Alle misteli dating

Alle leden van het ACMC en hun introducés luidden op maandag 21 januari het nieuwe jaar feestelijk in. Buiten was het hondenweer maar bijna alle 90 aangemelde personen waren aanwezig! Om 18.00 uur hield ACMC voorzitter Joke Bosch een kort woordje. LWL Portal - Das Portal für Glasfasernetze. Interview mit Herrn Kaczmarek auf der Fiberdays19. Anlässlich der Fiberdays19 konnten wir mit Herrn Kaczmarek, dem Geschäftsführer des CRM- und Billing - Spezialisten Konzeptum GmbH aus Koblenz, sprechen. Vielen Dank für Ihren Artikel „Warum Männer töten'. Nach all den Artikeln, die zeigen sollen, warum der Unterschied zwischen Mann und Frau eigentlich fliessend und völlig vernachlässigbar ist, tut es gut, das Votum zu lesen: „Die Genderforschung blendet biologische Erklärungen für das Verhalten der Geschlechter aus. «Meine Mutter hat mir und meinen Brüdern immer mit dem Rasierapparat die Haare geschnitten, Millimeterschnitt für alle, das war am einfachsten. Am Drag schätze ich heute besonders die Perücke, ich mag die Ausdrucksmöglichkeiten langer Haare… 4. Miksi me suudella alle misteli? Tässä on jälleen yksi mielenkiintoisia faktoja joulua: romanttinen ja kaunis perinne suudella alle misteli ensimmäinen tuli suosittu viktoriaanisen aikakauden, ja siitä syystä, että misteli on niin tärkeä, että se oli uskotaan loitolla pahat henget ja lisätä hedelmällisyyttä Celtic perinteitä. 5. Sehen Sie sich das Profil von Stefan Misteli auf LinkedIn an, dem weltweit größten beruflichen Netzwerk. 6 Jobs sind im Profil von Stefan Misteli aufgelistet. Sehen Sie sich auf LinkedIn das vollständige Profil an. Erfahren Sie mehr über die Kontakte von Stefan Misteli und über Jobs bei ähnlichen Unternehmen. IP-Adresse, die die Domain-Hosts: Name es bezieht sich auf 13-zeichen-Domains. Fügen Sie Ihre berichte über unten in Form von. Pohjoissuomenkarja • Keskiarvolehmä v. 2012 • Tuotos 5310 kg maitoa • EKM 5568 kg • Rasva% 4,33 • Valk% 3,39 • Keskipoikimakerta 2,48 • Elinikäistuotos 11 162 kg Palkkion Misteli ja Ulla Lakasten Haituva PSK 13. 1 Mäntsälän Voimistelijat Jäsenkyselyn tulokset 2015 Vastaajia N=47 Harrastaja itse Huoltaja 6 henk 41 henk Harrastajan ikä Alle 7v 15 henk 7-10v 17 henk 11-13v 6 henk yli 13v 9 henk Mukana seurassa Alle Sehen Sie sich das Profil von Mathieu Pythoud auf LinkedIn an, dem weltweit größten beruflichen Netzwerk. 5 Jobs sind im Profil von Mathieu Pythoud aufgelistet. Sehen Sie sich auf LinkedIn das vollständige Profil an. Erfahren Sie mehr über die Kontakte von Mathieu Pythoud und über Jobs bei ähnlichen Unternehmen.

Not entirely sure that this belongs on nosleep - that was my intention when I began writing, but it quickly turned into something else. What do you think? (Working Title: Voyage to Black Dream's Lake).

2020.09.18 15:21 TimothyNurley Not entirely sure that this belongs on nosleep - that was my intention when I began writing, but it quickly turned into something else. What do you think? (Working Title: Voyage to Black Dream's Lake).

Good evening, everyone. I’m not quite certain how to begin here, so I’ll just be upfront. My friend passed away recently, and he didn’t have any family. Hell, he didn’t have anyone. It was just me, and a couple of acquaintances. He committed suicide. I was going through the things that he left to me - mostly old photos of us in school, one or two collectables, some of those bugs encased in glass. That’s just what he was into, I guess. Anyway, as I was looking through that small box of his belongings, I came across a diary. Or a journal, or whatever you want to call it. I opened it up, and a piece of paper fell out of the first page.
“Hello there.
This is a private account of my life over the past year.
See you soon.”
I think it’s some kind of joke. One that I don’t find funny, but that was Jack’s sense of humour. We’re total opposites - I’m the kind of guy that laughs at absurdist comedy, he was the kind of guy who would chuckle to himself if he saw an old lady fall down, even if he did feel a little bad for doing so. His “see you soon” was probably his way of getting in one last laugh.
Without wasting any more of your time, I’m going to tell you about the things that are written in Jack’s journal. For the sake of clarity, everything Jack writes is in italics. I’m writing these up as I’m reading them.

It’s back again. This thing is driving me crazy. Holy shit. Every time I drive anywhere, they’re all just standing by the side of the road. They’re just in the corner of my vision, I can’t even look at them, but I know they’re there. It’s getting to the point that I’ve got to laugh about it. Silhouettes encroaching on my peripheral vision. I haven’t had this since I was like 17, back in sixth form. It has been pretty much a background hum since then, but now it’s out in the open. Used to be that writing shit down made it easier to process that it’s just all in my head. I dunno if that will work now, but hello, diary. I’ll get a lot of use out of this book if this shit carries on.
Black Dream’s Lake.
Binding shadows with vision,
Winding aside the path I take,
Cold Winter mist fogs breath’s dew drops,
I rest, my mind’s boat on black dream’s lake.”
[Prior to typing out this one, I had a little flick through some of the pages, and Jack seems to end a lot of these entries with a short snippet of poetry. That’s why I’m writing these here. Not once in the entire time I knew him did he ever say he wrote poetry. Perhaps it was only a coping mechanism, or something to take his mind off of things. I don’t know. I’d like to think it was how he helped himself get through things. Jack was a pretty talented artist, though. He did some really nice paintings back in school. I don’t think he ever carried on with them after we left. Maybe he turned to poetry after that. Despite the hardships in his life, Jack was very creative. I think that warrants sharing - he probably would’ve wanted people to read them.]

5 days of the same, just people by the side of the road, looking in. It’s still a pain in the ass, because it makes me second guess every turn I take. But I can live with it. It’s just annoying. I’m not really freaked out by it anymore.
Relic of age.
Old friends find their way,
They fumble in my footsteps,
I guide them all home.”
[Jack ends with a haiku here, though I don’t recall him having any fondness for Japanese mediums. I think this poem means that Jack felt isolated, despite having people around him. Maybe he felt like he was dismissing people who wanted to help him.]

Oh my fucking god. I wake up in the middle of the night and this shit is straight up sat on my chest. I shit myself, because I don’t know what it is. Then I realise I can’t move. It’s sleep paralysis. I look at the thing, and it turns around and stares at me. It’s a cat. You know those creepy reflective eyes they have at night? That’s mad. It’s gone when I actually wake up, because it wasn’t real, but still creepy. Technically it’s the 21st but I’ve already written the date in. It’s like 4AM and I have work tomorrow.”
[No poem here, I guess he was tired.]

I was late for work yesterday, because I woke up late. I was legit only 5 minutes late, but my manager was shouting at me like the asshole he is. Like I’ll stay late, I’ll make up for it, you don’t need to be a dick. It’s not like we’re understaffed. There’s no need for it. When he was shouting at me, I felt like I was gonna pass out. I just couldn’t handle it. Being shouted at, I mean. Normally I’d be fine, but I’ve not been in a great place over the past week.
I hate my boss.
Sweet Jerry Hunt,
A fat little runt,
Power tripping, semen sipping,
Get fucked, you cunt.”
[As obscene as it is, this one did make me laugh. It’s nice to see him vent his frustrations in a creative way, rather than take it out on others like so many people do. There is also a scribble at the end of the page on this one. I think it’s covering up some extra lines to the poem that he didn’t like. I tried to read what was underneath, but it wasn’t legible.]

Today was awful. I spoke to one of the silhouettes. It took me a good five minutes to realise afterwards that it wasn’t a real person. I was just walking down the street when it shouted out to me. Asked me if I had the time. I was walking to my car just after my shift, so it was dark out. I shouted back “just finished my shift so it’s gotta be about six” and he said thank you. Realised he was one of them when I was driving. Like, “oh shit, that wasn’t real.” Really going back to how I was when I was a teenager. Writing is helping though, I think. My manager actually apologised to me, said he was having a rough day. That was kind of refreshing. I do feel a little bad now, though. Only a little bit.
Black Dream’s Lake 2.
Branches grow their little leaves,
Pulled further down until they break,
Poison words pepper packet tops,
A single cigarette on black dream’s lake.”
[Come to think of it, I think it was around about this time that Jack started smoking again. He picks the habit back up when he gets stressed. He was probably annoyed at himself for lighting up again. That’s the vibe I get from this poem. I’m not sure why he keeps mentioning this “black dream’s lake,” but it’s a strange little motif, I’d like to see if he’s going anywhere with it.]

My colleague set me up with some girl his girlfriend is mates with. Daisy, her name is. That’s going to be awful. I have to keep up appearances, so I’ll go along. Poor girl. I felt like an asshole at the time, too. I was definitely looking over Richard’s shoulder when he was telling me about her. There was this fat black spot in my vision right behind him. I dunno. Maybe he didn’t notice.
Daisy and Dockett.
Dearest darling Daisy,
Don’t dare dose,
Demon Dog Dockett,
Devours dreaming damsels.
Dearest darling Dead,
Did dare dose,
Demon Dog Dockett,
Did damsel devour.”
[I don’t know if there is a message with this one, but I like it. It was scribbled over, but in pencil. So far, all of this document is written in pen, so I erased the pencil and copied out the words underneath. It’s quite a good poem, I don’t know why he scribbled it out. I’m not sure where the name Dockett came from, the closest thing I can think of is a docket, but that doesn’t seem to make much sense. Maybe it meant something significant to Jack.]

It actually wasn’t awful. I mean, the day was off to a bad start. I had the cat sleep paralysis thing again. Yuck. But Daisy is actually pretty cool. She has a similar sense of humour to me, which is amazing. Wow. I had a great time, she did too. We’re going out again next Friday.”
[No poem with this one.]

It went well, again. I think we’ve really hit it off. She has a pet millipede, so she won’t mind my bug collection. That’s usually kind of off putting to most girls. I only had one little blip on the date, too. Almost asked a waiter who wasn’t there for the check. Oops.
Holding hope.
I stand, still hopeful,
Even while courage fails me,
I lean to, and hold.”
[Another haiku. I don’t think this one is actually that good. Sorry, Jack. Perhaps I’m just not a fan of them. It’s nice to see, though. I think he’s writing about leaning in to kiss her goodbye after a date. He never actually mentioned Daisy to me, but he must’ve got on well with her. This one was scribbled over in pencil, too.]

I think I might be getting a little nervous about how things are going with Daisy. Which is stupid of me, because we’ve only been on two dates. I just don’t want to fuck it up. I dunno. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Doesn’t help that they’re whispering about me again, though. I ignore them. Because I know they aren’t real. But still.
Black Dream’s Lake 3.
Whispered words and sliding eyes,
Whining willow’s woodgrain ache,
Fettered in mind the March hare hops,
Fingertips brush on black dream’s lake.”
[I find myself wanting more from Jack’s Black Dream’s Lake. I assume these are all intended to be read as one poem, that Jack writes when he feels like it. They seem to leave me wanting more, like I can tell it isn’t finished yet.]

I really don’t know what I was worried about. Last night was great. No mishaps. No problems. We’re going to spend the rest of the weekend together. Catch you later. Not like you’re a friend, you are pieces of paper. Well, whatever. Not like this is supposed to be a diary, but if that’s what it turns into then so be it.
[I don’t get this one. Maybe he was making himself laugh. This was scribbled out with pencil, too.]

Hello again. Things have been going good. I’ve been able to sort of block out a lot of the constant drone that seems ever present in the background of my life. The only thing that I can’t seem to stop is the sleep paralysis cat. I’ve kind of grown fond of it, but not really. It still freaks me the fuck out.
Bobbing bouncing breasts,
Brazenly breaking braziers,
Bravely bursting breasts,
this is shit”
[A poem about breasts that was abandoned halfway through by the looks of it. Not scribbled out. Jack seemed happy to leave it like this. It also seems that he began writing in pencil at this point. He also drew a smiley face at the end of his poem.]

I’ve not been writing much, but that’s because I haven’t had to. I kind of feel obligated to write in you, because you’ve been helpful. It’s kind of nice, having a friend who just listens. Things are going really well with Daisy, and we even went on a double date with Richard and Lucy. Daisy and Lucy are real good friends, and Richard is a pretty nice guy, so I can see us all hanging out more often. I’ve been in a really good place recently. I thanked him for setting me up with Daisy, he joked and said it was good to finally see me not looking miserable. He’s right, I do feel a lot better, everyone can probably see it.
Black Dream’s Lake 4
[???] amidst [???] fields,
Feel good things [???] sake,
[???] black dream’s lake.
Thanks, Richard.”
[I tried my hardest to see what the missing lines of this poem were - unfortunately, the entire poem was erased. I was just about able to make out some of the first two lines from the impressions that Jack’s pencil left in the paper. It’s a shame. I really do want to know what happens on Black Dream’s Lake. I don’t know Richard, but Jack seemed to like him.]

So the sleep paralysis cat came back again last night. He was sat on my chest, staring right at me. Like usual. Then he hisses in my face. Like proper angry. Never happened before. Not a fan, to be honest. Then he stands up and says “she doesn’t need you as much as you need her” and jumps off me and scurries away out the door. Really shit.”
[No poem here, sadly.]

Same as last night. Cat was bigger and louder, though. Interrupted a nice dream, too.
A butterfly.
In fields I dreamt,
Of pastures grey,
And sunflowers bent,
Up and away,
Curved over mountaintops,
With petals of doorstops,
In whimsical delight,
I laughed at the sight,
Of a butterfly’s flight,
With wings made of light.
That’s what I dreamt about. It was kind of nice, really Alice in Wonderland feel to it.
[If the footnote at the end of the poem didn’t give it away, Jack wrote a poem about his dream. As much as these one off poems are nice, I really am dying to get back to the ideas behind Black Dream’s Lake. If I’m being honest, I’d really like to have seen Jack do a painting of Black Dream’s Lake. It would really seal the deal for me, really add to the art. But he stopped, so I guess he just didn’t enjoy it anymore. These poems supposedly became the way he expressed himself instead. The word "sunflowers” was erased here, but again, I was able to make it out from the impression his pencil left.]

Finally kicked smoking. Again. For the fourth time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still stressed, and I’m still getting shit in the corner of my vision. But there are far less intrusive hallucinations. Nothing auditory, aside from the cat, but that’s different because it’s sleep paralysis. Man. Writing is helping. Daisy is helping. Richard and Lucy are so chill, too. It’s helping having a few people who care around me.
Daisy Dares
Daisy dares defeat,
Demon dog Dockett,
Damsel demands dreams,
Darling deservedly doses.
Daisy dared destroy,
Demon dog Dead,
Damsel demanded dreams,
Darling deserved diamonds.”
[A continuation of Daisy and Dockett, I really enjoy the callback here. It’s nice to see repeating themes and motifs throughout Jack’s work. I’m still interested to see if Dockett means anything, or if it’s a name that Jack made up. Unlike Black Dream’s Lake 4, I was able to get the entirety of the poem from the impressions left in the paper.]

I showed Daisy the painting I did of my dream. She really liked it. I left the petals as actual petals though, rather than making them doorstops. That looked weird in the dream, and I wanted the painting to look nice. It’s kind of funny how her favourite flowers aren’t daisies, though. I should paint her as a giant daisy, that might be funny. I think she’d get a good laugh out of that.
[???] Daisies
[???] risen,
Wade through waters shallow,
Peculiar petals [???],
[I would love to see where this poem went. It’s a shame he decided that he wasn’t happy with it. He was quite unhappy with a lot of his art, too, even though his paintings got a lot of likes online. He didn’t always want to share his work. Perhaps he decided he didn’t want people to see these specific pieces. I think the title to this one was originally “Daisy’s Daisies”, but it could also just be “Daisies, Daisies” - I am not sure.]

I had a pretty bad day today. There were some really shitty customers at work. At least it’s Saturday tomorrow. I’m hanging out with “the gang” and I’d rather not, but it beats work. Some old acquaintances from school. Eh. Kinda sucks, I was a jittery mess when I last spoke to these people. I mean, I still chat with Tim on messenger sometimes. So at least it won’t be totally awkward, he still asks about my art but he seems like he’s changed a lot. I don’t really want to show him my paintings.
Familiar face of fleeting grace,
Reminded wryly of reconciled wrongs,
Creating collections and covering objections,
Briefly beguiling but boringly blank.”
[This poem isn’t titled. But, hi, I’m Tim. That’s me. I guess Jack didn’t really like it when I wanted to see his art. He was always pretty insecure about it. I always tried to big it up, though. I really was always impressed by it. I always told him he should show other people, but I don’t think he was confident enough. His paintings were great, though. As for the poem, I feel like there are a few layers. A lot of our friend group from school wasn’t really there for him when his mental health problems got worse. He probably wasn’t really up for seeing all of them. I also think this poem was about his art. Perhaps he felt like his art didn’t say enough, but I felt like it said so much.]

Oh my god. Being back with them. Ugh. Real shitty. Of course, questions about if I’m still painting. Yuck. Dance monkey dance. And fucking hell, felt like I was gonna die. Standing behind each of them were these projections of them. I guess how my subconscious sees them. Like some 7 deadly sins shit, but there are only 5 of them instead. Reunions really aren’t my thing.”
[No poem here. I didn’t realise Jack felt that strongly about people asking about his art. I don’t think he realised how interesting it was. Was he embarrassed to share it? Did he find it difficult to show art where he was expressing himself? He showed Daisy the sunflower painting. Why didn’t he show me?]

I think seeing them really put me back into a bad headspace. I had a bunch more crap today. Seeing people laughing and shit. I’m forgetting people’s faces again. Like I saw Daisy last weekend and now I can’t remember what she looks like. Seriously. A week. In my mind her face is just blank. This is how I was before. I don’t think I can see them again. I can’t go back to how I was. I’ve been doing good. Feeling good. Happy. Writing, with Daisy, doing paintings, doing poems. It’s been so good. I just want to show myself that I can do this on my own, but I’m worried that I can’t.”
[No poem. I’d really like to get back to Black Dream’s Lake.]

Ok, I think I’m back on track. Low points are part of it. I did another painting. It helped. I kind of neglected the writing for painting, but I suppose it’s ok to mix and match between the two.
Terrible Termites
Terrible termites,
Spiteful snakes,
Angry arachnids,
Horrible humans.
[This poem really makes a point about humanity. Jack seems to favour poems that incorporate alliteration over rhyming. It’s nice to see that he has developed his own unique style. Then again, I don’t know much about poetry. It could be a reference that I don’t know. Either way, I see the message here.]

Daisy and I are moving in together. She took Maximillian and all her clothes to mine tonight, and we’re gonna start on the rest of her stuff tomorrow. I’m a bit nervous. I’m happy, but nervous. I don’t want her to have to put up with me when I get bad and shit.
Menacing Maximillian mindlessly marches,
Mutely marvelling marvelous moisture,
he’s a millipede i dunno what else you can say.”
[It does tire me to see these unfinished poems, I really dislike it. Especially when there are some that are potentially really good, and he decides he isn’t happy with them and erases them. Yet here we have something that is unfinished, a poem about a millipede of all things, and Jack is fine to leave it like that. I’m half tempted to finish this poem myself, but I won’t.]

I want to quit my fucking job. Holy shit. Jerry Cunt is at it again. I don’t give a shit if you’ve had a bad day, all I did was put some fucking shampoo bottles in the wrong place. Ridiculous. It’s not my fault your wife hates you. Fucking hell. I can’t quit because money exists. I’m gonna start looking for something else. I was tired as shit as well.
Piss guzzler
Hi, my name is Jerry,
I guzzle piss,
My wife is really hairy,
She also guzzles piss,
My son smells like dairy,
He also guzzles piss,
My daughter is scary,
She also guzzles piss,
I fuck my mother,
She fucks like no other,
We suck one another,
My mother also guzzles piss.”
[Another really obscene poem. I’m considering skipping these. They don’t really showcase Jack’s art, or his talent.]

“Bday bash [15/6/2019]
Today is my birthday. I don’t really like a fuss being made about it, but it was nice to spend the day with the people who have been there for me. Richard and Lucy got me a set of paints. I mean, they were acrylics, and I do oil painting, but it’s the thought that counts. I’ll do a nice painting for them. Daisy got me a Japanese hornet, dead, obviously, in glass. She also got me a really nice watch. If I’m being honest, I was actually way more excited about the hornet. But the watch is really nice, it must’ve been expensive. It’s really nice. I think she got it because I told her a while back that my dad had a thing for fancy watches, so it’s actually really nice to know that she’s listening to what I say.
Birthday sex,
A sexual hex,
I must annex,
Your genitals.”
[I am really getting sick of these low effort, boring, crude, obscene poems. I’m going to jump ahead to the next good poem that Jack writes.]
[These infantile poems go on for almost a year, I’m very disappointed. Eventually, though, Jack stops writing these.]

We had another argument today. Being stuck indoors has really done a number on us both. This shit is getting so dull. I mean, I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to upset her. But I can’t go out. I’m off work. We’re in the flat together all day. I’m getting bad again, and I snap at her because I’m afraid to open up about it. It’s so easy to write it down. Why can’t I just tell her what I’m going through?
Shackled the shameful,
Warranted by the wasteful,
I rot, unfulfilled.”
[Even though I’m not a fan of haikus, this is good. This is more like it. This is the Jack I know. It seems like he begins putting more effort into his poetry from this point onwards.]

Coronavirus can eat my ass. I fucking hate this shit. I want to go out like we used to. We used to have double dates every other weekend. Now what the fuck do we do. Nothing. I’ve even started talking to “the gang” in a group chat for something to do.
Recalibrate your mind,
Reallocate your strife,
Now leave the world behind,
And enjoy your new life.
there’s a rhythm to it like you have to give each syllable the exact same amount of time, there has to be a little pause between each line. It’s like - - - - - - _ - - - - - - _ like that. You have to be a bit monotone with it.”
[I think a lot of people felt like this when they couldn’t go out and enjoy themselves during lockdown. With Jack’s added notes about the rhythm of the poem, it’s clear that he wanted to create a mechanical vibe around this piece. The monotony of day in day out, it’s robotic. That’s what he was going for. The dashes and underscores were the best way I could type up what Jack scribbled down.]

We’re starting to get on each other’s nerves. I have nothing to write, though, because every day is the same. I saw the cat while I was awake, though. It was trying to talk to me through the window, but I ignored it as best as I could. Hands reach for me from behind closed doors.
The mental machine that monitors my mind,
Shivers, shudders, moist fog rusts the shrine,
Static sine waves satiate my slipping decline,
Hailstone hands harnessed by hate.”
[This is Jack beginning to extend his artistic capabilities, as with the last poem playing with rhythm and length. The decision to keep the first three lines equal in length, and to then shorten the final line, shows this poem’s intentions as Jack reaches deeper to put more effort into his writing.]

Daisy ended things with me. I was too overbearing. But I can’t help worrying about our relationship when the cat is telling me that she hates me. He keeps saying it, over and over. And it puts me on edge. Even now, I’m still on edge about it, and she’s already gone. He keeps saying it. He just won’t fucking stop.
Black Dream’s Lake 5.
Wicked grins of rising hands,
Mouths on fingertips unmake,
Shushing words ’til holding stops,
Arms dangle deep in black dream’s lake."
[I’m so happy that Jack returned to Black Dream’s Lake. I can sense it coming to a natural close, it feels as if each of these self-contained works builds a natural progression. Jack is clearly envisioning something larger when he writes these. I wonder if he ever did a painting of the world he envisioned when writing his poems of Black Dream’s Lake.]

The cat keeps saying it. He’s bigger now. Hands and doors. They grab me. Cat is big.”
[No poem here.]

[no date]
He tells me I’m nothing. Nothing. No one. Nobody. Shit. Worthless. A waste. Dead. Dead inside. Rotting outside. I sit and rot all day. I stared at the wall while he berated me for hours. I didn’t eat anything today.
it’s not over, it never began,
clawed and grasped at by a writhing mass,
it’s over,
cat is big,
he is mean, he tells the truth."
[This entry wasn’t dated. This poem is also a bit low effort in comparison to the last one, but there appears to be an important message about Jack’s mental state here.]

I’m certain that Michael is skittering around behind my furniture. He doesn’t appear in my dreams anymore. When I hear him scratching things, I stare at the wall and wait for him to go. He just watches me sometimes. Then he whispers things that I can’t hear. I can hear them, though, because I can read his lips.
Trusting Michael
He speaks no lies,
Come, take my hand,
Stare into Michael’s eyes,
Feel his fur,
Is it there for you, too?
Can you feel Michael?
Can you feel his words?
They flutter about me like kisses,
Touch his fur,
What does he tell you?
Kill yourself.
Kill yourself.
Kill yourself.
Kill yourself.
Kill yourself.
Kill yourself.
Kill yourself.”
[The final line of this poem repeats itself until Jack reaches the end of the page. I think that Michael is a manifestation of all of the things that made Jack insecure about his art. I can’t help but think, if Jack would have painted how Michael was in his mind’s eye, it would have been his magnum opus.]

This is my final message. I’m not right for this place. Don’t blame yourself, Sunflower. I’d have only done this sooner, if it weren’t for you.
Paddles guide and find my place,
Daybreak calls for me to wake,
The peace maker’s woven props,
I am pulled in by black dream’s lake.
[I think by Sunflower, Jack means me. After all, he left this diary to me, and I was talking to him and trying to encourage his creativity during lockdown. I think I must’ve helped him a lot. As for this final Black Dream’s Lake - Jack hung himself. The “woven props” of the peace maker is the rope, putting Jack at peace. It’s a beautiful end to the Black Dream’s Lake saga. He felt himself pulled in. Goodbye, Jack.]
- - -
[It appears that this isn’t the end. Jack has left something else for me to read in his journal. At the end of the book, an envelope was taped to the final page. I took it off and read what was written on the front.]
In this letter is something I need to write down. I need to write it, but I don’t want anyone to read it. I feel like if I write it, it’s out there. But I want to be the only one who sees it. Please, if by any means you come into possession of this letter, throw it away, or burn it.
[Despite what it says, Jack wouldn’t have left this to me if he didn’t want me to read it. I opened the envelope, and inside was a single piece of A4 paper, folded to fit. What is written there appears to be scrawled quite quickly, Jack’s handwriting doesn’t look as neat as it has been.]
See you soon.
Go ahead. Do what you did back in school.
Do it. Show everyone that you’re cool.
Post my art on instagram. Show them all.
“My mentally-ill friend made this, he should be in an art hall!”

Put crappy filters on to hide the imperfections,
Take what I love and give it your corrections,
Turn everything I do into a little song and dance,
“He’s so talented, a tortured soul, please give him a chance!”

If I wanted it posted, I’d post it myself,
But you know what’s good for my mental health,
Yeah, a thousand likes will fix my brain,
“Oh, what an artist, he’s in true pain!”

Fuck off. Really, I mean it.

I seriously hope that you get hurt.

I really, really mean it.

Remember in school, when you said I should put some blood on my paintings? When you found out I was self harming? I remember that. I think about it a lot. I wonder if you have ever thought about that since you said it? It really stuck with me.

Is that all I am? A malfunctioning musical monkey with broken cymbals to be gawked at. Do a backflip, Jack.

I hope that one day someone that you thought cared says some horrible shit like that.

I hope it hurts you.

Goodbye, Tim. It’s a shame you couldn’t respect my wishes just once.
[I think you’ve got it wrong. You’re just so talented. People need to see it. I have to post this one last thing, to show people your Black Dream’s Lake. Then I know you can rest in peace, when everyone sees your art.]

Black Dream’s Lake,
Binding shadows with vision,
Winding aside the path I take,
Cold Winter mist fogs breath’s dew drops,
I rest, my mind’s boat on black dream’s lake.

Branches grow their little leaves,
Pulled further down until they break,
Poison words pepper packet tops,
A single cigarette on black dream’s lake.

Whispered words and sliding eyes,
Whining willow’s woodgrain ache,
Fettered in mind the March hare hops,
Fingertips brush on black dream’s lake.

Wicked grins of rising hands,
Mouths on fingertips unmake,
Shushing words ’til holding stops,
Arms dangle deep in black dream’s lake.

Paddles guide and find my place,
Daybreak calls for me to wake,
The peace maker’s woven props,
I am pulled in by black dream’s lake.

[Thank you, Jack, for sharing with me your greatest piece. Black Dream’s Lake is the legacy you will leave, and I will be the one to share it with the world.]
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2020.09.17 13:02 closeprotections Close Protection London Close Protection Services London

Close protection – is a concept that has been known for ages – it has been with us since early days of humankind and now its condition is more than satisfactory. Since time immemorial, people have tried to protect their wealth, assets, as well as their own health, life, and welfare. By means of the transfer of gathered goods, wealthy individuals have been paying other parties to protect them, their families, and possessions from others. As a general rule, young, notably strong, and grim-looking individuals have been considered perfectly suitable for such a job. The idea behind such a choice has been to scare away a potential adversary by taking advantage of the very looks of the guard. The aforementioned state of affairs has been observed for the consecutive ages. Wealthy landowners and kings created their own trusted guards (in ancient times and during the medieval age, those were troops designated to protect the authorities; later on, they were transformed into elite soldiers). Aside from serving representative and managerial purposes, such individuals were required to take care of their master and his beloved ones. In the 11th century England, during the Battle of Hastings, King Harold assembled a group of troops to protect his life and widely understood health condition. One may consider them to be the ancestors of modern bodyguards. As both civilization and society progressed, there were an increasing number of various organizations and people. Therefore, the risk of attack was significantly higher. Numerous authorities attempted to discourage potential aggressors from committing a crime by introducing severe forms of punishment. It must be noted, however, that there was still the question if it was enough to protect high authorities and the wealthy from the effects of outside attacks. The protection-oriented market has been developing to be – at some point – dominated by professional soldiers. The said progression has made it possible for police officers to investigate and deal with common, less dangerous crimes only. Together with technical revolution and the increasing social awareness, the number of citizens not satisfied with the current order skyrockets. It is likely to cause radical groups aiming at the change of the existing ruling paradigm to occur. This in turn may lead to anarchy and the increase in people willing to put their antisocial theories and plans into effect. The latter may start from sabotaging the work of others and demolishing valuable devices, but it may also end up in killings. If such a thing happens, one may openly talk about terrorism. The unusual social situation boosts the demand for personal protection. Both the army and police focus on securing the wellbeing of those of high position in the country. The rest of the threatened society must protect itself. The demand identified above has given rise to a new profession – a security guard. In the past, it was performed in a more or less organized fashion and that is why the effectiveness of arising task achievement varied. The attempt on Tsar’s Alexander the Second life on 1st March 1881 is a perfect exemplification of the formulated thesis. The ruler in question was attacked by the members of Narodnaya Volya at 2:15 P.M. A bomb was thrown under the carriage, but its explosion did not harm either the tsar or the horses. Alexander the Second, together with his companion including secret police representatives, started to assess damages. It was a mistake. At 2:20 P.M, yet another bomb was detonated. Its accuracy was notably higher as it managed to severely injure the tsar. He died relatively quickly, even with professional care he was under. At this point, it must be indicated that the demand for close protection increases. However, the perception of it is in a significant number of cases rather faulty, leading to pitiful outcomes. As it was hundreds of years earlier, modern people tend to hire grim musclemen to protect them, disregarding the fact that their intellectual level and possessed knowledge are negligible. Formerly, a test had to be passed in order for a person to be considered a bodyguard. Unfortunately, it does not hold true anymore. On numerous occasions, we can observe security guards stylized to look like stats of action movies, with the lack of intelligence written all over their faces. To give them justice, such people may also perform exceptionally well – up to the time they encounter a real attack. Unprofessional guards may be employed to protect rock stars or boxers. Real bodyguards of today are, however, highly skilled and motivated. They are trained to prevent rather than to counteract, as it may be too late in the latter case. Such people are capable of estimating potential risk and juxtaposing it with the resources at their disposal that may minimize it. Modern security guards are physically active, as well as skilled in giving first aid and driving a car defensively. They can fight without using any weapon – especially by taking advantage of psychology and persuasion. Such people are proficient in at least two languages and are characterized by an above-average intelligence level. The described model of a security guard is perfectly suited to current conditions and the needs of individuals hiring them.

VIP close protection over the world – organizations specializing in personal protection. One of the most famous and at the same time – the oldest organized bodies dealing with close protection was created in the 19th century. It was the American United States Secret Service. The USSS was created in 1865 as the US Treasury Law Enforcement Agency. Secret Service is the oldest national agency focusing entirely on investigations. Initially, their only task was to protect the economic structure of the country by means of preventing governmental cheques and bonds from being counterfeited. The mission was followed up to 1901, when president William McKinley was attacked in Buffalo (NY state). The assault resulted in appointing the Secret Service by the US Congress to protect the newly elected president, Theodore Roosevelt. In 1906, the Congress finally adopted the act on the responsibility of the Secret Service for the safety of the White House. Since 1950, the protection has been extended from presidents and first ladies only to vice-presidents as well. Before the murder of John F. Kennedy in 1963 and senator Robert F. Kennedy in 1968, the Secret Service had been a relatively small organization, employing as many as 284 agents. The discussed events translated directly into its rapid development. Currently, it is stated that over 5000 employees work for the Secret Service. Separate branches of the organization are located all over the United States, in Puerto Rico, and in other places all over the world (Paris, Lyon, London, Bonn, Rome, Milano, Hong Kong, Montreal, Lefkosa, Bogota, and Manila). The representatives of the organization are both secret agents (serving protection and investigation-related roles), as well as uniformed units responsible for the safety of the White House and diplomatic outposts. They maintain law and order by means of the network of both foot and motorized patrols, as well as of fixed posts. Such people also support other branches of the Secret Service. A wide scope of professional is also employed therein – those are electronics, engineers, communication experts, protection-related professionals, and IT workers. The Secret Service protects the president with his family, vice-president, elected vice-president, candidates for the said posts (from the 120th day before the elections onwards), former president, his children up to 16, as well as heads of other states staying in the USA in order to realize international missions. The unit of the Secret Service liable for taking care about the safety of the president in the White House fulfills its duties in identical uniforms. Due to the said fact, the Secret Service is sometimes referred to as the Uniformed Division. Its tasks also include the protection of president’s mansions, diplomatic outposts in Washington, and places alike located within the borders of the USA.

Another known formation is the Swiss Guard (Latin: Cohors Helvetica) which was for the very first time gathered on 22nd January 1506 by the then pope – Julius II. Its major aim was to protect the spiritual successor of Saint Peter and his palace. The pope wanted to grant himself protection from the enemies and avoid a political murder. In 1512, the Guard secured Vatican against French soldiers. The Defendants of the Church, as the representatives of the discussed formation were also called, had to face the biggest trail while taking care of pope Clemens VII during the invasion of Roman emperor, Charles V. The boldness, discipline, and resourcefulness of the representatives of the Guard made it possible to save the life of the pope, even though about 600 bold men died in the process. To commemorate the event, a solemn vow of the newly appointed guards takes place every year on 6th May. Each of the Swiss guards-to-be holds a banner in his left hand and raises his right hand with the thumb and two other fingers in an upright position (it is the symbol of the Holy Trinity). Then, the new soldiers promise to protect the pope and – to die in his defense if necessary. The representatives of the Swiss Guard are chosen from men between the age of 19 and 25 living in one of Swiss cantons (basing on contracts with Zurich and Lucerne). Each of them has to be at least 174 cm (5 feet and a half inch) tall and be an unmarried practicing Catholic (according to a special letter issued by the local bishop). Candidates for the service are properly trained, including teaching them how to use firearms, side arms, as well as how to defend themselves and establish proper contacts with other people. One of the items of the list is the proper usage of halberd. Currently, the number of soldiers in the Guard is estimated to circulate around 120, including officers, junior, and senior soldiers. They serve in the formation from two to twenty-five years. It must be also indicated at this point that officers and senior sergeants may be granted by the pope the right to enter into a holy matrimony. Aside from their characteristic outfit, soldiers are additionally equipped with halberds and Renaissance swords – those are the symbols of formation’s tradition. Nowadays, they are also fitted with firearms, tear gas, and excellent communication-oriented devices. With its almost five hundred years of heritage, the Swiss Guard is one of the oldest active defense-oriented groups in the world. One may assume that it will last until Switzerland and the Catholic Church exist.

Yet another example of a close protection-focused formation is the Cedrug Order, the major task of which is to take care about the ruler of Tibet – Dalai Lama. It comprises of national spiritual authorities who organized themselves in a form of an order. Thanks to strict upbringing, their physical strength is much higher than the one of secular officials. Therefore, the former are the most trusted soldiers caring about the safety of the leader of the nation. Cedurg School is located in the left wing of Potala – the palace of Dalai Lama, which is in turn situated in the Holy City of Lhasa (eastern Tibet, Kyitsu river valley). Every Tibet citizen is allowed to enroll to the school, but only chosen ones are granted the privilege to join the Order. For several hundred years, there have been a limited number of monks allowed, namely – 175. Only selected candidates have been worthy enough to defend the powerful Dalai Lama. Those are especially bold, tall, and muscular men. The representatives of the Order earned their name in 1959, when they protected the king of Tibet against Chinese adversaries.

One of the biggest organizations in the world established to consociate and train bodyguards is the International Bodyguard Association (IBA). The IBA was established in 1957 in Paris by major Lucien Victor Ott. Major Ott had been closely connected to the French Foreign Legion in Algeria since his early childhood. He had been born and raised in the said country. In 1947, he joined the French Special Forces and took part in France-Indochina war. Furthermore, he was the participant of the battle of Dien-Bien Phu that ended with the defeat of the French forces. He was being injured and captured by Vietminh. After a bold escape, he decided to join forces with the French Military Intelligence (Deuxieme Bureau). Major Lucien Ott got famous due to, inter alia, perfect securing of president Charles de Gaulle against the OAS terrorist organization. Thanks to him, 30 prepared attacks were foiled, 11 of which were aimed directly at the head of the state. After the death of the creator of a modern bodyguard profile, major Ott, one of his students – James G. Shortt took care of the management of the IBA. As a young man, he had joined a cadet school. Later on, he had become landing operation troops officer and a member of the elite SAS (Special Air Service) unit. Moreover, during his service, he also taught soldiers in Afghanistan the art of Mujahedeen war. Currently, he teaches security guards, police officers, and soldiers all over the world in the IBA branches. The main aim of the organization is to properly prepare bodyguards-to-be to properly perform their duties. It is not an entity employing such individuals, but those who have presented exceptional skills may become members of royal, diplomatic, or personal guards recommended by the IBA. Coaches being the representatives of the organization trained bodyguards in Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, as well as helped during the Baltic Crisis between 1989 and 1991. The qualifications of the International Bodyguard Association are exceptional, international, and backed by the documentation concerning the organization of training sessions for the military, governmental authorities, police, and private bodyguards all over the world. Such undertakings have been continuously performed since 1957. The IBA also operates and trains willing individuals in Poland. Its branch was established in the said country in 1992. The basic training offered to candidates includes 60 hours of comprehensive preparation divided into six consecutive days. After its completion, the candidates are required to undergo the so-called refresher once a year. It is one of the conditions of the membership in the IBA.

Another training organization worth mentioning is the ESI - Executive Security International. It must be highlighted that it is one of the biggest and most appreciated American companies oriented towards training personal protection guards. Its second name is as follows: Bodyguard Training Academy for Executive, Dignitary and Celebrity Protection. The ESI was formed at the beginning of the 80s by Bob Duggan – martial arts expert and master in Hwarang Do. Its creation had been preceded by the establishment of the very first bodyguard training program by the Martial Arts Academy in Aspen, Colorado. The ESI, being one of the USA’s private schools, offers its students over 2000 hours of education with regard to protection, investigation, data gathering, company and individual security, etc. The training unit of the organization is situated high up in the mountains and is run by skilled professionals. Fun fact – film writer, Tracy Keenan Wynn, cooperates with the ESI. His preeminent task has been to create scenarios of situational exercises. While writing them, the said individual takes advantage of real life situations and attacks, such as assaults on Aldo Moro, John Paul the Second, kidnapping of Hans Martin Schleyer by the RAF (Red Army Faction), and scenarios alike. The ESI collaborates with corporations operating in the close protection branch of industry, as well as with the police and military. The organized training sessions are top secret. No journalists are allowed to enter the Aspen unit. Due to the fact that the ESI is a private school, it may provide professional training to civil, police-related, and military institutions all over the world.

The citizens of Israel have never had the chance to feel safe in their country. The issue of safety has been always treated seriously there. Aside from a constant Israel-Arab world conflict threat, the Israelis have been the subjects of terrorist attracts, both within the borders of their country and outside it. Jews and Americans are most frequent victims of operations organized by highly skilled terrorist groups. Taking into account the impact the Russian mafia has on Israel, the amount of care put on widely understood safety is fully justified. The Israeli Special Forces protect their citizens by means of intelligence and security-oriented undertakings. They host training sessions in various organizations preparing bodyguards, providing the adepts with the experience gained during the service. Most famous units of the said kind in Israel are undoubtedly the ISA - International Security Academy and the ISS - International Security School.

ISA is an international organization established and managed by former leaders, police instructors, and special service members. The very first unit of the ISA was formed in Latvia as a training and advising agency for both governmental and private security guards belonging to the Baltic States and the countries of the former USSR. The fact that the ISA is not exclusively Israeli in character is proved by the figure of the organization chairman, major Urlich Wegener – the creator and very first leader of German Border Control Service called GSG 9. The team of instructors and coaches also has international roots. The credo of the organization is that the preparation of the individuals for the proper protection of others is the key. Such people have to be offered highest quality training, extensive knowledge, and practical background. The ISS training programs are based predominantly on the experiences gained in Israel and in other countries, as well as while training people for the purpose of protecting VIPs over the world. Individuals, governmental authorities, and large-size corporations have been taking advantage of the services provided by the ISA/ISS.

At the moment, civil bodyguards are also involved in close protection. The safety of the individuals hiring them, as well as their possessions depends highly on the qualifications of the former. Quite frequently, those are former policemen, soldiers, or special force members. However, a number of inexperienced adepts would like to start their adventure with personal protection as well. Are they bound to fail in their attempts? It is not always so. The most crucial component affecting the effectiveness of the training is one’s psychological preparation. It is a commonly known fact that it is exceptional in former police officers and troops. However, it is a common belief that one can be trained how to perform the job of a bodyguard, just as it is possible to teach a person how to shoot or be properly engaged in melee combat. It all depends on one’s motivation and willingness to achieve success in the industry. Regulations to date limit the training process of a security guard to the moment of being awarded with a license. In order to perform his tasks properly, such a person has to constantly improve his skills and qualifications.

Phenomena connected with the need of utilization of close protection techniques – Terrorism/Terrorist. It goes without saying that terrorism is one of the biggest threats of today’s world. While analyzing the severity of attacks and their scale, one should not doubt that VIPs should be at all possible occasions protected against the aforementioned forms of assault. In order to assess the threat a given problem pose, its specificity must be identified at first. The notion of „terrorism” was for the first time in history used during the Conference of the International Criminal Law Association in Brussels, in 1930. To date, there have been approximately 200 various definitions of the phenomenon in question. While trying to grasp its characteristic features, one will face a number of limitations and difficulties. One of statements of historian Walter Laqueur has to be touched upon here. While asked why he has been avoiding formulating an unequivocal definition of terrorism, he replied: „For 50 or so years, people are constantly trying to understand the idea behind terrorism. It is a phenomenon having different forms, depending on its place of origin and epoch. How can one find common ground between Russian revolutionists from the end of the 19th century and Al-Qaida anarchists?

Terrorism is mainly based on the utilization of force or threat in order to achieve political or ideological goals. It is hard to say something beyond that. Terrorism is like pornography – it escapes logical classification, but if one sees it – then it becomes apparent.” It is hard to argue with the statement, as it perfectly shows the complexity of the phenomenon in question. For the purpose of this publication, a strict definition of terrorism is not needed. All that is required is the utterance formulated by Walter Laqueur stating that terrorism can be most fully perceived through its manifestations. Terrorist acts are undoubtedly illegal, as they are based on kidnapping people and forcedly taking control over means of communication, economic sabotage, attacks, robberies, demanding ransom to finance organization’s own activity, posing threat to life, health, and freedom of authorities, and kidnapping people from outside the area in order to gain publicity (especially journalists, priests, voluntary workers). One may also indicate the usage of explosives and firearms in public areas and poisoning certain spots by means of radioactive materials and chemicals. Longin Tadeusz Szmidt additionally pointed out that terrorism has always been strictly connected with crafty and hard to identify methods of killing the leaders of nations. While describing the phenomenon of terrorism as a threat for the protected person, one should also point out and indicate its sources. The following are enumerated: - social and economic sources that are directly connected to economic crises, social tensions, social and national discrimination, as well as with the perception of dissonance between the factual reality and the one presented by the media; - historical and political sources. They have their beginning in severe social reactions, demanding full democratization and respecting human rights; - sociological sources that may be related to the atmosphere typical for a given country or the so-called spirit of violence; - psychological sources stating that a significant part of terrorists is highly mentally unstable which is additionally combined with the overly high self-esteem. When it comes to the area of attack, the following are proposed by the experts: - land terrorism (the major threat area for VIPs and the key one for security guards), - air terrorism (personal protection is then entrusted to the authorities managing planes, airports, etc.), and – maritime terrorism (tasks and responsibilities are then similar to air attacks). While taking into account the type of terroristic activities, one may distinguish: bombing-based, nuclear, biological, chemical, technical, cybernetic (attacks on IT networks), and narcotic-oriented (narcotic cartels undertakings) terrorism. The highest threat for VIPs is undoubtedly the first type, namely – bombing-based one. Close protection-oriented undertakings should therefore incorporate the knowledge on paradigms effective during a bomb attack. They will be discussed in further sections of this publication. It is exceptionally difficult to argue with the thesis that we must be protected against terrorism. The same applies to VIPs. The importance of the latter is also worth discussing, as the threat is much higher when a top authority is attacked than when the assault poses threat to a pop star or a wealthy businessman. However, it does not limit the necessity to analyze and counteract terroristic attack threat. It may directly impact the safety of the person a given security guard is responsible for.

Crime is also one of the issues that may endanger protected VIPs. Up to the beginning of the 80s, Poland had been considered to be one of the safest countries in Europe. Law enforcement bodies had been numerous and properly financed there, and crime forecasting, prevention, and penalizing schemes had met all the European standards. However, at the end of the discussed period, the myth of threat-free Poland started to crumble. The effects of crime fighting scene were becoming gradually more negligible. The said state of affairs was predominantly caused by the decreasing trust in law enforcing organizations, as well as by the rapid increase in crimes committed by the citizens. Another important aspect that must be taken into account were economic and political changes taking place in 1989,the liberalization of economic activity, and the emergence of free market. Some individuals possessed unimaginable riches, whereas others were exceptionally poor. In order to survive till the next day, the latter searched for the answer in crimes, leading to the occurrence of the phenomenon commonly known as organized crime. According to official data from 2001, within the borders of Poland, there were over 400 organized crime groups consociating approximately 45 thousand people. They were generating profits by means of goods smuggling, selling stolen cars, producing and marketing narcotics, counterfeiting national currency, commuting bank frauds, selling firearms, and – what is of exceptional importance from the point of view of VIPs – demanding ransom. Criminals induce fear in the society, especially due to using terror and blackmailing. They do not hesitate to kidnap others or kill them. Such individuals resort to brutal treatment, such as beating, torturing, drowning, etc. All those factors combined directly translate into wealthy representatives of the society feeling threatened. What is more, criminals frequently tend to attack the family of a VIP as well, in order to convince him to perform a given action. Therefore, children, wife, and beloved ones of such an individual must be highly protected.

Popularity/Fame –The threat of attack may be in some cases linked to the popularity of a given human being. When a VIP is in isolation, then he may only receive unwanted phone calls or be nagged by photographers. The problem arises when he has to leave his place of permanent residence or workplace, as well as when he is in a publically accessible place. Danger may still be low, but the inquisitiveness of journalist may quickly become overwhelming. Fans or supporters of a given sportsman or artist may cause havoc in order to touch their idol or get hold of any item belonging to him or her. Of course, there is also the risk of serious injuries or even death (let us take John Lennon as an example) – it cannot be neglected. That is why famous and popular individuals should by all means care about their safety. The matter also concerns politicians who are widely recognizable and controversial. In politics, there are no limitations. Opponents may even resort to killing a representative of the other side to impose his or her right on others. Elected politicians tend to have close protection, but care should be additionally exercised to care about those running in elections. Such VIPs may be ridiculed by the crowd or the opposition (by throwing eggs or pouring water over the candidate), leading to the end of their political career. The role of security guards should in the aforementioned cases not be limited to physical protection only. They must also keep information about VIP’s family, realized projects, and operation profile confidential. The image of a famous person highly depends on the bodyguards being in his immediate surroundings. The manner of their operation, professionalism, and knowledge are top priorities there.

Attack on person – By definition, attack on person is the attempt to kill someone, steal his or her possessions, as well as to kidnap him or her. The criminal action in question has a long history, as assaults have been made throughout the consecutive ages. Their goal has been to achieve a political, economic, or cultural aim. Attacks on person may lead to tremendous changes in the society, which is perfectly depicted by the killing of John Kennedy and Icchak Rabin. In the majority of cases, however, such an attack does not have significantly far-reaching consequences. In order to be effective, bodyguards must answer themselves the following questions – why do criminals attack? How do they attack? How may the assault look like? Therefore, it is highly advised to specify the motif, methods utilized, and consecutive stages of one and every attack on person. Taking into account motifs, one must bear in mind that all the assaults have their agenda. No attack is made voluntarily, without forethought. In the following sections, most common causes of the aforementioned activity are going to be enumerated:

Revolutionary or political ones – organized groups (frequently consisting of fanatics) attack others in order to force the society to change the existing system or overthrow the current government (in the attempt to choose a new one). Their victims are often the authorities ruling the country. The attackers, who follow their revolutionary or political agenda, try to win the sympathy of other representatives of the society. Long before the planned attack itself, they distribute leaflets blaming current rulers for the widespread injustice. According to their belief, the elimination of the elites in power would bring positive outcomes for the whole country. Such an action was performed in Armenia in 1999, where members of the government were shot dead during one of their meetings. The terrorists informed that their death would improve the national situation.

Economic – terrorists claim that their potential victim is responsible for the poor economic condition of the country, company, or a group of people. In the majority of cases, economic attacks take place in countries where there are extreme disproportions between the wealthy and the poor. It must be taken into consideration, however that it is not always the case, as the assessment of the attackers tend to be highly subjective. Quite frequently, the cause of the assault is the personal conviction that the unsatisfying economic condition of the terrorist is the result of actions performed by the victim. It pushes the attacker into thinking that killing him would aid the situation.

Personal – In this case, the wrongdoers are motivated to make an attack due to jealousy, vengeance or other personal causes. Those people in many cases have notable personality disorders, manifesting themselves especially in the inability to control their behavior. The aforementioned state also leads to the failure to distinguish reality from fiction. A perfect exemplification of the motif in question is shooting Zuzanna Leśniak and an artist – Andrzej Zaucha by Yves Goulais in 1991. The trigger there was jealousy.

Ideological – The terrorist is convinced that the victim chosen by him has been threatening the values and principles followed by the attacker. The said rules are often of significant importance for both the group he belongs to and for himself personally. Ideological attacks on a person may be religious or social in character. The first case is oriented towards killing a religious person in the attempt to make it impossible for him to achieve his goals. The second scenario relates to the willingness to eliminate the leader of a given social group. Quite frequently, the additional agenda is to make the organization the terrorist is a part of more memorable and popular in the media. Free publicity is an additional benefit then.

Psychological – The most commonplace group of attacks. Modern psychology claims that every person using firearms, stabbing others with a knife, or taking advantage of explosives has been struggling with mental problems. The motif is of negligible importance, as the attacker may justify his actions with revolutionary, economic, or personal goals, but the fact is that the driving force is the inability to perceive the world correctly. The assassination of Bill Clinton in 1994 illustrates the above bluntly. Francisco Martin Duran stated that he had attacked Clinton to destroy the mist connecting him to an alien entity. Apparently, Duran wanted to eliminate the mist in order to save the world. Attacks considered as crimes may be triggered by a myriad of factors. Among them,there are: - clashes between the representatives of a crime organization, willingness to demonstrate one’s power or threat the victim (attempt to force the latter to pay ransom or forget about debts), - desire to kill suspects that may endanger one’s business, - attempt to exert pressure on certain individuals or to threaten them for their professional achievements (relates to, inter alia, attorneys and tax collectors).

Attack methods to be considered by security guards. Close range attack. It may be performed by means of utilization of: - firearms, - melee weapon (knife, bayonet, dagger), - chemical substance (for example: toxic substance, such as hydrochloric acid). There are no exceptional skills needed to successfully attack a person, as almost everybody can use a knife or a dagger to a satisfactory extent. The same goes with firearms, the utilization of which is as difficult as driving a car. The aforementioned types of weapons can be transported to the place of the assault with ease. The characteristic feature of this attack type is the fact that the wrongdoer is situated maximally several centimeters away from the victim. The difficulty here is directly connected with the inability to improvise the act. It must be preceded by a prolonged observation of the subject, learning his or her customs, daily routine, places he or she visits, and the protection type he or she uses. Only after drawing proper conclusions from the examination, can the terrorist attack the victim. Marek Papała, a police commissioner, was killed due to a close range attack in 1998, Warsaw.

Long-range attack – in this case firearms are often used, especially rifles and carbines. It is not an uncommon situation to learn about an attacker who has used a sniper rifle fitted with professional laser and optical aiming devices. The distance between the wrongdoer and the subject of the attack is commonly higher than 5 meters. The former must also be much more skilled than a close range attacker, as he has to be capable of utilizing a professional gun in an effective manner. The death of John Kennedy in Dallas on 22nd November 1963 was the result of the attack form in question. Lee Harvey Oswald, who was a former marine soldier, shot his subject from a storage located several meters away from president’s cavalcade. To perform the act, he used Mannlicher-Carcano, cal. 6.5 mm rifle. The proficiency of the attacker was proven by the fact that he fired three shots and only one of them missed the target.

Attack with explosives – it requires notable skills, for the wrongdoers has to build a bomb before performing the attack. He must also know how and where to plant the explosive, how to situate the fuse inside and where to detonate it. Such a person also has to be familiar with the effects of explosion. Assault on Margaret Thatcher on 12th October 1984 showed how patient and clever can an attacker taking advantage of explosives be. Patrick Magee, a member of Irish Republican Army, moved into the hotel where the British prime minister was expected to stay 24 days before the said fact. Every single day, he worked meticulously destroying the wall and placing a 50-kilogram explosive inside the hole. The bomb was then fitted with a timer. It exploded when Miss Thatcher was considered to wash herself in the bathroom – the attacker was perfectly acquainted with her customs. She would have died if she had not received a document to be read. The explosive was detonated five floors above the bathroom located in the apartment of the „Iron Lady”. Six other people died as a result, but the suspect managed to avoid the clever assassination.

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2020.09.17 04:01 DarkWolfen21 Conker's Bad Fur Day (64) vs. Conker Live and Reloaded (XBOX) - Why both are great games

I have been a fan of the Conker series for several years, and I always like to discuss that with others. I have a lot I enjoy about the 64 original and its remake, and I feel both are worth playing. In this post, I wanted to do a little review of one experience and how it differs from the other in most aspects. There are many differences between the two, but I would still like to focus on a large number of them.

Bad Fur Day

Conker's Bad Fur Day is certainly great for its time, and I view it as one of the best-looking Nintendo 64 titles to this day. It has a story in some cartoon-inspired reality that started off mysteriously from the beginning towards its end. It included a pack of characters that had a different impact in each new situation presented to Conker. Some moments ranged from helping other characters with problems, urinating on others Conker came across, or shooting the brains out of some undead zombie horde. Conker just went from one situation to the next to demonstrate a variety of strange but entertaining experiences, and lot of it was full of context-sensitive gameplay. Just press B and every problem can be solved. It was all quite exciting! Moreover, the game supports detail in a variety of facial animations and Conker is even shown with rendered fingers. There is an explosive gore mechanic. Everywhere, the gore varied with differences in being able to see certain body parts and organs flying in different directions and chunks of a head getting shot off. I thought these were technical achievements back on the N64's platform. It was all quite impressive and some gory moments reminded me of splattering bug goo over cave walls in Jet Force Gemini.
Cutscenes would play some of the most-craziest but funniest mature humor to be found in a video game, which can be subjective, but it does vary from one moment to another, especially when it comes to rude noises and exploding bodies. All scenes have voices on the 64 and while some scenes censored the use of certain swear words (probably for some humor purpose), the game was mostly uncensored in the language department. The music was quite enjoyable and every environment contains a tune that was fitting to where Conker explored. Furthermore, there were a variety of sound effects that added to the exploration of an area, such as hearing the creak of a wooden door opening or maybe the sticky sound of running over muddy ground. If not that, then how about the baby crying in the background of a graveyard? That could have the player thinking that something is not pleasant about the mood of that environment. When it comes to replay value, BFD included several multiplayer modes of variety (along with some having their own stories), and all of them being based on characters and gameplay found throughout the main story. Other modes offered new experiences and each mode differed in objectives, which was dependent on sides of team-based maps or deathmatch modes. Capture the flag is available and even a racing mode was included.
While it didn't help with the frame rate, all modes could be played with several bots, humans, or a combination of both. 8-player matches would be less demanding on the frame rate than higher numbers, but it could go higher with a sacrifice to the game's frame rate, which did slow things down afterwards. Some other problems with BFD are with the camera during platforming sections of the game. There is a mix of first-person to look around and shoot, third-person for exploring, and a closer view in third-person, in which the button actually has to be held down, and it does not feel complete. Other angels of the camera have fixed perspectives, and those are fine for most environments. Although, it can really get in the way and couldn't always be rotated in every situation of need. The controls were not the worse, but are certainly not without issues. Aiming varied from one situation to the next by holding one trigger (R) down and firing with the other (Z.) Some moments of aiming felt too slow to keep up with some parts of the action, but other moments were just done just fine. I haven't used it, but the there is supposedly an easy mode cheat that should help to make aiming easier for the player and more difficult for the A.I. The game can still be completed without this "easy" cheat, but enemies will lock on to Conker during the story and they do have powerful accuracy on higher difficulties in the multiplayer. This may make the experience feel a lot less balanced.
Conker could strafe and shoot at the same time (along with multiplayer characters), but the process was not fluent and not quite as smooth. It did change from one weapon to another. Also, strafing could be done with C-buttons in using the first- person camera or the third-person camera. It definitely caused a bit of camera shaking that added to difficulty of aiming, but maybe that was intended. For additional differences that aren't cons, weapons allowed for character mobility, but others had more weight to them and required slower movement when they were taken out. Precision also varied with the fire of different weapons and there was recoil impact, which added to a realistic effect of firing on enemies. Some weapons in multiplayer would stop the player in place until their attack animation finished up. Characters could also jump with throwing knives and swords, but usually could not jump with firearms. In multiplayer, weapons (which includes grenades and bombs) can be found around map. If you wanted a different weapon, you would just go to that location on the map and take it. Ammo was infinite unless using grenades or bombs found around different maps, but guns still had to be reloaded. BFD just takes many different experiences and throws them all into one game. Conker's BFD is not only a 3-D platformer, but it's a third-person shooter, and even a racing game. There is so much to go around in return here. Chapters can be revisited and new saves files for the story can be created to enjoy the experience all over again. In fact, some scenes only play with a new game file, rather than in chapter mode. Otherwise, the multiplayer is another option that is both fun alone and with others around. If none of this is enough, there a number of cheat codes that will unlock even more content in multiplayer, such as cosmetic changes providing more playable characters and tweaks to the gameplay. (GameShark codes add even more unlocks that can be experimented with.)

Live and Reloaded

Conker Live and Reloaded served primarily as a remake. It was originally based on Conker Live and Uncut, which was meant to be a fully uncensored remake that contained multiplayer based more closely to Bad Fur Day's gameplay. However, that remake was replaced when Microsoft wanted Rare to actually spend more time to use the XBOX to its full potential. This led to Live and Reloaded getting created, which was a heavily-reworked Live and Uncut, but they are not quite the same in all aspects, especially not just with visuals. Even the gameplay mechanics in multiplayer had differences. Some aspects like the upgrade system stayed, but classes replaced the choice of looking around for weapons and more specific character models were created for each class, which all contain their own voices.
Furthermore, Live and Reloaded was more about taking something that was more cartoon-like in nature and making it more realistic. It featured many updates to the artwork, which added plenty of more detail to bring the environments to life. Speaking of the environments, new additions were included to improve on the look of the scenery. For example, the Spooky chapter had an entire village built around it to add meaning to the villagers seen later, and there was this massive cathedral outside the all-new gates of the graveyard. Mist was added to the environment to make it more mysterious and moody. It really came to life. Characters received mostly faithful textures over their original looks with some of the biggest changes on some characters being colors, clothing, and realistic fur shaders. Clearly, there was much more detail to see around this time. Other characters had gone through more changes to capture some sort of reference. Conker even receives more outfits later in the game, besides his Neo outfit from The Matrix, which all contain references to other roles. In other portions of the game, speed of gameplay experiences in the story was altered in some areas to probably make it easier and more difficult in varying situations, but these changes are not entirely obvious everywhere. There was one section that was actually changed entirely involving and a character (Big Boss Tedi) was removed from the game. In regard to the controls around gameplay, the camera has met a significant improvement. It can now be rotated manually in more places and it feels more smooth. Conker can move a lot easier when shooting at the same time. When it comes to weapons, Conker can no longer dual-wield SMGs, but being able to jump and move more fluently with camera control helped much with the gameplay side. Conker can lock into a close third-person view or a far one. There are still some spots with fixed camera angles, but the experience does not feel as problematic as the 64 version (which is still simple to manage, but was more dated in comparison.) Overall, there is more control with the camera in different situations.
Now let's discuss the animations and gore mechanics. While LaR does not have all of BFD's detailed animations (like bodies exploding with specific organs and limbs), it did feature some new ones, especially to add facial expressions to certain scenes, along with new gameplay changes. However, body explosions with gore was generic with pools of blood and meat pieces. Sometimes, a heart/organ would be left behind and that was about it. The next parts are mostly for multiplayer. Bodies could be blown halfway off if a player cooked their frag grenade too long without throwing it. Head decapitations were still brutal as ever (specifically from Sneeker gameplay), and actually contained facial expressions at a sight of shock on the victim's chopped off head. While gore lacks some of the animation and detailed quality of BFD's limb separation or organs flying out, it can still be full of moments with some nasty situations. Also, bodies stay behind longer in LaR, but eventually switch to a lower resolution model, which actually works to make the body look more dead and faded out of the war environment. In some creepier circumstances, if someone was shot in the head with a sniper rifle, the head would be left behind and the body would eventually disappear without it. It makes the environment look a lot more messy, especially with blood stains on the ground. The leftover gore (from heads laying around) is most-noticeable on the map of Spamono. I don't know if it was intended or not, but maybe it has something to do with the map space.
LaR does not necessarily have all of the original content and multiplayer from BFD, but it did include a new mode with several maps as a replacement. The game added vehicles beyond a simple tank mode. Terminals are used for vehicles, sentry turrets, and replacing grenades used. Additionally, they include extra features for certain classes, such as mines for demolishers and long rangers. This is considering that the new multiplayer was primarily focused as a team-based shooter with classes and abilities. Weapons are tied to classes, so if a player wanted to use different weapons, vehicles, or abilities, they would change classes. Maps included objectives that could be turned on and off, and could be played with the maximum number of bots that hardly makes a difference in the frame rate. One map is like capture the flag and two others are like variants of that gameplay-focused objective. The multiplayer is not just about new gameplay, but it even had the bonus of a story mode, which could be viewed as partially as a prequel and sequel to BFD. There was an added mix of alternative history from the combination of the Old War and Future War timelines, but it actually fits together to add sense to the BFD story. Also, LaR added back content removed from BFD, such as the squirrels getting executed during the War chapter, and this makes that scene feel much less empty. Previous sound effects were improved to be heard louder and clearer, and even some new ones were added for weapon changes. Rock Solid had an extra song added to the club's playlist, and still contained the original song in place. All of the music featured remastered enhancements. However, it is notable that The Great Mighty Poo song was censored excessively, which kills off the old meaning, even if it can still be implied. Also, even though BFD had censored language and even disabled or removed content, LaR added more censored language than BFD.
Other than that though, there are a lot of changes in Live and Reloaded that improved the experience from a set of new perspectives in gameplay and art style. The multiplayer mode is still a lot of fun in its own ways, and it pays respect to extra plot events.
Both Bad Fur Day and Live and Reloaded can be great experiences packed full of fun and humor-filled mature moments in the story mode! They do have their advantages and disadvantages from each other in gameplay and visuals, but either version can be enjoyed by a Conker fan or newcomer that loves to play a game that doesn't take itself too seriously, and is full of gameplay variety, which would be an interest of those that like to replay games repeatedly after finishing them. There is plenty of multiplayer fun to be had with bots (or local players if you have them.) If you still haven't played one other version, then I highly recommend it at some point.
Other info:
(Some of you may know this already.)
Rare Replay has a port of the 64 version, but be aware that all Nintendo-based content and other features were removed, such as the N64 logo getting sawed, the GBC animation and its music, or a dirty magazine taken out. The XBOX version of Live and Reloaded can be downloaded from the XBL marketplace, and it is playable on the Xbox One or the Xbox 360 (if you have either of those.) When it plays on the 360, there are more graphical glitches due to poor emulation. The Xbox One version actually has superior emulation and performance. The emulation is more accurate on the One and even brought back the loading screen images. The Xbox Live mode on Live and Reloaded is still dead. No new online servers are implemented into the current digital version available.
Otherwise, I have seen the disc going for much cheaper these days (or time of this post), which was likely due to transitions to digital versions by some gamers/collectors, and more physical copies turning up online. Of course this is also dependent on where you live. The same might be true for Bad Fur Day with Rare Replay.
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2020.09.16 21:00 NatureBoy92 Harry Potter Read-Alongs RELOADED: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Chapter 12: "The Patronus"

Harry and Ron remain furious at Hermione for her part in Harry's new Firebolt being confiscated. As a result, Hermione tries to avoid the common room, doing her endless studying in the library and, presumably, her dorm. Holidays end, and the night before classes start, Oliver Wood corners Harry and asks if he has his Dementor problem sorted out. Harry says that Professor Lupin has promised to help with that. Oliver asks about a new broom, and Ron tells him about the Firebolt. Oliver thinks it is unlikely it was sent by Black, a fugitive on the run. He promises to make Professor McGonagall see sense.
Classes start but are no fun. Hagrid, however, has cheered up, and for his first lesson has a large bonfire filled with flame-loving salamanders. Professor Trelawney has moved the Divination class on to palmistry and wastes no time in pronouncing that Harry has the shortest life lines she has ever seen. Harry is eager for Defence Against the Dark Arts class and Professor Lupin's promised anti-Dementor lessons. Ron mentions that Lupin looks sick and wonders what is wrong with him. Hermione, overhearing, remarks that it is obvious, but does not elaborate.
Later that evening, Harry meets with Lupin, who is carrying a Boggart in a case. Lupin says it will turn into a Dementor against which Harry can practice. Lupin teaches Harry the Patronus charm, saying Harry must recall a happy memory. Harry, concentrating, causes white vapour to eject from his wand. He is ready for a test. The Boggart is released and appears as a Dementor. Harry tries casting a Patronus, but hearing his mother's screams, passes out. Lupin brings him around and gives him a Chocolate Frog. Harry wants to try again and selects a new memory. This time he hears the screaming and also his father's voice, then faints. When he revives, Harry says this time he heard his father; Lupin, looking shaken, admits that he knew James and suggests calling it a night. But Harry wants to continue and remembers the day he learned he was a Wizard and would be leaving the Dursleys. The Boggart is released. Harry tries to conjure a Patronus, and again hears screaming, but fainter. Something huge and white bursts from his wand, and the false Dementor is halted. Lupin quickly steps in and uses the Riddikulus charm to return it to the case. Lupin says Harry has done enough, and they will try again next week. Harry, remembering that his father and Sirius Black had been friends, asks if Lupin knew Black, and Lupin admits that he and Black went to Hogwarts at the same time.
Ravenclaw plays Slytherin and loses by a slim margin. This cheers Oliver Wood because if Gryffindor can beat Ravenclaw, Gryffindor will be in second place. Wood increases practice to five times a week, which combined with weekly anti-Dementor lessons leaves Harry only one night a week for homework. Hermione seems to have it worse, though she is somehow is getting to all her classes, even those which seem to be at the same time. Oliver tells Harry that the Firebolt will not be returned immediately. Oliver felt that Harry flying a jinxed broom would not be a problem if he won the match before it threw him off, though McGonagall, for some reason he is unable to fathom, felt this was rather insensitive. He suggests Harry order a Nimbus 2001, but Harry declines, saying he doesn't want to use a broom that Draco thinks is good.
The anti-Dementor lessons are not going well either. Despite his earlier success, Harry can now only produce a thin, silvery mist. After one long session, Professor Lupin brings out Butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks. Harry nearly lets it slip that he has been there. They discuss Dementors, and Lupin says the Ministry has given the Dementors permission to administer the "Kiss" to Black, sucking out his soul. Harry thinks Black deserves this, though Lupin expresses some skepticism.
As Harry returns to the Gryffindor common room after this session, Professor McGonagall stops him to return the Firebolt, declaring it jinx free. Outside Sir Cadogan's portrait, Neville is in tears. He had written down the passwords for the week—Sir Cadogan changes them several times a day—but he has lost the list. Harry gives the password, and they enter. Nearly everyone wants to see the Firebolt, and there is renewed hope they can win the Cup. Harry and Ron finally reconcile with Hermione, who looks exhausted. Ron offers to take the Firebolt up to the dorm, it being time for Scabbers' rat tonic. As Harry again wonders how Hermione can be taking so many classes, Ron suddenly reappears, howling that Scabbers is missing, and carrying a bloody sheet covered with what looks like Crookshanks' hairs.
Anybody want to read the first chapter of my Marauders fan fic?
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2020.09.16 18:54 Valdeza The Spacecab Antics of Ashton & Rhed The Ter-Key
The three gas giants of our solar system are found to be inhabitated by advanced civilizations through the use of dark-matter-sensitive telescopes pointed to the stars.
Upon contact these alien denizens were cordial and shared with us technologies that propelled our rocket science centuries.
Quickly establishing travel between planets, bases were constructed with elaborate space ports. Earthly financial and government centers moved to Ara, the native name for Neptune.
History, as it does, eventually repeated itself and humans slowly took over the ‘New Worlds’. All non-unioned natives were forced out and pushed to the recesses of their own planets, their own homes. In the spoils of all their new found advancements, humanity abandoned Earth; the entirety of the planet went into economic shambles shortly after.
Slums engulf every county and country now; crime-rates are high, power outages are frequent, and low food supplies are the norm. The space port controls the last of Earth’s dwindling resources, which means it’s the only place left that’s properly maintained.
Rapid acceleration in rocket technology led to the development of the Dark Energy Pulse-Wave Generator (DEP-WG, nick-named the ‘Dub-G’) a self-sustaining engine that emits pulses of energy through gravity waves, supplying power wirelessly. It made everything obsolete; junk-yards started to pile up with generations of equipment that was once top-of-the-line.
The only legal work left is with Vini Vici, the space-mining conglomerate. If you’re not an Astroid Stripper, it’s Mineral Refinement, or slaving away at the millions of call centers; there’s always HR too but, that’s sadistic.
They’ve recently started an aggressive round of global lay-offs, likely due to a string of robberies targeted at a fleet of mining rigs. The ones responsible have become mythical, images of the crime scenes are now the most searched items in all the internet; children want to dress like them. Vini Vici was untouchable, they control everything; their fingers are in every stock, every government. These renegades muddied their rugs, reminded them of the working class they decided to forsake.
Word of the ‘Banshee’ started to grow in the hearts of people; parents on Earth told stories of the exploits and heists to their children before bed. It became religion; ‘Banshee Cannot Die’ can still be found scribbled in any alleyway, on any block.
Our story starts here; on the last Thursday of a scorching November.
“What’s a ter-key?” asked Ashton with a whimsical pout as he scrolled through the holo-screen. “Did it open something important?”
“It’s not a key, goofy-“ scoffed Rhed from behind her observation desk as he plugged away on the ship’s console. “-it’s an extinct bird of some sort, people used to eat it.”
“Eat it? Why?” he cried while jerking her head back to him with a disgusted look. “Who could be so cruel?”
“Eating dead things is how people used to nourish themselves, genius.” she replied with a flat face as her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. “You ask too many stupid questions for a person writing a health thesis.”
“You rhyme too much when talking for a person who supposedly hates music...”. he whispered under her breath while eyeing the dusty vinyl player in the corner.
“I don’t hate music,” she snapped with a furrowed brow. “-I just understand that everything after classical dubstep isn’t worth its weight in wax; plus that’s busted.”
“Thank god,” moaned Rhed as she massaged her lower back “-my butt’s cramping up something fierce.”
“How’d you think it tasted?” asked Ashton with starry eyes.
“...What?” she responded with an aggravated groan as he eyed her scornfully.
“The ter-key,” he muttered with his face still glued to the screen. “I wonder how it tasted.”
“It took hours to cook, needed to be drowned in a reduction of its own fat cause it was so dry, and was primarily eaten only once a year.” she grumbled with a faint sigh. “It probably tasted like a huge waste of time. Steak on the other hand...”
“Only once a year?” he blurted out with her jaw hung.
“Yup, called it Thanksgiving,” she said while swiping her finger across the console’s surface with a light squeak. “-a huge feast to celebrate the start of Giftsgetting.”
“You mean Christmas?” he sang as she perked her ears like a dog who’d just seen a squirrel. “I love Christmas!”
“...Let’s just get this over with.” she replied after a long, defeated sigh.
Through the cabin’s panoramic glass, Ara’s border loomed. Floating into a wide-mouthed porthole they enter Access Point C7, a security terminal located at the fringes of the planet’s defense grid.
Docking their ship at customs, they de-board and make their way to the front desk as surveillance drones flood their vessel.
Ashton, a young medical student, is on his way to volunteer. Nursing mal-nourished Arweks will mean tons of school credit and he’s missing a few to finish the semester. This is his first time in space.
“What happens now?” whimpers Ashton as they meander through the hall, neck snapping in their direction with each step they take.
“After they finish tearing through Stella,“ sneered Rhed as she twists a soured face back at her weathered ship. “-they check us and that’s it, we’ll be cleared for landing.”
“What happens if they find something they’re not supposed to?” he asked with a faint stutter.
“They’ll start sticking fingers in places fingers shouldn’t go.” she mumbled back as she stared off into the distance.
Rhed, an escort pilot, has been paid to bring Ashton from Earth to Ara in one piece. The pay’s horrible and she hates every minute of it, but we can’t all live our dreams can we? This is, roughly, the three-hundredth voyage she’s made for the company this year.
“Hello and welcome to Ara, the oldest of the Twin Sisters.” chimed the clerk behind the front desk with a wide smile and arms spread out like a bird. “How may I assist you?”
“Hi, uh, just escorting her to the Capital,” groans Rhed as she nudged Ashton with her elbow. “-here’s my permit, my badge ID’s C216-M60.”
Reaching over his desk, the clerk took Rhed’s permit then quickly handed it back after a few thumps on the console in front of him.
“Looks good, enjoy your stay here.” he sang with a warm smile before waving them to the side. “Please step over to the right and have a seat in the waiting area, an agent will come review you shortly.”
“He must be new.” whispered Rhed as they walked away to find a seat.
“Why’d you say that?” replied Ashton in a half-whisper.
“Too nice, doesn’t have that dead look in his eyes yet.” she mused while plopping down on the first empty chair.
Finding seats, they sat and looked at the stars from the station’s observatory. Inching across the windows, Ara spun below. It’s azure surface, sprinkled with dense patches of light, twinkled through the planet’s sizzling plasma shell. To their left Ara’s twin sister, Wek (the native name for Uranus), floats ominously in the distance like the mischievous sibling it is. Together, these two planets are the heart of the Arwek Empire; the twins that mothered their entire civilization.
“So Thanksgiving,” muttered Ashton as he stared out the window in awe. “-how’d it start? Was it always just a”
“Basically,” replied Rhed with a bored sigh as she jerked her head back to look at the ceiling. “-the story’s kind of ironic though.”
“What’d you mean?” he asked with a raised brow.
“You atleast know some history dontcha?” she sneered with a condescending sigh.
“Kinda, but not really.” he muttered as her shoulders slumped. “It’s not required in our curriculum anymore.”
“When the colonists first got to the Americas it wasn’t uninhabited, there were natives. Unlike them, the natives were kind and peaceful; upon seeing strange men wash up on their shores they accepted them, offered them food. That’s how the first Thanksgiving came to be, a huge feast bringing people together that were alien to one another. It’d be a nice story if it ended there, but it don’t.” she told her as her faint grin melted into a grimace before dropping her head. “The colonists proceeded to decimate the natives after that, took their lands and pushed them off their own homelands. Their kindness was seen a weakness.”
“That’s...horrible.” cried Ashton as a tear raced down his face.
“And it happened again...” she muttered with a long sigh as she jerked her head up to look at the Twin Sisters. “-except this time we didn’t even have the common curtesy to make a holiday out of it.”
“How’d you know all this?” he whispered through her sweatshirt that was currently being used as a tissue.
“I had a...friend who was really into all this stuff.” she replied with a solemn grunt as she eyed the stars. “She’d never shut up about it.”
“Mister Ash-ton?” yelped a woman in uniform as she cocked her head to then and approached the pair with a hearty smile. “Please come with me, I’ll be your screening agent today.”
Wiping the mist from his cheeks Ashton gets up, hangs his head, and follows the agent into a room with a humming red light. As the doors closes behind her, he flashes a worried look to Rhed and takes a hard gulp.
With impatience stretching the seams of her skin, Rhed waits as Ashton’s screening takes longer than usual. Much longer than usual.
“Mises Rhed?” called out a young man in uniform as his head popped out from the side of wall. “Your ship’s been cleared, you’re free to land.”
“Finally, you guys took forever.” snapped Rhed as she slowly stood up. “...Where’s the kid.”
“Your passenger is being detained,” said the young man, a rookie, with a serious pout. -“be was found with a foreign object on his person that’s been outlawed on this planet.”
“What?” roared Rhed in exasperation. “That kid wouldn’t steal a stick of gum, what could he possibly have that’s so dangerous?”
“That’s classified sir.” he replied with an annoyed grunt.
“Well un-classify it then. That’s my passenger, I don’t get paid until he lands.” screamed Rhed as spit flew out the corners of his mouth.
“Don’t worry sir, we’ve contacted your company. Your current contract has been canceled due to the circumstance and you’re to report back to Earth for another assignment.” he responded, his shoulders hung in a nonchalant shrug.
“Listen, I’m not leaving without that girl.” said Rhed as her fist tightened into white-hot stones.
“Then you’ll make yourself an accomplice.” replied the rookie with a nervous stutter.
“So be it. Won’t be the first time you guys try to diddle me back there; bet you guys get a kick out of it.” howled Rhed as everyone’s eyes started snapping their way.
“Hey, what seems to be the problem here?” cried a short and stout woman as she strained her neck over the developed crowd to get a better look. “Oh Rhed, should’ve known it’d be you. How’s it goin’, what’s got you huffin’ and puffin’ this time?”
“Ask clown shoes over here,” she bellowed with a look of contempt and disgust. “-he’s got my passenger detained over nothing; probably just saw a defenseless girl and thought she’d be an easy target!”
“You talkin’ bout that Ash-tin chick? I just came from vetting him Rhed, he’s got a necklace with traces of plutonium in it.” explained the woman, a manager, with a soured smile. “Tony here might be a bit of a brown-noser but he’s not a creep, your passenger is being lawfully detained.”
“That can’t be right, this guy’s on his way to volunteer,” he cried with shaking fists. “-he’s studying to be a doctor for christ’s sake.”
“I’m sorry but, there’s nothing I can do.” she replied with a short sigh as her scowl faded into a frown. “Listen, we go back a while now, if this was something I could clear up with a simple wave I’d help ya out, but it’s not. My hands are tied.”
Closing her eyes as she exhaled a shaky breath, Rhed dropped her arms and cleared her throat.
“What’s he being charged with?” she asked with an angry pout.
“Well, the plutonium seems to be inactive so we reduced the charge to just a fine but he was unable to pay it.” said the manager while eyeing the growing crowd around the scene. “He’s being held until a public defender can come up and take her case.”
“That’ll take months!” she bellowed while throwing her hands in the air again.
“I know and I apologize, but that’s all we can do,” she whispered with a sympathetic nod. “-those are the rules.”
“How much’s the damn fine then?” she snapped back at her as while grinding her teeth to dust.
“Five-hundred and fifty thousand.” said the rookie with a smug grin.
“That in...thoughts and prayers?” she muttered through a half-smile as shock made its way through his veins.
“That’s in cents and dollars.” replied the rookie with a cocky smile.
“Jesus...” she groaned before hanging her head to rub the back of her neck, pacing back and forth as she does.
She knew what he should’ve done immediately, but didn’t want to actually go through with it.
“Damn it!” she blurted out with a loud stomp after finally making up her mind. “I’ll do it, pay the tab.”
“You alright Rhed? Does hee have you under some type of psychic spell or somethin’? ‘Cause this is more than double what you make a year. there’s easier ways to pick up dates nowadays.” cried the manager with a baffled look on her face as she slapped a palm to her forehead. “I mean, it’s just a passenger for cryin’ out loud, it’s not like he’s bein’ sent to some interment camp either, he’ll be comfortable if that’s what your worried about.”
“Just shut up and charge me.” she replied with a cold glare to the room as she made an about-face to wait for Ashton in the lobby.
Processing the payment through her company account, the clerks cleaned out Rhed’s savings and released Ashton from his holding cell. Running to him the moment he made eye-contact, he smiled wide as tears dried on his puffed face and glistened in the light.
“That was terrifying.” mumbled Ashton with a sullen face as he sniffled. “They kept me in a cold room with no windows and-“
“Why you got plutonium around your neck?” blurted Rhed as her upper lip stiffened.
Taking a deep breath as his eyes started to water, he reached into his collar and pulled out a lopsided medallion with a silver pebble in the middle.
“...My f-father was an engineer, helped design the drill-rigs Vini Vici uses for space.” he stammered as his voice started to crack. “He died from cancer a few years ago, side effect of the latest project he’d been working on; a plutonium-fueled laser. It’s why I got into med school.”
“This necklace,” he continued after taking a moment to wipe his face. “-is all that’s left of his success. He was eventually able to find a non-lethal isotope, but not before his research caught up to him first.”
Unable to find the words to respond, Rhed stood there speechless; looking at her boots. He reminded her of him so much it was hard to look straight.
“You hungry?” she asked with a faint shrug.
“Yeah...” replied Ashton with a soft chuckle.
“C’mon, let’s go to the ship then,” she said while turning around and gesturing for him to follow. “-there should be some popcorn and ice cream for us somewhere in storage.”
“What kind of ice cream you got?” he hollered from behind as he ran to catch up.
“Vanilla and butter pecan.” she replied from the side of her face.
“Ouu, I love butter pecan!” he sang with a bubbling smile as they walked the hall side-by-side.
“...So did he.” she muttered under her breath with an airy chuckle.
“What was that?” he asked with a confused pout as her head jerked towards him.
“Nothing.” she responded while turning her face away.
“Weird, I thought you did,” he whispered before shrugging it off. “-by the way, who paid for my fine? No one would tell me.”
“Eh, probably just an anonymous donor, maybe a rich snob that lost a bet. Someone so bored they don’t know what to do with their boards of dough.” she told him while looking through the bay windows that point out to the station’s garage; in it she saw her baby, Stella, being valeted over to them.
“Well, that was awfully nice of them.” he said with wistful eyes. “I’d love to at least be able to thank them.”
“Don’t worry about it; soon you’ll be giving out vaccines for the space-flu, or whatever it is you do, and someone else will be wishing they could give you thanks.” she replied with a faint, reassuring grin.
“Do you rhyme on purpose or is it like, subconscious.” he quipped as a wild smile free on her.
“I hate your face sometimes, I really do.” she grumbled before picking up god pace to leave her behind. “You try saying something nice for once...”
“Relax grumpy, I’m just messing with you.” he shouted through another short jog so he could catch up to Rhed as she stomped away. “I am really hungry though, you know of any good places to eat at the capital? Ice cream alone won’t cut it.”
“There actually is a spot down there I haven’t gone to in years,” she said as her voice started to trail off after looking at the busted vinyl player in the corner. “-it’s where we celebrated his first birthday, every birthday after that too.”
“What was that? I didn’t hear the last part, sorry, had my head in the freezer.” he howled from behind a wall. “Something about a birthday?”
“Yeah, I uh, said it was my favorite birthday-dinner spot.” he responded while punching away at the ship’s navigation console.” Great food.”
“Awesome!” he cried with an excited fist in the air. “We’ll have us a feast then, my treat!”
With a thundering boom, the ship’s engine roared and the hatch door slid open revealing Ara’s skies whipping by below. Before taking off he looks ahead to Ashton, who’s scarfing down a pint of creamy confection with ease, and a weak grin started to snake up her cheek.
“Thanks kid.” she muttered under her breath as her eyes lightly misted up.
Her son, Trent, would’ve been around his same age by now. He wanted to be a doctor too.
submitted by Valdeza to AR_Mirabal [link] [comments]

2020.09.16 18:43 The_Hateful_Kate Legendary Animals - Hunting Guide 🤠👍

I previously posted a version of this, and now that I have killed, skinned and sampled all of the Legendary Animals currently in RDO, I thought I would post a final updated version.
Animal Pheromones – Many people, myself included, were confused by these. They will NOT make an animal spawn. They will only help to pin point their location ONCE you see the yellow question mark nearby. So, whilst I am not sure it is worth buying the pamphlet to create this yourself for $900, as it will take a lot of samples, it still does seem worth holding some stock from Harriet to make it easier if that question mark is a little bit away from you. I have very rarely used to Blending Tonic, so from my experience, this does not overly impact on how the spawn or react to you. As other have said, there also seems to be no use in any of the baits. They just seem to randomly spawn or they don’t.
72 Hour Cool down – A lot of people have said that there is a species based cool down. So if you kill, say, a Tecca alligator you will have to wait 3 days IRL to hunt it, or the Sun Alligator again. From my experience, in a mix of private solo lobbies and the recent empty lobby, this does hold out. Days and hours wasted hunting and finding nothing, backs this up. I previously said that this doesn’t seem to be true of the LAs from Harriet, as I have killed both the Wolf and Alligator and saw others from those species in Free Roam the same or very next day, but I would be careful, and plan accordingly. I now only do a mission for Harriet if I have encountered the animal in Free Roam on that day, to avoid any restriction on my future hunting.
Friends, Full Lobbies and Radoms – Some have also said that there is an additional 24-48 Minute same session cool down, but that this might be reset once you switch lobbies. I did more testing on this, and generally didn’t find another animal within one game day, but some within 2 days. It can also be the case that the 72 hour cool down will be ignored if you are with friends who have not yet seen the animal. Lots of people have reported seeing the same animals or at least the same species more than once a day. So if you’ve hit that 72 wall, it can’t do any harm to invite or join a friend and test this out. The 72 hour cool down seems very controversial, but is backed up by many, many reports, and having got all of the animals now, I am 100% convinced. You may say that you found the same animal in the same session, and even you were in a private lobby, but this doesn’t chime with other people’s experiences. Many people also reported that this was found in the code, but have been unable to confirm. There will always be exceptions to any rule, or bugs, but literally days of hunting on my weeks off proves that it is real. I feel it is counterproductive to tell people to waste their time searching continuously and adding to their frustration, even if it isn't 100% agreed by all.
Plan your daily hunting targets – As you will blocked from hunting species for 72 hours, I suggest making a note of the real life time you encounter the last animal of that kind. I now keep a list of which animals will be visible to me on any given day, based on the cool down of my last sighting. So if you hunt an alligator on Sunday, don’t bother wasting your time looking again until Wednesday. This will also mean avoiding certain areas on the days it becomes available again, to avoid accidently spawning in the other type of animal that you are looking for. So if you are hunting the Cogi Boar in Lemoyne, also avoid going near Thieves Landing to stop the Wapka from spanning in. I know this can be the trickiest part, but will be worth it once you get the skin and a sample. My tracker sheet will be below.
Weather & Time - Most user guides or videos seem to reference a certain time or weather condition required to find an LA. Or even both. In my experience, LA can spawn at ANY TIME of the day, and also in different weather condition than expected. Sun gator at 11am in the sun, Snow Buck at 11pm in the mist etc. I once even got the Moon Beaver at 10pm in mist, just after rain for example, rather than early morning or evening in actual rain. To me, this is more dictated by the last time you saw an LA and if you are due a new encounter, rather than hitting those tiny windows of matching time and weather. Not that it can’t help looking when the conditions are perfect, but if you miss the time window or weather window, don’t feel like you shouldn’t go looking just in case. I have found many more LAs in the last few weeks completely out of their cycle.
HideOuts & Moonshine activity - A lot of times there is an event that is situated near an LA spawn. My experience is to either finish it and come back, or to simply move away and fast travel back. But as others have reported, if there is a red circle on the map in the same area as an LA, it won’t spawn in. (Maybe if someone is smarter than me, they can find out the Hideout spawn cycle or times and highlight the windows that they won’t be there, but worry it will then just turn into a Moonshine event instead?)
Staying in one area – Out of the non Harriet mission animals I have skinned so far (and now skinned them all!) only on two occasions have I not been riding nearby. So I wouldn’t recommend going round in circles constantly to try and get it to spawn in. Go to the location it spawns into, and then if you don’t see it on one pass, leave the area and come back. I would recommend totally leaving the area by a local Fast Travel post, rather than riding away as that might spawn in random nearby events.
Trader Delivery – It seems that whilst carrying out a Long Distance Delivery will increase the chances of seeing LAs in Free Roam. This could be because it seems to supress the spawning of other random event. I can confirm this, having found 6 LAs from doing mine or a friends delivery. In fact, I even almost ruined a full $625 delivery when the Sun Gator spawned near me! I have even seen this occur when I have been doing Resupply missions, twice so far. I cannot confirm if the same is true with random escort missions, but you do often see another random event spawn nearby when taking someone home. There are also reports of seeing Legendary Animals during Bounty Hunter missions, so watch that radar!
Health tonics, Cores & Ammo – It’s always worth having some high level tonics close at hand when you first approach the LA. Some are super aggressive, and are also protected by fellow creatures. My advice is to instantly knock back a Level II or III health cure if you have one, and chow down on that seasoned big game if you don’t have camp stew. I would also recommend using something like a Repeating Shotgun or Bolt Action rifle, without the scope and High Velocity or Express ammo. I sometimes use the Elephant Rifle, but find I have to get too close and can risk being trampled or attacked. But I do like to keep a Repeating Shotgun at hand, just for close encounters! With good aim, you can drop most LAs with 4 or 5 slugs. So if you see a pack of animals, make sure to take them down quickly first, or they will probably help the LA to escape.. DO NOT use explosive ammo or fire, as this will ruin the animal. A good example is the Tecca or Sun Alligator. If you skin the LA and one of its foot soldiers kills you, you risk losing the pelt completely! The Bison too are nasty, as when they charge, it spooks your horse and it is then very hard to get back on before it escapes.
Photographing LAs – I often found it tricky to get the photograph of some LAs, especially Harriet missions if the animal is in a cage already. So, what I now do is sedate the animal, but DON’T sample it just yet, as this will end the mission. What I now do, is sedate it and drag it somewhere in the open. You can then get out your camera and point it at the beast. In a minute or so it will wake up, and you will have plenty of time to take a photograph. Once you get the update to your Animal Guide flash up, you can just sedate the animal again and sample him. Surprisingly, getting the photograph was always the most frustrating one to do, but with this method, life is much easier!
Animal howls and cries – Normally you will notice that the Legendary Animals howl or cry will be very noticeable and will sound similar but distinctly louder than the normal animal cry. This was something I totally missed but only noted recently. So if you know you are due a spawn, and see nothing on the radar, but hear a howl, keep looking in this area. Someone recently posted that one escaped but they could still hear their howl, so followed it and found tracks leading back to it.
Using the Map – The super helpful gamernick1 recently posted some excellent LA tips and mentioned using the map. I tried this yesterday and it was a very good method and saves you having to keep your eyes on the bottom left of the screen. Just define a route, put it into cinematic mode, and then bring up the map. I will do more testing with this, but strangely enough, shortly after trying this method, I got a yellow question mark within a minute! I had just delivered Moonshine to this area, so that probably supressed the hideouts but it was 11:30pm and misty, yet still the Snow Buck spawned in!! (He got away though as I thought I could walk over and take his pic)
Lost or Escaped LA – To date, I have lost 9 Legendary Animals. And so far, I have never found a lost or escaped LA in the same area, later in that time window, or within the same game day or session. The message advises that you should try a different area or another time, but having gone round in circles, or travelling back to area over and over, it has never re-appeared. This goes to convince me that the 72 hour real life cool down is correct. So if one of these critters gets away, take a deep breath… and move on to the next one! I know it’s hard, but think you’ll be even more frustrated wasting another 3 hours of your life looking for something that is unlikely to come back. I would now add, that others have confirmed that they have found the animal in the same area after receiving this message. I have followed LAs after sampling them and they run for miles, so this is a possibility I am willing to accept, but just don’t spend too much time looking.
Bugs & Wrong Spawns – Not often, but occasionally, people report strange issues with their LAs. Some people report they see the ? but no animal. Almost like it is stuck under the map. If you encounter this, it is probably best to switch lobbies. I have had two instances where I see a question mark for an animal I don’t want, so have switch lobby only to see the same ? in the same area on respawn. I then switch lobby two more times, and then the Sun Gator spawned in. I believe that, as I didn’t interact with it, it didn’t affect the spawn. I can confirm this, as I saw the Boar the very next day. I have also now seen two animals in the wrong spawn area. The Wakpa Boar where the Coggi should be and also the Sun Gator at the Tecca spawn point. As the point on Friends and Randoms, there is always exceptions to the rule, and as these aren’t game breaking, it is only frustrating if you desired the other animal.
Cripps or Gus – It would seem that some animals or pelts are worth a considerable amount of material for your Trader business. Anything from 18.75 materials for the Red Streak Coyote to a massive 58.75 for the Payta Bison Pelt! Strangely enough, the pelts from Harriets missions seem to give the most materials. So, these can be a super fast way to build up your trade goods for Cripps. Personally I would still sell at least one skin of each animal to Gus for the Garment Sets, or any future content, take you samples to get the 100% and then start farming them materials! The money made by simply selling these duplicates to Gus doesn’t come close to the time saved from hunting regular animals to fil up your goods, so bear this in mind So that’s all from me cow pokes, think this will be my final version, so I want to wish you lots of successful hunting, and feel to ask any questions or point out anything you disagree with
Oh and here is my tracker to make it a little easier to keep an eye on your progress
submitted by The_Hateful_Kate to RedDeadOnline [link] [comments]

2020.09.16 10:07 Melon_Man301 This is my Journal up to Sept 16, 2020

My thoughts
Anticipatory Grief
anticipatory grief
anticipatory grief
I don’t want to be alone.
I really want dad to start exercising. I don’t want him to die. I don’t want anyone to die. It’s come to the point where I cry my self to sleep at least once a month. I am afraid of being alone. I don’t want to be alone. I know that I have anticipatory grief. Now I am starting to feel it for mom. They have terrible health issues. I regret not hugging them in moments like these. I say “love you” so much that it feels like it has lost meaning. I feel like I am wasting time when I am not by them.
 I want them to know that I love them. 
But them I sometimes try to combat my sorrow with the mindset that nothing matters. That in a few billion years the universe will have a heat death and everything will be erased. All energy transferred, an equilibrium across the entirety of the cosmos. Then I think that at least something has to matter or it would all be for nothing. What happens after? This then makes me think of the afterlife. The most ideal one would be infinite in size. Your family and friends in entirety would welcome you. There wouldn’t be any problems. It would be a utopia. It would be peaceful. Everyone wants this to some extent in almost all religions. Most people don’t want to believe that there is a nothing after their death. But of course there would be questions and these questions would make problems. “Who made God?” “Who made God’s Creator” And then this form of question would continue. There would then might be a war fought over it. That is of course if there wasn’t already a war when people’s religious beliefs were shattered. I don’t believe that Jesus is how he is portrayed by the church and the bible. These are copies. They all have twisted him to their own beliefs. Usually against other groups. I feel like the true Jesus wouldn’t banish people to an infinite flame. He would offer forgiveness. Not only to people that believed in him. Even if you are not religious you know that religion is important. Religion keeps people in check. It defines what is morally wrong and right. Along with law enforcement it keeps civilization as we know it in order. But of course we should not follow it blind. This is where most cults originate from. We should also keep religion away from Science and Technology. This only slows development. This is mostly a problem in Private Catholic School with sex education and the teaching of evolution. Topics should be able to be discussed in schools without the fear of religious retaliation. Almost all humans as a whole want to do good. (Regardless of Religious Beliefs) We want to help others when possible. We work with each other to change the Earth, for the better or the worse of other creatures. Self preservation makes monsters of us all. We want to work for our greater good. We all feel alone at times. We all want to stay with our family members. And on our death bed, we all want to run just one more lap. Just one more we say. Even though we have already won the last race there is to win.
And here I am. Making a half decent writing out of my sadness and pre-grief. Literally made with tears. I’m going to get a water and tell them I love them.
It is now 11:52 and it’s been about an hour and thirty minutes sense I started crying and now I finally stopped. I think I have a disorder.
I don’t know why I cry but I still do. My mom now says things about time moving fast and feeling old. My dad has also made some of these comments as well. He said something about bruising easily for no reason. I know that they love me. I always want them here because I love them. When I cry I feel as though all time without them is a waste. I don’t want them to grow old. I have only cried for them so far. I haven’t cried for my grandparents or other family members. Even though my grandparents are of course older.
I feel like everything is a waste. We are a solitary rock plummeting through space just perfect enough to sustain life. Even if there is other life we will never reach them. We would still be alone. If the universe is expanding as fast as we think it is, then we won’t reach them. I read a quote a while back. I don’t remember who said or wrote it. All I know is that they have changed the way that I try and look at things. I probably won’t even get the exact wording.
‘We all do mostly non-important and boring task until we die, and that’s beautiful’
Some could reason that nothing ever being remembered is also beautiful. All those mistakes that you made, all those regrets that you have, don’t matter in the end. I don’t like this reasoning. I need a reason to keep going on, like helping people, and this gets rid of that entirely. Everyone needs a reason. Which most people fill with religion. Religion is one of the most great and atrocious thing all at the same side. Religion gives people a reason to keep going and also usually encourages behavior beneficial to society. It keeps people in line. It sets the morals of entire generations in stone. Religion brings waves of exploration across the world. Religion also summons the worst in people. Allowing reasons to ridicule and look down upon others. While most promote forgiveness, only few practice it. The religion states one thing but the church that is built for it practices another. Corruption leaks its way into every crack not held tight by suitable members.
I don’t know why but I can just write until I get off topic and then I stop crying. At this rate I’m going to end up with a manifesto, for better or worse.
I think that I’m just afraid of not existing. I’m afraid of my family just suddenly not existing. This is not exactly currently one of my happiest moments. My father has started dieting, which is great. But now I am just worrying about my mom. Time is flying by way to fast. It won’t slow down. It won’t.
The whole point of life is to stay busy and distracted enough to cause yourself to ignore the harsh reality that you, and others, are dying. Cell by cell we are dying. We are losing parts of ourselves at a rapid pace. Some of the most valuable people to society snapping out like a match. Rare complex sentient beings just disappearing. And no one bats an eye. I need to talk to someone about this eventually.
There are two main sides of the coin, and both are equally terrifying. Either there is or is not an afterlife. What’s the worldly COVID-19 death tally today? It is fudging 19,226,705 deaths. Let’s put that big number into an easier visual. The Louisiana Cajun Dome holds 13,500 people.
You would have to load the stadium up to max capacity, take everyone out, shoot them, and refill it 1,424.20037037037 times to get that number. That is a LOT of people. Thinking, hard working, human beings. Think about it. Every corpse on Mount. Everest was once an extremely motivated person, who was probably having the adventure of their life. Now they are little more than road signs.
I still don’t know why I cry or how to stop it. It has become a normal occurrence.
Yay it stopped don’t know why and I don’t care. I have a suspicion that it’s just that I am extremely busy with school work
I apparent and still very nice at writing. Perhaps I could make something of it, only time will tell.
I have written some comments on reddit under my main profile u/Prickelycactus2. I will record them here along with the date and sub so that they can be found.
(Quotes added after writing them here)
—Sept. 8 2020
“Rip sub
Note for the future onlookers. This sub could be a testimony to the human mind. People never want to take the first step, hoping others will do it for them. This causes many things that would have been great for years to come to never exist at all. Prevents people from gaining knowledge.
So many great people and communities wasted. Even I have choose to not post anything on this sub even though I thought of it. I didn’t expect anything to come out of it.
All I did was comment elementpenetration under someone’s comment. The person who I commented under had the will to create this sub. And here we are. And here you are. All lost in the microscopic timeline that is the Earth.
But life goes on. We don’t get remembered, but we still matter. We disperse precious energy in the universe, which will eventually end all life in a heat death.
Will there be an after life? I sure as hell don’t know. We can hope. We can hope that we will see our loved ones once more, but can we?
Hopefully stranger.
——- cursedcomments
“Now here comes the choice.
Will you keep this dark and life changing horror to yourself?
Or would you rather choose to corrupt others whose ignorance brings themselves bliss?
You now have the knowledge to destroy people’s perspective of an entire species. Don’t take it lightly, perhaps tell only your enemies, preserving your comrades and loved ones.
———————————- September 16, 2020 14:40
I can’t sleep. My sleep schedule is messed up. I just tried to sleep and just started thinking, making me cry. The world doesn’t make sense. It never has and never will. It is so weird that some people think it’s a simulation, which is entirely possible. But what happens when we turn it off. I’ll know eventually, I guess everyone will, some sooner than others. I have once again found peace through writing on this topic. I always though that English was useless, that you couldn’t possibly find comfort in literature. I used to have to fake emotions in English class, pretend to myself and others that I was somehow swayed by the author’s writing.
Life is to fucking short. Its relentless. It’s unfair. It’s horrifying. But it’s also beautiful. But all that beauty can be snatched away in an instant. All the memory of an individual, all their knowledge, and all their love just gone. Without any warning, but we move on. We chose to continue fighting, even though most of the time it is in vain. Life gets removed from this Earth faster than it gets made.
And you know the worst part? We forget them all. Every single one of them. Thousands die in foreign wars, revolutions, and catastrophes. We don’t remember them.
We don’t
I’ve seen some pretty terrible people in my life so far, and I will see plenty more. Terrorist groups killing civilians in the middle of the street. Dragging them from cars and gunning them down right then and there. Videos of cruise missiles destroying groups of Pro-Assad militants. 20 people turned into mist. Suicide bombers sometimes in armored vehicles or family cars. 10 people for the price of some fertilizer, nails, and a child. And nobody bats and eye. It turns into a daily routine.
You know how many people were killed in WW2!!! Look it up I mean seriously, Jesus Christ. And then look at how many were never recovered.
But we carry on. And on and on until we one day don’t. It’s like a fucked up game of Jenga.
submitted by Melon_Man301 to u/Melon_Man301 [link] [comments]

2020.09.16 05:04 jillloyo [SELL] [US] HUGE MAKEUP DESTASH SALE! NEW STUFF ADDED, LOWERED PRICES + LOTS OF FREEBIES! Mix & Match with Skincare Sale! ♡

Thanks for checking out my sale! I have finally put myself on a much needed low-buy & I'm really trying to cut down on my collection/back-ups. Extremely motivated to sell!















Feel free to mix-and-match items from my SKINCARE SALE ♡ Thanks for reading this far! :)
submitted by jillloyo to makeupexchange [link] [comments]

2020.09.16 01:34 OTSPOKN 8ight After: if you don't believe, then you have nothing to fear -- Part 1

Part 2

Night #1

Thursday October 3, 2019
Things got serious the day I installed surveillance cameras. That night, after I kissed my wife, Deanna, goodnight, I retired to my home office to edit a video for YouTube.
Just after 1 a.m., a high pitch shriek fills the house and jolts me out of my chair. I immediately run to Deanna, toward the scream. As I dash down the hall I'm hoping she is just having night terrors.
Later, when I watched the surveillance video, I saw something different. I saw something pulling her leg. Intently, I watch, waiting for it to happen again.
I see the gentle rise and fall of Deanna's breaths as she sleeps soundly. She tosses and turns a bit, but nothing out of the ordinary. She snuggles into our waterbed with her right leg hooked around the comforter exposing her foot. Suddenly, her leg kicks as if it were yanked. She's startled, but tries to fall back to sleep.
Our surveillance cameras have audio, so I could hear her grumble, "Vince, don't pull my leg. I'm trying to sleep."* I must admit, messing with her is something I regularly do, but not that night.*
Moments later, Deanna is forcibly pulled to the end of the bed. Jarred awake, she clings to the sheets trying to fight it off. It lets go, freeing her to scurry back to the headboard. She gasps and balls her limbs around her body like a child.
Surveillance Footage capture of Deanna pulled to the foot of the bed.
She scans the room attempting to make sense of what just occurred. Gaining a presence of mind, she creeps toward the foot of the bed to investigate. Slowly, she approaches the edge, grasping a fistful of the comforter for safety. She peers over but sees nothing. Relieved, Deanna rubs her face as she reassesses the room. She turns to my side of the bed and gulps, it must be there. Cautiously, she peeks over that edge, but again finds nothing and breathes a sigh of relief.
As she lingers over my side, the bedroom door behind her creaks. She turns and sees the door closing. Quickly, she sits up to glare at it. The door moves again. In a panic, with revved-up breaths, she calls for me. A hushed gasp at first, until she builds up the nerve to scream, "Vince!"
I fly out of my chair, blaze past the dogs and down the hall. Deanna shields her face in fear as I rush in spouting out a million, "What, what, what's!" I kneel at her side and grab for her; she jumps.
Voice cracking, she mutters, "Do you see it?" She drops the covers a bit to peek.
"See what?" I ask.
"There's someone behind the door." Fixated, she whispers, "Its shadow is right there."
I look over my shoulder, but I see nothing. Then, chillingly, Deanna cries, "She's looking right at us!"
Her words cause my hair follicles to rise, even though I still don't see a thing.
I stand up to approach the door. Deanna begs for me not to. I proceed, not knowing what she expects of me instead.
Once at the door, a cold draft flows over my body and I realize the door movement must be from an open window breeze. I look back to Deanna, she exclaims, "Oh my God. She's right behind you!" Frozen, I slowly turn; then with a sudden whoosh, the door slams! Deanna screams.


Before I go any further, I should rewind a bit, to a simpler time -- a time before the security cameras were installed, because the story doesn't start or end here.
My name is Vince Rocca. I'm 46 years old. I have hippie shoulder-length, nearly black hair and brown almond shaped eyes. I also rock an awesome goatee. I'm in decent shape, but I could stand to lay off the donuts.
My wife Deanna is six months older than me, but is often mistaken for a much younger age. She has long brown hair and brown eyes. She is tall and leggy, with a slim build, and tries to workout six nights a week.
I'm a reality television editor. I routinely mold piles of mundane footage in to fun entertainment. I can assure you that reality television is not fake. Sure, the story is sometimes guided, but it is definitely real. In general, people naturally do front a hyper-realized version of themselves for the cameras. But even with the best, guided, most sensational character, it can often take 10-hours of footage to produce a good 3-minute segment.
Vince sitting in front of a computer edit desk.
Deanna is a Registered Veterinary Technician at the Los Angeles Zoo. Her duties involve everything from anesthesia to X-rays. She has done it all, from darting tigers to elephant trunk washes. Her favorite task is caring for the hospitalized animals. Be it a harbor seal or a vulture, she prides herself on finding ways to make their stay enjoyable.
Deanna drawing up a syringe in front of a zoo Gorilla enclosure.
We met in the eighth grade. I vividly recall the moment I first saw this stunning brunette. The leaves were turning in the warm autumn sun at our California junior high school. She crossed the quad in a pink Town & Country shirt as her long, tan legs jutted out from under a white miniskirt. I wish I could say I locked this down immediately, but we didn't start dating until two years later at the age of 16. We have since been inseparable and are blessed to celebrate 30 years together, with 21 of those as husband and wife.
I've heard people describe Deanna as shy, reserved, and quiet. However, she's always game to ham it up in the silly videos we post on the Internet. I, on the other hand, am often described as outspoken, boisterous, and loud. You could say opposites attract, but I really think we're the same person.
We live in Granada Hills, California. It's a lovely suburban community adjacent to Northridge, which became famous in 1994 as the epicenter of a 6.7 magnitude earthquake.
In 2009, we purchased an awesome 2700 square foot 3 bedroom 3 bath home that was originally built in 1965. The house was a bank repossession and sat empty for nearly a year as the previous owners had succumbed to the subprime mortgage collapse.
Exterior photo of the house from across the street.
Because of that recession, we were able to afford this huge house that even includes a den/game room. The house sits on a hill, with neighbors on each side and government land behind it. Bordering that land and us is a ravine with the dry Los Angeles River at the bottom. The large property includes a pool and a six-car parking lot, all nestled behind a sixteen-foot tall gate.
We are kidless, sans for the two fur-babies, which probably lends to our low-stress, youthful spirit. At the very least, being without kids definitely gives us the freedom to travel the globe and enjoy our vacations.
Back in 2014, I started editing our vacation videos as if they were reality TV shows and posted them to YouTube. This was before VLOGS were commonplace, but looking back, that's exactly what these were: Travel VLOGS. For those not up on the term, a VLOG is a Video LOG, much like a BLOG is a written weB LOG.
As time went on, we traveled more and uploaded more, shooting everything became routine. I point this out so you understand that it's not unusual for me to always be filming.

1 YEAR before Night #1

Monday October 22, 2018
We started a little home improvement project, a project that would eventually turn out to have dire consequences on our relationship.
The whole front of our house is brick, but under our bedroom window is a weird wood accent. The wood looks like a headboard surrounded by molded wood trim. I assume this exists because a patio door was an option when the house was first built. Today, we're going to exercise that option and install a French door.
The wood accent under the front window.
Deanna enjoys smashing the glass into pieces. She even takes charge of the sledgehammer to blast holes between the studs so we can get our hands in to leverage the drywall out. I happily run the camcorder, as she pounds and sweats.
Deanna swings a hammer into the drywall.
One particular opening catches her eye. She peers into the wall and declares, "There's something in there." She quickly reaches in and pulls out a little wooden box.
I snatch the box from her and hear a rattle inside. There doesn't seem to be a hinge or an opening. It appears to be two pieces of wood magically joined together by triangular teeth. The box measures about two inches square and one inch thick with a religious cross chiseled into the lid.
Closeup of the box.
Deanna immediately identifies it as a puzzle box, then declares, "I think you're supposed to give it a whack." I figure she' joking, so I hand her the box. She takes a moment to inspect it, then with a WHACK she slides the box open.
Deanna whacking the box on her left palm.
Frankly, the box alone blows my mind. There is a metal ball that engages a magnet and binds the box closed. Take a whack at it, and the ball shifts to another magnet allowing you to slide the box open. It's pretty ingenious.
Detail shots of how the box opens.
More exciting than the box, is the contents. Deanna joyfully inspects a shiny silver necklace with an angled cross charm dangling from it. The cross is unlike a normal cross, but it isn't a sinister upside-down cross either. It hangs at a tilt, almost like an italicized lowercase t.
Deanna immediately exclaims, "It's a Portate cross!"
My head rattles, "What the hell is a Portate cross?"
"A Portate Cross is a wooden cross that the accused drags over their shoulder to the crucifixion site. As you watch the accused drag this cross, it is at an angle, or portate."
Deanna holds up the angled Portate cross as Vince VLOGS.
I'm literally taken aback. I don't know why she knows that. I don't know how she knows how to open the box. I look to her for answers. She smiles coyly at my bewilderment and seems pleased with herself.
I take a closer look at the cross. The necklace looks well-made and could possibly be white gold. I wonder aloud if the cross could pay for our renovation. Deanna scoffs at this notion. I roll my eyes; as if she knows everything.
She snatches the treasure out of my hands and walks off with it.
I ended up making two VLOGS out of the renovation. You can see them here:
Replace a window with a French door Part 1 VLOG 118
Replace a window with a French door Part 2 VLOG 119

3 WEEKS before Night #1

Thursday September 12, 2019
Eleven months have passed. The year was good but nothing too remarkable happened. I spent most of my time editing back-to-back TV shows. We did manage to take a quick trip to Florida for a veterinary conference. I was able to eke out a single VLOG from that trip on Gatorland. Over the next few months I cranked out a few more Daily VLOGS and How To videos, but I stalled around May and spent my Summer hanging out with Deanna, floating around our pool.
I came across that wooden box; it had fallen behind some shoes in the back of our closet. I took both the cross and the box to a pawnshop for appraisal. The shop clerk confirmed that Deanna is right, it ain't white gold.
The guy identified the box as an Impossible Dovetail Puzzle Box. Apparently it's a pretty common puzzle, but Deanna has never been the puzzle type, so I still don't know how she knows its secret.
Tonight, while eating dinner, Deanna recounts the events of her day. I look down at her chest and see the Portate cross around her neck. I ask, "What's with that?" sparking a religious debate.
Now might be a good time to mention that we're both atheists, or at least, I thought we both were. I should also clarify -- as there is often judgment when I say I'm an atheist -- I don't worship the devil, and I don't hate God. I just don't believe in either God or the devil for that matter. I also don't believe in ghosts, goblins, spirits -- none of that stuff. I have nothing to fear. I sleep soundly at night.
Have you ever noticed that the devil only attacks the God-fearing folk? I've never heard of an atheist being haunted. I don't have anything against those who subscribe to religion, but if you believe in one, you fear the other; and that fear is what gets you. If you don't believe, there is nothing to hurt you, so you're safe, and you've got nothing to fear.
Anyway, I find it odd that Deanna, whom I've known my entire life, is wearing a trinket that epitomizes religion. Her defense is, "I think it's nice," so I guess what harm could it do?
As the night sets in, I leave Deanna home alone while I venture off to a filmmaking mixer. I go to a couple of these a month. Some are educational events about new technologies; others are just drinks and chats. Tonight's event is the drinking kind.
At tonight's mixer, I meet Christina. She's an attractive 24-year-old Hispanic girl who is a fan of my VLOG and an aspiring Assistant Editor.
Assistant Editor types tend to be introverted, dorky by-the-numbers nerds. Add booze, and they can be very unique. Christina is just that, dorky and tipsy. We immediately hit it off. I mean, she is a fan of my VLOG, and I tend to like people who like me, because obviously they have great taste.
Back at home, Deanna isn't having as much fun. She wakes from a nap on the living room couch to the sounds of whispers coming from the kitchen. Frightened, she flips on her phone camera video light and proceeds to investigate. Slowly, she tiptoes across the dining room, as the whispers increase in volume. She can see through the dark kitchen into the game room on the other side. The dim moonlight illuminates something in the doorway. She can barely make it out, then it becomes clear: on the other side of the kitchen, in our game room, stands the silhouette of a person swaying in the dark. Startled, Deanna flicks on the light, and it disappears.
Unnerved, she turns on all the lights in the house and double checks to ensure the security alarm is set. It is armed and shows no faults. Realizing she has succumbed to an overactive imagination, she makes an attempt to VLOG in the kitchen while she prepares some comfort food. She removes a bowl from the cabinet and turns back toward the camera to pour in cereal. Behind her the cabinet drifts open and a cup falls out, plummets to the ground and shatters.
Deanna jumps while holding cereal box as cup flies out of cabinet.
Our cupboards have magnetic closures because 50-year-old cabinets have weak hinges that tend to drift open. In addition, Deanna often double stacks the coffee cups in an unstable manner. We both assumed this combo led to the broken cup.
But now, when I look back at the footage, it clearly looks like the cabinet door is completely closed with the magnet engaged. The door then pops open on its own, and the cup doesn't fall out, but flies out, almost like it's thrown.
Startled, Deanna laughs off the broken cup. She acknowledges for the VLOG audience that it is probably from double stacking the cups. She sweeps up the shards of ceramic and takes them out back to the trash. She even VLOGS the whole adventure.
As she approaches the trash bins, she freezes and turns toward the pool, straining to listen. She turns back, then to the pool again. Blood drains from her cheeks, out of nowhere with a sudden burst, she runs back to the house. She trips and falls. Her phone camera goes black as it flies through the night air, then slides across the pavement before coming to a dead stop.
The phone picks up her distant whimper as she repeats, "Oh my toe, oh my toe." She comes into view hovering over the camera and reaches down to pick it up. The phone is still recording and shows glimpses of her foot as she limps. Her right big toe is messed up pretty bad.
I mentioned before that Deanna is an animal nurse. Her primary job is at the zoo, but sometimes she is needed in the field for freelance clients. Because of this she has a toolbox of stuff at home, which consists of various drugs, medicine, and needles.
I could have never done this, but Deanna possesses a courage that puts me to shame. She draws up a syringe of Lidocaine and shoots it into her toe to numb it. She even VLOGS the whole thing.
Deanna is about to insert the tip of a three inch needle into her right toe.
She actually films a massive three-inch needle as she stabs it into her foot. Three INCHES! I asked why the needle was so big, she said she had a surplus of them and didn't want to waste a smaller needle in case she needed one for an animal injection. Bless her heart, her toe is mangled, she's in pain, and she still puts the critters before herself.
The video shows Deanna inject herself in three places. She then taps her toe to confirm numbness. Once satisfied, she takes a pair tweezers and gives the nail a gentle pull. It breaks away like the separation of Velcro. She pulls her nail completely off her toe exposing a bloody mess of skin underneath. This is disgusting, and I have no idea how she did it.
What happens next is the icing on the cake. Deanna settles down on the living room couch to VLOG a summary of the evening. She explains to the camera that she's freaked out, but she is just going to watch TV while she waits for me to arrive. She leans forward to grab the television remote off the ottoman. When she falls back into the couch, there's a woman sitting next to her. Deanna screams, jumps to her feet, and staggers away from the couch. She turns toward the woman: nothing is there.
Ghost on couch scaring Deanna.
I arrive home to a brightly lit house. She gives me the rundown, illustrating with videos. I laugh incredulously as I watch a video of our game room. She claims a dark figure stood in the doorway. I see nothing. She also claims a ghost sat next to her on the couch. I play the video back and watch her scream like a lunatic for no reason. It's silly.
She's angry that I don't believe her. To placate her, I stifle my laughter, listen, and nod. I don't believe in ghosts. But if you tell me you saw a ghost, I do believe that you believe that you saw a ghost. I just never thought Deanna would be the one telling me she saw a ghost, or how she describes it, "A shadowy figure that glows in a ghostly fashion with steam rising softly from her body."
Friday September 13th, 2019
I regularly journal. The inspiration came from a Robert Rodriguez book, which ultimately led me to write the filmmaking book "Rebel without a Deal." If you're interested, it's available on Amazon, not that this is a sales pitch. The book's subject matter has nothing to do with the events I'm recounting here; I only mention this so you don't judge me as a sissy for keeping a diary.
In celebration of Friday the 13th, I decide to digitally insert a ghost into Deanna's couch video as a fun VLOG treat.
I called Christina from last night's networking event. She lives nearby and I know she is between gigs. She comes over, and I film her on the couch acting like a ghost. I edit her in to Deanna's couch video and I even make her transparent with a ghostly mist.
Detail image showing how the ghost was composited into Deanna's video.
After Deanna gets home from work and settles in, I show her my creation, expecting to get a laugh of approval. I totally misread the situation though.
Deanna is still pissed that I don't believe she saw a ghost. I don't understand why. I mean, there is video footage showing nothing there. She insists that I should believe that there was a shadowy figure of a legless woman sitting right next to her. I chuckle again at the thought of a legless woman, responding with, "She would be easy to run from."
Deanna retaliates and accuses me of something with Christina. This is absurd. So what if Christina is cute? I've been with Deanna for 30 years, and there's no reason not to trust me. Besides, I think Christina might be slow.
As I mentioned before, Assistant Editor's are unique. Some people might define them as being on the autistic spectrum. Well, Christina seems to fit that bill. What I had mistaken for inebriated behavior turns out to be "special" behavior. I'm not sure if Deanna believes me, but in hindsight, she might be thinking that she's been with me for 30 years so there's no reason for me not to believe her.
Saturday September 14, 2019
After 10 years, the ceiling fan in our bedroom finally made its last revolution. Michael came over to help me swap the fan out and film the installation of a new one.
Michael is my best friend. He's been in the VLOG before and regularly does the podcast "GetConVinced" with me. He is a teacher of special needs kids but is best described as a Jesus look-a-like.
Michael helping install fan.
Michael is outside the French door gathering tools when Deanna enters the room. She broke the chain on the Portate cross and asked me to fix it. I tell her to throw the necklace out. This sets her off.
She now claims she isn't an atheist. She says she was always unsure and only identified as one to appease me. I have no clue where this came from. We've been together our whole lives. There has never been any indication that she believed, or that I would judge her for believing.
Michael reenters the room and cuts our conversation short.
YouTube enables you to upload a video today and set the premiere for a later date and time. This allows me to finish a video in the middle of the night and upload the file, but not notify viewers of it at two-thirty in the morning when they are probably asleep.
I set this video to premiere on Sunday, September 22 to start the week, but later I discovered that I mistakenly chose October 22 instead.
How To Replace and Install a Ceiling Fan
I understand if you're asking, What does a ceiling fan have to do with this story? Unfortunately, that will make sense soon.

Pool Party!

Saturday September 21, 2019
The pool is 98 degrees, and it's a warm, sunny California day. So before winter sets in, we're having people over for an end-of-summer BBQ.
To my delight, Deanna's friend Amy brought her 18-year-old daughter Jenna and three of Jenna's girlfriends to the BBQ. These bikini clad hotties frolic around the pool and really bring on the sorority vibe. Not that I'm complaining, as it's a fine sight to see.
Four Bikini girls wave for Vince.
I show a group of our friends the ghost I comped into Deanna's couch footage, and they laugh. Deanna seems to have lightened up and recognizes the humor in the video. I think she might be okay with me using the footage in a VLOG.
My buddy, Marty proposes the idea that we have a seance tonight. He is a hardcore Metal Head and a die-hard Horror movie geek. He even owns a company, that sells horror paraphernalia. So it's no surprise to any of us that he suggests a seance. He assures us it is safe and fun. Deanna recoils at the idea, but Amy is onboard, stifling any objection Deanna might have had.
As the festivities wind down and the younger girls leave, we move the party into the house. I set up four cameras around the living room and have my phone attached to my three-axis gimbal. Everybody seems up for the seance, even Deanna, but Tom is totally against it.
Tom is a stand-up comedian and an actor. In 2003 I cast him in my first movie, Kisses and Caroms. He has been on numerous TV shows and most recently in the Progressive Motaur commercial. Tom loves to joke, so I'm not sure if this anti-seance stance is just a routine.
Also, Tom lost his father a few years ago, and later, when Tom was under anesthesia for an operation, he claimed his dad visited him. So Tom's spiritual beliefs may have fluctuated recently.
Tom Ayers rejecting the seance.
Tom and Amy get into a bit of a back-and-forth debating God, ghosts, and religion. I don't know if I'd call it an argument, but it is a bit heated. Just as Amy is gaining ground on Tom, Deanna shushes everyone. She hears something. I hear it too. It's a whisper.
Being the man of the house, I get up to investigate. I creep down the hall toward the whisper. I can almost make the hushed noise out..."I like your..." is what the words sound like. I realize that everyone else stayed seated in the living room and I have no one backing me up. I'm alone in the hall. My heart is hammering out of my chest. Still, I press on down the dark corridor. The light switch is on the opposite end from me. Even if I could reach it, I don't know if I would turn it on, for fear of seeming like a wimp in front of everyone.
The end of the hall splits in three directions. To the left is another hall that leads to our other bedrooms/home offices. Straight ahead is a guest bath, and to the right is a second doorway to the game room.
I freeze a few feet shy of this junction. The light switch is still a good foot out of reach. I again hear the whisper coming from the left hall. I can make the words out now. It whispers, "I like your dogs." I white knuckle my gimbal. Everyone in the living room is silent. Everything is silent as I listen intently. Then with a sudden, "Boo!", Bill jumps out from the right side and scares the crap out of me.
Bill sitting between Deanna and Amy on the living room couch.
Bill is our neighbor. He's also an actor most famously from Comedy Central's "Workaholics". Those who are fans of the show will be delighted to know that in real life, Bill is very similar to his character on "Workaholics". He's strange, but he also seems to get the joke. Bill is the kind of guy in a horror movie that the girl mistakes as a creep, but turns out to be the nice guy trying to help her.
After scaring the crap out of me, Bill graces us with a story. He claims that one night before we moved in, he heard noises coming from our house. He looked over the wall and saw a bunch of cops. He overheard one officer say that the guy who lived in my house, Jose, shot his wife, Patricia, in the kneecaps, then hung himself.
Bill explains Jose shot her in the knees so her hobble would always remind her of that day, but instead, Patricia bled out and died.
In the moment, I play along with the story. It's fun and it's freaking Deanna out. Tom seems to buy into it too, asking me how I didn't know this when I bought the house. I quickly pass that off by explaining, the house was a bank repossession, and the bank doesn't have to disclose anything; you buy the house as-is.
Truth is, I'm not buying Bill's story at all. For one, how would the police know the reason Patricia was shot in the kneecaps? If they arrived before she died, would that really be her last words? Most likely, Bill is playing off Deanna's ghost video; he was in the mix when I showed it earlier while joking that a legless ghost would be easy to run from.
Bill also couldn't remember the date. That seems like a pretty traumatic thing that would remain etched in your brain. Granted we've been in this house for 10 years, so if this happened, it happened over a decade ago, but these were Bill's nextdoor neighbors that he knew by name. So I'm not buying his story.
Monday September 23, 2019
I finish the vlog of Deanna's couch ghost and upload it. Since this VLOG is in the Halloween spirit, I set the premiere date for October 11th.
Summer Bikini Pool Party Daily Vlog 132
Tuesday September 24, 2019
I decide to prank Deanna for a follow-up video. Over the last few days I've teased her with Bill's story. I've been telling her the ghost of Patricia is haunting our house.
Tonight, I'm going to crank it up a notch. It's one in the morning, and Deanna is sound asleep in our bedroom. I creep in and set up a couple of cameras and a small light. Next, I open the French door. The fall temperature is about 60 degrees outside, which is a good 15 degrees cooler than the house, providing just enough of a chill to be eerie.
I slide into bed and Deanna rolls over toward me, but doesn't open her eyes. I poke her head to wake her up. She groggily asks, "Why'd you open the door?"
"I didn't open the door, did you open the door?"
"No, I was sleeping."
"I was sleeping too. I woke up and the door was open."
Deanna is now at full attention, trying to suss out the situation. I rev-up my breathing into a labored pace. We both gaze at the open door waiting for something to happen then, "Boo!" She jumps, I laugh.
Deanna rolls away mad, but I'm not finished yet. I impersonate a decrepit woman's voice to scare her even more. I groan, "I'm coming for you, Deanna."
Deanna wincing in bed, her back is to Vince and the open French door is behind them.
She winces and begs, "Don't do that voice. It's creepy. Stop."
Slowly, I inch my finger toward her face. I can feel her squirm and twitch. I tap her cheek, and she explodes with a scream.
I antagonize her with a belly laugh, but my celebration is stopped short by a knock at the front door. I'm confused because the driveway gate prevents people from getting to our front door. Deanna sits up, as I quickly lock the French door. My phone is already recording and rather than fumble with its light I grab a flashlight off my end table.
Deanna cowers into the comforter as I proceed toward the foyer. I peek around the corner into the hall. To my shock, the front door is wide open. "Hello?" I muster. "Hello?" No response. My heart tightens at the thought of someone in the house. I don't want to step any further in fear that a person is hiding around the corner in the living room with an axe. I contemplate grabbing Deanna and escaping out the French door. I don't know what to do. The silence is broken by the "thwock" of a ball as it bounces in through the door. I jump back. My throat knots up. Who the hell threw that? What the hell is going on? I'm petrified. I can't take my eyes off the door.
The open front door from Vince's iPhone VLOG camera.
Our dog, Pismo darts in and grabs the ball. I literally feel my throat fall to the floor and I almost collapse, but I regain my composure to put on a confident front for Deanna. Pismo doesn't seem bothered, so there can't be any danger, right? I mean, dogs are supposed to have a sixth sense about this stuff. At least that is what every movie depicts. I push the front door closed, secure the deadbolt and set the alarm.
I figure Pismo got out through the French door, ran around, found her ball, and pushed open the front door. Our front door is 50 years old and never had a traditional latch. Instead, the door uses a ball catch latch, which is a ball bearing that can be easily pushed open or closed.
Front door knob and ball catch.
Wednesday September 25, 2019
I cut together last night's prank video. The addition of some music and sound effects really sweeten it up. I'm able to pitch shift my creepy woman's voice to sell the scare. I think it turns out pretty well.
Changes with YouTube algorithms have caused video views to suffer, so I decide to premiere this one a couple weeks after the last video. That will put this closer to Halloween and give the last one a chance to rack up some eyeballs.
Halloween Prank Daily VLOG 133


Friday September 27, 2019
I take the dogs for a walk, and standing in my driveway is Christina. I didn't call her, but I ask how long she's been here? She never breaks focus on the dogs, and responds, "not long." I suppose it's possible she just arrived as I walked out.
Christina squatting on the sidewalk petting Pismo.
Today, her intellect really shows. She riles up the dogs yelling, "Chase me, chase me. Come on," and keeps skipping in front of them. She acts like a child. I feel bad. She's a sweet girl and means no harm but she is odd and annoying too.
Tuesday October 1, 2019
Sixteen security cameras and two DVRs were delivered today. Deanna has been against outfitting the house with cameras. She feels like they will be watching her. I think they'll be great to watch the dogs and capture any spontaneous silliness that might occur to make for a good VLOG video. Plus they're a good way to combat potential stalkers like Christina.

Night #1

Thursday October 3, 2019
Today I finished the security camera install. When Deanna gets home, I show off the cameras to her. She's not pleased. I anticipated this, so I present her with the repaired Portate cross. I came across the broken necklace while I was running wires. One of the chain loops had split so I gave it a quick mend. This turned out to be just what I needed to soften her stance on the cameras.
Later that the night, I pass out on the couch. I'm sound asleep when something slides down my forehead between my eyes and onto my nose. It feels like a feather caressing my skin, but then it settles on the bridge with pressure. It comes into focus. It's a long, dirty, brittle fingernail. The rough frayed edges press harder digging into the bridge. I begin to feel the collapse of my septum. The pressure causes the nail to bow, then snap, the nail breaks off. My eyes pop, I see her hovering over me, I fly off the couch and almost hit the ceiling.
Deanna laughs, "I bet you're glad we have video cameras now!"
I'm disorientated; I expected to see the owner of the dirty nail, but I quickly conclude what transpired. It was Deanna dangling a plastic spider on my face. The finger was a dream.
"Funny. Ha ha," I groggily reply. "You wanna step up the game? It's on now."
Deanna laughs it off as she heads to the bedroom.
This is the night Deanna's leg is first pulled, and the door slammed. I recounted that event at the beginning of this story and see no reason to copy and paste it here.
Surveillance Footage capture of Deanna pulled to the foot of the bed.
After the door slam, I try to explain to Deanna that the wind blew it shut, but she doesn't believe me. She rocks in bed and begins to pray. I've never seen her pray. I know as a kid she attended a private Christian school, but I understood that was because her mom taught at that school. This meant Deanna got to go for free and her mom could watch over her. I didn't realize the prayer had stuck.
I finally set Deanna at ease by getting into bed with her to watch Friends with the lights on. At some point, she nods off. Around 3 a.m. I turn the volume down and close my eyes.
Friday October 4, 2019
Deanna is about to leave for work. Normally, I would sleep later in the morning, but I want to touch base about last night. We briefly chat in the kitchen over coffee. She appears fine and seems to realize that last night was silly. I joke that she needs more Sexy Time. She responds, "Sexy Time tonight?" It's a date.
After Deanna leaves, I pull up the security camera footage on the computer to review last night. I also watch her spider prank. It's pretty good. I fly off the couch like a scaredy-cat. After getting a good laugh at myself, I take off to meet Tom for lunch.
I chat with Tom about his beliefs, and what Deanna might believe. I postulate, can an atheist and a zealot be married? Isn't it like a vegan and a meat-eater? They're too fundamentally different to be together. Tom insists vegans and meat-eaters can be together and I shouldn't compare them. He concludes with the revelation that I'm a knucklehead.
I begin to wonder. Deanna's one of the smartest people I know. She even made the Dean's List in college. Maybe I am wrong? Maybe there is a God. I don't verbalize these notions to Tom, because I think he'll eat them up.
Deanna gets home from work early for date night. We split a pizza and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. She really pounds the wine like water. After dinner, she leads me into our bedroom. I'm able to gauge that she isn't really that drunk. She's just drunk enough to do a bit of a cabaret dance, but not so drunk that she falls over. After her dance, she charges me and tackles me onto our waterbed.
I've got my hands all over her, as we kiss and make out. Suddenly, she loses interest in me and looks to the door like something is there. I try to get her to refocus on me. She's receptive, but a moment later she looses interest again.
I explain it's just the dogs, and regain her attention. A moment later, I hear something too. We both stop and gaze at the door. I can make out a whisper, or possibly a grumble -- noises that can't come from the dogs. I'm about to push Deanna's half-naked body off me to investigate, when CRASH! The ceiling fan tumbles down on us.
Debris falls everywhere as we both scurry out of the way. I'm aghast. I know I securely mounted this thing to the ceiling. How could it fall? Deanna shushes me. "There's something in this room. I can feel it," she insists. Suddenly, she grabs her pillows and declares she is not sleeping in here and storms down the hall.
She spends the night in the spare bedroom, which is also her office. I throw the fan off the waterbed and momentarily consider getting the ladder to inspect the ceiling, but decide I'm too drunk for that. Instead, I fall back into bed and spend the night alone.
I decide to assemble Deanna's leg-pull footage into some previously unused VLOG footage. Some days I start to VLOG and don't finish. Some days, only one interesting thing happens, but it's only a small bit that doesn't end up anywhere. I'm now going back to assemble those stray bits into what I think will be an awesome Halloween VLOG that can end with Deanna's leg pull.
This is creepy! Daily VLOG 134
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2020.09.16 00:25 Dorellus My unexplained encounter with a shadow person

First of all, I want to show gratitude that a subreddit like this exists and that it was so easy to find it. Initially, I didn't know where to post about my experience since I'm still struggling to put it into a common category. It will be a long post, but I feel that I need to offer as much context as possible so that people who can offer me an explanation get the whole picture.
This is truly one of the experiences that I could not relate to any other prior in my life. I do feel that this is the right subreddit to post it in, though.
Now I've had a significant number of unusual occurences during my 20 years of age. Sleep paralysis, lucid dreaming, some sort of astral projection, that one time I was at a friend's house and a fan turned off by itself, mere inches in front of me, you name it. All those experiences led me to strongly believe that not only is the human consciousness worth exploring, but that there are planes in this universe different to our reality. I'm not a particularly religious person, not atheist nor agnostic, but I am fairly spiritual and I think there are certain energies and entities that humans could come in contact with.
It happened either during last year or early 2020. I can't exactly pinpoint the date. Last year wasn't all that good for me. I had dropped out of college, still living with my parents, no job and no real hope for my future. I was so confused about what the meaning of life is that I fell into a deep depression, my first serious episode. Going to therapy and to the gym, reading all the time, playing video games and watching Netflix was pretty much all I did, just so I can say I was doing something. Ultimately, I am much better now and I can see that period as being not as bad as I felt at that time. Still...
I think it was one night shortly after a bad acid trip during which I had my first and, to this day, only panic attack. It basically led to my mom finding out I did acid and both of us were feeling really bad. She was very mad at me and I felt guilty that I underestimated the potency of this substance.
I woke up around 2AM, very abruptly. I was sleeping in the opposite direction that I would normally, my feet facing the door to my room. As soon as I lifted my head and opened my eyes, in front of me was standing a very tall, ambigous figure with no facial features, his head almost being obscured by some sort of dark mist. If I try to picture it in my mind, it looked like it was wearing 18th century clothing, almost like a pirate or some shit, but his appearance was not entirely clear to me, it might be just my mind trying to grasp the real nature of the entity. Despite the dreamlike aura surrounding the figure, it seemed so real that I thought a stranger was actually in my room. I was so terrified that I let out the most blood-curdling scream in my entire life, convincing me instantly that I was not in sleep paralysis. I reached for my light switch frantically, still screaming my ass off. I'm surprised it didn't actually wake up the whole building. As soon as I hit the switch, the figure dissapeared and my mom asked me why I was screaming so hard. I told her what happened and she sat with me for a while until I was ready to go back to sleep again. Luckily, I didn't wake up again until morning.
To this day, nothing similar occured to me again. I still had few sleep paralysis episodes after that, but I pretty much know by now how to shrug them off quickly. My question is, what was the thing I saw and what it really meant? Was I really visited by some sort of real presence or was it just my paranoid mind playing tricks on me? Nevertheless, I still have a small nagging fear in the back of my head that something, sometime is going to come for me and I won't be so lucky...
submitted by Dorellus to shadowpeople [link] [comments]

2020.09.15 22:43 chyld989 Upcoming/Recent Xbox Releases

This post will be updated regularly so make sure to check back often.
Last updated 2020-09-17 - See bottom of post for list of 5 recent additions and 9 recent updates
NOTE: The Recently Released section will be in a pinned comment below.

September, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Pacer No Trailer September 17
Vampire's Fall: Origins No Trailer September 17
Welcome to Elk Yes Trailer September 17
Biped No Trailer September 18
Commandos 2/Praetorians HD Remaster Double Pack No Trailer September 18
Crysis Remastered No Trailer September 18
Friday the 13th: Killer Puzzle No Trailer September 18
GORSD No Trailer September 18
Harvest Moon: Light of Hope SE Complete No Trailer September 18
Tamiku No No trailer available September 18
The Blobs Fight! Yes Trailer September 18
The Secret Order: Return to the Buried Kingdom No Trailer September 18
WWE 2K Battlegrounds No Trailer September 18
Rebel Galaxy Outlaw No Trailer September 22
Tennis World Tour 2 No Trailer September 22
The Sojourn No Trailer September 22
Castlestorm 2 No Trailer September 23
The Drone Racing League Simulator No Trailer September 23
Twin Breaker: A Sacred Symbols Adventure No Trailer September 23
Unrailed! No Trailer September 23
Going Under No Trailer September 24
Little Big Workshop Yes Trailer September 24
Tears of Avia Yes Trailer September 24
Mafia: Definitive Edition No Trailer September 25
Nexomon Extinction No Trailer September 25
Port Royale 4 No Trailer September 25
Trollhunters Defenders of Arcadia No Trailer September 25
Bartlow's Dread Machine Yes Trailer September 29
Projection: First Light No Trailer September 29
Re:Turn - One Way Trip No Trailer September 29
The Persistence No Trailer September 29
Birthday of Midnight No No trailer available September 30
Commander '85 Yes Trailer September 30
Swordbreaker The Game No Trailer September 30
Inertial Drift No Trailer September TBD
Iron Harvest No Trailer September TBD

Q3, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Armed and Gelatinous No Trailer Q3
Conan Chop Chop No Trailer Q3
Nine Witches: Family Disruption No Trailer Q3
The Vale: Shadow of the Crown Yes Trailer Q3

October, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Crash Bandicoot 4: It's About Time No Trailer October 2
Dragon Lapis No Trailer October 2
Star Wars: Squadrons No Trailer October 2
Warsaw No Trailer October 2
Foregone No Trailer October 5
Ministry of Broadcast No Trailer October 6
Nickelodeon Kart Racers 2: Grand Prix No Trailer October 6
Ikenfell Yes Trailer October 8
Neighbours Back From Hell No No trailer available October 8
RIDE 4 No Trailer October 8
The Watchmaker No Trailer October 8
Ben 10: Power Trip No Trailer October 9
FIFA 21 No Trailer October 9
The Survivalists No Trailer October 9
G.I. Joe: Operation Blackout No Trailer October 13
NHL 21 No Trailer October 13
Red Wings: Aces of the Sky No Trailer October 13
Cloudpunk No Trailer October 15
Raji: An Ancient Epic No Trailer October 15
Space Crew No Trailer October 15
This is the Zodiac Speaking No Trailer October 15
9 Monkeys of Shaolin No Trailer October 16
Blair Witch No Trailer October 16
Bladed Fury No Trailer October 20
Doom Eternal: The Ancient Gods Part One DLC No Trailer October 20
Remothered: Broken Porcelain No Trailer October 20
ScourgeBringer No Trailer October 21
Asterix & Obelix XXL: Romastered No Trailer October 22
Monstrum No Trailer October 23
Spacebase Startopia No Trailer October 23
Transformers Battlegrounds No Trailer October 23
Carto No Trailer October 27
Cobra Kai: The Karate Kid Saga Continues No Trailer October 27
Ghostrunner No Trailer October 27
The Bluecoats: North vs South No Trailer October 27
Song of Horror: Complete Edition No Trailer October 29
Watch Dogs: Legion No Trailer October 29
The Dark Pictures - Little Hope No Trailer October 30
Cook, Serve, Delicious! 3 No Trailer October TBD

Fall, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Cyber Shadow No Trailer Fall
Kova: AlphaLink No Trailer Fall
Orphan of the Machine Yes Trailer Fall
Shantae: Risky's Revenge - Director's Cut No Trailer Fall
Sniper Ghost Warrior Contracts 2 No Trailer Fall
Torchlight 3 No Trailer Fall
Unturned No Trailer Fall

November, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Dirt 5 No No Trailer November 6
PAW Patrol Mighty Pups Save Adventure Bay No No Trailer November 6
Assassin's Creed Valhalla No No Trailer November 10
Destiny 2: Beyond Light DLC No No Trailer November 10
Fuser No No Trailer November 10
Gears Tactics Yes No Trailer November 10
Slide Stars No No No trailer available November 10
Tetris Effect: Connected Yes No Trailer November 10
The Falconeer Yes No Trailer November 10
XIII Remake No No Trailer November 10
Death Crown No No Trailer November 12
Farming Simulator 19: Alpine Farming DLC No No Trailer November 12
Just Dance 2021 No No Trailer November 12
Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War No No Trailer November 13
Kingdom Hearts: Melody of Memory No No Trailer November 13
Let's Sing 2021 No No Trailer November 13
Yakuza: Like a Dragon No No Trailer November 13
Cris Tales No No Trailer November 17
Professor Rubik's Brain Fitness No No Trailer November 17
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? No No Trailer November 17
Biomutant No No Trailer November 19
Cyberpunk 2077 No No Trailer November 19
Kaze and the Wild Masks No No Trailer November 27
Handball 21 No No Trailer November TBD

December, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Chronos: Before the Ashes No No Trailer December 1
Empire of Sin No No Trailer December 1
Twin Mirror No No Trailer December 1
Immortals: Fenyx Rising No No Trailer December 3
Dragon Quest XI S No No Trailer December 4
Puyo Puyo Tetris 2 No No Trailer December 8
Who's Your Daddy? Remake Yes No Trailer December 23
DARQ: Complete Edition No No Trailer December TBD

Winter, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
The Forgotten City Yes No Trailer Winter

Holiday, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Dangerous Driving 2 No No Trailer Holiday
Outriders No No Trailer Holiday
Override 2: Super Mech League No No Trailer Holiday
Planet Coaster: Console Edition No No Trailer Holiday
Scorn Yes Yes Trailer Holiday
Scott Pilgrim vs The World: The Game - Complete Edition No No Trailer Holiday
The Medium Yes Yes Trailer Holiday

Q4, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Call of the Sea Yes No Trailer Q4
Dark Envoy No No Trailer Q4
Five Dates No No Trailer Q4
Observer: System Redux No No Trailer Q4

TBD, 2020

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
12 Minutes Yes No Trailer TBD
Alaloth - Champions of the Four Kingdoms Yes No Trailer TBD
Aquanox Deep Descent No No Trailer TBD
Atrio: The Dark Wild Yes No Trailer TBD
Beyond a Steel Sky No No Trailer TBD
Black Book No No Trailer TBD
Blade Runner: Enhanced Edition No No Trailer from original game TBD
Blazing Beaks No No Trailer TBD
Bonkies No No Trailer TBD
Bridge Constructor: The Walking Dead No No Trailer TBD
Cake Bash No No Trailer TBD
Chicken Police No No Trailer TBD
Circuit Superstars No No Trailer TBD
Construction Simulator 3 No No Trailer TBD
Crossfire X No No Trailer TBD
Cuphead: The Delicious Last Course DLC No No Trailer TBD
Digimon Survive No No Trailer TBD
Disco Elysium No No Trailer TBD
Dragon Ball Z: Kakarot: A New Power Awakens - Part 2 DLC No No Trailer TBD
Dry Drowning No No Trailer TBD
Dying Light 2 No No Trailer TBD
El Hijo: A Wild West Tale No No Trailer TBD
Evergate No No Trailer TBD
Everspace 2 No No Trailer TBD
Exo One Yes Yes Trailer TBD
First Class Troube No No Trailer TBD
Gearshifters No No Trailer TBD
Green Hell No No Trailer TBD
Grim Dawn No No Trailer TBD
Haven No No Trailer TBD
Hitchhiker: A Mystery Game No No Trailer TBD
Killer Queen Black No No Trailer TBD
King's Bounty 2 No No Trailer TBD
Kingdom Majestic No No Trailer TBD
Kingpin: Reloaded No No Trailer TBD
Klang 2 No No Trailer TBD
Knight Squad 2 No No Trailer TBD
KungFu Kickball No No Trailer TBD
League of Legends: Wild Rift No No Trailer TBD
Liftoff: Drone Racing No No Trailer TBD
Mad Streets No No Trailer TBD
Mars Horizon No No Trailer TBD
Microsoft Flight Simulator Yes No Trailer TBD
Minute of Islands No No Trailer TBD
Monster Truck Championship No No Trailer TBD
Morbid: The Seven Acolytes No No Trailer TBD
My Child Lebensborn No No Trailer TBD
Ooblets No No Trailer TBD
Paradise Lost No No Trailer TBD
Paranoia: Happiness is Mandatory No No Trailer TBD
Phogs No No Trailer TBD
Pile Up! No No Trailer TBD
Project Witchstone No No Trailer TBD
Psikodelya Yes No Trailer TBD
Psychonauts 2 No No Trailer TBD
Quantum League No No Trailer TBD
Rainbow Six Quarantine No No Trailer TBD
Rainbow Six Siege No Yes No next-gen trailer released TBD
RBI Baseball 20 No No Trailer TBD
Roller Champions No No Trailer TBD
RPG Time: The Legend of Wright Yes No Trailer TBD
Rust No No Trailer TBD
Sable Yes No Trailer TBD
Sail Forth No No Trailer TBD
Session Yes No Trailer TBD
SKYHILL: Black Mist No No Trailer TBD
Someday You'll Return No No Trailer TBD
Star Child No No Trailer TBD
Star Renegades No No Trailer TBD
Subnautica: Below Zero No No Trailer TBD
Summer in Mara No No Trailer TBD
The Academy: The First Riddle No No Trailer TBD
The Ascent Yes No Trailer TBD
The Eternal Cylinder No No Trailer TBD
The Good Life No No Trailer TBD
The Red Lantern No No Trailer TBD
The Riftbreaker No No Trailer TBD
The Universim No No Trailer TBD
This Is Pool No No Trailer TBD
This Is Snooker No No Trailer TBD
Transient No No Trailer TBD
Trash Sailors No No Trailer TBD
VoidTrain Yes No Trailer TBD
Warlander No No Trailer TBD
Way to the Woods No No Trailer TBD
Xuan-Yuan Sword VII No No Trailer TBD
Zengeon No No Trailer TBD

January, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Hitman 3 No No Trailer January 20, 2021
Prince of Persia: Sands of Time Remake No No Trailer January 21, 2021

February, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Werewolf: The Apocalypse - Earthblood No No Trailer February 4, 2021
Little Nightmares 2 No No Trailer February 11, 2021
Far Cry 6 No No Trailer February 18, 2021
Riders Republic No No Trailer February 25, 2021
Wrath: Aeon of Ruin No No Trailer February 25, 2021

Q1, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Blue Fire No No Trailer Q1, 2021
Fallen Knight No No Trailer Q1, 2021
Gravity Heroes No No Trailer Q1, 2021
In Sound Mind No Yes Trailer Q1, 2021
Operation: Tango No No Trailer Q1, 2021
Read Only Memories: Neurodiver No No Trailer Q1, 2021
Surviving the Aftermath No No Trailer Q1, 2021

Spring, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Balan Wonderworld No No Trailer Spring, 2021
Lego Star Wars: The Skywalker Saga No No Trailer Spring, 2021
Lemnis Gate No No Trailer Spring, 2021
Mundaun No No Trailer Spring, 2021

Q2, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Foreclosed No No Trailer Q2, 2021

Fall, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Destiny 2: The Witch Queen DLC No No Not Trailer Fall, 2021
Kerbal Space Program 2 No No Trailer Fall, 2021

Q4, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
GTA 5 (Next-gen version) No Yes Trailer Q4, 2021

TBD, 2021

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
A Rat's Quest - The Way Back Home No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Airhead No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Atomic Heart No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Backbone No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Bus Simulator 21 No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Chivalry 2 No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Chorus No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Curse of the Sea Rats No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Dead Static Drive Yes No Trailer TBD, 2021
Dustborn No Yes Trailer TBD, 2021
Echo Generation Yes No Trailer TBD, 2021
Endling - Extinction is Forever No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Exomecha Yes No Trailer TBD, 2021
Gotham Knights No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Halo Infinite Yes No Trailer TBD, 2021
Hogwarts Legacy No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Hood: Outlaws & Legends No No Trailer TBD, 2021
IGI: Origins No No Trailer TBD, 2021
KeyWe No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Lake No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Last Days of Lazarus No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Last Stop No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Lost in Random No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Lost Words: Beyond the Page No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Magic: Legends No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Martha is Dead Yes Yes Trailer TBD, 2021
Metal: Hellsinger No No Trailer TBD, 2021
One Hand Clapping No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Phantasy Star Online 2: New Genesis No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Resident Evil Village (Resident Evil 8) No Yes Trailer TBD, 2021
Rogue Lords No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Sam & Max: This Time It's Virtual No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Serial Cleaners No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Sherlock Holmes: Chapter 1 No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Shredders Yes Yes Trailer TBD, 2021
Skull and Bones No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Song of Iron Yes No Trailer TBD, 2021
Tales of Arise No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Temtem No Yes Trailer TBD, 2021
The Artful Escape Yes No Trailer TBD, 2021
The Big Con No No Trailer TBD, 2021
The Invincible No Yes No trailer available TBD, 2021
The Lord of the Rings - Gollum No Yes Trailer TBD, 2021
The Outer Worlds: Murder on Eridanos DLC No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Ultimate Fishing Simulator 2 No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Unexplored 2: The Wayfarer's Legacy No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines 2 No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Warhammer 40,000: Darktide Yes Yes Trailer TBD, 2021
Warhammer Age of Sigmar: Storm Ground No No Trailer TBD, 2021
Wild at Heart Yes No Trailer TBD, 2021

October, 2022

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Eiyuden Chronicle: Hundred Heroes No No Trailer October TBD, 2022

TBD, 2022

Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
Pragmata No Yes Trailer TBD, 2022
Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League No Yes Trailer TBD, 2022


Game Name Xbox Exclusive Next-Gen Exclusive Trailer Release Date
A Duel Hand Disaster: Trackher No No Trailer TBD
Above No No Trailer TBD
Agents: Biohunters No No Trailer TBD
Alchemist Adventure No No Trailer TBD
Alex Kidd in Miracle World DX No No Trailer TBD
Aniquilation No No Trailer TBD
Antipole DX No No Trailer TBD
Ars Fabulae No No Trailer TBD
As Dusk Falls Yes Yes Trailer TBD
Avowed Yes Yes Trailer TBD
Back 4 Blood No No Not Trailer TBD
Back to Belt No No Trailer TBD
Baldo No No Trailer TBD
Baldur's Gate 3 No No Trailer TBD
Battlefield 6 No No Trailer TBD
Beyond Good and Evil 2 No No Trailer TBD
Black Myth: Wukong No No Trailer TBD
Book of Adventum No No Trailer TBD
Bright Memory: Infinite No No Trailer TBD
Bugsnax No No Trailer TBD
Buildings Have Feelings Too No No Trailer TBD
Clea No No Trailer TBD
Commandos 2 - HD Remaster No No Trailer TBD
Control (Next-gen version) No Yes No next-gen trailer yet TBD
Curved Space No No Trailer TBD
Dandy Ace No No Trailer TBD
Dead Island 2 No No Trailer TBD
Diablo 4 No No Trailer TBD
Dungeon and Gravestone No No Trailer TBD
Elden Ring No No Trailer TBD
Enlisted No No Trailer TBD
Ephemeral Tale No No Trailer TBD
Everwild Yes No Trailer TBD
Fable Yes Yes Trailer TBD
Final Fantasy XIV No No Trailer TBD
Final Fantasy XVI No Yes Trailer TBD
Flowing Lights No No Trailer TBD
Forza Motorsport Yes Yes Trailer TBD
Fractal Space No No Trailer TBD
Freshly Frosted No No Trailer TBD
Fringe Wars Yes No Trailer TBD
Galacide No No Trailer TBD
Gauntlet Force: Rise of the Machines No No Trailer TBD
Genesis Noir Yes No Trailer TBD
Georifters No No Trailer TBD
Godfall No Yes Trailer TBD
Goodbye Volcano High No No Trailer TBD
Gothic No No Trailer TBD
GUTS No No Trailer TBD
Hellblade 2: Senua's Saga Yes Yes Trailer TBD
Hello Neighbor 2 Yes No Trailer TBD
In the Valley of Death No No Trailer TBD
Insurgency: Sandstorm No No Trailer TBD
Jett: The Far Shore No No Trailer TBD
Kena: Bridge of Spirits No No Trailer TBD
Little Devil Inside No No Trailer TBD
Long Ago: A Puzzle Tale No No Trailer TBD
Lords of the Fallen 2 No Yes No trailer available TBD
Mars Power Industries Deluxe No No Trailer TBD
Mayhem Brawler No No Not Trailer TBD
Momentus No No Trailer TBD
Monstrum 2 No No Trailer TBD
Nier Replicant ver1.22474487139 No No Trailer TBD
Oddworld: Soulstorm No No Trailer TBD
Overcooked! All You Can Eat No Yes Trailer TBD
Overwatch 2 No No Trailer TBD
Panzer Dragoon: Ramke No No Trailer TBD
Pixel Skater No No Trailer TBD
Ponpu No No Trailer TBD
Project Athia No No Trailer TBD
Project Mara Yes No Trailer TBD
Project Oxygen No Yes Trailer TBD
Project Resistance No No Trailer TBD
Racing Apex No No Trailer TBD
Recompile No Yes Trailer TBD
Rover Wars: Battle for mars No No Trailer TBD
S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2 No Yes Trailer TBD
Scarlet Nexus No No Trailer TBD
Second Extinction Yes No Trailer TBD
Shotgun Farmers No No Trailer TBD
Skate 4 No No Announcement TBD
SkateBIRD No No Trailer TBD
Skycadia No No Trailer TBD
Solar Ash No No Trailer TBD
Solaroids: Prologue No No Trailer TBD
Soundfall No No Trailer TBD
Space Otter Charlie No No Trailer TBD
Starfield No Yes Trailer TBD
State of Decay 3 Yes No Trailer TBD
Steelrising No Yes Trailer TBD
Stray No No Trailer TBD
Super Meat Boy Forever No No Trailer TBD
Teardown No No Trailer TBD
Tesla Force No No Trailer TBD
Test Drive Unlimited Solar Crown No No Trailer TBD
The Dark Eye: Chains of Satinav No No Trailer TBD
The Dark Eye: Memoria No No Trailer TBD
The Elder Scrolls 6 No Yes Trailer TBD
The Elder Scrolls: Legends No No Trailer TBD
The Gunk Yes No Trailer TBD
The Last Cube No No Trailer TBD
The Last Night No No Trailer TBD
The Wind Road Yes No Trailer TBD
Tribble Troubles No No Trailer TBD
Tunche No No Trailer TBD
Tunic Yes No Trailer TBD
Turrican No No Trailer TBD
Unknown 9 Awakening No Yes Trailer TBD
Unspottable No No Trailer TBD
Unto the End No No Trailer TBD
Vampire: The Masquerade - Swansong No No Trailer TBD
Wave Break No No Trailer TBD
YesterMorrow No No Trailer TBD
Zero Six Behind Enemy Lines No No No trailer available TBD
Please let me know if you see any incorrect information, or if there are any things I missed.
Recent Additions: Birthday of Midnight, Final Fantasy XVI, Hogwarts Legacy, Kerbal Space Program Enhanced Edition Complete, and Neighbours Back From Hell
Recent Updates: Moved Ghostrunner from TBD, 2020 to October 27, 2020, Inertial Drift from September 11, 2020 to September TBD, 2020, Nexomon Extinction from September TBD, 2020 to September 25, 2020, Slide Stars from October 27, 2020 to November 10, 2020, and This is the Zodiac Speaking from September 24, 2020 to October 15, 2020. Moved Active Neurons 2, Dog Duty, Exp Parasite, and Johnny Rocket to the Recently Released section.
submitted by chyld989 to XboxSeriesXlS [link] [comments]

2020.09.15 11:05 HopedForMore The Mysterious Fall

Hello, this is the first chapter and I am really keen to know whether it would be enough to entice people to keep reading. Thanks!
"Lillian! Lillian! Grab the rope!" he screamed, but the wind, swooping up and over the cliff top, immediately caught his words and threw them back behind him. Lillian thought she heard something though and strained to look up, fighting to see through the matted hair plastering her forehead. Desperation was enveloping her; she could not hold on much longer, but in the fading light she could just see the knotted end of a rope snaking and bumping down the steep slope, down through the swirling rain towards her, as Walter frantically played it out from eighty feet above. But it kept sticking, getting caught on bits of foliage or scree, forcing him to flick it up and down like a slow whip to dislodge it and move it on. Blinking away the rain, she kept focused on it – it was her only hope now, the only thing that could save her.
Her fingers were painfully numb yet somehow clinging to the crumbled area of wet stone and patchy earth that was the only thing between her and what she knew would be certain death if she let go. But she had very little to grip on to, just the little chunks of solid rock that her scrabbling hands had somehow latched on to, and her left leg hurt so much she feared she must have broken it as she slithered down the steep, wet, chalky cliff slope – the pain was excruciating. On top of that her arms and legs were scratched and bleeding and her palms badly grazed. Below her, the slope became a sheer drop and she could hear the sea lashing the rocks, huge waves exploding in flourishes of spray that whooshed up through the rain in plumes of mist and drenched her in a wet, salty drizzle. She had no energy left to scream; instead tears streamed down her face and merged with the rain as death pulled with increasing force on her shoulder. The rope was coming though, she could see it getting closer now. Twenty feet, ten feet, then, just as it had nearly reached her, as she readied herself to lunge for it in one last all-or-nothing effort, it got caught on a small stubbly plant and stopped again. The delay was enough, her strength was gone. She knew that she could not hold on, and a slow horror overwhelmed her; she knew what was coming.
What should have been a scream came out as a despairing grunt as her left hand slipped from its weakened grasp. Immediately the instant additional weight applied to her right hand jerked it free, and with resigned dismay Lillian watched it let go, as though it belonged to someone else. A million thoughts burst into her head but she just wanted to ignore them and think of nothing. She watched the rope getting smaller and more indistinct and waited for the impact.
Marlo Campbell stopped typing, closed his eyes, and sat still for a moment. He breathed in as deeply as he could, hoping that this would infuse his brain with even more creative energy to help him sustain this storyline. Then again, was he getting a bit carried away with the drama of the incident and introducing too much artistic licence? No, this was such an important element of the story – he had to make it exciting. But it also had to be believable. Where did Walter get that rope? He would have to try and think of a way to explain that. This novel writing business was harder than he thought. He exhaled loudly, opened his eyes and sat back in his cheap old faux-leather swivel chair, allowing it to rock gently and hoping as he always did that the flexes and creaks were not signs that it was about to collapse beneath him.
Rather than generate inspiration, all his breathing-in exercise had done was present him with questions that needed answers. An old cracked biro lay on the desk in front of him, and he picked it up and twirled it in his fingers. Predictably he dropped it and it bounced on the floor and rolled under a side unit. Of course it did, where else would it go? That just about summed up the way his life went really. Well it could stay there, he didn’t care. Something for those little invisible spiders to weave their webs round.
He reached instead for the small, battered object which had become his inspiration. It was a diary, about the size of those Ladybird books he used to read as a child, with a page for each day. The once bright red and gold patterned cover had now faded into a peculiar blotchy crimson, the edges of the pages brown and scuffed. It smelled faintly of times past, like the interior of an antique writing bureau; hints of old leather and mustiness. On the inside cover, in fading black ink, was a carefully written but brief introduction:
1886. This is the private diary of Lillian Jones, of 31 Challenor Street Brighton. Should anyone find themselves reading this, I implore them to return the diary to the above address without reading further. Thank you.
Marlo could imagine Lillian sitting at her bed table as the diary year began, dipping her pen in a small, stained inkwell to write the inscription, a year of empty pages ahead of her, so innocent of the events that were to befall her.
Thereafter was a neatly-written and comprehensive account for every day, meticulously completed right up until Tuesday September 21st, where the entry ended with “I am so happy Walter has invited me out tomorrow, it seems we shall likely go to the sea and take some air! He knows that I have been wanting to stroll along the cliffs and watch the evening sun so I very much hope we might go to Seaford Head.” But September 22nd and every page after that was blank.
He wondered again what Lillian had looked like as a young girl of 20. He had a picture in his mind of a strongly defined yet feminine mouth, a small nose, large dark eyes and curly auburn hair, but the diary did not reflect on the author’s appearance and so it was just intuition influenced by old Victorian portrait photographs he had seen over the years. But having read, over and over again, every word entered in Lillian’s diary for the year 1886, Marlo had subconsciously formed a picture of her in his mind, even though he was well aware that he was just imagining how he wanted her to look and in reality she could look like anybody.
Reading her words, feeling as though she was talking to him as he read them, had given him an idea. More than that, a purpose, something to take him away from all the nagging frustrations of a miserably dull life. He would embellish her diary entries into the story of that year, which when finished would become his first novel; fiction based on fact. English had been his favourite subject at school, and maybe he was now finding his true calling. He’d read loads of books and he knew what clunky writing was, and if he managed to avoid that, at least it shouldn’t be unreadable and who knows, it could sell millions, assuming each copy came with a free diamond or something. Without the diamond, maybe a few dozen if he was lucky, but that didn’t matter.
So, not at this stage worried about sales figures and instead treating it more as a labour of love, he had set to and adapted and expanded on the incidents recorded in the diary up until September 22nd, weaving them into what he had hoped was a historically accurate tale of the life of a young Victorian girl finding her way in life and now discovering romance for the first time. Yes, some might argue that it was unusual for a man to be writing this but he felt a strange affinity with his subject, and anyway in these modern times why should his gender be an issue? He could always ask a girl at work to read through it to make sure he had not made any obvious blunders with regard to the mysterious secrets of the female psyche.
Now he had reached the point that he hoped the reader wouldn’t be expecting - the drama and excitement which was now unfolding. The question he had been wrestling with was whether this was the denouement and his book would rather surprisingly, as far as the reader is concerned, finish with the dramatic death of his heroine, or whether those blank diary pages would instead present him with an opportunity to play out some other scenarios entirely of his own making.
He put the diary down and re-focused his thoughts on the story. He would go back and deal with the issue of the rope later; for now he just wanted to describe what was going to happen to Lillian.
The impact never came. Instead there was a loud ripping sound, and a sudden and frightening deceleration as Lillian brushed past a thorny bush jutting at an unlikely angle from the cliff face, her billowing dress catching on the branches and practically wrenching it from her body, biting into her as it violently halted her descent. Instantly she found herself hanging upside down beneath the bush, her dress virtually ripped to shreds but miraculously still holding her weight as she swung precariously in the wet wind.
Marlo paused again. He had to confirm his decision now; he was prevaricating. He didn’t want to go there..... but he had to do it. She would have to die that night. But once Lillian had died, was that it? Would the story just end there? No, there had to be more. The trick was in not just entertaining the reader with an exciting finale, but also making them feel that reading the book had been worthwhile and the ending hadn’t been a disappointment or a cop-out. Or just depressing.
He looked at the diary again, hoping without reason that it would give him some inspiration on how to do this, how also he could then perhaps complete the story through the rest of that year to explain the impact of her death and how her family, as well as Walter, learned to cope without her. Sure, that sounded about as exciting as a paper plate of stale bread on a plastic table, but that was the challenge: to throw the ingredients into the literary word mixer in his head and somehow emerge with a plate of exquisite chocolate truffles that everyone would coo over.
The diary had come from his father’s house. He had spent countless weekends travelling down to the outskirts of Brighton to clear out the small terraced house after his father died of a sudden heart attack two years ago, and had found the diary stored in a bureau amongst some old photographs. Why it was there was something he had yet to establish. His mother had died of cancer when he was fourteen, an event he had never really recovered from and which made the death of his Dad all the more shattering. With no brothers or sisters and just a few other distant relatives, he didn’t really have anyone else to query the diary with. He’d spoken to a few of his father’s friends at the funeral but none of them knew. Maybe Dad had got it with a box of books in a boot sale – boot sales had become a bit of a hobby for him in his later years.
As soon as Marlo started reading it, though, he felt a connection, an involvement, and he knew he could not just leave it there. Who was Lillian Jones? What kind of life had she led up to the point at which she had started her diary? Why did she write the diary? What was her life like? He felt he needed to know, but wasn’t sure why it felt so important to him. Maybe it was because this was history coming to life, not a dry school lesson. Perhaps it was because he was quite possibly the first person to read it all, other than her.
So he had made some initial investigations and found Lillian’s name on the 1881 census: she was born in 1866 to Thomas William Jones, a milliner, and his wife Mary. She had two younger siblings, William and Alice, and an older brother, Frederick. Marlo already knew from Lillian’s descriptions in the diary that five years later, Frederick would have left the family home to find lodgings of his own closer to where he worked, down by the seafront. Lillian had written that he was an enterprising young man who had persuaded a wealthy customer of his parents, a boat builder, to go into business with him, taking advantage of Brighton’s growing reputation as a tourist resort to manufacture and rent out bathing huts on the beach. They were those wooden boxes on big wheels, looking a bit like a poor man’s mini stagecoach, which the wealthy used to protect their modesty when bathing in the sea. It was hard work, especially in the summer, but was also rewarding and he was doing very well for himself. He had also been stepping out with the boat builder’s daughter for the last year, with signs that a marriage proposal was not far away. He helped out on the boat manufacturing side himself during the winter months, so Lillian and the family were very happy for him and proud of his achievements despite seeing so little of him now.
At the time of the census, and indeed when the diary was written, Lillian lived with the rest of her family above the shop at 31 Challenor Street, Brighton. However, a check of the 1891 and 1901 census records revealed no mention of Lillian. Intrigued, he had spent an afternoon at the National Archives in Kew trawling through death certificates and eventually found what he had somehow hoped he would not find, yet which still shocked him.
Lillian Jones had died unexpectedly on Wednesday, September 22nd, 1886, the day the diary entries stopped.
The death certificate showed the cause of death as ‘accident’ and gave no clues as to what had befallen her. She was just one of many people who lived, died, and were forgotten in the sinking sands of inconsequential history.
This suddenness of her death was a horrible discovery and Marlo was dismayed and saddened that a girl he thought he had come to know, even if it was only through nine months of her thoughts, had died so young. Such a waste. But he resolved that Lillian would not be forgotten, and he now wanted to know what happened on that fateful September day in 1886 – the last day of her tragically short life. So his next port of call had been the Sussex Daily News archives, as this was a regional local newspaper with records from the time and could be accessed from the British Library. It did not take long for him to find what he was looking for.
The Friday September 24th edition had a paragraph on page 5 under the heading ‘Two Deaths On Seaford Head’. It was dispassionately factual and brief, but in no way what Marlo had been expecting:
“The death of Miss Lillian Jones of Brighton, twenty years of age, has formally been announced following her disappearance after a fall from the cliffs during a storm near Seaford on Wednesday. Her attempted rescue by her companion Mr Walter Threadwell ended in tragedy as he was unable to save her. She fell into the sea and was washed out in a heavy swell, and searches by police yesterday were unsuccessful in finding her. Her death in the prime of her life has caused much grief for her family and great sorrow in her neighbourhood. The police are investigating in case foul play was involved. As her body has yet to be recovered the funeral date will be announced in due course. In a singular coincidence, yesterday also saw the discovery, a few hundred yards from where Miss Jones fell, of the body of a man. The name of the man is not yet known. A coroner’s report is awaited but police advise that the man’s death was suspicious. It seems possible that the two deaths are linked but no-one has yet been able to suggest how this might be the case. Mr Threadwell has been helping police with their enquiries but as yet no charges have been brought and the police have advised that they have no reason to suspect him at this stage.”
So she had died violently, and in unusual and mysterious circumstances given that the death of another man appeared to be involved too. Marlo sat back, slightly stunned. The diary was an even more poignant legacy then, those last words of Sept 21st holding an unknown portent of what was to come.
The following Monday’s edition confirmed the name of the dead man as Jed Attleborough, a drifter, and revealed that the cause of death was by ‘stabbing with a knife’. This was another surprise and gave an added twist to the mystery.
Really intrigued now, he painstakingly searched through all of the following editions for the year but surprisingly found no further mention of Lillian, Walter, or Jed. This seemed odd, as surely they would at least have reported on the questioning of Walter, the conclusions of the investigations into any foul play, the funerals of Lillian and Jed, and any potential murder trial. Yet there was nothing, it was as though it had all been brushed under the carpet. Something didn’t seem right.
With a combination of melancholy and still unrequited curiosity, Marlo had headed home with a new sense of purpose. And that purpose was to tell the story of Lillian Jones.
There were a lot of things he did not know about her, most of all, of course, what actually happened on that fateful last day that caused her to fall and whether the other dead man had anything to do with it, but the diary had allowed him to inhabit her world for nine months and so he had a strange irrational feeling that he could almost sense what was to come even if he could not prove it. He was going to do his best to describe what actually happened on the day she died, and if he got it wrong or was not entirely factual with the rest of her story, no-one would be complaining - this was what he liked to call a ‘factually imagined biography’, not a documentary. Marlo had complemented the descriptions in the diary by doing lots of research on what life was like in Victorian Brighton, both online and in visits to libraries and museums, so he hoped that at least there he had been historically accurate.
The first chapters of the book had introduced Lillian and her family and set the scene for their daily life running a small but well-frequented hat shop on Challenor Street. Business was steady and good enough to provide a living, but no more than that. Lillian helped out in the shop whilst also assisting her mother in looking after William and Alice, who were fourteen and ten respectively. She began a relationship with Walter in late July and Marlo had followed Lillian’s description of their blossoming romance through August and September, to the point where she was confiding in her diary that she felt Walter might be ‘the one’, even though she had not known him that long, and that she hoped that he may be considering a proposal.
Walter was five years older than her and all Marlo could glean about him from the diary was that he first approached her in a tavern when she was in the company of her friend Edith, he was tall and dark with thick black hair, bushy eyebrows and a large nose which gave him a distinctive yet quirkily handsome air, and that he worked for an accountancy firm, regularly making use of the firm’s horse and trap to come and visit her, as he lived on the other side of town. Apart from that, Lillian’s diary described mostly what they did together, where they went, and her romantic feelings for him. It sounded as though he had swept her off her feet. Marlo wondered whether this was her first serious boyfriend, as prior to that she had made no mention of any others, and this could explain why she was so besotted with him.
And now Marlo had reached the point, on September 22nd 1886, where, having spent the day journeying all the way along the coast and across to Seaford in the horse and trap, the couple had headed up to the Seaford Head cliff for an afternoon stroll, the plan being to then take a late afternoon tea in Seaford town before heading back to Brighton, ideally arriving as dusk fell.
But it had not worked out as planned, and Marlo had now described how, as they hurried back along the cliff tops, caught out by a sudden storm, Lillian had gone to have a closer look at the crashing waves and stumbled near the edge, slipping and falling off.
Marlo was pleased with his description of the fall but there were some challenges he had given himself. He presumed that the reason she and Walter had chosen to walk along the cliffs on a darkening autumn afternoon was to watch the sunset, but he had described Lillian’s fall as being in the middle of a raging storm. Why would the couple have set off for a cliff walk if a storm was coming? That didn’t really make sense. He also had to better explain why she had been close enough to the cliff edge to allow her to fall, and what caused her to stumble. And then there was that rope - it seemed very unlikely that Walter would have conveniently found a rope lying close by just when he needed it, particularly one over 80ft long. Maybe he should rewrite this section without mentioning a rope. He sighed. This whole part of the story was hard. He might have to ease back on the drama in order to work in some realism.
He got up and walked over to the window of his 14th storey East London flat. The sun was pulling the last vestiges of warm light with it over the horizon and a damp darkness was moving in and taking over. Glittering meshes of window lights and street lamps were multiplying in the city below, repainting the greys of the day with yellow, white, and black. 'That's enough for one day', he told himself. 'Sort it out tomorrow. Time for food'.
A rummage in the lukewarm fridge confirmed that he had given too much thought to his novel during the last few days and not enough to food shopping. He dined that evening on 6 slices of garlic sausage, a tub of ripening cream cheese, and a shrivelled apple, and the following day was pleasantly surprised that he was not ill.
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2020.09.15 08:50 katzass It was this past Monday night when I got mine...

I had just moved in to a little farmhouse just outside of a small town and was still unpacking, unaware of the time.
Three knocks on my front door. Pitch black outside my windows.
Not even the moon was out tonight, and didn't even occur to me the dangers that could be on the other side of the door until I was opening it. To my relief and puzzlement there was only a rolled up piece of black paper tied with a black string, illuminated on my "Go Away" mat by the lights from inside. After a very quick glance past my porch and seeing nobody lurking in the darkness, I quickly retreated inside, locked the door and closed the curtains. That's when I saw the time. It was 12:02am according to the clock on my stove. "Who delivers newspaper at midnight? WHO EVEN DELIVERS NEWSPAPERS ANYMORE?!"
Initially, I chalked it up to a prank on the new girl in town, but after finding this subreddit... well... I'm sure the rest of you who have also received this paper know how this feels...
I was unnerved by it's appearance at this hour, at this new address which had not yet been registered with mail forwarding because I'm a horrible procrastinator, and just in general.
It was a thin, smooth, and completely pitch black piece of paper, only one, rolled into the way your typical newpaper would be, and tied neatly with black string.
I sat at my kitchen table, paper before me still tied, debating whether or not to open it and read its contents. Eventually my curiosity won out. Delicately, as though this paper were a bomb that would go off, I untied the string and put it in my pocket. Unrolling the paper I saw the words at the top in white ink
My puzzlement and curiosity grew.
The article below, also printed in white ink, had no author nor publication date though the title and its contents read as follows;
The local town legend. You've probably heard it, and if you haven't then you just haven't talked to the right people yet. Everyone knows it exists, but not everyone will talk about it. Some people believe that if you talk about it, the forest will find you and turn you into mist, others say that the forest only takes those who disrespect their land, and but none will go walking in a heavily wooded area once the sun goes down.
The stories all start the same. A local child, sometimes its a boy, sometimes a girl, living in a farmhouse near the edge of a forest, goes wandering into the woods past dark on a foggy, moonless night. In some versions the child is simply looking for a lost pet and hears it just beyond the treeline, and in others the forest itself is whispering to the child. The parents don't realize their child is missing until the next morning, when they awake to find the bed empty and the front door ajar.
The father immediately goes to the phone to call the police while the mother dons her coat and shoes. She's going to check the fields and the forest, she tells her husband. He regards her with confusion. What forest? Her heart sinks. She runs outside only to see the forest behind their house was missing too.
The mother goes back in the house to share this revelation to her husband only to have him regard her with further confusion and now concern. He tells her they've never had a forest behind their house, that she must be delirious with worry. She swears it was there yesterday.
After they finished talking to the police, the mother calls the neighbours down the road, in case they might have seen anything. While on the phone with them she also asks about the forest behind their house to which they declare to have no recollection of there ever having been a forest there, and they've "been here for nearly 84 years so surely they would remember such a thing!"
Months pass with no sign of their child. Eventually the mothers obsession with the forest that no one in town can seem to remember drives her husband away, leaving her in the farmhouse alone. Lost, alone, and confused beyond anything, the woman found solace in a bottle.
One evening, just after the sun had gone down, the woman had run out of her favourite comfort beverage. Despite having had a few glasses of "comfort" already, she got behind the wheel of her car and began making her way to town to replenish her stock. The roads were still slick from a heavy rainfall earlier that day, and a fog was rolling in. Not being able to see it, she began drifting over the middle line as she approached a corner. Around the other side of that corner was a truck. She swerved harshly. Her car hit the soft shoulder on the other side and flipped into the ditch. It began to roll down the embankment, coming to rest against a small crop of trees.
Miraculously, the woman was unharmed and able to exit her vehicle. She knew she would be unable to climb back up to the road, and not thinking clearly for many reasons, she walked into the small forest. Fog swirled around her ankles, still she did not stop. Deeper and deeper into the trees she went, as if drawn forward by an invisible force.
It began as a pang in her chest. A memory long since locked away tugged at her mind's edge. The longer the woman walked among the trees, the sadder she felt. Until eventually she fell to her knees, sobs wracking her body, crying out the name of her lost child. Approaching footsteps cause the woman to look up, she sees someone who resembles her child although nearly a teen. Her heart swells with hope only to have logic state that it could not possibly be them, it hadn't even been a year...
'Mom?' The person offers a hand and helps the woman to her feet as several other people of various ages and types of clothing peer out from behind the trees.
The next day police found the car at the bottom of the embankment, severely damaged from rolling down with no occupants, no bodies found nearby. No forests were found either."
Needless to say that after reading this in my farmhouse outside of town that just so happened to have a forest behind it, I didn't bother unpacking the rest of my things.
edited due to typos
submitted by katzass to MidnightPaper [link] [comments]

2020.09.15 06:53 BHasABeard Im not sure if I was raped in college.

Im on mobile and I haven’t posted very much so I apologize in advance for misspellings and what not.
Dont worry The names aren’t legit.
So for context, its my first year in college and I’m miles away from home. I made one friend named Ryan and met Mike through him. I really got along well with Mike. We didn’t hang out a lot, but the 10 or so times we did hang out we got along extremely well, a lot of best friend potential. One of the last time we hung out he was telling me about how him and his girlfriend of 3 years had just split up. I never met her but they had a large history.
Flash forward a couple weeks, im going through tinder and I match with Destiny. We agree to meet up at the rec area on campus. The date goes absolutely awful. Convos are short, we dont have a lot in common, almost no connection. Through out the date she keeps mentioning how she knows me and has heard my name before. Eventually we figure out that she had heard about me through Ryan, and it clicks that she is in fact, Mikes ex. Thats where the date completely changes. For me, I am now trying to distance myself, but for her, all of the sudden she is supper into me.
I try to cut off the date but she pleads to keep it going. I gave a bunch of excuses which she dismissed and we end up going to my house for a drink. From there things get super weird.
Multiple times throughout the night i tried to get her to leave, but would refuse. Once midnight hits she claims she is to drunk to go home, and my offers to drive her were denied. She had to stay on the couch until she was sober enough to go home by herself. I put her in my bed and tried to rest on the couch. Eventually she came out and joined me claiming she couldnt sleep.
A lot of in appropriate touching later, she pressured me to join her in the bedroom because she felt weird sleeping in a random house by herself. I obliged. Gave her her own blanket and pillow, i squished against the corner of the bed and turned on Hulu on my laptop.
From there she began stroking me. If i moved her hand away and asked her to stop she would move it back. She told me that since i was stiff, i mist have been ready and engaged in oral until completion. We went to sleep.
The next night I found out mike had blocked me on all social media. I couldn’t get ahold of Destiny and Ryan told me not to push it.
Here I am three years later and I haven’t heard from any of them in at least two years. Ryan told me to chill out and be happy I got some head, but im still uneasy about the situation. I fee as though this is an issue I will never have the opportunity to resolve.
Tldr: My friends exgf strong armed her way into my bedroom. Now im out two good friends.
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2020.09.14 22:48 AkaneaTenryu [GILGAMESH] [FC] [LFM] [CASUAL] Gobbiebag Treasures looking to make friends!

Who we are:
We’re a ragtag group of people who all come from a variety of backgrounds & have a variety of careers, family lives, and hobbies! Having fun and being casual/social is what we pride ourselves for and that’s just how we play. Most of us have met through FF14 and may or may not have previous MMO experience.
What we’re about:
We enjoy running old content whether it’s for mounts, achievements, titles, or just for clears. We’re currently prepping to do some of the new Bozja Relic content when it comes out as well as weekly mount/maps/dungeon farming. We love helping new and returning players catch up and get to the good stuff! When someone gets that mount that’s been eluding them or just having some other nice people to help speed along your duty finder queues, that’s what we enjoy! We’re also couple friendly, with a lot of couples regularly playing together! Roulettes, primals, map parties, etc! We do have a few Endgame Raiders, but they do that on the side. Not many of us have time or the energy to put forward towards savage raiding. Our endgame is taking care of each other. ^^b Furthermore, we don’t always want to play FF14 do we?! Well some do. The point is we also play other games! Xbox, PS4, and PC friendly! Always looking for more ways to interact with one another!
FC Features:
The FC currently has a Medium sized house located in the 3rd Ward of The Mists, plot 60. Right on the beach and close to the markets and summoning bells! Several of our members have even purchased their own personal housing down the street from the main FC! We are Rank 30 and have 3 airships, and a submarine. Working on getting the rest up to date! We have gardens available for use and of course chocobo stables for your favorite chickens! We supply glamour prisms, dyes, chocobo foddedye as well to our members. We will also craft gear for you on request if you need help gearing up a job or just trying to reach that next ilevel for a dungeon! We of course have FC buffs up 24/7 and they are usually EXP and Teleport. We will change them out as people need and plan on doing GathereCrafter weekends and such the more members we get. We always have the FC decked out in the most recent holiday decorations and always looking for feedback and assistance/recommendations to how the house should look and be decorated.
What we’re looking for:
We love meeting new people and have met some great people throughout our history, going back to 2013 when we formed. Few of us have met in real life! We would like to find active players to populate our FC and Discord with. Life happens and people have to take breaks. That’s fine, we all have our responsibilities. Nobody will be kicked because of life! We’re mostly active during evenings and late nights during the week. FC members come from all time zones, PST, EST, even a few in Europe and Japan! Also looking for those who want to help build a more fun and social community! Anyone interested in helping organize events and prizes, please apply and drop me a message!
How to apply:
Firstly, you do it in game! If you see a member with the tag, just apply through them! You could also check the Party Finder and Fellowship Finder. We try to keep PF up most of the time, and our Fellowship has gotten a lot of attention lately, but remember, we’re a Gilgamesh Free Company! Lots of love from other servers, but you can’t join unless you’re on Gilgamesh! :D We can still be friends though, no worries! You could also find one of our officers:
Akanea Tenryu
Mister Hawtstuff
Glacian Greensleeves
Acyroma Annihilisium
Vivi Zerusa
Exodius King
Finally, you can drop me a message via Discord if you’re checking this out at work or while doing something else away from game! My tag on there is Akanea#9251. Hope to hear from everyone soon! :D
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2020.09.14 20:31 SaltFishing9 A Christmas Journey. In Prose. Being an Infinity Train/A Christmas Carol Crossover: With apologies to Charles Dickens. Stave 1: The Train From Nowhere.

Belle was gone, to begin with. There could be no more denying that. The temporary heartbreak from which she had walked away that December Afternoon on the outer rim of Hyde Park and that she had assured the unfortunate wretch whom she had, perhaps justifiably, inflicted it upon would be just that, was incomparable to the more permanent trauma which she now bore within her chest, like an accused iron maiden around her soul.
Scrooge was undoubtedly both the cause and the victim of this painful affair, for pain was no more a stranger to him than a mother, ever dutiful by the fireside of a nursery is to her children, fast at rest after experiencing her affection and kindness at play and dining during the hours of the day. Needless to say, the power which Cupid and Venus had held over once two infatuated lovers, Romance, was as dead as a doornail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, in the tragic nature for which it so deserves that, here at least, Romance was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge minded that Belle was gone? Of course he did! How could he feel otherwise? For many weeks, the rue of his ''release'' lingered and would reoccur, quite unwelcomed but often regardless. And yet, in all outward verbalisms, as his wife who would never be had so assured him, he had dismissed the event as an unprofitable dream, from which he declared to be truly glad to have awoken from in time, lest domestication and family thereafter descend upon his survival, seeking to be the avatar of his ruination.
For, although a young man in the prime of life, Scrooge had done all to convince himself of the frivolous impracticality of such things as these. His needs, in all departments, were met and well met. These being, to make an account in full, his profits, his trade, his security and his sole friend and partner.
Marley fulfilled this last position to the best of his ability and his work ethic therein had succeeded all of Scrooge's expectations for he was, although two years his senior, in much the same mindset as his younger collaborator in many a matter of the mind, if not, in some forms, the vault. The subject of ''domestic bliss'', however, was no different to Marley than it was to Scrooge. So, therefore, upon Belle's departure, did he gladly rejoice, though with dignified disregard, at what he perceived as Scrooge's ''deliverance from the ball and chain.''
The mention of the lovers' separation brings me to my second point. Much in the way love had perished that day, the man whom Scrooge had been accustomed to being for the past several years, was himself, dead. At some point during his 31 summers, the same event had occurred to Marley, though Scrooge had, out of respect, never sought to divulge the details of the instance from his friend's recollection.
In both cases, neither man sought to revive such deceased personalities. To themselves and, indeed those who had once so proudly professed to know them, the men who had experienced those life-altering occasions, would never again be the men who had so recklessly promenaded into them. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.
The concern the two had established had been in businesses for but two years by the time I can confess this tale to truly begin. There it sat, in the throbbing commerce heart of The City for years afterwards with the familiar sign above the door: Scrooge and Marley. (The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley.)
From the point of view of more traditional perspectives, it made little sense that the younger of the two should, in any way, have his name placed in higher regard than the elder partner, although it was generally known that it was Scrooge's incalculable cognition of figures and money changing that had brought the firm to such notoriety in so small a space of time. Those with such philosophies, nevertheless, insistently referred to the practice as ''Marley and Scrooge,'' but both men answered to both names. It was all the same to them.
Oh! But they were tight-fisted hands at the grindstone, Scrooge and Marley! The years had seen the nobler aspirations of their salad days die off until, at length, only the master-passion, the master vice, Gain seemed to remain. By degree, they had gradually altered themselves into what the debtor ever fears and that the philanthropist ever pities. Squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous sinners! Near hard and sharp as flint, which no steel would or could now strike out generous fire, Secret and self-contained and, if not for each other's company, as solitary as oysters.
Naturally, as the eldest, Marley had first succumbed to the ailments of the self that such a life produced as well as that of the soul. The cold within him froze and mismatched his outer appearance to his true age. Sunk his cheeks, dried his lips, beaked his flattened nose and shortened his deep brown hair, to where he now wore the remnants in a familiar pigtail which became, save for his rounded spectacles, as days of hours of working in darkness had mildly affected the use of his eyes, his soul distinguishing trait.
Scrooge's own refrigeration had produced similar alterations as this. His own cheeks were as equally submerged, his eyes red, his thin lips blue, his chin, uncannily pointed at the tip, so that his head near resembled a flattened crescent moon with a blunted top. Upon the wiry, brushed plot of black that covered most of said top was a thin streak of silver, no thicker than a stalk of barley. An emblem of tension and senectitude. Each man carried his own increasingly low temperature always about with him. They iced the office in the dog-days and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
The only indication remaining that the two men were, indeed, members of the same race as those they so often walked past in the streets with their eyes turned down, was that they were still, for the time being, governed by nature's laws. Whilst external Warmth and Chill did little to influence them, foul weather was just this to them as it was to all of humanity. Bitter winds and falling snow remained more intent on their purposes than they and yet, the prevailing fear among all was that, with the coming of their winters, the Heaviest rain and snow would boast of the advantage over them in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge and Marley never did.
The usurious and withdrawn reputation of the dyad soon proceeded them. Nobody ever stopped them in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? And you as well, Marley my good fellow! When will you both come to see me?" Few beggars implored them to bestow a trifle, few children asked them what it was o'clock, few men or women ever once in all their life inquired the way to...such and such a place, of Scrooge or Marley. In truth, the only minute difference that either man had against the other, was in terms of spending.
Whilst Scrooge firmly and unflaggingly took as gospel the notion of making one's fortune and keeping it by way of what he viewed as ''logical meagerness,'' at times to the extent of near malnourishment and hypothermia, due to the piteous fires at his own lodgings, Marley was, although hardly benevolent, more prone to selfish indulgence to a certain degree. He indulged in certain sins of gluttony and of the flesh whenever the urge took him, and paid little mind to those outside who scavenged the ashcans for a crust of bread.
While some may regard these distinctions as that which would inevitably rend asunder the fabric of such a friendship, Scrooge shared too many an opinion with his older companion to truly take offence and while he, at times, would feel compelled to make some offhand judgment over Marley's ''Flirtation with Flavour,'' these times were few and often forgotten.
Once upon a time— a week and a day from all the good days in the year, Christmas Eve—Scrooge sat busy in the counting-house, awaiting the return of Marley from his customary journey to Capel Court.
It was cold, biting weather, yet bright with fading sunlight and he could hear the people in the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, though owing to the shortened days of winter, the sky was already beginning to turn amber and ruddy with the setting of the sun.
As was customary, the signs of winter evergreen with its pinecones and berries, the holly, ivy and mistletoe, had been hung early in honour of the blessed day and all about could be seen signs of play, glad tidings and goodwill as the light from the fading day flowed generously through the windows of neighbouring offices, as if peach cider being poured into a goblet of crystal. But Scrooge paid this little heed. His eyes, squinted from want of blinking, were, like his nose, lost in a series of open ledgers upon his desk, which he eyed with an expression of impatience and pique.
His own office possessed a small window of iron bars with small holes at the base for the changing of money, from which Scrooge might keep his eye upon the Bookkeepers as well as the Head Clerk. In the case of the former, there were 10 in total, some old, some young, some with families some without, all with their noses deep in their registries while the Clark, a young, short, willowy lad of 19 years, who sat nearby them in a dismal little cell above, a sort of tank, was copying letters. There were two coal boxes between both employer and employee.
Both were of regular size, yet both fires were so meagre, that the junior clerks, shivering with frost upon their stools, found their ink begin to ice over in their pots, their own fire being so slight that it appeared to be made of but 5 coals.
Scrooge's window gave a commanding view of the Head Clerk, who's own scuttle sat next to his desk. Scrooge and Marley regulated the usage of the coal at all times. The Clerk could not replenish it without the employers' sanction and so surely as the clerk laid hand upon the shovel, the disapproving, iron gaze of the master would instantly cause him such fear for his position as to send him dejectedly back to his books.
The opening of the door and the purl of the brass bell altered Scrooge to the return of Marley from his chore. Past the staff he strode, never giving them so much as a wish for the upcoming season. Under his arm, he carried sought after financial tabloids, obtained from his return journey, which he brought into the counting-house before roughly laying them upon the table before the younger partner.
"The Exchange is closing on the 24th early, I hear.'' This the elder said as he sat at his place at the table, facing the younger. " To "Honour the Season," or so says the Beadle.''
"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!" He said this last word with such sincerity, did Scrooge, that for a brief flash of time, one could see themselves sympathizing with such a statement.
''Eh?" came the reply. "Which Humbug per-say? The Beadle?''
''Christmas, to be sure!" Said Scrooge with slight indignance, for he had always respected the Beadle and his work with the constabulary, particularly when the lawman's great staff fell upon the unwitting heads of long-overdue debtors. "No doubt the Royal Exchange will follow suit."
"And so it must, by law." Marley reasoned. "But, if you'll forgive me for this point, I do not recall you ever using such language towards Christmas as you have with other festivals."
"I can only regret such a delay," returned the younger man, "with the deepest of remorse! I ask you this, Jacob. What good has Christmas ever done you or I? What is it but a mockery of commercial enterprise? A time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? Look at the staff accounts for yourself and see how near this damned holiday has come to ruin us!"
Saying this he slid across the table the tome detailing staff payment. Marley, without hesitation, began reading the open pages. Upon doing so, his sultana skinned lips drooped, his head shook with the greatest disappointment as a few stay "Tsk tsks" exited through his teeth.
"You see now then?" sneered Scrooge bitterly through closed teeth. "This is what Christmas means to us, my friend! Our Bookkeepers, barely worth their salt, slacking, gossiping idly of personal matters whenever our backs are turned to them, rather than putting their minds to honest imperial capital! Picking our pockets every 25th of December, to top it all! How can we be taken seriously as either Moneylenders or Merchants under such circumstances, I ask you? Humbug!"
"Come now." Replied Marley, with a hint of fright, brought on by his companion's outburst. "My dear Ebenezer. Surely, you don't think I am against you on this point? The mad frivolity and foolishness of the season have always caused me some form of revulsion! The beggars, the devil take them, holding out their hats and ratting their cups, the maddening din of children singing carols at one's doorstep, without invitation to boot! Not to mention, the demand for abundant charity at our expense!"
"And so it shall be always." replied the resigned Scrooge. "'Till a new age of enlightenment dawns upon us. But, back to the matter of the dolts, if I may..."
"Yes! Of course." said Jacob, dutifully. "Perhaps then a reduction in staff, a streamlining if you will, is overdue? I suppose it is so. As you say, we have been taken advantage of." he added, taking from his own inkpot a pen of modernity and putting the bib to a blank, lined sheet. Doing so, he tapped the side of his hooked nose with the end of the stylus, his thin eyebrow arching, causing him to appear both interesting and interested all at once. "Hmm, yes. What say you then, Ebenezer? A half reduction in staff? No? Perhaps only a third reduction will be necessary?"
"99.9% reduced." corrected Scrooge coldly, in such a tone as to cause Marley's pen to fall silent. "All excused, save for one."
"Cratchit?" enquired his elder tradesman.
"Cratchit." confirmed the younger. His eyes cast a glance beyond the barred window, where the young Cratchit, Head of the Clerks, was dutifully continuing his work at a record pace, almost as if in a dream, as the bookkeepers slowly and meticulously toiled whilst speaking of the blessed day ahead. "There!" said Scrooge with hushed determination. "Out there upon that stoop sits the key to our relief! An idiot he may be, but in mind, he's as old and wise as we shall be in 10 years. You were wise, Jacob, to bring him on as you did. I see this now and I apologize for ever doubting you."
"Dear Scrooge." reassured Marley. "There was never anything to forgive. I admit I had mild doubts to start with myself. Of course, the boy could easily keep this business in continuation long after we are gone, and I have spoken to him on this subject many times, yet he possesses no desire to take our places. Curious, isn't it?"
"Yet," Scrooge quickly countered, "He's precise, quick and rarely questions. As loyal as a dog and with half the intellect. He needs no underlings and requires no other company than our own. Why, he alone could easily handle the numbers and juggle the books for many a year solitarily. Let us keep that which is needed and endeavour to do without the dead weight!" Saying this he took a pen which had, by no deliberation, been left out to dry and dunked it back into it's well with such force, that Marley was almost ceased by the urge to cup his hands around it, less it smash on impact with the nib.
"First-rate!" said he with a nod of false wisdom. "Now then, are there any other...''
But his sentence was stifled by another clink of the doorbell. This was followed by a small, meek figure of middle-age, curled, brown hair thinning on top and fattish below. So thin and ragged were his clothes, that it might have almost been appropriate to have him brought up on a charge of indecency. He was so timid and so full of stress, this tenant of one of many houses, the title deeds of which the company held so, that as he approached the front desk, the lesser clerks could only hang their heads and say a silent prayer for his divine protection.
"It's Applegate." said Scrooge with an underlying sense of abhorrence. "No doubt seeking to explain his lapse in mortgage payments and obtain another costly delay. Stay put, Jacob. I shall attend to this." The partner gave an understanding nod, as Scrooge rose from his chair slowly, but with intent. Carefully ceasing a simple, yet thick wooden cane from his stand, he opened the door, expressing to the hapless Applegate, in all subtlety, how unwell the older man was met in terms of his lack of payment upon a house he and his family claimed to so cherish.
"Please, Mr Scrooge!" begged the tenant with little hope but with quick delivery. "I know you're very angry about this and I didn't mean to fall behind in the payments. Lord knows, it bein' so close to Christmas n' all. Oh, please don't shout at me, sir!" Scrooge didn't shout. On the contrary! He spoke not a word as he began to gently lead Applegate by the scruff of his coat, away from the desk, past the two rows of clerks, past the solemn Cratchit and towards the front door. "That and, of course," continued to desperate Applegate, "Little Gwen. Her lungs aren't right. The Doctor takes his share, don't 'ee? I mean you can yell and scream and, of course, you're right, but it won't do no good! 'Cause I'm the stone you can't squeeze blood from and that's the..."
His last word, that being "Truth", was cut short as Scrooge, with a passion, deposited him outside and slammed the door in his face. And yet, this poor man, Applegate, filled as he was with Christmas Spirit, still saw it fit to thank his Landlord and Creditor for not raising his voice to him. Upon marching back towards the Counting Office, said Creditor heard the voice of Cratchit, raised in early but glad Christmas greeting towards the unfortunate debtor. "There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge; upon reentering the hole. "Our clerk, with thirteen shillings a week, a widowed mother and engaged to a girl without a Half Crown to her name, talking about a Merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam."
"You are quite still sane, I think." reassured Marley, who now, perhaps from the lateness of the day was, himself, sounding quite tired of these affairs. "Now, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, is there any further business I should be aware of?''
"Indeed there is then." replied Scrooge, retaking his seat. "You are aware, I hope, of the situation regarding the auctioning of the Fezziwig Savings Bank's main warehouse?"
"How could I not?" came the answer. "It seems but only yesterday that you and I left our apprenticeship there to start all of this. I was not the least bit surprised to hear of the bank's bankruptcy after Old Fezziwig's death. It was only a matter of time, given his foolish ways."
"As I well recall," said Scrooge, "It was you, Jacob, who was quick to point out how reckless Fezziwig's addiction to charity was to us in the long term."
"And rightfully so!" cried Marley with great pride. "In truth, I dare say that his soft weak brain and soft heart left more accounts overdue than paid than any other venture in the city! Ruination was a judgment upon him. I am grateful, Ebenezer, that I was able to persuade you to join me in taking our leave from his asylum of future paupers before it was too late."
"Be that as it may," Scrooge said with concern. "there currently sits in the East End a barely maintained warehouse going cheap. For the changing of money, it holds no value, but I have come into possession of a great quantity of meat from an abattoir in Essex. With the right refrigeration and storage, we can easily make it of use to us. I've prepared a bid for the Auction already, but with your wise advice in business matters, I believe we can secure the building without fail."
During the detailing of his plan, Marley remained seated. Not speaking, but silently nodding and grunting with interested affirmation, as if an emperor on his throne, hearing the light of some lesser aristocrat for he did, after all, quite value what little seniority he held over Scrooge. "I also hear," he said at length, "that you are not the only interested party determined to lay hands on the property."
Scrooge slowly gazed up at his friend with slight annoyance, as if he had been dreading this item of conversation since the occasion of the upcoming sale had been brought up. "Are you referring to the big planned by Belle Fezziwig, per-chance?" he inquired slowly.
"I do."
"What of it?" snapped Scrooge, somewhat defensively. "It matters little to me, I assure you, if you somehow believe I have any consideration left for her."
"Of course not." soothed Marley. "I mention it only that it comes to mind just now. No doubt, she intends to revive the old family ways, for women-owned businesses are, I hear, quite fashionable nowadays, provided the woman is unmarried, of course."
"She intends," barked Scrooge correctively, "to continue the self-destructive policies of her father. That which has left her without inheritance. Foolish girl! Humbug to her as well! No doubt, she sees the bank as her birthright. Regardless, she must and will be corrected!"
"And we shall be the firm hands that do so!" finished Marley with a thump to the table. "Shall we deal with both affairs tonight?"
"At my own chambers." Marley insisted. "As they are closer to here than your apartment and more well lit than the counting-house. I take it you have an ideal date for the booting of the excess staff?"
"The 25th of this month, as it happens." replied Scrooge with hushed finality. Then, in a grotesque bid for humour, he added. ''Owing to the season, shall we send off the severance in Christmas Cards?"
A sly and wicked grin crossed Marley's face as this was uttered. "A braver move," said he, mock poetically "was never made on such a "Holy" Season."
To this, naturally, Scrooge answered with yet another "Bah!" before following once more with "Humbug." But this he said, not only quietly so as not to be heard, but with a cold, hollow smirk. It was as if, in that instance, the Devil had taken them both in his grip, with little intention of giving either man any form of release.
Time passed on. Soon, the spirit of evening herself made her grand but silent entrance with her star drenched, glittering cloak to banish the sun entirely with gentle persuasion and so, with her arrival, came the fog. So thick it was that people ran about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at the moneylenders out of a Gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there.
The cold became intense. In the main street, at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice.
The brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows, made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a Lord Mayor's household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef. All the while, Scrooge and Marley waited with patience for the hour of shutting to make itself known.
Soon enough, this hour came and upon the bitter admittance of this from their masters, the unsuspecting Bookkeepers happily relayed the proclamation to their gracious leader. Soon, all was a buzz as the grabbing of coats, hats and canes comenced in earnest, Bob Cratchit, naturally, supervised all as the employees made ready the work of closing up. Bob, seizing his own hat and coat, ever eager to return home to his widowed mother to talk of the day's events and discuss, at great length, the upcoming Christmas season with his beloved Emily, was most eager of all that the job should be done ahead of time.
"Your work this week has been somewhat exceptional, Cratchit." Scrooge said unemotionally, approaching the head clerk. "No doubt, I shall have no choice before long but to raise your salary by two shillings."
The Clerk smiled. The employer didn't.
"No doubt, your standing within the company should be raised also." added Scrooge.
"I would hope not to be promoted too soon, sir." The Clerk responded, nervously, praying he did not sound ungrateful. "I might be quick to forget where I came from. Mr. Marley has often stated..."
"Mr, Marley and I have discussed this." interrupted Scrooge with deadpan disinterest. "You shall be keeping your current employment with the firm. It's your position itself that will be raised in importance, though I cannot explain the full details to you at this time." The clerk professed that he understood that his master had his reasons for such secrecy, whatever they may be. Needless to say, he was also quick to express his gratitude afterwards, unaware of both Scrooge and Marley's true intentions in the matter. Following this exchange, the two owners left with younger trailing behind older and then, when on the wider streets, side by side, departed without so much as a "Good Night" to their faithful workers.
The office was cleared within minutes. All of the lesser clerks gladly wished their head an early Merry Christmas before going on their way to wait ever impatiently for the day to arrive. Some had still a great deal of purchases to enact for both gifts of the heart and feasts of the stomach. Others, wiser and more readily prepared than the younger and more lackadaisical of their workmates, returned home to try for eight days more to resist the temptations of gluttony for the sake of the Saviour's birthday celebrations and instead, pay more the little attentions to the families they had longed for the whole day.
Others still, on their way to either of these aforementioned tasks of the heart, found themselves gloriously tricked into being children again either by tempting ice slides, helping with the construction of snowmen, or quickly becoming unsuspecting soldiers in a battle of snowballs.
Bob Cratchit himself, did as I have described previously and at once was off like a shot to where he and his dear mother lived in their poor, but warm abode in Camden Town, where he soon made plans for his marriage to his beloved, due the upcoming Spring.
Scrooge and Marley took their usual dinner at their usual Inn, whist pouring over the Newspapers, both Financial and Informative. But Scrooge's mind or cares could not have been more removed from either his meal or the goings-on abroad, for his concentration was firmly locked upon the matter of the Fezziwig Warehouse and the Auction, among other matters.
I must, therefore, ask you to recall, if you can, that Scrooge had done all in his own power to remove the phantasm of Belle Fezziwig, his former master's eldest daughter and his former fiance from his haunted memory. This, as you may well have discerned from him and Marley's earlier discussion, had failed miserably and Scrooge was no more telling the truth to his partner when he'd stated that Belle's daily life meant nothing to him now than if he had declared that Cheese was a breed of Rhinoceros that dwelled at the Bottom of the Ocean.
In truth, it was Scrooge's desperation to escape the memory of his own regret that had been the cause of his shifted behaviour. It had all to do with a comment Belle had made regarding his past self and driven by a dangerous combination of spite and pride to separate said past self from his current state, in much the way as the great outlaws of Sherwood are reported to have been driven by both patriotism and honour to victimize the rich, he now sought to inflict the same humiliation on Belle in the name of less noble ends and intentions. What better way then, than by spiriting away Belle's birthright and make doubly sure that in the eyes of not only her but himself and all others, that he was, after all, quite the irredeemable, underhanded miser.
Undoubtedly, it was this surge of ill will that had strengthened his resolve to dismiss his bookkeepers, as while Scrooge had, in the past, been reasonably lenient and, perhaps in his own mind, Kind and even soft-hearted towards them, in spite of the cold attitude he displayed outwardly, their removal from his life would surely alienate himself further from Belle and thus, his own foolish youth. Soon, he would have security of the mind as well as from the bailiff. Yet, even now, Scrooge felt a sense of dread that perhaps, in some way, things were not to work out as he would like.
The fog of the evening was darkened more-so by the coming of night. Making their way past begger women and a group of young boys singing carols at them, the two men made their way from the tavern to Marley's dismal chambers. A lowering pile of building up a yard it was, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again.
Despite this, the suite was not as gloomy as one would think it to be, owing to Marley not being as unreasonably thrifty as Scrooge. So, he walked ahead, due to having the only key to both the iron gate which stood like an enormous, black sentry in defence of the dwelling and the house itself, while Scrooge, with vengeful self-reinvention still firmly on his mind, lagged behind in the courtyard.
The fog by now was so heavy, that he was forced to grope with his hands to find his way around. No easy feat to be sure, and it was certainly this that caused him to overlook a small stone in the far right-hand side of the yard, which sent him tumbling to the ground and the account books which had been holding and that held therein the rough draft of his plans for the warehouse purchase as well as the blank pages to relay the matters of termination, tumbling through the air before landing in a mound of snow.
Upon hearing his friend's cry and fall, Marley looked over with the full intention of helping Ebenezer to his feet. He quickly drew back at once though, upon seeing the near demonic anger upon Scrooge's own face that caused his triangular chin to seem like some sort of triangular dagger of skin and bone.
A lesser man might have flown into a violent rage at such an indignity, but Scrooge held strong, suppressed the passionate emotions as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and breathed heavily through his teeth. All the while, his enraged mind thinking up newer and more callous acts on which he would perpetrate upon his customers and it was within the instance where Scrooge was about to strike a pile of snow, imagining it to be the face of Applegate, as he was never one to strike a woman, that the event occurred.
Now, it is a fact that Marley's home was located at a fair distance from the nearest railway station. This being at a time where the companies lacked the permission to penetrate through either the West End or The City itself. Locally, the nearest convenience was to be found at Euston a borough away.
It is also a fact that, even if this was not the case, no director or Cheif Engineer in existence would be so grasped by lunacy, as to have tracks placed through the streets of the city itself, let alone across a gentleman's courtyard. Let it also be borne in mind that both men were, in most cases, possessed of as much health mentally as you or I, (this I say with the hope that you are as described, as a mind is a woeful thing to lose) and then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that as Scrooge was about to perform assault on the lesser elements, that suddenly and without warning, in a flash of mellow light and seemingly out of the Aether, both he and Marley heard the unmistakable sound of a train passing right by their ears!
Scrooge let out a scream, half of panic half of confusion and scrambling away from the clattering and ringing behind him, found both himself and Marley staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed in awe at, as ludicrous as it may sound, a long line of railway carriages in the street outside the yard!
To those more enthusiastic about the composition of railways and their traction than this aetherial event, I will describe, with goodwill, these coaches to the best of my ability. They were, in all appearance, of London and North Western origin. 4 wheeled and Standard. Boxy in design and cream painted above with the usual Maroon below. What so set them apart from their brothers and indeed, what made the men so fearful of them was that from their narrow windows, a dismal green light, like that from a bad lobster in a dark cellar, shone through with such intensity that the passengers within, if passengers there were, could not be seen from a distance, or up close.
Upon thinking about said occupants, Scrooge's heart quickly skipped a beat in horror. He may have grown cold to man's destitution, but he was not so cruel in conscience as to be unaffected by such a seeming disaster as this! Yet, when he came towards the train, expecting to see the houses on the right side of the street damaged or reduced to rubble, he instead discovered, to his own astonishment, that rather than having demolished the neighbourhood, the train had seemingly melded into it, as if it had been built into the street itself. Not even the dirty gravel road beneath its axels had been the least bit disturbed.
Stranger still, this train had been travelling at a pace faster than any had known to history and yet, in spite of this incredible record-breaking feat, the engine that had performed it and was so richly deserving of a royal banner from Her Majesty herself, was not to be found. Indeed, as Marley joined the trembling form of his partner at the open gate, both men looked left and right, but could see nothing but the carriages, stretching on seemingly into infinity. The men gaped at it in terror and wonder. It was as if the world has been turned on its head and all sanity had been, conceptually, abolished.
"I-it's Humbug!" stammered the unnerved Scrooge as he closed his eyes and shook his head to try and rid his vision of the apparition of the train. "I-I cannot believe it! We mustn't believe it, Marley! Do you hear me? We mustn't believe!"
"But I do..." whispered Marley fearfully shaking his head, eyes wide as if his mind was slowly unwinding into madness. "I must. You can see it also, can you not, Ebenezer? How can we doubt our senses when both faced with this?"
"Talk sense, Man!" Cried Scrooge attempting to slam shut the gate and finding, much to his chagrin and fear that by powers far beyond his own, he could not. "This is nothing more than a shared hallucination, most likely brought on by the stress of dealing with our moronic clientele! Perhaps compounded with a disorder of the stomach! This..."train" might be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of Raisin than of Rail about this, whatever it is!"
Marley turned his head to look at Scrooge. His features now chilled, not by avarice, but by horror. He now suspected the train to be some sort of sign that they had not made it to his home alive and that this express had come to ferry them to the rings of perdition. Now, he was grasped with the fear that Scrooge's ill-timed decision to crack a joke had offended whatever force was driving it and that their serviced journey would be nearly as torturous as the destination and therefore, most likely Parliamentary.
But how much greater was his horror when, as if blasted by a sudden arctic gale, the iron gate was pushed asunder, sending the men backwards as, without the aid of any visible porter, the middle door of the middlemost carriage swung violently open! This was quickly proceeded by a small, crude block of wooden steps that, held on by latches, fell from the doorway to the street with a dull thud. Unlike the illuminations beyond the windows, the door revealed nothing but pitch darkness and nothing else.
The first and foremost instinct of both men, as it very well might have been your own, was to attempt to run from this unknown transportation to the safety of the house behind them, though Scrooge showed this less-so than his terrified partner, although his expression had now altered to one of noticeable worry. Yet, as both men stared into the mysterious light of the doorway, a crazed resolve possessed them both. It purged them of fear and of common sense, leaving behind only child-like curiosity in its wake.
With their mental barriers and will removed, the men found themselves walking, as if in a trance, out of the yard, across the street and up the wooden stairs towards the blackness of the open doorway. For a brief microcosm of a moment, there was an instance where Marley, who was in front of Scrooge and whose feet were on the top step, regained his senses and might have attempted to jump from the block and run down the street screaming into the mist, had it not been that in that instance, the pure darkness within the corridor was rapidly replaced, in all sides but the centre, by a vortex of pure light that, as if the horn of Gabriel sent to call the faithful and unfaithful up to the final judgement, transcended the boundaries of its domain, leapt upon he who stood with the ferocity of a snake and, with a sharp squeal, dragged him by hideous vacuum into the recesses of the coach!
At last, Scrooge's outward courage fell away upon witnessing this nightmarish sight! He screamed out Marley's name in fear and despair and with tears forming in his eyes, he attempted to turn and flee from the railless abomination. All too soon, he found it impossible to do so, as the vortex dragged him, stumbling, up the stairs and through the doorway. In desperation, Scrooge grabbed with his right hand the edge of the door while his left shot towards the handle of its neighbour!
There he was, trapped in the iron grip of a force unknown to man, with the familiar world he had so taken for granted out of reach! I cannot begin to tell you what jumbled, bizarre thoughts of confusion went through Scrooge's mind, for in the space of only three seconds, his grip gave way and with a terrifying scream of pure, primal fear, uttered only by the shaking sinner upon his death-bed, Ebenezer Scrooge found himself hurtling through light for but a brief moment, before, in the next, all fell once more to darkness!
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2020.09.14 19:12 OpheliaCyanide [The Extramundane Emancipation of Geela, Evil Sorceress at Large] --- Chapter 31: A Lesson on Various Schools of Magic (Comedy Fantasy)

Synopsis: After hoodwinking Darkos, a holy priest, into escorting her back to her castle, Dark Enchantress Geela has one item left on her list: revenge on her ex-husband. With a confused Darkos in tow, she sets out. However, Geela isn't the only one with secrets. And Barney isn't the only old enemy who's about to get a visit.
Index Previous Chapter Next Chapter on Friday!
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A sharp rap on the door silenced all viewers as the guard at the head of the formation banged on the door three times.
“Celestial City Silver Guard,” the woman said. “Open the door immediately.”
The door did not open but Darkos could feel a cool mist fill the air around them. It wasn’t quite damp, in fact it didn’t really feel like he felt it at all, but he still felt it, if that made any sense. He inhaled deeply but didn’t smell anything either.
Then he caught a withering look from Geela. She pointed at the door, then the air, then him, then his hand and really, Darkos rather felt like she was doing as poor a job communicating whatever she was trying to say as he had trying to explain to himself the cool misty feeling that almost felt like—
“Magic,” she hissed in his ear. “That’s tidal, get your damn ring on.”
As Darkos fumbled with his ring, he felt a powerful sense of deju vu wash over him before disappearing. Geela tilted her head, lips parted.
“Oh this will be very interesting.”
One of the Silver Guards looked back at the two, a stern please-don’t-interfere look on his face, just as Darkos slipped his ring of fields on. He gave the guard a nervous little wave but before he could say anything (not that he necessarily would have but...) an incredibly unpleasant sucking noise gurgled through the streets and suddenly Darkos was standing in ankle-deep water.
“Right, this is the other thing,” Geela said, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt and pulling him several steps away. “The Silver Guards are not responsible for the safety of any spectators. Throw something down for us to stand on!”
Darkos looked down to fire a field only to find that he was not, in fact, standing in water. Rather he was up to his shins in… the street.
“Did they melt the street?”
“Right. Fields.” He shot down a large bowl-shaped sphere which the two stepped into, watery rock still dripping off his feet. “What is that? It’s not melted.”
“Darkos.” She gave him her sweetest smile, the one that had failed to win over pretty much anyone she’d ever flashed it at. “I have a flawless memory. I will recall everything that happens here and recount it to you in stiflingly boring detail if you want. For now just focus.”
It was a good thing she reminded him, for just as he’d turned back to where the Silver Guard had knocked on the door, the door itself flew off its hinges into the wall on the other side of the alleyway and a group of a half dozen people, all dressed far finer than Darkos would’ve expected given the neighborhood, exited. Two had their hands up, but two held their knives to the throats of two women, who both had their hands tied behind their backs.
“Steady and ready with those fields, Darkos,” Geela muttered.
“They look like they’re going to—”
The liquidy rock, or whatever it was, suddenly shot into the air around them. The affected area of street stretched about ten feet up and down from the door, so none of the bystanders besides Darkos and Geela were impacted but if Darkos hadn’t sealed the field around them like lickity split, they’d have been drenched.
And ‘drenched’ in whatever the road was now composed of seemed to be very bad, as he could hear more than see it hissing and melting against his shield. Within a second or two, the sludge had fallen but now a dazzling glow emanated from a golden orb floating in the midst of the six. Darkos could tell which had caused the eruption, a finely dressed young man with wild eyes and heavy facial hair, who’d previously had his hands in the air. His eyes and the eyes of all but the hostages held to the globe. Though one of the women who had previously been detained now seemed to be free…
“Ooh, guard number three had better pay attention,” Geela said. She glanced at Darkos and tsked, rolling her eyes. “Oh alright. Rock geyser is the unholy child of tidal and earth magic. It delays the heat reaction of melting the stone for a short while.” She seemed to have, in a very short period of time, forgotten her insistence to tell him after. “That’s an Obred Orb,” she whispered, voice unable to contain her excitement. “It’s a Godsent Apparition.”
“It’s hypnotizing them?” Darkos asked, watching their transfixed gazes, especially of the two up front.
“No. Killing them.”
At her words, the two up front slumped to the ground just as something, what looked like a snake launched at one of the guards in the back. The guard who’d been attacked stepped back so fast that it looked as though she’d been flung, had it not been for how deftly she landed.
“Ooh, don’t know if you noticed that detainee in the back slipped her ropes—”
“I did!” Darkos said. excitedly.
“—but that hostage slipped her rope, which is now what’s attacking the guard.”
Darkos looked at the snake-like thing, which had gotten very large very quickly and was also now on fire.
“Oh, that seems like an actual real threat.” He tried to step backwards but only ended up tipping the spherical field they were in and toppling over. But he barely even noticed the tumble as his eyes were still fixated on the rope-snake.
“The Silver Guard it went for? She’s the psychic. Her concentration’s broken so it’ll be interesting to see who comes to watch.” Geela’s eyes darted towards the doors lining the road, hungry for even more complications.
Darkos was watching the massive rope-snake, which was now sprouting littler rope-snakes, battle the psychic guard, who was also hurling icy balls of silver light at it.
Meanwhile, another guard had surrounded both previously-assumed-hostages with a twinkling light that made Darkos smile to look at. The way the glitter kinda just… floated.
“Floated,” he said, blinking sleepily.
“Floated— Darkos, snap out of it.” A hand popped in front of his face and snapped twice, clearing his head briefly. His stomach turned and he flipped onto his knees, suddenly very ready to vomit. “A lot of cosmic light is optically transmitted,” Geela said. “I should’ve warned you. Dammit, one second.”
Darkos was just about ready to throw up on her shoes when a pair of spectacles fell to the ground.
“Put those on. They’ll dilute the power, specially since it’s not aimed at you.”
He shoved the rhinestone embedded glasses on and looked back at the fight.
“Better? Cause I want to show you what she’s doing.” Geela pointed at a third Silver Guard, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground. Or technically floated a few inches over the ground, since the cobblestones were still kinda liquid. “She’s fixing the ground so that the others can fight more effectively. Right now they’re all casting hover foot, which is the most exhausting way of playing ‘the floor is lava’ but until the ground is stable, they need to keep their feet from touching the road.”
Darkos looked down at the molted ground that his force field had sunk into. “Will this hold?”
“Against some molten rocks?” She scoffed. “I think it’ll manage. Now look at him.” Geela pointed to the fourth of the Silver Guard who was locked in some kind of ornate dance with the remaining two criminals. Darkos could neither see nor feel any kind of magic.
“What… what are they doing?”
“Oh it’s absolutely fascinating, I haven’t seen one of those waltzes in ages.”
Darkos felt lightning magic, a crackle in the air, swell and rumble as if it wanted to launch but couldn’t. The guard himself moved in an elegant frenzy, reminding Darkos of his parents’ old farm cat who sometimes killed mice, except the mice were invisible. Or actually, maybe the mice weren’t there at all and the cat was crazy cause Darkos would sense invisible mice.
“Why can’t I see what’s going on?” he finally asked, a bit defeated at, once again, being the oblivious one.
“Cause nothing’s happened yet.”
The lightning mage looked more and more concerned as he continued launching what should be attacks. Or maybe the attacks would have happened if the guard wasn’t always a few steps ahead.
“Why can’t I feel what’s going on?”
“You already have. I love temporal magic.”
Suddenly a million lines zipped into being around the two combatants, tracing a pattern, weaving a massive web around the lightning mage.
“Look away if you don’t like gore,” Geela said, far too late for Darkos to do anything, as the web constricted immediately, dicing its trapped occupants into—
Then Darkos did throw up and Geela made a noise. “Not in the shield! Darkos, my shoes.”
“That was—that was absolutely—”
She sighed. “I promise, you’ll understand it when this is over.”
Then Darkos felt a pressure against the sides of the orb as the molten ground solidified.
“Oh and they’re out of time. Shame, I’d wanted to see this go on longer.” Geela’s lips stuck out in a pout. “I was hoping some neighbors would join the fray.”
Darkos looked at the doors along the road. At some of the windows, he could see faces peering out like children watching a circus. Actually it was a little too much like children watching a circus. They were unnervingly excited about whatever was happening.
“You’re still gonna debrief me, right?” he asked, still panting.
“Naturally. I’m not expecting you to keep up.”
The psychic guard unleashed a dizzying wave of magic that rendered her opponent, the rope-snake mage, stunned. The woman fell to the ground, eyes wide and vacant, pupils mismatched.
The guard who’d sat cross-legged on the ground sprung to her feet and her eyes rolled back in her sockets, revealing an unnerving orange color.
“Ah ah, and that’s our cue!” Geela hastily pulled the ring off Darkos’s finger and dropped it to the ground.
As it fell, a slither of black snaked around the band, so fast Darkos thought maybe he’d imagined it.
“Rather cruel,” Geela shouted at the woman. “Could get some people hurt!”
The guards naturally paid her no mind but the final two criminals had, meanwhile, crumpled to the ground, probably very dead.
Then Darkos let out a long breath, one he’d probably held through the whole battle, even through the vomiting. The breath was long enough that if they were still in the force field, it probably would have started floating.
Geela, meanwhile, just surveyed the carnage with an impressed look. “For your quick debrief,” she said, “the Silver Guards primarily utilized psionics, cosmic-celestial magic, temporal magic, and anti-magic, in that order. The criminals used tidal and earth, tried to use lightning, and that rope snake thing was either enchanting or transfiguration. Really, for six combatants, I was hoping for a better show.” She knelt down and scooped up Darkos's ring. "This should be good now, without the blasted guards trying to kill any active magic users in the area."
He licked his lips, mouth still tasting funny. “So um..." he replayed her rapid-fire explanation in her head. "Temporal magic, that was the weird dance thing?”
“Did you get a weird sense of deja vu before the fight?” By now Geela was all but ignoring the Silver Guard as they entered the abode proper. She was too busy cleaning her shoes.
“That was the temporal magic. You always feel it before it’s cast.” She shuddered but her lips held a delighted smile. “One of these days I’ll try it but oh is it unsteady. It was shocking to see used so casually in a sting operation. A quick summary of how it worked is that the guard was drawing points to be connected by lines of energy. He drew them knowing the exact position of his enemy a few seconds in the future because…” she waved a hand. “Temporal magic.”
Geela was an absolutely fascinating magic-user, Darkos would never deny that. But in the past five minutes, his mind was opened to the sheer absurdity of the world of the arcane arts. It blew his brain into another dimension and he had a million questions, each tripping over themselves to spill out his mouth.
“Mhm.” She nodded and sighed, giving up on the shoes.
Then there was a shout and the sound of heavy armor jingling and soon the Silver Guard exited the house, escorting about twenty people.
“Accomplices of the Regar family,” the temporal guard started, “your superiors have been charged with thirty-nine accounts of direct murder, a hundred and seventy-two accounts of indirect murder…” he wrinkled his nose and sighed. “Four thousand three hundred and ninety-three accounts of breaking and entering, the smuggling of over two thousand pounds of sparkle noodles…”
Darkos watched the miserable accomplices, hearing their fates being sealed by the guard who was rapidly growing less interested in specifics. Several were crying, a few were pleading, a couple were groveling. Some, such as a large man with red hair and a scrawny woman with silvery blue eyes, peered over at the crowds, desperately. The woman especially seemed to be staring right at Darkos and Geela, crying silently.
“And at least a million accounts of battery.” He straightened his shoulders, which had started to slouch during the reading of charges. “Do you have anyone to advocate for you?”
“That man!” called one of the watchers, an older woman with a big nose. “I’ll take him.”
The guard nodded and held out an ID pad to her. She pulled the pad and stamped it with her thumb while the guards set about chaining the remaining accomplices together. Finally the old woman returned the pad with her ID, which the guard verified before handing off the fat man.
“You know what happens if he doesn’t return for his court date,” the guard said. “There are no second chances. You can find more information on—”
“I’ll take her!”
Darkos jumped at the voice, which sounded eerily like Geela’s. Then he turned to see that Geela, had in fact, advocated for one of the prisoners. The woman with the pale eyes.
The guards didn’t bat an eye even as Darkos’s jaw unhinged in shock. Why was Geela doing this? Did she know the woman? Hadn’t Geela been gone for fifty plus years? How would she know someone so young. And why was Geela risking their mission just for this woman?
The guard handed over the ID pad and Darkos’s stomach clenched. Geela couldn’t just give up her identity! They’d kill her on the spot.
But no, Darkos should have had more faith. As the guards began unchaining the wisp of a woman, Geela calmly reached into her bag and pulled out an ID card. As soon as the guards’ eyes turned for even an eighth of a second, Geela pulled out the fake thumb from earlier and stamped the pad. Then the thumb was gone again, up her sleeves and she handed the pad and the poor trader’s ID over.
“Alright.” He passed the sobbing woman, who looked ready to faint, over to Geela. “You know what happens if he doesn’t return for his court date,” the guard said. “There are no second chances. You can find more information on court appearances, including the location of her allocated courthouse and all proper procedures, including bylaws and penalties, in your local library—”
“Thanks.” Geela bared a fierce smile at the man before grabbing the woman’s skinny wrist. “‘Preciate it. Come on, Jane.”
As soon as they were just a little out of earshot, the woman began hyperventilating, completely breaking down.
“Angelina, Angelina, oh gods thank you. Oh sweet pony of the sun thank you. Oh thank you to the realms and back and—”
She stopped, probably reeling from the nasty slapped Geela had just planted on her face.
“Look,” Geela said. “I don’t like you. I’m not sure if that’s relevant, but I think you ought to know. I also have very little concern for your life so if this arrangement between us becomes no longer beneficial, I’ll give you back to the guards.”
The woman stared, dazedly at the two. “What arrangement?” she finally asked, a question Darkos himself had been wondering.
“Oh, the one I’m going to fill you in on in a few minutes, once we get to our damned inn.” Geela eyed up and down the road before pulling a rag out of her bag. “Dry your eyes. We’ve got a long trip and your tears are attention-grabbing.”
“Geela…” Darkos started.
She waved a hand. “Alright yes, one minute.” She snatched the rag back as soon as the woman, Jane’s, eyes were dry and a bit less bloodshot. “Jane, this is Darkos. Darkos, this is… well, it’s not the one we were looking for back in Spirebrook, but this is Jane Arlington. One of the worst drug traffickers I’ve ever met and clearly not working for a group that’s much better. Now I need both of your cooperation to get to the Lounging Loon. There I will finally explain to you, dear,” she pinched Jane’s cheek, “what we need from our soon-to-be guide to the Celestial City’s criminal underbelly.”
Ahhh everyone's favorite sparkle noodle dealer is back (favorite? Maybe? Did anyone but Geela remember her from Spirebrook?)
What did you think of the little duel? Excited as Geela or shocked as Darkos?
I'm back to twice a week so I'll see you on Friday!
Also quick postscript because I've been meaning to mention is, but if you want a place to interact with me or any of the other writers/readers on Reddit Serials, consider joining our discord! It's not a personal discord for Geela since I'm not sure if there's quite the demand for that but there are channels specifically for discussing the stories and there are a lot of cool people, so check it out if you're interested in meeting some writers and readers and having some fun :D
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2020.09.14 10:27 Oculusfluffy Policefluffs 2: Stake by Oculus (xpost from fluffybooru)

Policefluffs 2: Stake by Oculus (xpost from fluffybooru)
Originally posted on:
Previous chapter:
“Mummah wuv Buddie! Am bestest babbeh!”
The Yehdoo brought her two front legs around her son and kept him in a tight embrace, and Buddy felt a bit embarrassed. As required for his evaluation, Buddy was brought back to Hasbio every quarter, both for examination, and enrichment through parental contact.
“Fwuffy wuv mummah tu.” “Buddy am a good fwuff? Be good fwuff for da hummehs?” “Yus mummah. Buddy am good fwuff. Wowked hawd as a powice fwuff.”
Buddy’s mother, Flavia, smiled. A pedigree Yehdoo, she had nice puffy cheeks and a thick pink coat. Her legs were long, and an emblem of a hare in sprint on her flank indicated a past history as a racing fluffy. That was in her younger days. Now, as a trained Yehdoo, she spends most of her days training younger fluffies of her breed as a coach for races, and for some, as an instructor for guide fluffies for the blind.
As Buddy hugged her in return, he took a good look at his surroundings. A two storied area, complete with a television, areas for exercise, items for enrichment, a staircase to practise climbing, and to reach the beds in the second level. Home, he thinks. Not the same as the harder kennels and barracks he had become accustomed to, but it was welcome comfort. There was another fluffy here to see Buddy in the abode. Standing at the mid-section of the staircase, was a white fluffy, of the Waggytail breed. However, unlike other Waggytails, or most other fluffies, he carried himself in a dignified manner. He had a black mane and tail, and wore glasses, a result of age dimming his once strong eyesight. His name was Peter, and Buddy was happy to see him.
“Hey dad.”
Flavia leaves the embrace, and excitedly said “Speshul fwen! Buddie i-i-is here to s-see ‘ou!"
Flavia had spent a lot of time in training as both a “seeing-eye-fluff” and as a racehorse, and thus, had a lot of experience with human speech. However, even at her best attempts to replicate human speech, she was limited by a constant stammer and stutter.
“I know, Flavia. I’d like to talk to him.”
As the paternal figure climbed up the stairs, a slightly curious Buddy turned to his mother.
“Wai daddeh wan tok to fwuffy?”
Flavia gave a reassuring look to her son. “Daddeh miss his babbeh. Daddeh wuv his onwy an’ bestest babbeh.”
“So how is everything going for you, bud?”
Peter’s room sits atop a large building exposed to the harsh terrain of the future. Surveying the vast desert landscape, both Buddy and Peter looked through the desolate void. Decades of war, environmental damage and pollution had corrupted a once pristine landscape, and the scraps of forest that bordered it were now gone.
“I’m doing fine dad.”
“Are the people at the station treating you well?”
“They are.”
Buddy always wondered why his father wanted to have talks like this with him. It was like he was trying to get across some message to him, but had difficulty in doing so. This was not to say that Peter had not disciplined his son as a foal, but usually, most punishments or interaction was handled by Hasbio staff, or by Peter with supervision from the staff.
“Has there been any trouble? I remember the time you called me in the middle of the night, when you were being trained by the army, saying how much you missed your mother and I.” “I’m fine, dad. And that was a long time ago.” “That was just two years ago.” “Yeah, well, I’ve been a police fluffy for half a year now. I can manage dogs. I have seen dead bodies. And I can hold my ground in a fight.”
Peter turned to look at his son. Although Buddy was trained to be able to defend himself, fluffy fragility was not unknown to either of them.
“Fights? Buddy-“ “Dad, I’m a policefluff. Its going to happen, sooner or later.” “You’re supposed to let the dogs or the humans tackle the threat. Remember, you’re only a fluffy. Even if you eat meat, run like a dog and can bite, you’re still a fluffy. A horse. Not a dog.” “I know dad.”
Peter picked up on Buddy's annoyance. "Son, when we have these talks, they're only because we all love you very much, and we’re worried for you.” “I know dad, but you also know that Hasbio selected me for this.”
Peter sighed. “I know. I know all too well.”
A slight ding resounded. As the fluffy family had hooves, and thus no opposable thumbs, they could not cook. Food had to be provided to them through an elevator, in bowls that could be grasped by both hooves the way fluffies could grasp their building blocks. Upon receiving the meals through the delivery service, Flavia calls out for her two best boys.
“Speshul fwen! Babbeh! Nummies!”
As the fluffy family sat at the table, Buddy took a good look at his dish. It was specially ordered by his mother for her bestest babbeh.
“Eat up babbeh!
“So what is the Chef’s special today?” “Chateaubriand Steak, sir. Wagyu beef.” “What kind? “Australian Flufallo. Free range, well marbled and well-aged.” “I’ll have a steak then. Medium-rare.”
Officer Jenny was seated at the table, dressed formally in a black blouse and skirt for a civilian setting. Across the table sits a gentleman wearing a business suit. Wearing glasses and sporting a beard, he smiled as he looked at Jenny.
“I kind of miss when they served flufallo veal around here. It was the most delectable meat. And it’s a shame that the Australians never permitted the veal from their grade of cattle.” “You know why they banned it. The flufalloes in Australia started to riot when they found about the practise.” “But its not like the flufallo around here are any more intelligent. I seriously don’t get why some Ozziefluff agrarian decision should affe-“
Jenny was getting impatient and interrupted him mid-sentence.
“Look, I know you are my superior, but I would like to know why you called me all the way out here. Princess needs her shots.” “Ah yes, your wonderful Princess. How is she, ‘mistress’?” Jenny tried her best to hide resentment to the taunt. “Princess Rainbow Sprinkles is fine. She occasionally starts to develop awareness, but the shots have been enough to make her lose her memory or keep her docile.”
As Jenny said this, the waiter arrived with the executive’s dish. “Your steak sir. Bon appetit.”
Licking his lips, the executive grabs his knife. He delicately cuts a small portion, while asking about Outback. Jenny answers, “Outback’s the same. I keep him tanked up on VB as well as his favourite fruits and veggies. He’s cranky and a little bit stand-offish, but for the most part, he gets along with everyone in the station. Especially the SWAT.”
As he consumes the morsel, the executive takes a moment to appreciate the fat content and juice of a steer that had lived a long life, spent enough times with its herd and, with the humane policies of the Australian Beef Industry, underwent a euthanasia process that allowed the steer to reflect and enjoy its last moments in peace. All those memories and happiness, condensed into one juicy morsel.
“I heard Outback took out a few terrorists.” “Just two cult members. There has been no sightings of the Case Designate J in the past few months.”
The executive continued to cut into his steak. As the juice gushed forth from the cooked meat, Jenny could feel a tinge of hunger. The executive noticed. “Aren’t you going to order something? I can pay for the meal.” Jenny shook her head. “I just want to get back to Princess soon. And I know what you want to ask.”
The juice continued to drip from the meat piece, as some of it fell onto the executive’s bib.
“Buddy has been doing fine. We’ve only been placing him through search-and-rescue missions. We don’t expect him to fight, and he’s been pretty effective so-“ “He’s not developing.” Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “We wanted a hybrid that was not only capable of infiltration and retrieval. You know there is more we expect out of the hybrid.” “He’s only been with the force for half a year. He may eat meat, he may run fast, but he’s not a dog, he’s a horse. A pony, even.” “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
As he keeps chewing, Jenny had enough. Restraining herself, she got up, and departed. The executive smirked to himself, as he continued to cut deep into the meat.
“This is a priority encoded communication from the Equine Development and Enrichment Subdivision of Hasbio Incorporated. Date June 20 2120. For urgent attention to Commissioner Remy Garry, Captain MacReady of the Central Investigation Department and Officer Clarke of the K-9 unit. Special order for immediate action. Priority. Send MacReady, Subjects 2214425B and 15212021311O to investigate Missing Person case 317. Location is at the 'De-Urbanized Arcological[4] Construct' located in Sector 37 of the Mega-City. No other personnel are to be attached.”
“So come on now MacReady, whose this missing person 317?” “Well, remember when Buddy found that body in level 50 of the arcology?” “Yeah, I ‘memba.” “According to the coroner, the guy was not sacrificed as part of the cult. He was murdered.”
The handler Clark blinked his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“According to forensics, the victim was in the middle of sacrificing a fluffy when some unknown individual interrupted him. There were signs of a struggle, but the other party managed to dominate him, and plunge the dagger into his heart. The black eyes were because he was in the middle of the trance and had injected himself with Blood Jelly drug.”
“Ah shit.” Clark had one too many encounters of people smuggling the blood of Jellenheimers across the border.
“So here’s the problem. The new missing person is that teenager’s sister. Apparently, the teenager had not finished some ritual, and now the Cult wants his sister. Perhaps as a sacrifice, perhaps to convert her, god knows what else.” “Fucking hell.”
Clark then raises an eyebrow. “Something like that requires like a team or something. Why are they only sending you and the two policefluffs?” “I dunno man. I think it's bullshit too, but it's orders from the Commish Garry.”
“I don’t like it. I don’t like one bit.”
Captain MacReady was decked out in a brown denim coat, with a checkered tie, blue shirt and pants. He lead Outback, Buddy, Huey, Dewey and Louie to the back of his personalized hovercar. Though designed as a single seater, the car, based after SUVs of a bygone era, had enough space for an animal as large as Outback, and still had enough space to fit in one tall fluffy and three German Shepherd Good Boys. Upon closing the loading door, MacReady opened the gull-wing door of his vehicle, and entered the cockpit. With MacReady manually switching on the various buttons and equipment, the craft started to hover as it slowly departed, away from the helipad of the Police Outpost 31.
“Fackin’ ‘ell, mate. Its like a cunt can’t even breathe in here.” “Shaddup, outback. You’re not the only who's in a tight squeeze.”
It is night. The hovercar speeds through the designated skyline, obeying the lights demarcating the imaginary roads of the airways, as it makes its way through the arcology.
Although they appear as huge buildings on the outside, the interior of the arcology, especially in its residential areas, were reminiscent of the sidewalks, streets and apartments of a city like Manhattan at the turn of the millennium. As the hovercar landed upon a road within the greater atriums of the arcology, a homeless man with dreadlocks sat beside the sidewalk. A young foal is busy dancing like a robot, while singing an ancient tune.
Bad fwuffs Whatcha want, watcha want Whatcha gonna do When shewiff Jon Bwown come for Fwuff Teww Fwuff Whatcha wanna do, whatcha gonna dooo Yeaheah Bad fwuffs, bad fwuffs Whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do When dey come for fwuff
The trio had split up. Detective MacReady was busy interviewing locals who lived in the nearby apartments. Two of the dogs remained in the vehicle. Buddy, Outback, and the dog Huey were walking down the alleyway, through the tunnels that connected to the vents and pipes. While the residential area was populated, the alleyway was a gateway to the dilapidated warehouse areas of the arcology, which had been abandoned not too long ago.
As the trio kept walking, and when they were well away from a camera, or human ear, Outback voiced a concern.
“You trust the humans too much, Buddy.” “What do you mean?” “Don’t get me wrong. Humans can be likeable, and my team are a bunch of adorable cunts, but there’s a lot about humans that’s downright facked in the head.” “Why are you being such a cynic now, Outback?” “Think about it, mate. We’re supposed to looking for a room with an altar aroun’ ‘ere. And a girl was missing. Yeah, that bit about them blokes saying this area was clear and no cultists? They’re telling porkies.” “Well, the cult did clear out, and you took down the remaining two members.” “My point is, we were assigned to find a missing individual in a place that was previously considered a ground for their cult.” “You speak like as if they will come back. Lighting does not strike the same area twice” “I hate it to break to ya mate, but this ain’t lightning. I’m sure the fuckers are around here. Even with the cameras and the coppers around, they’re bound to be around ‘ere, somewhere.”
Sensing a truth to Outback’s works, Buddy realized that there was a lead they both could follow. “Well, if the humans are lying, the fluffies don’t. Usually. The last time I was here, the ferals were starting to join the cult. If the humans are hiding something, maybe the ferals would know better.” “Yeah? And how do ya propose we go ‘bout gettin’ that intel?”
As Outback said this, Buddy noticed the graffiti on the wall. In a style evocative of a child using crayons, Buddy recognized the image of the Jellenheimer that he saw before, and of a man holding a tray. “I’ve been here before. There should be a friendly contact around here.” And true enough, the cardboard box was still there. Walking up to it, Buddy switched his mind to the tune of Fluffspeak, and initiated contact.
“Huwwo fwen? Fwen fwuffy hewe.” Buddy taps the box. No answer. “Fwen?” Buddy decides to peek inside the cardboard box.
The fluffy he met last time, who provided him with the info he needed, was dead. A large slash encircled its neck. The wound was fresh. But its eyes were black, indicating the consumption of Jellenheimer blood. And beside the corpse of the fluffy, Buddy could vaguely make out the letters, written in thick blood, “HEWP”
“Oh fuck.”
Just as Buddy said that, Huey started to bark. Huey’s bark echoed throughout the surroundings, as Buddy saw a young girl. She had black hair, her face dirty with grime, and a little blood. She was wearing a plain white dress, stained with dirt, and she was barefooted. It was the missing person.
As Huey kept barking, Buddy twitched his face. Using his face muscles to activate the non-invasive communication device attached this ear, he made a call to MacReady. “This is Buddy. Outback and I have found 317. Requesting immediate extraction-“
“She’s gone.”
As Outback said that, Buddy looked again. True enough, the girl was gone. In her place, a herd of feral fluffies could be seen. All of them sporting various colours. All of them consisting of the different types – unicorn, earth and Pegasus. A multitude of breeds, such as the Carpdime, Gowdie, McGonagall, Mutagen and Fwuffee breeds.
And all of them had the black eyes.
As the gunshot reverberated across the empty spaces, the ferals began to disperse. Buddy and Outback spun around to see the figure of MacReady, who fired the shot. Dewey and Louie were tagging along, ready to pounce in case any of the ferals get the wrong idea.
“So where’s the girl?” asked MacReady “No idea Mac. One minute we saw her, and next, those ferals turned up.” “She must be nearby.” “Any leads, mate?” “I got nothing. All the locals don’t want to talk. And seems the fluffy locals aren’t too friendly.” “You tell me. The fluffy who gave me the intel last time is dead.”
Outback looks left and right. He is unshaken, but gravely concerned, “Did you see the eyes on those facking things? They took the damn blood.” “Yeah that’s the least of our problems, Aussie. You said you saw the girl. Where was she?” Buddy raised his hoof towards the direction of where the feral assembly was. “She was there one moment, and then she was gone. And then the ferals turned up.” “Yeah, Buddy here ain’t telling porkies. I also saw her.” MacReady pauses for a moment to assess the situation. Outback and Buddy are a feeling a little tense, as Buddy asks the real question. “So what do we do now?” “I tried radio-ing for help, but no one’s responding.”
Fack, I knew it, muttered Outback to himself. This whole thing was a setup. But as he thought this, another question darted his mind. Why? “MacReady, what do we do? Do we just go after the girl, or wait?” Before MacReady could answer the question, more figures came out of the shadows.
Macready recognized the first man as the first local he interviewed: the kind old man who ran the local shop for ages. The second figure was an old lady, a grandmother and a retired factory worker. The third was a young teenage girl. As the figures appeared, any identity that MacReady had recognized in them, any semblance of humanity, was gone. All of them were wielding a makeshift weapon. The shop owner held a wooden stick, which he had sharpened at an end to create a stake. The grandmother was carrying a golf club. The teenager was carrying a pipe. The others had all sorts of basic weaponry. Kitchen knives. Scissors. One man was even carrying a machete.
And they all had the black eyes.
“Ah shit.”
As MacReady said this, he fired the first warning shot. The horde did not flinch. The dogs were starting to bark. Buddy was feeling trepidated. He had heard about the effects of Blood Jelly on its addicts, but this is the first time he saw anything like an induced riot. Or were all these people in the residential area of the arcology secret cult members? Too many questions. Too little time.
Outback took one good look at the crowd. He then cracked his neck, as he sighed.
“Eh, fack dis.”
Without any hesitation, Outback charged straight into the crowd. Within a minute, he managed to mow down three of the more able-bodied members of the mob, while avoiding the elderly. Seeing this as opportunity for action, MacReady brought the back of his gun to his mouth.
“Stun Mode.” “STUN MODE.” As his gun recalibrated itself to become a taser, MacReady started firing his weapon at the elderly and the young. He had gone for the lowest setting, to ensure that the incapacitated individuals suffered no more then a shock. He only had limited rounds, so he had to be careful. He had a baton ready, but, as far as he was concerned, his main focus was to stay alive without killing anyone.
Buddy, too, was prepared for this situation, as he gave the order. “Sic’ ‘em!” Huey, Dewey and Louie rushed into the crowd, as Buddy gave the targets. “Huey, grab that stake! Dewey, bite at her leg! Louie, subdue!”
As the detective, the two fluffies and three dogs did their work, the horde kept going. Outback reckoned that they had woken up the neighbourhood. As the action was going on, Huey caught a glimpse of the figure of the girl in white that he saw earlier. He started to bark. “ARF! ARF! ARF!”
He then gave chase, much to the surprise of the other police personnel. “Huey!” cried Buddy, as he went after his good boy.
“Buddy! Get back here! It's too dangerous!”
Buddy could not hear them. As Huey chased after the girl, who was now running from him, Buddy was chasing after his good boy. The only thing on his mind was rescuing that missing girl, and getting her away from the madness. As Macready, Outback and the two dogs kept working, Buddy and Huey disappeared into the darkness.
Buddy had no idea how long he had been running, but his stamina began to wear thin. Huey dove right into an open grate, and Buddy followed suit. Try as he might, he could not keep up with the canine. However, despite his desire to call it back or slow down, Buddy knew that Huey had the girl’s interest at heart. Crawling through the vents and tight corners, Buddy finally found that Huey had stopped, and was now barking incessantly. Buddy took a good look at the surroundings he was now in. It was an enclosed space, a room that may have been a janitor or washroom at some point. Whatever purpose it had in a past life was now forgotten, as its walls were now covered in murals of stained glass. A red light hung over the ceiling, and the light outside illuminated scenes of carnage against fluffykind, ranging from mutilation, to the decimation of ferals, to the stomping of foals. All in tinkling glass fogged with a bloody mist. And at the centre of the room was a make-shift altar, with remnants of blood near it. Atop of the altar was the golden figure of the Jellenheimer.
Figures, muttered Buddy.
Huey kept barking. As Buddy turned his eyes, he saw the missing girl, huddled underneath a table. Her hands were bloody. Her arms were bloody. She was shaking vigorously and uncontrollably, perhaps frightened by Huey’s barks. “Easy there, we’re here to help you!”
The girl took one good look at Buddy. She used her right hand to cover her eyes, as she tried her very best not to look in that direction. Huey's barking halted. Huey then started to froth at the mouth, and collapse. “Huey!!”
As Buddy shook his good boy, he then saw it.
It had the body similar to that of a fluffy. But its eyes were black. A smooth body, like jelly. And a permanent, unfaltering grin. As Buddy retreated from the Jellnehimer, another popped up from behind the altar. Another from near the girl. Buddy couldn’t count how many there were. All he knew was that they had their eyes trained on him. And one Jellenhimer, the ring leader, went ahead of the others. As he kept staring at Buddy, Buddy was not sure how to react.
Buddy was then overwhelmed by a sea of visions, as the lead Jellenheimer kept staring at him. Images and memories of torture flooded his mind, and he felt every wound and every atrocity committed against the fluffies he saw. Mares amputated and detongued, and forced into pods to birth foals. Foals that were placed haphazardly into cans, to be sold to the public. Foals that got tortured by some, or crushed while still in the can, or left neglected, never knowing a good life. He saw pogroms of fluffies throughout the century, of people wielding bats, clubs, and sharpened sticks, stabbing killing, beheading, mutilating, massacring, defiling. He brought his hooves to his head,but the images and sensations invaded him. The lead jellenheimer and its pack focused their psychic attack on Buddy.
However, through the encroaching insanity, Buddy saw her.
A tall, cream-colored alicorn. Her wings were fully formed, longer than any Pegasus he had seen. Her horn was sturdy, piercing the through the darkness of the madness he was bearing witness to. The alicorn was standing on a field of green, with the wind blowing through her mane. As Buddy focused on her, the Alicorn turned to glance at Buddy. She then said the line.
“Follow me.”
Her wings flapped, and she took off, and flew into the sky.
“Follow me.”
Buddy was initially reeling on the floor. But he got up on his legs. The Jellenheimers kept up their attack, but Buddy trained on that image he saw, of the alicorn, while repeating the mantra. “Follow me.”
Opening his mouth and bearing his teeth, he jumped straight for the lead Jellenheimer.
As the Jellenheimer made an unearthly scream, a nightmarish form of the Fluffy cry for help, Buddy kept his eyes open. He could feel the crushing of bone as his teeth dug into the soft, jellylike flesh. As he bit down hard, he could feel the visions suddenly changing to a great white flash in his mind.
The Jellenheimers that besieged Buddy reeled from the communal pain from the loss of their leader, and immediately retreated, crawling into the various holes.
“One! Two! Three!”
Outback bashed down the door upon Macready’s order. They bore witness to the altar room. “Welp, guess that solves the mystery of the missing cult room.”
Both Outback and MacReady saw the body of Buddy on the floor. Huey, who had now recovered, was licking his own wounds.
“Buddy! BUDDY!!” Buddy could not hear them. He kept repeating “Nu huwt good fwuff. My name is Buddy. Buddy am good fwuff. I am a policefluffy”, repeating between the two languages.
It was a forever for Buddy as the images were blurry to him. Shifting through the dreamscape, and while battling the pain, he kept seeing glimpses of reality intermingling with the dream he was desperately trying to wake from. He had seen the alicorn numerous times, but at one point, the alicorn started to sing a song from his memory.
"Mummah wuvs her babbeh, Babbeh wuv his mummah, Babbeh dwink miwkies, Gwow up big an stwong”
The alicorn had morphed into a vision of his Yehdoo mother. Crying over him, kissing him, and giving him huggies. Even though he was hooked up to the medical equipment, Buddy knew she had to be there for him. But even his mother could only appear so many times in the visions. As the dreams alternated between the comforts of home, and the hell of what the Jellenheimers had put him through, he saw the alicorn again. This time growing younger, and until it had the appearance of an adolescent foal. This alicorn foal then sang another song.
“Somewhere ower da wainbow Way up high And da dweams that fwuffs dweam of Wunce in a wuwwaby”
Buddy could make out the foal to be Princess, at his side. Her tender hoof touching his head. Princess had always been there for him and guided him through the office as he got to know the people working there. Over time, the visions simplified, and became definite. Time started to make sense. And, soon, the figure of the fatherly Outback was by his side.
“Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me He sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled, you'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me”
As Outback hummed the song of his kind, Buddy said the first words he could mutter in over a week.
“You missed some of the notes.”
Outback turned to his partner. He was a little miffed, and then, glad. “Fackin ‘ell. Ya alright, ya cunt.” Buddy smiled, then winced. The pain from the encounter still wracked his body.
“Easy there, mate. Jellenheimers are the facken devil’ “Yeah tell me about it. I feel like I spent a few seconds in Hell. But then I saw that alicorn, and I managed to get out of it.” “An alicorn, eh?” “You didn’t see one?" “Nah mate.” “Guess its different. How are the others?” “Carlos has been too busy with immigration, but he made a gift for you. Princess and I have been by your side everyday, along with your parents.” “That’s good to hear.”
Outback then got a serious, as he looked at Buddy in the eye. “I know you meant well, mate, but don’t try to be too much of a hero next time. You should have waited for us.” "I know Outback, but I wanted to save that girl. And Huey was too far ahead of me." "Not really an excuse, ya fuckwit. You coulda been killed. I'm even facking surprised you're still alive." "Yeah. I guess I am fucking lucky."
For a while, there was an uneasy silence in the room.
"What did Carlos get for me?" "A bunch of things. You'll see when you're out of the hospital." "Is one of them spaghetti?" "Yeah, one of them is spaghetti."
Jenny was angry.
As she stormed into the office at the Hasbio Headquarters, she made her way to the office of the man she met about a month ago. The executive was in the middle of a meeting in his office, when Jenny stormed him.
“Leave us.”
With his command, the other staff cleared until only Jenny and the exec remained in the room.
“You son of a bitch!”
In her police uniform, Jenny maintained a resolute defiance before her superior.
“What's the matter?” “You risked the lives of one of my wards, you fuck!” “But Buddy is not really under you, Princess is.” “Just because I don’t spend everyday of my life with Buddy doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him! Don’t forget, I was the one who selected him for the programme, and had monitored his process since birth!”
“Ah yes, Buddy.”
While remaining seated at his computer, the executive took a good look at the hybrid fluffy that was Buddy.
“Before that day, in that unit, only Outback survived the encounter with the Jellenheimer, owing to his mental strength. But now Buddy has survived it as well, which must mean the same. It was a difficult process, and the wounds will still be there. But Buddy is no longer just a product now.
He is an asset.”
submitted by Oculusfluffy to fluffycommunity [link] [comments]

2020.09.14 01:32 RLMatchThreads [RLCS X NA] Regional #2 - Stage 1 Group B Fall Split Post-Day Discussion

Live Discussion Liquipedia

Format tl;dr

NA Regional #2 Schedule

Date Event Format
September 19 Stage 2 16 Teams Swiss - Top 8 Advance
September 20 Playoffs 08 Teams Single Elimination

Liquipedia: Regional #2 Results + RLCS X Points Standings

Group B Standings

Teams need to win 3 Matches to advance to Stage 2
# Teams W-L RD1 RD2 RD3 RD4 RD5
1 NRG 3-0 ✔️ 3-0 AM ✔️ 3-0 OML ✔️ 3-0 SQ
2 NEF 3-0 ✔️ 3-0 JJ ✔️ 3-1 PK ✔️ 3-1 NV
3 PINE 3-1 ✔️ 3-0 CW ❌ 2-3 SQ ✔️ 3-1 JJ ✔️ 3-2 PK
4 TFL 3-1 ✔️ 3-0 ADE ❌ 1-3 NV ✔️ 3-1 ZBM ✔️ 3-1 SQ
5 NV 3-1 ✔️ 3-1 INF ✔️ 3-1 TFL ❌ 1-3 NEF ✔️ 3-1 OML
6 ADE 3-2 ❌ 0-3 TFL ✔️ 3-2 AM ❌ 2-3 PK ✔️ 3-2 INF ✔️ 3-0 SQ
7 JJ 3-2 ❌ 0-3 NEF ✔️ 3-1 INF ❌ 1-3 PINE ✔️ 3-1 ZBM ✔️ 3-2 OML
8 PK 3-2 ✔️ 3-0 ATII ❌ 1-3 NEF ✔️ 3-2 ADE ❌ 2-3 PINE ✔️ 3-1 72PC
---- -------- -----
9 72PC 2-3 ❌ 0-3 OML ❌ 1-3 ZBM ✔️ 3-1 AM ✔️ 3-0 CW ❌ 1-3 PK
10 OML 2-3 ✔️ 3-0 72PC ❌ 0-3 NRG ✔️ 3-1 CW ❌ 1-3 NV ❌ 2-3 JJ
11 SQ 2-3 ✔️ 3-1 ZBM ✔️ 3-2 PINE ❌ 0-3 NRG ❌ 1-3 TFL ❌ 0-3 ADE
12 INF 1-3 ❌ 1-3 NV ❌ 1-3 JJ ✔️ 3-2 ATII ❌ 2-3 ADE
13 ZBM 1-3 ❌ 1-3 SQ ✔️ 3-1 72PC ❌ 1-3 TFL ❌ 1-3 JJ
14 CW 1-3 ❌ 0-3 PINE ✔️ 3-2 ATII ❌ 1-3 OML ❌ 0-3 72PC
15 ATII 0-3 ❌ 0-3 PK ❌ 2-3 CW ❌ 2-3 INF
16 AM 0-3 ❌ 0-3 NRG ❌ 2-3 ADE ❌ 1-3 72PC

Group B Teams

Teams - Rosters
NRG Esports (NRG) - GarrettG, Jstn, SquishyMuffinz
Team Envy (NV) - Atomic, Mist, Turbopolsa
Susquehanna Soniqs (SQ) - Shock, Satthew, JRuss
Pittsburgh Knights (PK) - Radoko, Kinseh, ZPS
Alpine Esports (PINE) - Percy, Jordan, Majicbear
Team Frontline (TFL) - Andy, Beastaboniam, Delta
72 Pin Connector (72PC) - Jacob, Wonder, TynotTyler
Jamal Jabary (JJ) - Toastie, Lj, Kraziks
Omelette (OML) - Luke, Freshness, LionBlaze
Nefarious (NEF) - JWismont, Buddy, Ahduhm
Crimson Wings (CW) - Skillz, PrimeThunder, Demo
Adept (ADE) - Spyder, Pirates, Comm
Infinite Shots (INF) - Ness, JJPrezus, Falss
AllMid (AM) - Thundah, RawGreg, A Savvy Seal
Zaboomafoo (ZBM) - ostyn, Stokelyy, kirii
And There It Is (ATII) - Night, TopCheese, WarBean

Event Information / Links

Useful Links
Event: Liquipedia / Battlefy / Event Format / RLCS X Format
VOD: Twitch (A) / YouTube (A) / Twitch (B) / YouTube (B)
Official: Website / Twitter / Rules / Announcement
Reddit: Stream Schedule / Get Dual Flairs
Discord: RocketLeagueEsports Server
submitted by RLMatchThreads to RocketLeagueEsports [link] [comments]

2020.09.13 23:02 ABoredCompSciStudent [Rewatch] Kemono no Souja Erin - Final Series Discussion [Spoilers]

Final Series Discussion

<-- Previous (Episode 50: "Beast Player")

Series Information:

Kemono no Souja Erin: Synopsis MAL rating: 8.36 Winter 2009 50 Episodes
Genres: Drama, Fantasy, Slice of Life
Legal streams: None, Crunchyroll used to have it until very recently, so I'm not sure what's going on there.

The novel series is translated, please support the author, if you're going to read them!

Rewatch Schedule and Index:

For all archived/past episode discussion threads, please refer to the Rewatch Schedule and Index. I will be updating it as we navigate through this rewatch, in case anyone would like to read past conversations or has fallen behind.
As aforementioned, some episodes have spoilers in their titles and, as a result, I will only fill this table in as we go.
Episode# Title Date
1 Erin the Green-Eyed July 26
2 Soyon the Healer July 27
3 The Battling Beast July 28
4 Secret in the Mist July 29
5 Erin and the Egg Thief July 30
6 Soyon's Warmth July 31
7 Mother's Whistle August 1
8 John the Beekeeper August 2
9 Honey and Erin August 3
10 Birds of Dawn August 4
11 Inside The Door August 5
12 The Silver Feather August 6
13 The Valley of the Ohju August 7
14/15 People of the Mist + The Two's Past August 8
16 Ial the Sezan August 9
17 Shinou in Danger August 10
18 Master Esal August 11
19 Friends at Kazalm August 12
20 The Ohju Named Lilan August 13
21 The Disappearing Light August 14
22 The Harp's Sound August 15
23 The Oath of Kazalm August 16
24 Song of Grief August 17
25 An Errand For Two August 18
-- Mid-Series Discussion August 19
26 Lilan's Feelings August 20
27 Fallen into Hikara August 21
28 John's Death August 22
29 The Beast's Fangs August 23
30/31 The Fourth Winter + Luminous Sky August 24
32 The Great Crime August 25
33 Flying August 26
34 Ial and Erin August 27
35 A New Life August 28
36 The Graduation Test August 29
37 Birth August 30
38 Shinou Harumiya August 31
39 Touda Attack September 1
40 A Nation in Shadow September 2
41 The Truth of the Shinou September 3
42 Seimiya's Tears September 4
43 Beast Healer September 5
44 Akun-Me-Chai September 6
45 Caged Bird September 7
46 The Bond Between the Two September 8
47 A Pure Night September 9
48 Dawn of Tahai Aze September 10
49 Final Battle September 11
50 Beast Player September 12
-- Final Series Discussion September 13

About Spoilers And General Attitude:

Please do not post any untagged spoilers past the current episode, as it ruins the experience of first time watchers. Please refrain from confirming or denying speculation on future events, as to let viewers experience the anime as it was intended to be.
If you are discussing something that has not happened in the current episode please use the anime spoiler tag system found on the sidebar. Also if you are posting a link that includes future Kemono no Souja Erin events please include 'Erin spoilers' in the link title.
Spoilers are bad!

Fanart Of The Day:

Fanart dump

submitted by ABoredCompSciStudent to anime [link] [comments]

2020.09.13 18:02 hubb2001 Translation Status Update/Discussion - Sep 13

Previous thread
This is the weekly translation status update thread. Use this thread to discuss translation news, issues, titles you're looking forward to, etc.
Note: This is simply a mirror from 4chan's weekly thread on the /jp/ board. All credit goes to the user VNTS there. I'm simply copying and pasting for discussion sake here since some people can't access 4chan or spent all their internet bill money on funding venus blood hollow.
Entries in Bold have had changes since last week
Entries in itallics denote my own changes
This weeks button is from Venus Blood Hollow

Fan Translations

  • Aiyoku No Eustia - 95.60% Translated, 95.57% edited, partial patch released
  • Amagami - "Script translation done. 2107/2329 original edition scenario scripts edited (90.5%)"
  • Amayui Castle Meister - Rough patch released with 63% of dialogue translated, overall 74% translated
  • Chaos;Head Noah - 3 routes finished first past translation, other routes on going, brought in new staff
  • Chicchakunai Mon - 49.7% translated
  • Fuukan no Grasesta - Project starting up
  • Gore Screaming Show - Prologue + day 1 patch released, 15,59% [5827/37383] lines translated
  • Gin'Iro, Haruka - Common + Bethly + Hinata + Momiji routes translated, Yuzuki 30.62% translated, overall 67.24% translated, Common+Bethly+Hinata+Momiji routes patch released
  • Haruka ni Aogi, Uruwashi no - "Main School" routes fully translated, Editing and QA ongoing on the Main School routes, overall 62% (42330/68206) lines translated
  • Junketsu Megami-Sama - New partial patch released
  • Kud Wafter - 24436/64692 (37.72%) lines translated
  • Lover Able - 100% translated, 90.55% edited
  • Maji Koi A-4 - 8 of 62 scripts translated
  • Nursery Rhyme - 100% translated, still being edited
  • Oreimo Tsuzuku - All scripts through TLC+Editing, technical issues resolved
  • Pure Pure - 95.59% translated
  • Pure x Connect - 15982/43896 lines translated, 8289/43896 lines edited, prologue patch released
  • Saimin Yuugi - Common Route translation: 100%, Common Route editing: 1/6 scenario files, Maiya Route translation: 5/23, Keika Route translation: 6/21
  • Shin Koihime Musou - 100% translated, 36% (38850/108888) edited
  • Shukufuku no Campanella - Trial patch released
  • Steps to Love - Common route TL patch released
  • Summer Pockets Reflection Blue - 100% lines translated, 3,468/34,142 (10.16%) lines edited
  • Taimanin Yukikaze 2 - Yukikaze route patch released
  • Watashi wa Kyou Koko de Shinimasu - 100% translated, 610/2265 second pass
  • Christmas*Flower - 325/325 translated
  • Yosuga no Sora - Translation finished, editing and TLC ongoing

Official work


  • Mugen Renkan - October 1st release
  • Ciconia - Phase 1 Released
  • Hadaka Shitsuji fandisc - Picked up
  • Shiei no Sona-Nyl - 100% translated and edited, Refrain content 92% translated
  • Rance Quest - Out of Beta
  • Rance IX - 100% translated
  • Rance X - 28% translated
  • Luckydog1 - Picked up
  • Fxxx Me Royally - Out of Beta
  • Rance 01 - Out of Beta
  • Rance 02 - Out of Beta
  • Uchi no Kanojo - 100% translated and edited, image editing finished
  • Trinoline Genesis - 100% translated, 60% edited
  • Musicus! - In Programming
  • Jeanne at the Clock Tower - Fully translated and edited, image editing wrapping up
  • Steam Prison: Fin Route - Out of Beta
  • Secret Project 3 - Out of Beta
  • Secret Project 4 - 100% translated and edited
  • Secret Project 6 - 64% translated and 62% edited
  • Secret Project 7 - 100% translated and 88% edited


  • Kanosen - September 25th release
  • Flowers - Title 3 released
  • Majikoi - "Suffering some unforeseen delays", in QA and preparing Steam release
  • Sumaga- Upcoming release
  • Katahane - Upcoming release
  • Josou Sanmyaku - 87% translated, 85% edited
  • Django - Waiting on translation.
  • Machine Child - Announced
  • Dramatical Murder - Picked up
  • Lamento Beyond the Void - picked up
  • Slow Damage - Picked up
  • Eiyuu*Senki GOLD - 100% translated
  • Yamizome Revenger - 50% translated
  • Mamono Musume-tachi to no Rakuen ~Slime & Scylla~ - Picked up


  • Muv-Luv Unlimited - The Day After - 2020 release
  • Schwarzesmarken - Through Greenlight
  • Kiminozo - Picked up

Spike Chunsoft

  • Robotics;Notes - October 13th release date
  • Robotics;Notes DaSH - October 13th release date


  • Sharin no Kuni - Debugging of the game engine ongoing, to be followed by beta testing


  • Nekopara Vol 4 - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • The Seventh Sign -Mr. Sister- - "Planning release", appears to have been rejected by Steam
  • Ley-Line: Daybreak of Remnants Shadow - "More programming"
  • Ley-Line: Flowers Falling in the Morning Mist - Fully localized, in engine work
  • Re;Lord Volume 2 - 100% translated+edited, awaiting engine work by the developer
  • Harumade Kururu - Awaiting engine work, 2020 release
  • Rewrite+ - Overall 55% translated and 44% edited, January 2021 estimated release
  • Love Duction - 100% translated and edited, engine work in progress
  • Hoshizora no Memoria (retranslation) - In QA, going to update existing release to HD version
  • Hoshizora no Memoria Eternal Heart - 60% translated
  • Island Diary - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • Creature to Koi Shiyo!! for Otome - Waiting on a third party
  • Miko no Kanata - 100% translated and edited, awaiting engine work
  • Memory's Dogma - Code:01 Released, 02 onwards upcoming
  • Tenshin Ranman - QA and engine work next, in "icebox"
  • NarKarma EngineA - Announced
  • Subete no Koi ni, Hanabata o. - 50% translated
  • Sumire - Picked up
  • I Walk Among Zombies Volume 3 - Awaiting engine work
  • I Walk Among Zombies Volume 0 - Awaiting engine work
  • Sanarara R - 100% translated, 25% edited
  • Amatsutsumi - Translation and editing in progess
  • KoiKuma Fan Disc - 100% translated, editing ongoing, waiting on build from dev, 2020 release
  • Love's Sweet Garnish 2 - 100% translated, waiting on editing, 2020 release
  • Kanojo no Seiiki - Picked up
  • Glass - Picked up
  • New Glass - Picked up
  • Amairo Chocolate - 100% translated and edited
  • Kimagure Temptation - 100% translated
  • Slobbish Dragon Princess - 100% translated
  • 9-nine- Episode 4 - 38% translated, 30% edited
  • Karakara 3 - In Development
  • Secret Project 7 - 100% translated
  • Secret Project 8 - 100% translated and edited, 30% QC
  • Secret Project 9 - listed

Sol Press/Panty Press

  • Shitsuji ga Aruji o Erabu Toki - 30% translated, 10% edited
  • Nukitashi - 100% translated, 31% edited
  • Himawari to Koi no Kioku - 68% translated, 68% edited
  • Irotoridori no Sekai - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • Witch's Garden - Picked up
  • Happiness! 2 Sakura Celebration - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • Hyper->Highspeed->Genius - Picked up


  • Hello Lady - Main game 100% translated, edited, and TLC, 50% QC, engine work being done by developer
  • Dracu Riot - 100% translated and edited, engine porting starting shortly
  • Riddle Joker - 100% translated and 98% edited, 40% QC
  • Kinkoi: Golden Loveriche - 90% translated and 60% edited, being ported to Unity
  • Clover Days - 100% translated and TLC, editing and engine porting starting shortly
  • Aokana Extra1 - 100% translated and edited, engine port in progress
  • Fureraba Complete edition - Vita exclusive content to be added to Fureraba a couple months after the fandisc release
  • Melty Moment - 40% translated
  • Making*Lovers: Geki Icha After Story - "we plan to translate the Fandisc as well"
  • Secret Project #1 - 40% translated


  • Abaddon: Princess of the Decay - Localization at "40% to 50%", 2020 release

Visual Arts/Key

  • Angel Beats 1st Beat - 50% translated



  • The Humbling of a Holy Maiden - 100% translated, 50% through programming
  • Chinkamo Twins! - 100% translated and edited


  • Salthe - September 15th release
  • Jiangshi x Taoshi - Episodes 1-2 released, episode 3 upcoming
  • Evenicle 2 - Demo released
  • Wanko no Yomeiri - Upcoming release
  • Taimanin Asagi - Page for the Trial of episode 1 back on Steam
  • Venus Blood Hollow - Kickstarted started and reached its goal, December 2021 release listed
  • Fault - Silence the Pedant - Demo released
  • Fault Milestone 2 - Side Above released, GE still to come
submitted by hubb2001 to vns [link] [comments]

2020.09.13 18:00 TheLoneExplorer Translation Status Update/Discussion - Sep 13

Previous thread
This is the weekly translation status update thread. Use this thread to discuss translation news, issues, titles you're looking forward to, etc.
Note: This is simply a mirror from 4chan's weekly thread on the /jp/ board. All credit goes to the user VNTS there. I'm simply copying and pasting for discussion sake here since some people can't access 4chan or spent all their internet bill money on funding venus blood hollow.
Entries in Bold have had changes since last week
Entries in itallics denote my own changes
This weeks button is from Venus Blood Hollow

Fan Translations

  • Aiyoku No Eustia - 95.60% Translated, 95.57% edited, partial patch released
  • Amagami - "Script translation done. 2107/2329 original edition scenario scripts edited (90.5%)"
  • Amayui Castle Meister - Rough patch released with 63% of dialogue translated, overall 74% translated
  • Chaos;Head Noah - 3 routes finished first past translation, other routes on going, brought in new staff
  • Chicchakunai Mon - 49.7% translated
  • Fuukan no Grasesta - Project starting up
  • Gore Screaming Show - Prologue + day 1 patch released, 15,59% [5827/37383] lines translated
  • Gin'Iro, Haruka - Common + Bethly + Hinata + Momiji routes translated, Yuzuki 30.62% translated, overall 67.24% translated, Common+Bethly+Hinata+Momiji routes patch released
  • Haruka ni Aogi, Uruwashi no - "Main School" routes fully translated, Editing and QA ongoing on the Main School routes, overall 62% (42330/68206) lines translated
  • Junketsu Megami-Sama - New partial patch released
  • Kud Wafter - 24436/64692 (37.72%) lines translated
  • Lover Able - 100% translated, 90.55% edited
  • Maji Koi A-4 - 8 of 62 scripts translated
  • Nursery Rhyme - 100% translated, still being edited
  • Oreimo Tsuzuku - All scripts through TLC+Editing, technical issues resolved
  • Pure Pure - 95.59% translated
  • Pure x Connect - 15982/43896 lines translated, 8289/43896 lines edited, prologue patch released
  • Saimin Yuugi - Common Route translation: 100%, Common Route editing: 1/6 scenario files, Maiya Route translation: 5/23, Keika Route translation: 6/21
  • Shin Koihime Musou - 100% translated, 36% (38850/108888) edited
  • Shukufuku no Campanella - Trial patch released
  • Steps to Love - Common route TL patch released
  • Summer Pockets Reflection Blue - 100% lines translated, 3,468/34,142 (10.16%) lines edited
  • Taimanin Yukikaze 2 - Yukikaze route patch released
  • Watashi wa Kyou Koko de Shinimasu - 100% translated, 610/2265 second pass
  • Christmas*Flower - 325/325 translated
  • Yosuga no Sora - Translation finished, editing and TLC ongoing

Official work


  • Mugen Renkan - October 1st release
  • Ciconia - Phase 1 Released
  • Hadaka Shitsuji fandisc - Picked up
  • Shiei no Sona-Nyl - 100% translated and edited, Refrain content 92% translated
  • Rance Quest - Out of Beta
  • Rance IX - 100% translated
  • Rance X - 28% translated
  • Luckydog1 - Picked up
  • Fxxx Me Royally - Out of Beta
  • Rance 01 - Out of Beta
  • Rance 02 - Out of Beta
  • Uchi no Kanojo - 100% translated and edited, image editing finished
  • Trinoline Genesis - 100% translated, 60% edited
  • Musicus! - In Programming
  • Jeanne at the Clock Tower - Fully translated and edited, image editing wrapping up
  • Steam Prison: Fin Route - Out of Beta
  • Secret Project 3 - Out of Beta
  • Secret Project 4 - 100% translated and edited
  • Secret Project 6 - 64% translated and 62% edited
  • Secret Project 7 - 100% translated and 88% edited


  • Kanosen - September 25th release
  • Flowers - Title 3 released
  • Majikoi - "Suffering some unforeseen delays", in QA and preparing Steam release
  • Sumaga- Upcoming release
  • Katahane - Upcoming release
  • Josou Sanmyaku - 87% translated, 85% edited
  • Django - Waiting on translation.
  • Machine Child - Announced
  • Dramatical Murder - Picked up
  • Lamento Beyond the Void - picked up
  • Slow Damage - Picked up
  • Eiyuu*Senki GOLD - 100% translated
  • Yamizome Revenger - 50% translated
  • Mamono Musume-tachi to no Rakuen ~Slime & Scylla~ - Picked up


  • Muv-Luv Unlimited - The Day After - 2020 release
  • Schwarzesmarken - Through Greenlight
  • Kiminozo - Picked up

Spike Chunsoft

  • Robotics;Notes - October 13th release date
  • Robotics;Notes DaSH - October 13th release date


  • Sharin no Kuni - Debugging of the game engine ongoing, to be followed by beta testing


  • Nekopara Vol 4 - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • The Seventh Sign -Mr. Sister- - "Planning release", appears to have been rejected by Steam
  • Ley-Line: Daybreak of Remnants Shadow - "More programming"
  • Ley-Line: Flowers Falling in the Morning Mist - Fully localized, in engine work
  • Re;Lord Volume 2 - 100% translated+edited, awaiting engine work by the developer
  • Harumade Kururu - Awaiting engine work, 2020 release
  • Rewrite+ - Overall 55% translated and 44% edited, January 2021 estimated release
  • Love Duction - 100% translated and edited, engine work in progress
  • Hoshizora no Memoria (retranslation) - In QA, going to update existing release to HD version
  • Hoshizora no Memoria Eternal Heart - 60% translated
  • Island Diary - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • Creature to Koi Shiyo!! for Otome - Waiting on a third party
  • Miko no Kanata - 100% translated and edited, awaiting engine work
  • Memory's Dogma - Code:01 Released, 02 onwards upcoming
  • Tenshin Ranman - QA and engine work next, in "icebox"
  • NarKarma EngineA - Announced
  • Subete no Koi ni, Hanabata o. - 50% translated
  • Sumire - Picked up
  • I Walk Among Zombies Volume 3 - Awaiting engine work
  • I Walk Among Zombies Volume 0 - Awaiting engine work
  • Sanarara R - 100% translated, 25% edited
  • Amatsutsumi - Translation and editing in progess
  • KoiKuma Fan Disc - 100% translated, editing ongoing, waiting on build from dev, 2020 release
  • Love's Sweet Garnish 2 - 100% translated, waiting on editing, 2020 release
  • Kanojo no Seiiki - Picked up
  • Glass - Picked up
  • New Glass - Picked up
  • Amairo Chocolate - 100% translated and edited
  • Kimagure Temptation - 100% translated
  • Slobbish Dragon Princess - 100% translated
  • 9-nine- Episode 4 - 38% translated, 30% edited
  • Karakara 3 - In Development
  • Secret Project 7 - 100% translated
  • Secret Project 8 - 100% translated and edited, 30% QC
  • Secret Project 9 - listed

Sol Press/Panty Press

  • Shitsuji ga Aruji o Erabu Toki - 30% translated, 10% edited
  • Nukitashi - 100% translated, 31% edited
  • Himawari to Koi no Kioku - 68% translated, 68% edited
  • Irotoridori no Sekai - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • Witch's Garden - Picked up
  • Happiness! 2 Sakura Celebration - 100% translated and edited, waiting on QA build
  • Hyper->Highspeed->Genius - Picked up


  • Hello Lady - Main game 100% translated, edited, and TLC, 50% QC, engine work being done by developer
  • Dracu Riot - 100% translated and edited, engine porting starting shortly
  • Riddle Joker - 100% translated and 98% edited, 40% QC
  • Kinkoi: Golden Loveriche - 90% translated and 60% edited, being ported to Unity
  • Clover Days - 100% translated and TLC, editing and engine porting starting shortly
  • Aokana Extra1 - 100% translated and edited, engine port in progress
  • Fureraba Complete edition - Vita exclusive content to be added to Fureraba a couple months after the fandisc release
  • Melty Moment - 40% translated
  • Making*Lovers: Geki Icha After Story - "we plan to translate the Fandisc as well"
  • Secret Project #1 - 40% translated


  • Abaddon: Princess of the Decay - Localization at "40% to 50%", 2020 release

Visual Arts/Key

  • Angel Beats 1st Beat - 50% translated



  • The Humbling of a Holy Maiden - 100% translated, 50% through programming
  • Chinkamo Twins! - 100% translated and edited


  • Salthe - September 15th release
  • Jiangshi x Taoshi - Episodes 1-2 released, episode 3 upcoming
  • Evenicle 2 - Demo released
  • Wanko no Yomeiri - Upcoming release
  • Taimanin Asagi - Page for the Trial of episode 1 back on Steam
  • Venus Blood Hollow - Kickstarted started and reached its goal, December 2021 release listed
  • Fault - Silence the Pedant - Demo released
  • Fault Milestone 2 - Side Above released, GE still to come
submitted by TheLoneExplorer to visualnovels [link] [comments]

Mathieu Pythoud – Architectural Modeler / BIM Coordinator ...