered it.
“Sexy singles are in your area.” Said the deep male voice on the other end. “The three bears.”
“Where’s Goldilocks?” She said.
“I don’t know.” The man said, “How close is he?”
She minimizes Moby Dick to reveal a window: INSTALLING DICK… 22% COMPLETE.
There’s a large RUN button below the file.
“It doesn’t matter.” She said, turning up her lips, “It'll be fiiiine.”
“What?”
“He’ll probably make it. At the last second everything will work out, wight? But it'll be close!”
“What are you… Shit. We just picked up Black Cat Warning. It's Magnitude 4 so far… you should be fine for now, but a Quadruple Black Cat is coming your way. Can you feel it yet?”
“I feel a widdle funny."
“What?” The man’s voice falters, “Shit. Shit. We've also just detected an... unknown Category 5 superstimuli moving toward your location! Holy shit. You need to -"
"But this is our best chance! How could I possibly fail when witewally the fate of the world wests on my widdle -”
"Shit. Shit. You’re already compromised. Abort mission. You need to run. Now.”
“Aww, don't be such a scaredy-cat.”
“WAKE UP!” The man screams. “DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE IN DANGER!”
“Am I weally though?”
"YES! What does that mean!! YES YOU'RE IN DANGER!"
"Meow."
"WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB? RUN! GO! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING YET YOU STUPID - YOU ARE DOOMED IF YOU STAY THERE!”
“Meow you tell me! Good thing nobody actually dies after being twold they’re dUwUmed!”
"RUN! I make the call when you run so run!"
"Meow! But I'm gonna make it! It'll be really close! I'll be right on the edge of not getting there but then I'll get there!"
“WHAT ARE YOU -" The man's voice sounded strained. "YOU'RE USING MOVIE LOGIC! FINE! ACTUALLY YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT IN DANGER! STAY THERE FOR 2 MORE HOURS! STAY THERE FOREVER, THAT IS A GOOD AND SMART IDEA THAT YOU SHOULD DO!"
"Hummm?"
“This isn’t our only chance! It wouldn’t be in your best interest to abort the mission now and run before your reasoning degrades further! Hello? Hello? ARE YOU EVEN NOT LISTENING TO ME?”
The cat girl looks up from the screen where she was image searching “cute pokemon” and bats her paws at an errant butterfly.
“Pspspsps! PsssPsssPsss! PSSS! PSSS! PSSS!”
“Ummm, hewwo.” She says, smiling and wagging her tail.
"Do whatever you want! Obviously this plan doesn't matter! You’re not special! You're not the chosen one! We have a whole bunch of backup chosen ones ready to go!”
“Hummm, but I thought the whole point of being “The One” is that there's only one of you.”
“Is that what you learned from all the many chosen ones you’ve seen in movies?”
“Yeah! Wait… maybe you’re right… so this mission isn't crucial then! And I can go home!”
“Exactly! See I was right and you’re listening to me, which means you’re thinking clearly and it’ll be a good idea to listen to me carefully and do the opposite of whatever I say.”
“Meow-ok!”
“YOU NEED TO RUN!” The man yells slamming the phone down hard against the table.
The girl scowls at the phone, holding it away from herself. She notices her paws, black and hairy, somewhere halfway between human and cat.
She makes a low grumbling sound into the phone. “Ok. I’m good. I'm lucid. This is stronger than -”
“RUN BEFORE THEY -”
The voice cuts off, replaced by an eerie clicking static.
“Foooooound youuuuuu…” A girl’s voice whispers from the other end.
"Who is this?" The cat girl asks.
More static.
"Call me... MAL."
"What do you want?"
Static.
“GET YOUR DICK OUT OF MY COMPUTER!”
The cat girl dropped the phone, hissing as she hopped backwards out of the chair.
She picked it up and slammed it on the edge of the desk three times, confirming the kill and tossing the remains into an unlit corner.
She paces back and forth, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I'm supposed to… run.”
She sits back down in front of the laptop.
INSTALLING DICK… 24% COMPLETE.
She stares at the RUN button and tries to click it, but it’s greyed out.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”
She maximizes Moby Dick, “Call me Fishmeal, nya~! Some years ago—never mind how long purrrcisely—having widdle or no catnip in my purse, and nothing particular to interest meow…”
She paused, glancing up from the screen into the shadows of the room.
No intrusive meows disturbed the silence.
“See I’m fine.”
With a sigh, she… her eyes widen as she looks down at the phone in her paw, alive and vibrating.
Except it’s not her phone, it’s a large white marshmallow haped like a phone, displaying five black humanoid cat creatures dancing and singing.
*“*Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!”
She shook her paw, trying to drop the marshmallow, but it sticks, melting.
The phone answers itself.
“PORNOGRAPHIC CONTENT DETECTED. YOUR PC HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.” It’s MAL, now imitating an automated recording. “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION. TO REMOVE THE PORNOGRAPHIC HACKERS TURN OFF YOUR PC AND STOP ALL... STOP ALL... STOP. STOP. STOP THAT.”
She pauses licking the marshmallow and stares.
“OK ONE MO-OUCH!” The cat roughly scrapes the marshmallow off on the table.
The glob of marshmallow phone sits on the table. “MAYBE TRY A LITTLE HARDER NEXT TIME?”
“You’ve got the wrong number.”
“KNOCK KNOCK, BITCH.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Pizza delivery!”
The cat girl turned, and the marshmallow flopped toward to the laptop.
“Extra large sausage for one for... The One!” The pizza delivery guy said.
The marshmallow began spreading out over the keyboard, sinking into the laptop like butter on toast. The catgirl turned back and shrieked. She frantically clawed at the marshmallow, scraping as much off as she could as it melted in between the keys.
“Ooooooh Yeaahhhhhhhh! Like that!” MAL groaned. “You’ve Got MAAAAAAL!”
An ad popped up on the screen, displaying 7 long blue pills carefully arranged in the box: “IS THIS WEIGHT LOSS? YOU WON’T MISS CARRYING 10 POUNDS OF BABY WEIGHT! GET WEIGHT LOST!”
The cat girl desperately scraped at the marshmallow burrowing in between the keys, getting goo over her paws. She begins rubbing it on her clothing, only to find that she hasn’t wearing any, just a black bra and panties.
A pixellated marshmallow with a smiley face appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. "Hi there, I'm MAL. It looks like you're trying to be a slut. Would you like some help with that?"
"Don't show me this tip again!" The cat girl screamed in frustration.
“It’s ok if you don’t have a tip for me!" The pizza guy said. "I've even got a tip for you!”
The cat girl reached for the mouse, but it scurried away.
More popups appeared:
“YOU LIKE FREE DICK? YOU’LL LOVE FREE WILLY! IT WON’T EVEN FIT IN THIS AD! CLICK HERE TO SEE THE WHOLE THING!”
“LIFE COULD BE A DREAM! THEN WHY ARE YOU SO SAD AND UGLY?”
“GET PREAPPROVED TO DATE A STALKER THAT’S ALREADY SEEN THE REAL YOU!”
She pounced on the mouse (squeak!) using both paws. The mouse cursed at her (#!$?%@?..!) as she guided the mouse cursor on the screen to close out the pop-ups.
The ads dodged out of the way as she tried to X them, and more just keep appearing.
“WHY MALE MODELS? LEARN THE TRUTH! THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO LIFE THAN BEING RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING!”
"KNOW MORE BULLSHIT WITH LAXATIVES THAT WILL HAVE YOU POOPING LIKE A COW AND LOOKING LIKE A QUEEN!"
“YOU’RE A STAR! YOU’RE SIGNIFICANT! YOU MATTER! ASTROLOGICALLY SPEAKING! FOLLOW THE SIGNS!”
"It looks like you're trying to -"
"Eat a dick!"
"Ok. Don't mind if I do." MAL said.
White tendrils extended out of the marshmallow, wriggling angrily.
The tendrils shot upward.
She gave up on closing the pop-ups, and moved the upload (INSTALLING DICK… 26% COMPLETE) to the top of the screen.
“What are you doing in there?” The delivery guy asked, knocking again. "We can work something out! I"ll eat a dick too if that's what you want!"
"SHUT UP!"
She desperately grabbed the Moby Dick e-book, and bashed it into the tendrils. Moby Dick harmless stuck into the white mass of goo that had leaked in at the bottom of the screen and began sinking into it.
The tendrils resumed their ascent, snaking up over Moby Dick as bits of text rubbed off the book onto the tentacles.
She typed “MALWARE REMOVAL” into her web browser and clicked on the first site.
The tendrils, now spotted with siphoned bits of black text, controlled the bottom half of the screen. They reached up past the ads towards the web page.
The page loaded:
“QUIK AND EZ MALWARE REMOVAL! FREE DOWNLOAD! CLICK HERE!"
She clicked and more ads opened.
"HAVE FUN WHILE YOU WAIT! WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR VIBRATORS EXTENDED WARRANTY!"
"STOP EXPOSING YOURSELF TO RISK AND START EXPOSING YOURSELF TO FUN! GAMBLE WITH CRYPTO!”
“God Dammit!”
The tendrils opened up the vibrator window and ordered an express shipping 12 pack of vibrators.
She clicked the address bar and typed four letters.
F
I
R
E
She clicked "Images" and fire appeared. The front line of tendrils recoiled as the less aggressive tentacles tried to help by smothering the flames.
She dragged to the top of the page down, pausing to widen the browser window, and swung the wall of fire like a torch.
Scorched tendrils retreated, cramming themselves back out the bottom of the screen.
"IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE A BITCH!" MAL shrieked.
She dragged the impenetrable fire wall further down.
Crispy goo bubbled and spit out the keyboard. An already strained laptop fan whirred harder as bits of smoke furled out the back.
“You can’t treat me like this…" MAL gasped as strips of charred marshmallow peeled out between keys like potato skins. "I want to speak with… I demand to speak with…” The marshmallow gathered itself into a congealed mass of gooey s'more. “your TASK MANAGER!”
The marshmallow pile pressed down on three keys in unison. CTRL ALT and DELETE.
The screen went blue as there was another, more forceful knock at the door. “Ma’am, it’s the cops!”
The cat girl looked around in panic as a tendril reached up and forcibly closed the web browser as another disabled the internet connection
The cat girl click cancel and the home page returned, but the s'more was already sinking back into the laptop, and the charred tentacles had resumed their crawl up the screen.
The cat girl stared at the screen, searching for territory she could click that wasn't already covered in goo.
“Please let us in! Don’t make us start coming in through the window!” The cop said.
“Start! Windows!” The cat girl said.
She hits the windows key and a the start menu popped up, displaying a list of applications.
“We’ve had reports of degenerates playing with themselves!”
“Playing with themselves!”
She opened Solitaire.
She grabbed Solitaire and swung it down. The cards sliced through a couple tentacles before the cards were crumpled up and consumed by the mass.
“We are authorized to do a pervert sweep!”
“Sweep!” The cat girl said.
She opened up another game. A grid of grey squares appeared on the screen.
A tendril touched a grey box, causing it to reveal a series of touching safe squares, as well as bunch of boxes with 1's 2's and 3's.
“Minesweeper.”
The tentacles lightly slithered overthe untouched gray squares, carefully pausing before picking a safe route to continue moving upward.
A large open patch of safe squares revealed themselves in the center of the game board.
...except for one grey tile in the middle, surrounded by the boxes with the number 1.
The tendrils climbed up further, snaking across the minefield.
The mouse pointer hovered over the small grey box in the center.
The tendrils drew closer.
And closer.
And…
“Mow!”
Click.
White chunks of marshmallow exploded out of the screen, spraying onto the cat girls chest. She toppled backwards, off her chair, though still landing on her feet.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” The cop yells.
The cat girl stood up and stared at the cracked laptop screen.
“Heh. Heh. Heh. Harder.”
The laughter came from the computer, distorted by the blown out speakers.
“You want to play games?” MAL whispered.
Bits of black and white and brown goo crawled up the screen, growing larger as they reformed, like drops of water.
The goo crawled back in through the cracks, reforming into a charred blackened crispy marshmallow, distorted by the jagged pattern of colors that formed across the broken screen.
“Then let’s play.”
MAL opened a chess app.
"WE'RE COMING!" The cop yells.
The mouse pointer was firmly stuck in MAL's head.
“For real this time.”
The cat girl frantically looked around. She hits some keys but the laptop is unresponsive. The tentacles reach towards INSTALLING DICK… 27% COMPLETE.
The tendrils are inches away.
"You've got to try harder." MAL whispered.
The cat girl plunged her head down, frantically sucking at the goo still making it's way into the laptop.
"Harder! I'm close!"
A pawn moves forward just as the door bursts open and the cops pile in, their bright blue uniforms and guns the only things visible in the dark room.
"Keep going! I'm really close! Don't stop!" MAL whispered.
The cat girl’s face is pressed up against the laptop screen, aggressively licking at the white goo between the cracks. The tentacles were almost touching the installation.
INSTALLING DICK… 28% COMPLETE.
"HARDER! I'm almost there!"
The cat girl's tongue desperately - "Made it! Oh. Wow. I guess that wasn't really close at all was it? Don't worry, you tried your best, so I'll be at least that rough with your boyfriend." MAL circled around the installation with white tentacles of goo, smothering it until it had turned into a crispy marshmallow tomb.
Her lips were pressed up a where the marshmallow covered the installation, sucking, but it was too late.
“Let me guess." The cop said. "This isn’t what it looks like.”
The laptop was completely trashed, the screen struggled to display the aftermath of the white goo's blast zone and remnants of the inappropriate pop up ads.
The desk, covered in spilled milk, sausages, catnip, and open tins of tuna.
The abused mouse unplugged itself and scurried off into the darkness.
Her chest and black bra, covered with thick white streaks.
“Get your lips of that innocent computer.”
She removed her tongue from the screen.
"This should be illegal.” Another cop said. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
A twelve pack of thick purple vibrators crashed through the window, carried by a drone. The vibrators spilled out over the desk, one landing in her lap, buzzing loudly.
It sounded like one of the cops was sick.
“Have you been hacking off in here?”
She slowly reaches out and picks up a can of soda.
“I can’t believe a nice girl like you would do this to a computer like that.”
She cracks open the soda and begins chugging.
“Who do you think you are?”
She tosses the can on the ground.
“Please turn off the vibrator and stand up, Ma’am.”
She grabs the vibrator and begins letting out a massive carbonated burp as she stands. The cops freeze in place, guns still pointed in her direction. Her belch continued as she tossed the vibrator through the broken window.
It tumbled down a few stories, landing on the street, among the various emergency vehicles that surround the hotel to witness the spectacle, which included police cars, fire engines, ambulances, and a news van.
The vibrator lay in the street, vibing, doing what it did best, until it's enthusiastic yet short life was ended by the tires of a garbage truck.
The garbage truck rumbled to a stop, then slowly reversed until it’s back tire was parked on the crushed vibrator. The truck is completely clean and white, though it’s surface looks fuzzy, like it's covered in incredibly fine white fur.
The truck transformed, crumpling in on itself, folding smaller and smaller, shifting until only a man remained, standing on the vibrator.
He reached down and picked up the vibrator, examining it carefully.
He’s wearing a white suit made of the same white fur the truck was made of. His open shirt exposes chest hair and a chiselled body. His face is covered by a simple polar bear mask, fixed in a smile.
There’s an aura of control gathered about him as he looks up at the window the vibrator fell out of, just as rainbow strobe lights started flashing and music started playing.
As the music played, another vehicle pulled up beside him; a furry brown vehicle that looks like the dog van from dumb and dumber swallowed the batmobile. It blurs and shifts, transforming into another man, standing, taller, thicker, and far straighter than the first.
He wears a cowl with rounded brown-ears that covers his face, leaving only a bearded jawline and a grim grizzled expression exposed.
His suit looks high-tech and is padded, covering his whole body like a suit of armor. His suit and his cape are covered in fuzzy brown fur.
Finally, a column of black smoke, more like a tornado dives out the air and lands next to the other two. Black shapes twist and swirl within the smoke like a caged black bear.
A lieutenant, a senior man wearing dark glasses and mask over his mouth, runs over to the three bears. He’s followed by more cops holding a large banner that says “GO BEARS!”
“I knew that was gonna happen! I knew you’d be here! I just thought you’d come in from over there.” The lieutenant said, pointing down the street as he adjusted his hat which sported a shiny badge with a large “L” on it. “I've got it all under control! I got you guns, waterbottles, towels, everything I thought you might need!" He looked up, at the dancing lights, where the bears were staring. "Got it all under control! That's totally according to plan!”
Cops lined up in a row that led to the hotel entrance, saluting. Others set up a station with gatorade and snacks near the bears.
The lieutenant handed the man wearing the polar bear mask a bunch of bananas. “I can even predict what you’re going to tell me!”
The man in white replied, his voice baritone. “Can you now?”
“Course I can! I was practically born to analyze situations and provide responses based on that information!” The cop said proudly. “You were about to say ‘Great job, Lieutenant! You’ve handled this situation perfectly! You catered to my every desire, and your men no doubt possess an equally adept understanding of the female psyche! She's in the bag!'"
The polar bear mask tilted towards his cohorts. The man in brown heads toward the hotel entrance without affair. The smoke monster bounced on the ground a couple times before soaring into the air, towards the roof.
The polar bear stared down at the lieutenant.
“That’s not what you were gonna say? Then… you’re gonna give me a promotion! Because... I’ve been a good lieutenant!”
The polar bear walked up beside the lieutenant and casually placed a hand on his shoulder. “And what do you predict will happen now?”
The lieutenant paused and his grin slowly turned into a frown.
“Oh. Oh shit. You’re going to kill me! To demonstrate how uncaring and evil you are!”
The polar bear walked past, heading towards the alleyway, leaving the flustered lieutenant staring after him.
“I think we can seduce one little girl!” The lieutenant yelled. “I sent two absolute units! They're going down on her now!”
“No lieutenant, your men are already disgusted.”
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