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The Plot of Nathan for You

2020.09.29 16:34 twixnpieces The Plot of Nathan for You

Many of you might know this already, but wanted to give my thoughts since its leaving Hulu and I just binged a lot of it.
If someone asks you what the show is about, you'll probably say something like "A guy who uses crazy marketing tactics to help businesses."
But rewatching Finding Frances for like the 10th time only enhances my thoughts that this series is about Nathan Fielder.
Before the show, Nathan has lived a life of mediocrity that has resulted in such, "Really good grades". No much friend or romantic history. He seems to make a bulk of his friends in the show's run. Not much talk of his college days. Little is known about his past because it was uneventful. Some could argue that his life is still in that mediocre level. (Not me. C;mon. Dumb Starbucks?)
As y'all know, NFY constantly blurs the lines of script work and Nathan's real personality. He really can be that awkward. And I think a huge reason why he created this show was to blur those lines for himself. There's so many parallels to how the show is structured on a TV screen to what is probably how he sees the production of the show in real life.
- TV fantasy: Nathan pushes crazy ideas onto business owners in the hopes of helping them, but also to gain their approval and something in return (usually just simple friendship).
- Production reality: Nathan pushes crazy ideas to his production team in the hopes of making good TV, but also to gain the approval of his audience, proving that he's a critical thinker, and gaining fame and all that goes with it. (Spotlight, friends, role model status)
The best moments of the show to me are when the monologues get intensely personal and deep to what a human might actually feel/think compared to a businessman.
Making what you want with reality in Smokers Allowed Reaching fame at cost of a heart in Dumb Starbucks Finding confidence in being someone else in The Hero
They leave me thinking just as much as laughing.
And I believe Finding Frances is the ultimate ending to any show ever. Not just because it was basically a project since the beginning, but because it culminated all those ideas that Nathan put out for use and threw it right back at him. Nathan may have started the show with a simple premise, but kept leaking in his own personality, story, and pain in the show as both a joke and cry for help. When Maci talks about turning off the camera and enjoying a real moment, Nathan realizes that having the camera there is what makes it the best for him, even if not real. Seeing the mirror image of him in Bill makes him realize this is all nothing without the cameras. Without the cameras, it's just some guy who tells people what to do. Without the cameras, he wouldn't have met people like Soloman, the PI, the ghost realtor, Corey, etc and without the cameras they probably wouldn't reappear in his life again. Even when things went surprisingly real )hiring an escort for TV, but then connecting to her out of nowhere), he's the one telling the camera to roll.
But that's been the idea the whole series. Him writing in "Ok how about we throw in some lines that show that I'm yearning for friendship or need someone to say they love me for kicks and giggles." And he wrote it too often to where he seems more natural as the series goes on.
Nathan for You is about a very lonely and socially awkward guy who wants to impress people and make friends. That may have started as a joke in the beginning but became more the central idea as the episodes went on. That could be a reason why the later episodes are 1 half hour segments rather than multiple things in an episode. Because he knows the more immersed he puts himself into his work and knowingly gets lost in fantasy, the better the episode will do on the air.
Nathan wanted to make a mockumentary series but slowly realized he was losing himself in a reality show and kept knowingly losing himself. And Finding Frances was his ultimate cry for help that he heard himself. Because when TV Nathan finally found the companionship he yearned for, reality Nathan knew this was what he wanted, too. But he knew this moment was over the minute he began production. Maybe that's why he ended the series. Not just to pursue bigger, better things. But because he always knew he was the joke, but started questioning which him was the joke.
(Sorry if my train of thought got messy, typing this at work)
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2020.09.29 03:43 Zymyrgist [Weekly Writing Prompt] The Order escapes Plumeria, only to meet Triandra.

Veronica found herself in a white, featureless room.
She blinked twice in surprise, looking around in confusion. For a supposed realm of nightmares, this was rather...tame.
“Indeed.” Veronica whirled to find herself standing before a young woman in a tattered yet somehow skintight dress, barely covering a form most Emblian women would kill for. “No need to be so defensive,” she continued, dismissively waving her hand at the sudden burst of emerald fire that roared to life in Veronica’s grip. “I have no quarrel with you.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Veronica testily replied, shifting back from the Dokkalfar. Her adversary’s wings fluttered twice, a predator’s smile on her lips.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Should I?”
“Please,” the Dokkalfar responded, rolling her eyes. “Save the tough girl act for another time.” Her wings fluttered again. “My name is Plumeria. I am the Dokkalfar of lewd dreams.”
The flames in her hand sputtered out, Veronica’s eyes widening and her jaw going slack. “E-Excuse me?!” She finally sputtered, the color rising to her face.
“Lewd. Dreams.” Plumeria repeated, floating closer. “Those most secret thoughts that all mortals share.” She floated closer still, so close Veronica could smell her perfume, a strange mix of dead leaves and decaying fruit. “All mortals,” she glanced around the room, an eyebrow raised. “Save for you.” Se floated back, looking back at Veronica. “All your little friends are bound to my spell. The foolish princeling and his bride to be, ensorcelled in their own desires they’d been too shy to share with each other. The anguished Princess, forced to watch her lover taken by another. The avaricious Commander, well…” She snapped her fingers, a tear in reality opening before her. Through it, Veronica watched as Anna rolled around in piles of golden coins, hurriedly pulling off her armor. Somehow, the coins did not obey the laws of physics, parting under her body like a liquid as she swam through a sea of gold.
“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” Veronica turned away from the image, circling to keep Plumeria in front of her.
“Nor am I. You live a few centuries, and you’ll see all kinds.” Plumeria herself shuddered. “Such visions...Your kind disgusts me.” She practically spat the last few words, her hands contorting into claws, an ominous aura pushing against Veronica’s senses.
Veronica eyed her warily, every instinct screaming to run. “So why am I stuck in a white room with you?”
Plumeria’s wild gaze flicked over to Veronica. The sheer hatred in her eyes made the Emblian start for just a moment, but just as quickly Plumeria’s countenance changed. From burning rage came cold indifference. “You’re young, I suspect. Younger than most of my normal targets.” She rolled her eyes. “Innocent.”
Veronica almost laughed, her lips pulling upwards ever so slightly. “Innocent. Really?”
“Oh, don’t mistake me. I would show you the orgy of violence you’ve unleashed upon the worlds if I could. Countless dead, because of your actions. You are no more innocent than the most hardened criminal. You simply have no...carnal desires.” Plumeria’s smug grin turned into a grimace. “For a few years, anyway. Shorter if that creature has her way.” Plumeria shrugged. “Alas. My mission was to hold the Order here. I have no visions I can show you, so…” She spread her arms wide. “Here we are.”
“You were to hold the Order? To stall them?” Veronica narrowed her eyes. “For what purpose?”
“It was Lady Freyja’s will. What her ultimate plans are, I could not say. My lady’s orders are absolute.”
“Yet every minute we tarry here, the dream spreads over the land.”
“Oh yes,” Plumeria nodded. “Soon, every mortal, waking and sleeping alike, will be trapped within a nightmare of their own creation.”
Veronica was quiet. She’d suspected that the dream would spread, that something it would be foolish to suspect that something so powerful as to warp reality would somehow obey the imaginary border around her people.
And yet, she had to admit, she’d hoped it would be Askr’s ordeal. The Order’s problem to solve. Yet somehow, again, their actions had endangered her people.
The quiet fury simmering under her calm facade finally reached the tipping point. She took a deep breath to steady herself, drawing upon that maelstrom of hatred and anger she’d been so careful to keep under control, that bottomless well of power. She closed her eyes and imagined staring into that deep, dark well, around whose edges a familiar green flame danced.
From that darkness, a pair of crimson eyes stared back.
In a duel between practitioners, three things mattered above all. Power, speed, and unpredictability. Power could overwhelm your foe. Speed could outpace their conjuring. And unpredictability could pierce through even the most carefully woven defense. Duels between accomplished mages rarely lasted more than seconds - amateurs conjured fireballs from spellbooks that burned away their pages over time. A true master could raise their staff to the heavens, and the fury of the sun would respond to their call.
Whatever defensive magic Plumeria had woven around herself was nothing to Veronica’s rage spilling forth. From her tiny body bellowed the roar of an ancient dragon, tearing her lungs and vocal chords apart with their shared fury. Waves of emerald energy cascaded from Veronica as all around them, cracks appeared in the walls of the dream. Plumeria could not hold together the walls of the Order’s prison and hold back the tidal wave of sheer force that crashed against her. Sonic, physical, magical, Veronica’s scream of fury assaulted the ancient Dokkalfar on every front until at last like a mirror, reality itself shattered.
Plumeria vanished, her scream lost in Veronica’s howl. Veronica herself collapsed to the ground, coughing and hacking up specks of blood. She gingerly rubbed her throat, wincing as every breath felt as though she were swallowing shards of glass. Her head pounded, her senses on high alert. Somehow, she could sense the twins nearby, as if she could smell them. One small part of her mind was relieved that her escorts had survived - the sudden assault she’d loosed on Plumeria must have freed them all.
Another, louder part screamed at her to finish the job and rip them both limb from limb.
She struggled to her feet, looking around. This wasn’t the forest they’d been in before Plumeria’s realm, so where..?
“Your dream.”
She didn’t have the strength to spin. She could only turn her head wearily as another Dokkalfar coalesced from the shadows, looking down on her with an empty gaze. “This is your empty dream, Veronica of Embla.” As she spoke, another sound was growing louder. Shuffling. Cloth over leaves. Iron greaves sinking with a squelch into soft earth. “This is what you fear. What you hide from. What your actions wrought.” The approaching figure was louder now, anguished cries assaulting Veronica’s ears.
“Ve-Veronica,” the man gasped, finally crawling into view. His body was mangled, his face twisted into a grimace, but Veronica would never fail to recognize her brother. He reached for her, fair skin marred by more than simple wounds. Across his skin, strange runes glowed and around them, soft skin had given way to cruel scales that dug into his flesh. Like a cancer, the scales spread over his body, black chitin outlined in bloody crimson. “Veronica, please,” Bruno pleaded with her. “Before...bef--AAARRGHHH!” He howled, twisting in place. A sickening crunch followed as his arm bent unnaturally, bone protruding from his elbow and twisting into a wicked spike. “Before I’m completely taken by our curse,” he panted, teeth straining in his gums as his jaw stretched into a hideous grimace.
“Kill me.”
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2020.09.29 01:57 thiscontradiction Bipolar Mania Hanukkah Joyride 2019.

 I have pretty bad bipolar, To the point where I’ve been hospitalized multiple times, and I’ve tried a slew of drugs to help but to no avail. My first actual manic episode occurred in 2011 accompanied by a god complex and believing that my car became a time machine. I would stay at random places in the city of Chicago that year, until I finally ended up back in my parents house in the suburbs which was the very last place I wanted to go after having a failed suicide attempt there prior to my mania. I have saved most of my manic episode images and videos on my hard drives these past few years in an attempt to keep myself from going off the deep end like that again, little did I know that it would not help in any sense of the word. Last year I was self medicating myself with whatever street drugs I could get my hands on to help alleviate my internal brain pains of this existence, and I had been doing it for a while so nothing really changed in that regard, however I had a brilliant idea for a new cryptocurrency and it really took off on 4chan. This token was going to break into the adult webcam tipping industry which is currently in the hands of many third party websites and they don’t even use crypto. So in this stroke of self supposed brilliance a team of incredibly talented people came into my life and helped me develop my idea further. I was broke so I had no actual money to pay these guys, however they were kind enough to accept the tokens that I made as part of their share and payment for the work they completed. Things were off to an amazing start, we had a website, and an incredible back end developer who was on an entire different level as far as his knowledge of cryptography and cryptocurrency development. As things progressed slowly I began to have these ideas of also self supposed brilliance, like being able to decipher and decode my personal subjective viewpoint of reality and also communicate to myself through this “external” self of my immediate environment outside of time/space. Simulation theory also played a big role, along with synchronicity and the phrase “there are no coincidences.” Repeated through my unbeknownst to me revving up doozy of a manic episode. It was so gradual and logical to me in those moments that I never for a chance thought that I was on my way to yet another mega minded god complex episode. As I started spiraling downward in viewpoints of many who had invested in my project, my mother eventually called the police to my apartment for a wellness check. Now I had gotten kicked out of my previous place for inviting some real shitheads to move in, in order to make my newly ex 21 year old girlfriend and my old roommate as uncomfortable as possible. Yeah she started sleeping with my roommate after I got a job...anyway, I digress. I was able to move into an amazing studio apartment using funds that I had obtained from selling a few billion of my tokens to a guy OTC. 
Things just seemed to magically come together for me in this manic state of mind. So the first wellness check went horribly, as when the police came I was totally naked and they had to convince me to put my clothes on upon entering my abode. It didn’t take me long to figure out I needed clothes to go outside as I was making the argument that I was doing nothing wrong being nude in my own apartment. Next thing I know it’s been 10 entire days in a psych ward.
 When I finally got out I was welcomed to my entire crypto project team abandoning not only myself but the project entirely. I was devastated and felt betrayed. They had put up a paragraph on the old website giving details on the situation and how they were moving forward with things and starting a new project. I kept moving at incredible speed towards the insanity cliffs that I could not see from my level viewpoint of the mental plane ahead of me. To the point of running away from my apartment because I was afraid my mom would call the police on me once again. I ended up taking the train all the way to Wisconsin and started walking to Milwaukee from there. I had an ex girlfriend that I had hoped might take me in there. I walked until my feet started disintegrating off my legs. I managed to get most of the way to Milwaukee where the police arrested me for walking on the side of the freeway. When they pulled over I was very resistant about them taking me with them from my PTSD recent psych ward fun times. They ended up only keeping me in jail for the rest of the evening before releasing me into the late night fog. For some reason while I was in jail I got paranoid that those who were in with me were trying to poison me and have me locked in a cell to be killed, so immediately upon release I fled to the nearest bus bound as far north and away from that place as possible. I literally started seeing synchronicities that confirmed all of my increasingly delusional thoughts, going as far as thinking my parents were abusive to us as children and they too were joining in the hunt. I had flashes of imagery of my parents being horrible people and torturing children, and I continued my escape to self assured places of safety. One of the areas I found myself in once I exited walking for miles along some railroad tracks. I felt people trying to ambush me and trap me in this small religious residential town that seemed surrounded by a massive fence with barbed wire. At one point I took my shirt off and acted like a jogger, to where someone released their dogs leash and right onto me...this was not imagined. I ran as fast as I could into a parked boat that was half filled with rain water, and I was so scared that I had to actually dip myself all the way into that very frigid water through my pants as I literally felt hunted. I heard gunshots and voices shouting in the distance, dogs barking, I just laid there completely motionless for my life depended on it. When I finally thought the coast was clear I got out as inconspicuously as possible to which I was met with yet another thunderous brigade of voices and gunshots. I then found myself in a recycling bin before I started to sneak very low around parked cars in the driveways. I finally made it to the end of this nightmare as I could see the fence beyond a final row of houses. I waited a few minutes before finally darting at full speed to and over that barbed wire fence cutting my lower back in the process. So there I was, shirtless, bleeding from a decent sized cut on my back, down the side of a road with quite a bit of traffic, coupled with my state of mind at that time it felt very supernatural. I felt like people were staring at me from their cars and recognizing me as a being not from this world. In my mind I had thought I recognized specific entities that I was channeling information from through the akashic records. I had started posting rap style videos on TikTok, delving through a multitude of emotional ranges and topics. I had thought I was trying to wake up the entire planet to the illusion pulled into their eyes. The final experience I had upon returning south to Milwaukee took me through open fields continuing to feel like a hunted piece of wild game. I felt that there were other beings that joined this hunt as well, that were not human at all. So now I was trying to evade an alien species that I had thought was controlling the police from the woods of Milwaukee. I had the idea to try to mimic who I had thought these creatures looked and moved like, and I inverted my jacket to further disguise my appearance. I had thought I saw them coming out of the woods so I figured that was where the alien’s nest was. It was logical for me to try my best to blend in with them, and of all places to look for me, the last place I would think they would search would be their very own nest. So I mimicked what I thought they were doing going in and out of the woods at a high speed and with veracity. I waited until all cars passed and ran full speed into the woods, and being surprised with not only very thick trees, thorns, and bushes...but a very steep declined terrain. It was very hard for me to control but I kept running through and downward to the depths of what I thought would be an alien nest hell hole. It was pitch black that night and I could barely make out anything without the occasional moonlight dancing on my immediate surroundings. I dove for 5 minutes of down this steep terrain while trees and sharp sticks tore parts of my coat. I began to see a clearing...it was water. As I exited the tree line I walked along this seemingly endless lake that had lights out incredibly far on the horizon, I came to the conclusion that the aliens lived underwater in this lake and the lights were potentially part of their base. As I continued walking down the sliver of a shoreline among the bushes, I saw something I was not expecting...severed giraffe heads with their tongues sticking out. It was surreal. I concluded that this was a place where they studied our animals and dissected them. Upon seeing this I noticed that in the near tree line there was a break, and a very comfortable looking incline out from the pits of that hell I had stumbled into, which would have been a hell of a lot more comfortable coming down here. I calmly walked up and out of there as casually as possible. 
The police then picked me up after I told them where I was headed and it was around Christmas, so they obliged.
 I had figured I passed their test and was now the alpha dog in the system of control there in Milwaukee. These scenes and experiences are as close to what I experienced in those moments as I can possibly detail, the police got me on a bus back to Chicago where I finally made it home. This of course was not the end. I had left all of my keys including my crypto cold storage wallet and a lot of clothes I had with me in the deep woods in Milwaukee, so upon arriving to my apartment I could not enter. I ended up throwing a brick into the back door window and entering finally to what I thought would be peace. The entire building I lived in was dead quiet. I had thought that my neighbors were all taken out by black ops because they had been a part of an organized crime scheme, but it was just Christmas. Even my neighbors’ annoying dog was gone and I assumed they had shot it as well. It is truly incredible what a completely delusional mind is capable of, and I was completely sober the entire time. Once I finally got a chance to sit for a minute and gather my highly dependable thoughts and realized I needed to go to Walmart. I was all comfortable and showered as well as wearing a super comfy ninja turtles onesie that I was planning on rocking in the store while shopping. Immediately upon exiting my apartment complex I realized that I no longer had keys and there was no way I could get to the back door without someone letting me through. I took this as a sign to once again leave my apartment and my belongings and find a safer place. The universe confirmed that I wasn’t supposed to go back home, I had no key and I locked myself out. I headed straight downtown. It was now one of the days on Hanukkah and there were Jewish people everywhere. I felt their eyes grazing me and giving me chuckles as I was wearing this giant green fleece ninja turtles onesie walking around downtown Chicago. I was wearing some old shoes at the time, but because I had convinced myself that shoes were hurting my ability to practice walking correctly for my anatomy, I ditched them in the streets. I walked up to the nearest train station and got on. When I was on the train I had noticed some printouts taped to the car walls showing a human figure above the tracks with a little electric zap near his feet. In my mind I saw this as directions someone had left me on how to finally exit the matrix. I was supposed to jump on the tracks and I would be out of this place as Neo did with landline phones. I slowly made my way to the very rear car of the train and opened the door and slinkied my way through the last safety chain keeping me from my finally found freedom from this horrible nightmare of a “reality” game. I made my way onto the tracks and hopped on top of them in my bare feet. I finally made it to the electrified elevated rail and braced myself for the incoming trip of a lifetime. I gathered all the courage I had and made the jump...nothing. Ok strange. I jumped off and made my way along the other tracks further analyzing them to make sure I had indeed jumped on the electrified track. Confused as I verified it was, I hopped along the other tracks and back towards the wooden platform. During this entire scene there were many people, mostly Jewish who were trying to convince me not to do what I was trying to do. They didn’t know I was escaping the matrix, they thought I was trying to harm myself. I pressed on. I noticed there was a space between the two directional electrified tracks where I would be able to grab one line in each hand, further securing the one way journey I was about to take. I knew that if I grabbed them palms down I wouldn’t let go. I walked to the area and braced myself for what very well might still be a very painful ride out. I got on my knees between the tracks and told myself there was no way I would come this far and go though all of this hell to pussy out now. I gathered all of my courage and grabbed both lines. Again I was met with nothing. Maybe I was immune to the electricity? Maybe I had already made the trip? Very confused I started waking on the tracks back towards the shouting people and the platform. Jumping on each rail one foot at a time. BOOM. It hit me before my big toe even touched one of the rails. It threw me immediately off the track and I had a brief moment of unconsciousness while in the air. I landed between the tracks and continued to make it to the platform. A jolt of intense pain shot up my foot from a now bloody big toenail. This was entirely unexpected to me as the track I had gotten jolted from was the one I had tested previously with no power. Confused and a bit tingly and disoriented I limped in pain back up to the wooden platform. One of the guards asked if I was alright and I just hurried past them saying I was fine. I got down to the street and in my hazy mind was able to make out a van with its driver standing next to it open and running in the street. Taking this as a sign to move quickly I jumped into his car and shut the door while he yelled for me to not continue. I then grabbed the wheel and hit the gas. I was getting out of here. I never thought I could drive this fast. I was weaving in and out of traffic, barely missing both cars and pedestrians, while assuming the police wouldn’t be far behind. I threw the man’s phone and toll device out of the window as soon as I could. I was still wearing my coat on top of my onesie which I had failed to mention earlier, and while driving I made sure I inverted it and try to blend in to normal flowing traffic. In my stable mind I had come to the conclusion that this van had been used for human trafficking and that there were dead children unseen in the rear cargo space. I felt like this was a mission to infiltrate this trafficking network to find out what was really happening. I had to once again blend in. I drove as fast as I could for the immediate escape of the city, and upon the freeway I stayed within the laws of the road. I made it through several small towns until one seemed as if a police car had started to escort me a certain direction. I acted at first to be taking his direction until halfway through a turn I bolted in the opposite direction, ensuing a chase. Many cars were then called and I was being actively chased now and I started driving to the very ends of my physical limits of reaction time and the vans capability of speed and control. I thought I had a way out, but soon I realized I was trapped. I saw a bus parked near the casino where I had ended up and thought this might have been a drop off/pickup location for the traffickers. I stopped for a moment next to the bus and made eye contact to a very confused looking driver. I then started trying to maneuver away until I quickly ran out of road and bottomed out the delivery van. My ride was coming to an end, I had managed to take half of my onesie off while being in between pursuit so I was now half naked and being commanded by many gun wielding police officers to get out of the vehicle. Thankfully I had remembered in that moment it is very important to always show your hands to police. This detail may have saved me from being suicided by making a wrong move. I was still stuck in the car with my seatbelt on, and repeated to the officers that I was moving my hand to release the belt and open the door. I opened the door and they proceeded to have me crawl on my stomach towards them scraping against sharp chunks of broken concrete along the way. I kept crawling for seemingly forever as any one of these cops or a failed movement on my part could end this moment quite disastrously. I finally was allowed to get up with their assistance and subsequent handcuffing. They sat me on a large piece of concrete and tried to cover my genital area while trying not to laugh. It was quite the site I am sure. A half naked man wearing a green onesie barefoot and bleeding from his driving toe. I was laughing with the cops and small banter was exchanged as they tried to figure out what to do with me. They asked me what was going on and I told them I know where the bodies were, and I pointed to the concrete that was laying in the area. I was convinced that all the missing children’s bodies were being disposed of via pulverizing and into our cities concrete structures and sidewalks. I didn’t say this to the officers but assumed they knew what I meant when I pointed to the concrete when they asked. I slowly got paranoid they were going to try to kill me. I was asking them questions about where they were taking me and I had thought this was finally the end. I knew too much. An ambulance arrived and I was taken to my certain death. I arrived at a hospital and they take the common questions and my paranoia is in high gear. They wanted to strap me into the gurney and I kept vehemently refusing. They actually respected my decision as long as I was calm. Slowly my paranoid mentality began to fade as I was logically asking myself why nurses would waste all the effort testing me physically if they were just going to kill me anyway. I was finally safe. Until they injected me with antipsychotics. I am not a fan of big pharma, but I can attest that the shots did help kick me out of my delusional mind. The side effects were horrible, but my mind was finally getting to a point where I could see my insanely delusional mind from the outside instead of through the failed system I had unintentionally built over the course of the last few months. I will never forget this experience. It was indeed life changing and PTSD inducing. I have a completely new respect for what the mind can do, and what seemingly benign and silly mental games can potentially become. I had thought I figured it out, all the while reminding myself that I hadn’t, but also feeling as I was the one who was chosen by the architect of the universe to be his speaker and teacher. I had convinced myself I was an ascended master, practicing transcendental mediation. I also was microwaving my head in order to “sync” myself further to the extradimensional planes. I had put silly putty in the mechanism so it would stay on when opened. I also created a type of microwave shield for my entire apartment by keeping it open and running in an effort to prevent potential enemies from using heat vision on my place. I thought the microwaves would make it incredibly hard or impossible to see my heat signature. I was teaching people on the street how to walk. That part is actually true. Balls first, your pinky toe side of your foot is supposed to make first contact, followed by your big toe ball and finally your heel. Look it up. ;) This was quite an unplanned story but I hope you enjoyed the ride and the experience as best as I could convey to to you and your incredibly complex and relatively small space between your two ears. If you believe in something strongly enough, it will become real to you based on your subjective viewpoint of those firmly held ideas or concepts. Thank you and have an incredible rest of your vibrant and passionate existence. Remember to respect yourselves and the power you have both individually and collectively. 4444. <3 
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2020.09.28 22:08 thiscontradiction Manic Hanukkah joyride 2019. AMA

I have pretty bad bipolar, To the point where I’ve been hospitalized multiple times, and I’ve tried a slew of drugs to help but to no avail. My first actual manic episode occurred in 2011 accompanied by a god complex and believing that my car became a time machine. I would stay at random places in the city of Chicago that year, until I finally ended up back in my parents house in the suburbs which was the very last place I wanted to go after having a failed suicide attempt there prior to my mania. I have saved most of my manic episode images and videos on my hard drives these past few years in an attempt to keep myself from going off the deep end like that again, little did I know that it would not help in any sense of the word. Last year I was self medicating myself with whatever street drugs I could get my hands on to help alleviate my internal brain pains of this existence, and I had been doing it for a while so nothing really changed in that regard, however I had a brilliant idea for a new cryptocurrency and it really took off on 4chan. This token was going to break into the adult webcam tipping industry which is currently in the hands of many third party websites and they don’t even use crypto. So in this stroke of self supposed brilliance a team of incredibly talented people came into my life and helped me develop my idea further. I was broke so I had no actual money to pay these guys, however they were kind enough to accept the tokens that I made as part of their share and payment for the work they completed. Things were off to an amazing start, we had a website, and an incredible back end developer who was on an entire different level as far as his knowledge of cryptography and cryptocurrency development. As things progressed slowly I began to have these ideas of also self supposed brilliance, like being able to decipher and decode my personal subjective viewpoint of reality and also communicate to myself through this “external” self of my immediate environment outside of time/space. Simulation theory also played a big role, along with synchronicity and the phrase “there are no coincidences.” Repeated through my unbeknownst to me revving up doozy of a manic episode. It was so gradual and logic to me in those moments that I never for a chance thought that I was on my way to yet another mega minded god complex episode. As I started spiraling downward in viewpoints of many who had invested in my project, my mother eventually called the police to my apartment for a wellness check. Now I had gotten kicked out of my previous place for inviting some real shitheads to move in, in order to make my newly ex 21 year old girlfriend and my old roommate as uncomfortable as possible. Yeah she started sleeping with my roommate after I got a job...anyway, I digress. I was able to move into an amazing studio apartment using funds that I had obtained from selling a few billion of my tokens to a guy OTC. Things just seemed to magically come together for me in this manic state of mind. So the first wellness check went horribly, as when the police came I was totally naked and they had to convince me to put my clothes on upon entering my abode. It didn’t take me long to figure out I needed clothes to go outside as I was making the argument that I was doing nothing wrong being nude in my own apartment. Next thing I know it’s been 10 entire days in a psych ward. When I finally got out I was welcomed to my entire crypto project team abandoning not only myself but the project entirely. I was devastated and felt betrayed. They had put up a paragraph on the old website giving details on the situation and how they were moving forward with things and starting a new project. I kept moving at incredible speed towards the insanity cliffs that I could not see from my level viewpoint of the mental path ahead of me. To the point of running away from my apartment because I was afraid my mom would call the police on me once again. I ended up taking the metra train all the way to Wisconsin and started walking to Milwaukee from there. I had an ex girlfriend that I had hoped might take me in. I walked until my feet started disintegrating off my legs. I managed to get most of the way to Milwaukee where the police arrested me for walking on the side of the freeway. When they pulled over I was very resisting about them taking me from my PTSD psych ward good times. They ended up only keeping me in jail for the rest of the evening before releasing me into the late night fog. For some reason while I was in jail I got paranoid that those who were in with me were trying to poison me and have me locked in a cell to be killed, so immediate upon release I fled to the nearest bus bound as far north and away from that place as possible. I literally started seeing synchronicities that confirmed all of my increasingly delusional thoughts, going as far as thinking my parents were abusive to us as children and they too were joining in the hunt. I had flashes of imagery of my parents being horrible people and torturing children, and I continued my escape to self assured places of safety. One of the areas I found myself in once I exited walking for miles along some railroad tracks. I felt people trying to ambush me and trap me in this small religious residential town that seemed surrounded by a massive fence with barbed wire. At one point I took my shirt off and acted like a jogger, to where someone released their dogs leash and right onto me...his was not imagined. I ran as fast as I could into a parked boat that was half filled with rain water, and I was so scared that I had to actually dip myself all the way into that very frigid water through my pants as I literally felt hunted. I heard gunshots and voices shouting in the distance, dogs barking, I just laid there completely motionless for my life depended on it. When I finally thought the coast was clear I got out as inconspicuously as possible to which I was met with yet another thunderous brigade of voices and gunshots. I then found myself in a recycling bin before I started to sneak very low around parked cars in the driveways. I finally made it to the end of this nightmare as I could see the fence beyond a final row of houses, I waited a few minutes before finally darting at full speed to and over that barbed wire fence cutting my lower back in the process. So there I was, shirtless, bleeding from a decent sized cut in my back, down the side of a road with quite a bit of traffic, coupled with my state of mind at that time it felt very supernatural. I felt like people were staring at me from their cars and recognizing me as a being not from this world. In my mind I had thought I recognized specific entities that I was channeling information from through the akashic records. I had started posting rap style videos on TikTok, delving through a multitude of emotional ranges and topics. I had thought I was trying to wake up the entire planet to the illusion pulled into their eyes. The final experience I had upon returning south to Milwaukee took me through open fields continuing to feel like a hunted piece of game. I felt that there were other beings that joined this hunt as well, that were not human at all. So now I was trying to evade an alien species that I had thought was controlling the police from the woods of Milwaukee. I had the idea to try to mimic who I had thought these creatures looked and moved like, and I inverted my jacket to further disguise my appearance. I had thought I saw them coming out of the woods so I figured that was where the aliens nest was. It was logical for me to try my best to blend in with them, and of all places to look for me, the last place I would think they would search would be their very own nest. So I mimicked what I thought they were doing going in and out of the woods at a high speed and with veracity. I waited until all cars passed and ran full speed into the woods, and being surprised with not only very thick trees, thorns, and bushes...but a very steep declined terrain. It was very hard for me to control but I kept running through and downward to the depths of what I thought would be an alien nest hell hole. It was pitch black that night and I could barely make out anything, but after about 5 minutes of diving down this steen terrain I began to see a clearing...it was water. As I exited the tree line I walked along this seemingly endless lake that had lights out incredibly far on the horizon, I came to the conclusion that the aliens lived underwater in this lake and the lights were potentially part of their base. As I continued walking down he sliver of a shoreline among the bushes, I saw something I was not expecting...severed giraffe heads with their tongues sticking out. It was surreal. I concluded that this was a place where they studied our animals and dissected them. Upon seeing this I noticed that in the near tree line there was a break, and a very comfortable looking incline out from the pits of that hell I had stumbled into. I calmly walked up and out of there as casually as possible. The police then picked me up after I told them where I was headed and it was around Christmas, so they obliged. I had figured I passed their test and was now the alpha dog in the system of control there in Milwaukee. These scenes and experiences are as close to what I experienced in those moments as I can possibly detail, the police got me on a bus back to Chicago where I finally made it home. This of course was not the end. I had left all of my keys and a lot of clothes I had with me in the deep woods in Milwaukee, so upon arriving to my apartment I could not enter. I ended up throwing a brick into the back door window and entering finally to what I thought would be peace. The entire building I lived in was dead quiet. I had thought that my neighbors were all taken out by black ops because they had been a part of an organized crime scheme, but it was just Christmas. Even my neighbors annoying dog was gone and I assumed they had shot it as well. It is truly incredible what a completely delusional mind is capable of, and I was completely sober the entire time. Once I finally got a chance to sit for a minute and gather my highly dependable thoughts and realized I needed to go to Walmart. I was all comfortable and showered as well as wearing a super comfy ninja turtles onesie that I was planning on rocking in the store while shopping. Immediately upon exiting my apartment complex I realized that I no longer had keys and there was no way I could get to the back door without someone letting me through. I took this as a sign to once again leave my apartment and my belongings and find a safer place. The universe confirmed that I wasn’t supposed to go back home, I had no key and I locked myself out. I headed straight downtown. It was now one of the days on Hanukkah and there were Jewish people everywhere. I felt their eyes grazing me and giving me chuckles as I was wearing this giant green fleece ninja turtles onesie walking around downtown Chicago. I was wearing some old shoes at the time, but because I had convinced myself that shoes were hurting my ability to practice walking correctly for my anatomy, I ditched them in the streets. I walked up to the nearest train station and got on. When I was in the train I had noticed some printouts taped to the car walls showing a human figure above the tracks with a little electric zap near his feet. In my mind I saw this as directions someone had left me on how to finally exit the matrix. I was supposed to jump in the tracks and I would be out of this place as Neo did with landline phones. I slowly made my way to the very rear car of the train and opened the door and slinkied my way through the last safety chain keeping me from my finally found freedom from this horrible nightmare of a “reality” game. I made my way onto the tracks and hopped on top of them in my bare feet. I finally made it to the electrified elevated rail and braced myself for the incoming trip of a lifetime. I gathered all the courage I had and made the jump...nothing. Ok strange. I jumped off and made my way along the other tracks further analyzing them to make sure I had indeed jumped on the electrified track. Confused as I verified it was, I hopped along the other tracks and back towards the wooden platform. During this entire scene there were many people, mostly Jewish who were trying to convince me not to do what I was trying to do. They didn’t know I was escaping the matrix, they thought I was trying to harm myself. I pressed on. I noticed there was a space between the two directional electrified tracks where I would be able to grab one line in each hand, further securing the one way journey I was about to take. I knew that if I grabbed them palms down I wouldn’t let go. I walked to the area and braced myself for what very well nigh still be a very painful ride out. I got in my knees between the tracks and told myself there was no way I would come this far and go though all of this hell to pussy out now. I gathered all of my courage and grabbed both lines. Again I was met with nothing. Maybe I was immune to the electricity? Maybe I had already made the trip? Very confused I started waking on the tracks back towards the shouting people and the platform. Jumping on each rail one foot at a time. BOOM. It hit me before my big toe even touched one of the rails. It threw me immediately off the track and I had a brief moment of unconsciousness while in the air. I landed between the tracks and continued to make it to the platform. A jolt of intense pain shot up my foot from a now bloody big toe. This was entirely unexpected to me as the track I had gotten jolted from was the one I had tested previously with no power. Confused and a bit tingly and disoriented I limped in pain back up to the wooden platform. One of the guards asked if I was alright and I just hurried past them saying I was fine. I got down to the street and in my hazy mind was able to make out a van with its driver standing next to it open and running in the street. Taking this as a sign to move quickly I jumped into his car and shut the door while he yelled for me to not continue. I then grabbed the wheel and hit the gas. I was getting out of here. I never thought I could drive this fast. I was weaving in and out of traffic, barely missing both cars and pedestrians, while assuming the police wouldn’t be far behind. I threw the man’s phone and toll device out of the window as soon as I could. I was still wearing my coat on top of my onesie which I had failed to mention earlier, and while driving I made sure I inverted it and try to blend in to normal flowing traffic. In my stable mind I had come to the conclusion that this van had been used for unanswered trafficking and that there was dead children unseen in the cargo space. I felt like this was a mission to infiltrate this trafficking network to find out what was happening. I had to once again blend in. I drove as fast as I could for the immediate escape of the city, and upon the freeway I stayed within the laws of the road. I are it through several small towns until one seemed as if a police car had started to escort me a certain direction. I acted at first to be taking his direction until halfway through a turn I bolted he opposite direction, ensuing a chase. Many cars were then called and I was being acutely chased now and I started driving to the very ends of my physical limits of reaction time and the vans capability of speed and control. I thought I had a way out, but soon I realized I was trapped. I saw a bus parked near the casino where I had ended up and thought his might have been a drop off/pickup location for the traffickers. I stopped for a moment next to the bus and made eye contact to a very confused looking driver. I then started trying to maneuver away until I quickly ran out of road and bottomed out the delivery van. My ride was coming to an end, I had managed to take half of my onesie off while being in between pursuit so I was now half naked and being commanded by many guy wielding police officers to get out of the vehicle. Thankfully I had remembered in that moment it is very important to always show your hands to police. This detail may have saved me from being suicided by making a wrong move. I was still stuck in the car with my seatbelt on, and repeated to the officers that I was moving my hand to open the door. I opened the door and they proceeded to have me crawl on my stomach towards them scraping against sharp chunks of broken concrete along the way. I kept crawling for seemingly forever as any one of these cops or a failed movement on my part could end this moment quite disastrously. I finally was allowed to get up with their assistance and subsequent handcuffing. They sat me on a large piece of concrete and tried to cover my genital area while trying not to laugh. It was quite the site I am sure. A half naked man wearing a green onesie barefoot and bleeding from his driving toe. I was laughing with the cops and small banter was exchanged as they tried to figure out what to do with me. They asked me what was going on and I told them I know where the bodies were, and I pointed to the concrete that was laying in the area. I was convinced that all the missing children’s bodies were being disposed of via pulverizing and into our cities concrete structures and sidewalks. I didn’t say this to the officers but assumed they knew what I meant when I pointed to the concrete when they asked. I slowly got paranoid they were going to try to kill me. I was asking them questions about where they were taking me and I had thought his was finally the end. I knew too much. An ambulance arrived and I was taken to my certain death. I arrived at a hospital and they do the common questions and my paranoia is in high gear. They want to strap me into the gurney and I kept vehemently refusing. They actually respected my decision as long as I was calm. Slowly my paranoid mentality began to fade as I was logically asking myself why nurses would waste all the effort testing me physically if they were just going to kill me anyway. I was finally safe. Until they injected me with antipsychotics. I am not a fan of big pharma, but I can attest that the shots did help kick me out of my delusional mind. The side effects were horrible, but my mind was finally getting to a point where I could see my insanely delusional mind from the outside instead of through the failed system I had unintentionally built over the course of the last few months. I will never forget this experience. It was indeed life changing and PTSD inducing. I have a completely new respect for what the mind can do, and what seemingly benign and silly mental games can potentially become. I had thought I figured it out, all the while reminding myself that I hadn’t, but also feeling as I was the one who was chosen by the architect of the universe to be his speaker and teacher. I had convinced myself I was an ascended master, practicing transcendental mediation. I was teaching people on the street how to walk. That part is actually true. Balls first, your pinky toe side of your foot is supposed to make first contact, followed by your big toe ball and finally your heel. Look it up. ;) This was quite an unplanned story but I hope you enjoyed the ride and the experience as best as I could convey to to you and your incredibly complex and relatively small space between your two ears. Thank you and have an incredible rest of your vibrant and passionate existence. Remember to respect yourselves and the power you have both individually and collectively. 4444. <3
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2020.09.28 19:11 oofboi2002 Please critique my very long story if you have the time and patience to read it :) Even if its a nuclear criticism lay it on me.

As I stood at the dock’s edge, gazing at the tempestuous sea I couldn’t help but wonder why I had decided to come to this desolate rock. Could it have been a fickle attempt to escape the everyday humdrum of life? Or had some enigmatic force of fate brought me to this rickety atoll? My dismal rumination was abruptly quelled by a stout hand clapping my shoulder, my thoughts still roared as I turned to see the briny barge captain who had stirred me. He must have noticed my vacant stare because he immediately led me to a musty wooden tavern not thirty yards away from the dock’s cragged edge.
As we ambled through the swinging saloon doors I began to grasp how meager this hamlet was. My inattentive thoughts were jarred by the bartender gruffly asking for my drink of choice, I simply abstained myself which elicited a grumble from the chapped man. As I sat in the bar, I could feel manifold sets of eyes scouring my slouched shoulders. I could hear hushed voices redound off the rotting walls “Looks like a fresh continental.”, “Come next barge he’s gone go back home cryin’ to mama.” I stood from my seat and left the peculiar locals to their swill.
I noticed a filmy patch of fog rolling through the cobbled stone streets. As I looked back to the dock I noticed the vessel that I had arrived on was now a distant mote on the horizon. I began combing the stark streets for any refuge that didn’t contain unsavory locals or fetid scents. As I strolled through the fog the warm effulgence of oil lamps illuminated a small chain bound wooden sign that merely read “INN”.
As I entered the lobby, I saw that the inn was well lit and unsoiled by rot or water damage. As I strode to the end of the reception area I noticed a golden service bell on the edge of a glossy wooden desk labeled “Check-In” I rang the small bell and not a second later a small elderly woman scooted from a small curtained room to the side of the desk opposite me. I examined her face more closely to see keen exuberance in her eyes as if I were an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in some time. “Hello, my name is Ida, and welcome to my Inn. How long would you like to stay my dear?” “I’ll stay for a week.” I said reluctantly, I had no idea when the next ship would come to this port and the locals are no help whatsoever. “Wonderful!” she croaked “So many continentals come to stay here, my business has been booming since I opened four years ago.” This comment confused me greatly because the keyboard behind her was completely full. “This way young man you’ll be staying in room 3.” The woman quickly shuffled up a flight of burnished wooden stairs to reveal a carpeted hallway with 5 rooms on each side. “You said your business was booming…” I alluded “…but the other rooms are vacant.” Ida smiled at me and asserted “The other patrons left the village to get closer to the island.” This statement perplexed me, “This place is so bleak. Why would anyone want to make a home here?” I thought to myself as Ida’s face receded with the closing door.
My room was a spacious 40 square meter box with red curtains covering immaculate double windows. I took to lying down on the cushy king bed so that I could reflect on my circumstances comfortably. After some ephemeral solitary deliberation, I heard a feeble knock on my door. When I opened the door there stood the slightly wilted figure of Ida, but this time she was holding a small sheet of paper. “Since you’re going to be here for a bit, I thought you might want to know this town’s history.” The paper had a picture of a gaping cave entrance that gave me a disconcerting chill. I gripped the pamphlet, but the woman maintained her grip. “Watch yourself when you leave your room you hear? The folk who live in this town are the least of your worries.” She then released the brochure and retired to the lobby. The leaflet described the founding of the town by a small fleet of European trading ships that were immobilized by a severe tropical storm that devastated the area. These settlers lived on the island for nearly a century, but one day a military vessel docked, and the men were astonished to find the settlement and the entire island to be empty. It was as if the people had vanished into thin air. Soon the settlement was repopulated during the Industrial Revolution in hopes that the island had hidden riches to strip and sell to the highest bidder. However, many of the prospectors reported seeing pale slick headed figures stalking the dark inlets of the cave system. These legends were never confirmed, and no lives were lost until one day the miner’s exit had a massive cave in and hundreds of men were killed along with the island’s economy. The island is now a secluded community that feeds itself with the sea’s bounty. As I flipped to the back of the handout, I found a map of the island with important locations corresponding to its history each marked with a crudely written title and small “x” to specify. My eyes scanned the map I saw a small gray patch of land near the watery center of the atoll. The patch was marked “Murky Grotto”, this was the location that was pictured on the front of the pamphlet and the site where the cave-in occurred. I flipped the paper back to its face and studied the maw of the cave closely, I’m positive I saw something in that cave. I could feel the hand holding the picture drifting closer to my face until I could see nothing but the darkness within.
My vision was completely darkened by the picture, but when I moved the photo away from my eyes, I realized that I was no longer in the warm hotel room. I was totally enveloped by inky blackness on all sides, the only thing my senses could interpret was the biting chill in the air and the faint dripping of water. My heart jumped from resting to throbbing against my rib cage. As my breath became faster, I began to hear clumsy footsteps accompanied by ear-shattering wails and erratic cries of primal rage. I couldn’t tell what was making the peculiar noise, but all I knew was that it was getting louder and therefore closer. I reduced my breathing to remain completely silent. I could feel its frenzied breath on my face. Standing before me was what may seem human, but this beast was coated and continuously secreting a sickly lemon-colored mucous, sporting a near melanin free outer membrane, the eyes must be completely worthless as the beast does not acknowledge visual stimuli its bulbous and milky eyes seem to be an evolutionary mutation as useful as the human appendix, the mutant also didn’t have a single visible hair on its body. The mutant’s physical condition is questionable,, to say the least. Much of its body was simply gaunt deformity. The torso is mostly stretched thin skin over protruding bones. The mutant’s prominent facial features include its lack of a nose, instead it has two nostrils nestled in a small facial ridge where its nose should be was. The mutant’s ears are also embedded into its head rather than protruding. My blood ran cold as the creature’s dead eyes bulged while it silently stood in front of me, baring its rows of deformed teeth in my face almost as if it knew it was standing inches away but preferred to taunt me instead. I began to slowly inch away from the mutant as quietly as possible step by step. However, my fear overtook my footing as I backed into what must have been a thick stalagmite and began to plunge to the floor. As I fell, I could see the creature aimlessly swiping toward me, the monstrosity wore a tattered black cloak, but no shoes. The creature’s feet were densely webbed to the point where what would be toes were nearly fused together. The last thing I heard before I collapsed was another spine-chilling scream coming from the creature.
I shot up from lying down, once again blind for a moment until the small pamphlet flaked off my face and into my lap. My body was shaking immensely as I tried reassuring myself that I had just fallen asleep and had a terrible nightmare, but I could feel the dull flow of adrenaline through my body. I sauntered into the bathroom to use the sink to cool my sweat laden forehead, as I refreshed myself, I chuckled because I had gotten myself so worked up over a stupid nightmare. As I dried my hands however I could feel something warm running down my neck, I used a few sheets of toilet paper to clear my sweat, but as I brought the paper to my face to examine the amount of sweat my vision began to blur as I saw that I had not cleaned sweat off my neck rather the wipe was stained red with fresh blood. I stumbled into the stand-in shower and activated the tepid flow of water. I faced the shiny silver floor drain as I watched diluted blood swirl into the pipes below just trying to distract myself from the I implored myself to think of any logical answer other than the repulsive possibility that was slowly pushing its way to the forefront of my mind. “The nightmare.” I blankly uttered. Soon afterward the blood stopped flowing down my back and shoulders and I stepped out of the shower shaking profusely even though the temperature was better than most showers I’ve used. I threw myself toward my duffel bag to retrieve my meds. “Don’t think about it. None of it makes sense so don’t delude yourself by trying to make it logical.” I chanted as I downed my medicine with a swig of water I spread myself across the bed, staring up at the ceiling with my mind still racing, but eventually my medication eased my mind enough that my heart resumed its normal resting pattern. I was determined to stay awake until I could convince myself that I was just anxious about staying in this eerie hamlet. I soon pushed it to the back of my mind and decided that I would go back to the tavern and look for a guide and something to eat. As I descended the stairs, I could see that the old woman was nowhere to be found in the lobby, so I simply left a generous payment for the weeks lodging next to the cramped guest ledger. I took a closer look at the paper to notice that Ida was in fact right that many travelers had come to the inn, however, there was a column marked “Room Status” and every single name except for mine was marked vacated on the same date and within the same hour. This confused me at first, but I then realized that these people must have come together, perhaps they checked out to explore the island’s entirety.
As I left the Inn I was again greeted with thick fog and dark skies. As I returned to the coast where I arrived I felt a few raindrops hit the nape of my neck as thunder rolled in the distance. I stopped before I entered the bar again because I could once more feel eyes on my back. I turned to see a man dressed in a navy-blue police uniform with an aged 1911 pistol model on one hip and a sleek nightstick on the other. The man raised one of his gloved hands and motioned for me to come closer. As I approached I saw the man’s gaunt features, his eyes were baggy and dark as his suit, immense stress markings on his forehead, and an unsightly scar stretching from his left commissure to the corresponding earlobe. “Hello son, you’re the new cont’nental arrived yesterday right?” he coolly inquired, “Continental?” I quizzically asked, “Everyone keeps calling me that, but I don’t know what it means.” “Means you’re from the mainland, means they don’t trust you neither. These folks only care for their own and don’t take well to outsiders meddling with their traditions.” The officer said overly nonchalantly. “I noticed that they weren’t very fond of me as soon as I walked into the bar. Do the locals even speak to newcomers unless they have to?” I inquired genuinely regretting not stepping back onto the barge instead of being distracted by the queer community of ruffled fishermen. “Most folk just keep a sour look til’ newcomers get the message.” He punctuated his sentence by grabbing a small canteen and taking a swig of what I assumed was water. “Do you know when the next barge will come here? I made a mistake staying here and I need the first boat back to the mainland.” The officer chuckled and looked at me as if I had told him a joke he had heard many times before. “Next barge carrying general good’s comin’ in 13 days. Til’ then you’re stuck on this berg.” My heart sank as I had enough money to last that period, but I was reluctant because of the lack of activities since I was technically a second-class citizen to the locals. The officer surely noticed my expression because he put his white pristine white glove on my shoulder and stated “I know it’s inconvenient son, but the locals don’t want nothin’ to do with the mainland less’ they can’t find it on the island. The only boats the locals own are small rowboats nd’ they only use em’ for haulin’ fish n’ firewood.” “Say…” he blurted “…I’ll bet you haven’t got a tour of the town yet. How’d you like a po-lice escort, son?” “Sure.” I relented “But how much of this dinky shantytown is there to tour?” I mentally scoffed. Instantly after I accepted his offer the officer turned 180 degrees and began rigidly marching down the street opposite of the bar. The thick fog gave the officer a strange appearance, his dark figure seemed to push the fog to his side while my thin frame was seemingly consumed by the syrupy haze. The officer suddenly stopped and clicked his polished shoes together to face the second-best kept building I’d seen “This’s the general store, here’s where most of the goods from the barge go.” “Finally!” I thought “I don’t have to go to that dingy bar to get food and drink. I thought I’d never find a store here.” The officer began to say something, but I was only interested in the small wooden shelves freshly stocked with ample instant food that only requires water, seasoning shakers, various tools, and various fishing gear and accessories. I grabbed a small paper bag and filled it with instant food and some bottled water. However, the cashier stopped totaling my items when I opened my wallet and took out a couple of 5-dollar bills. “Sir you don’t have enough capital for your items.” the man groaned “You need more than ten dollars for some lousy instant food and bottled water?” I griped. The man started to respond but closed his mouth as I felt a familiar feeling on my shoulder. I turned to see the officer with a small but smug grin on his face “We don’t accept continental cash here son.” he ribbed. I then noticed both men had small canvas sacks attached to their belts, the officer removed his and took out a few slimy segments of what looked like fish scales. “I’ll pay for your food this time ‘round, but we don’t use no paper money with nobody but the barge captain.” The cashier shot the officer a quick grin, but his expression changed to a scowl when he returned my bag of items. As I walked down the creaky wooden steps the officer snickered “I was tryin’ to tell you we ain’t got any use for mainland cash, do us both a favor and let me finish next time.” Embarrassed and agitated by how obsolete my savings were in this backwater I simply nodded my head at the officer and dreaded having to return to the Inn and be confronted about my useless money. The officer continued his foggy march through the town showing me the town hall, small woodworking shop, and finally a cramped post office. As both of us exited the building I noticed that the rain that had only been a drizzle earlier was beginning to intensify. The officer turned to me and said “That’s it for the important places here. Now if you want me to show you a good place to see the beauty of this here island, we can make it there and back before the rain gets too heavy if you wanna take a gander.” Not caring about either the rain or how much time it took I agreed to follow him once more. As usual, he began marching up the cobbled streets, but when we reached the end of the road he didn’t break stride for a moment despite the unruly grass and bumpy terrain. We eventually reached and traversed an outlandishly symmetrical plateau. The top of the highland was shaped like a hexagon. When I averted my gaze from the odd highland I was greeted with the serene sight of the watery center of the atoll and the distant curve of the rest of the island. As both of us gazed in silence I made out what looked to be a protruding rock face with a dark yawning maw. As I looked closer I could see what looked like a line of figures filing into the mouth of the cavern. My trance was cut short by the policeman nudging me and pointing to the center of the band “That water there goes down deeper than any man could ever go. Locals go out and catch fish there, folk say that the deeper you go the bigger the catch.” The man then mumbled something to himself that was near indecipherable from what I heard it sounded like he mentioned something called “The Deep Sleeper”. He then turned to me as if he had said nothing at all and yapped “Whelp! We best get back ‘afore the storm gets nasty.” On the way back through town the officer did not march confidently as he had previously, he continuously turned his head to look at me until we reached the Inn as if he were looking at my expression to determine whether or not I had heard his preceding utterance. “Hope you had a hoot on the tour! Come by the town hall if anything’s troubling you. The locals may not acknowledge you, but just know I’m here night r’ day if need be.” he insisted. “Thank you officer…” “Name’s Tate, just give me a holler if you need anythin’” he jovially repeated. As Officer Tate departed, he resumed his austere march, not once looking back or breaking his stride until he disappeared from my sight.
My body fluttered as I left the cold streets and entered the toasty lobby. Instead of a vacant front desk, Ida was reading quietly at the end of the room. I strode to the desk to apologize for using outmoded currency, but instead of anger the senior matriarch gave a warm smile and politely said “The locals may use those stupid scales, but I still use mainland currency because that barge not only brings patrons but supplies to keep my Inn in the sterling condition it’s in now. You don’t need to worry about those gross scales here young man.” Relief washed over me as I thanked her profusely as I lumbered up the stairs with my groceries.
When I finally locked my room door I was ready to sleep some time in this dingy town away. Soon after I killed the lights I was enveloped in the thick curtain of sleep. I was awoken this time not by a nightmare, but by the sound of a door being continuously pounded on. At first, I groggily wrapped my pillow around my ears, but the pounding didn’t stop so I shifted out of bed and into my shoes. The blows were growing in intensity to the point where I believed that the entire door would break. As I cleaned out my sleepy eyes I listened for the sound of Ida, hoping that she would rebuke the antagonist, but the beating continued uninterrupted. Now irritated with being awoken by some instigator I swung my door open to catch the aggressor by surprise, but there was not a person in sight. I paced the length of the hall and every door was locked and the hall was barren of life. The more I thought about the situation the more irate I became, I stormed back into my room closing the door and went to sit on my bed, but as soon as my door was shut the pounding came back in full force, but this time the sound had switched locations. The unit next to me was shaking with the thundering boom from the sheer force of the blows. My body began to tense in anger as I whirled around to my door and again threw it open to find no life or unlocked doors. Thoroughly enraged, I walked to the sink to cool down. As I was splashing water on my face my blood began to boil as the booming sound was now coming from my door. I slowly crept to the threshold readying myself for a possible fight with some punk, but before I opened the door I decided to look through the peephole. However, as I focused my eye I could only see pitch blackness as if the hole were being covered, so I threw the door open with more force than I’ve ever mustered only to be greeted with cold murky darkness.
My stomach felt like a deflating balloon as I recognized the echoing drips of water hitting the cavern floor. I held my breath waiting for the same depraved creature to begin its horrid patrol, but the creature did not come. My eyes soon adjusted to the darkness enough that I could see outlines of the cold stone bulwark, as I felt my way along the icy walls my foot kicked a small metal object. I slowly moved down to pick up what I had kicked, the object was a metal cylinder with a small rubber button on one end “A flashlight!” my brain exclaimed. With the click of a button, the dingy cave was bathed in a radiant glow. The cave was adjoined to what seemed to be my Inn room, out of curiosity I pulled the curtains in the room and was met with cold stone on the other side of the double window. Dejected, I scanned the cave for any sign of an opening. As I walked out of the room, I spotted a small dried bloodstain nearly two meters from a small stalagmite. There was no explanation other than the inane theory that not only are my nightmares connected but that these bizarre occurrences are in some way rooted in reality. The very thought made my brain begin to pirouette in blighting befuddlement, I could not stand to come to terms with such an absurd reality lest I lose my mind. As my flashlight shone on a far wall, I could see an exit from this godforsaken room, but as I approached the outlet I noticed the frame of the exit had chiseled petroglyphs of three heads. There were two heads on each support of the exit; at the lowest point was a glyph of a man, above him was a glyph of the pale oddity I encountered the night before, but at the top of the frame held by the beams was a carving of a giant beast with tendrils preceding its mouth and a cephalopod shaped head. The very sight of the squid-like beast chilled my very bones causing me to shudder like an abject recreant, but as promptly as I averted my eyes the feeling subsided. I recommenced my trek through the dank tunnels discerning only the sounds of rocks I dislocated ricocheting off the floor, every few minutes I’d hear mortified screams echo off the ceiling for it only to be met with primal bellowing and eventual silence, and the ever-rhythmic oozing of freezing water from all directions. The dreary grotto seemed to impede the constancy of time itself as I found myself endlessly wandering through dead end after dead end, destroyed refuge after destroyed refuge. I began to wonder as more and more unknown amounts of time passed what about eating and drinking? I had to have been in the hole for more than 6 hours, but I never felt the sharp pang of hunger, the slow parching of dehydration, nor the burn of muscle fatigue. After plenty of trial and error, I came to a fork in the path, as I looked to the right my gag reflex triggered as I heard gut-wrenching screams for mercy followed by frenzied wailing saw the floor was caked with dry blood and littered with bones from all parts of the human body and with one cursory smell I was inundated with the stench of decay. The path to the left was clear of any debris, and I could see a dim light illuminate the cave wall farther down the path. As I walked down the path I could feel frigid goosebumps radiate from my neck to my toes, my very eupnea felt like ice in my lungs, and yet my breath remained unseen. When I came near the light on the cave wall I peered my head around the corner only to see a stone brazier lit with a flame as blue as the depths of the sea itself. The flame burnt endlessly without tinder or fuel of any kind, I tried to warm myself with this fire, but as I drew nearer my blood grew colder and my body quivered more fiercely. I was astonished by this simple defiance of my fickle reality.
I kept walking the path, distancing myself from each brazier as much as possible, but after passing the fifth brazier I could hear distant voices echoing off the walls, but I couldn’t decipher the muted murmurs that reverberated from wall to wall. As I grew closer to the voices I desperately wished to call for help, but those thoughts were admonished with the searing reminiscence of the path I repudiated. Would I be dismembered and picked clean if I so much as alerted one of the inhabitants? I wasn’t going to take that incurable risk, as I drew closer to the speaking figures, I could clearly hear what they said, but they spoke in a guttural consonant laden tongue that was not the least bit decipherable. I peered around the corner to see two men in black tattered cloaks standing on either side of one of the braziers chanting continuously. I watched curiously as the men looked to be in a trance of some sort, but the men suddenly rolled up their sleeves to reveal countless laceration scars some healed, others infected, and some fresh. As I was gawking at their many skin carvings both men unsheathed otherworldly daggers that measured about 20 centimeters, my stomach tensed as I watched them dig the blades into their wrists and hew down to their elbows. The men didn’t cry out in pain or even grimace as they tilted their lacerated arms into the bowl of the brazier, and as their blood cascaded into the bowl the men continued their chants. Suddenly the fire in the bowl changed into water, but still moved as if it were scorching flame. The men then submerged their lacerated arms into the water and affixed their forearms, after doing this the men started to cry out in ecstasy. Following this, the men removed their arms from the bowl and began to stumble about with their eyes rolled back in unmitigated euphoria. In mere seconds the men were slouched against the wall, made comatose by otherworldly bliss. As the second man closed his eyes I crept past, warily navigating the twisting stone tunnels I stumbled across scores of hooded figures who took part in the same macabre ceremony all splayed on the floor arms still spurting sticky pools of blood.
After the twentieth duo of masochistic freaks, I stumbled upon a massive clearing adorned with stone statues of the hideous winged cephalopod deity fraught with hooded figures, each was wearing wooden ceremonial masks fashioned to please the grotesque cephalopod creature. These cultists knelt around an ominous black obelisk that was pulsating gleaming energy seemingly due to their worship. Looking beyond the cultists I could see mighty pillars of white-hot lightning mirroring off the water’s surface that flowed from the center of the atoll, I’d have to cross the entire stone mezzanine and exit down a slab of stairs. As I began navigating my way toward the back of the cave, I grimaced at the mere audition of these chanting to their god in unholy unison. As I crossed the mezzanine directly behind the cultists, I noticed that this sect of mutants were the same humanoid beasts from my previous calamity, none of the figures wore shoes and their feet were also densely webbed. I knew I had to move quickly and carefully if I wanted to keep my skin as I approached the top of the staircase, I took a deep breath and began to surge down the stairs. I made it nearly halfway down before I heard a gut-wrenching wail coming from the depraved mutants below. I began to descend faster as most of the masked mutants didn’t move a muscle, but those who did began howling like tortured animals toward me. As soon as I hit the last stair I broke into a sprint for the mouth of the cave, but as I darted past the depraved creatures, I felt the ground begin to rattle and fissure, while the walls and ceilings begin to collapse upon. There was no time to waste in escaping from the depraved followers, I could hear their psychotic babbling as if they were close enough for a ride on my back. I felt the adrenaline numbing my every stride as I reached the edge of the cave’s gaping aperture and dove into the cloudy waves. Never had such cold and bemired water felt so liberating or invigorating, but even as I fled I could feel tremors rattling the very depths of the island. I slowly clambered out of the water to try and gather my bearings, but as I glanced upward I saw portentous black clouds fiercely merging into a whirling waterspout over the atoll’s center. The very earth beneath me rifted into fragments of dust infertile dust, cragged walls of lighting were hurled from the sky to destroy the wildlife, and in the distance, a tidal wave the size of the island came raging toward the island. As I lay in the grass I gazed at the waterspout, but as time passed the waterspout went from gargantuan to dwarf. But as the waterspout halted I witnessed a bulbous mass of gray flesh begin to rise from the water, I could feel an icy chill in each of my atoms as I watched the protracted tendrils rise from the murky depths. The cephalopod horror seemed disappointed that he had been freed to erase such a pathetic race of shallow mortals, and yet when its blistering red gaze met mine my lucid psyche howled in sanity searing anguish as I beheld The Deep One reclaiming its celestial cathedra as the harbinger, the lone horseman of mind-bending Armageddon. As the tidal wave drew fatally close to the island I took a deep breath of salty ocean air and closed my eyes accepting my fate. Just as I heard the wave make landfall I jolted awake and gasping for air in a deluge of my own sweat.
submitted by oofboi2002 to Scary [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 02:39 oofboi2002 First time posting. Please critique my long ass story as it is not near finished yet. Even if its a nuke of a criticism give it to me

As I stood at the dock’s edge, gazing at the tempestuous sea I couldn’t help but wonder why I had decided to come to this desolate rock. Could it have been a fickle attempt to escape the everyday humdrum of life? Or had some enigmatic force of fate brought me to this rickety atoll? My dismal rumination was abruptly quelled by a stout hand-clapping my shoulder, my thoughts still roared as I turned to see the briny barge captain who had stirred me. He must have noticed my vacant stare because he immediately led me to a musty wooden tavern not thirty yards away from the dock’s cragged edge. As we ambled through the swinging saloon doors I began to grasp how meager this hamlet was. My inattentive thoughts were jarred by the bartender gruffly asking for my drink of choice, I simply abstained myself which elicited a grumble from the chapped man. As I sat in the bar, I could feel manifold sets of eyes scouring my slouched shoulders. I could hear hushed voices redound off the rotting walls “Looks like a fresh continental.”, “Come next barge he’s gone go back home cryin’ to mama.” I stood from my seat and left the peculiar locals to their swill.
I noticed a filmy patch of fog rolling through the cobbled stone streets as I left. As I looked back to the dock I noticed the vessel that I had arrived on was now a distant mote on the horizon. I began combing the stark streets for any refuge that didn’t contain unsavory locals or fetid scents. As I strolled through the fog the warm effulgence of oil lamps illuminated a small chain bound wooden sign that merely read “INN”. As I entered the lobby, I saw that the inn was well lit and unsoiled by rot or water damage. As I strode to the end of the reception area I noticed a golden service bell on the edge of a glossy wooden desk labeled “Check-In” I rang the small bell and not a second later a small elderly woman scooted from a small curtained room to the side of the desk opposite me. I examined her face more closely to see keen exuberance in her eyes as if I were an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in some time. “Hello, my name is Ida and welcome to my Inn. How long would you like to stay my dear?” “I’ll stay for a week.” I said reluctantly, I had no idea when the next ship would come to this port and the locals are no help whatsoever. “Wonderful!” she croaked “So many continentals come to stay here, my business has been booming since I opened four years ago.” This comment confused me greatly because the keyboard behind her was completely full. “This way young man you’ll be staying in room 3.” The woman quickly shuffled up a flight of burnished wooden stairs to reveal a carpeted hallway with 5 rooms on each side. “You said your business was booming…” I alluded “…but the other rooms are vacant.” Ida smiled at me and asserted “The other patrons left the village to get closer to the island.” This statement perplexed me, “This place is so bleak. Why would anyone want to make a home here?” I thought to myself as Ida’s face receded with the closing door.
My room was a spacious 40 square meter box with red curtains covering immaculate double windows. I took to lying down on the cushy king bed so that I could reflect on my circumstances comfortably. After some ephemeral solitary deliberation, I heard a feeble knock on my door. When I opened the door there stood the slightly wilted figure of Ida, but this time she was holding a small sheet of paper. “Since you’re going to be here for a bit, I thought you might want to know this town’s history.” The paper had a picture of a gaping cave entrance that gave me a disconcerting chill. I gripped the pamphlet, but the woman maintained her grip. “Watch yourself when you leave your room you hear? The folk who live in this town are the least of your worries.” She then released the brochure and retired to the lobby. The leaflet described the founding of the town by a small fleet of European trading ships that were immobilized by a severe tropical storm that devastated the area. These settlers lived on the island for nearly a century, but one day a military vessel docked, and the men were astonished to find the settlement and the entire island to be empty. It was as if the people had vanished into thin air. Soon the settlement was repopulated during the Industrial Revolution in hopes that the island had hidden riches to strip and sell to the highest bidder. However, many of the prospectors reported seeing pale slick-headed figures stalking the dark inlets of the cave system. These legends were never confirmed, and no lives were lost until one day the miner’s exit had a massive cave in and hundreds of men were killed along with the island’s economy. The island is now a secluded community that feeds itself with the sea’s bounty. As I flipped to the back of the handout, I found a map of the island with important locations corresponding to its history each marked with a crudely written title and small “x” to specify. My eyes scanned the map I saw a small gray patch of land near the watery center of the atoll. The patch was marked “Murky Grotto”, this was the location that was pictured on the front of the pamphlet and the site where the cave-in occurred. I flipped the paper back to its face and studied the maw of the cave closely, I’m positive I saw something in that cave. I could feel the hand holding the picture drifting closer to my face until I could see nothing but the darkness within.
My vision was completely darkened by the picture, but when I moved the photo away from my eyes, I realized that I was no longer in the warm hotel room. I was totally enveloped by inky blackness on all sides, the only thing my senses could interpret was the biting chill in the air and the faint dripping of water. My heart jumped from resting to throbbing against my rib cage. As my breath became faster, I began to hear clumsy footsteps accompanied by ear-shattering wails and erratic cries of primal rage. I couldn’t tell what was making the peculiar noise, but all I knew was that it was getting louder and therefore closer. I reduced my breathing to remain completely silent. I could feel its frenzied breath on my face. Standing before me was what may seem human, but this beast was coated and continuously secreting a sickly lemon-colored mucous, sporting a near melanin free outer membrane, the eyes must be completely worthless as the beast does not acknowledge visual stimuli its bulbous and milky eyes seem to be an evolutionary mutation as useful as the human appendix, the mutant also didn’t have a single visible hair on its body. The mutant’s physical condition is questionable, to say the least. Much of its body was simply gaunt deformity. The torso is mostly stretched thin skin over protruding bones. The mutant’s prominent facial features include its lack of a nose, instead, it has two nostrils nestled in a small facial ridge where its nose should be was. The mutant’s ears are also embedded into its head rather than protruding. My blood ran cold as the creature’s dead eyes bulged while it silently stood in front of me, baring its rows of deformed teeth in my face almost as if it knew it was standing inches away but preferred to taunt me instead. I began to slowly inch away from the mutant as quietly as possible step by step. However, my fear overtook my footing as I backed into what must have been a thick stalagmite and began to plunge to the floor. As I fell, I could see the creature aimlessly swiping toward me, the monstrosity wore a tattered black cloak, but no shoes. The creature’s feet were densely webbed to the point where what would be toes were nearly fused together. The last thing I heard before I collapsed was another spine-chilling scream coming from the creature.
I shot up from lying down, once again blind for a moment until the small pamphlet flaked off my face and into my lap. My body was shaking immensely as I tried reassuring myself that I had just fallen asleep and had a terrible nightmare, but I could feel the dull flow of adrenaline through my body. I sauntered into the bathroom to use the sink to cool my sweat laden forehead, as I refreshed myself, I chuckled because I had gotten myself so worked up over a stupid nightmare. As I dried my hands however I could feel something warm running down my neck, I used a few sheets of toilet paper to clear my sweat, but as I brought the paper to my face to examine the amount of sweat my vision began to blur as I saw that I had not cleaned sweat off my neck rather the wipe was stained red with fresh blood. I stumbled into the stand-in shower and activated the tepid flow of water. I faced the shiny silver floor drain as I watched diluted blood swirl into the pipes below just trying to distract myself from the I implored myself to think of any logical answer other than the repulsive possibility that was slowly pushing its way to the forefront of my mind. “The nightmare.” I blankly uttered. Soon afterward the blood stopped flowing down my back and shoulders and I stepped out of the shower shaking profusely even though the temperature was better than most showers I’ve used. I threw myself toward my duffel bag to retrieve my meds. “Don’t think about it. None of it makes sense so don’t delude yourself by trying to make it logical.” I chanted as I downed my medicine with a swig of water I spread myself across the bed, staring up at the ceiling with my mind still racing, but eventually my medication eased my mind enough that my heart resumed its normal resting pattern. I was determined to stay awake until I could convince myself that I was just anxious about staying in this eerie hamlet. I soon pushed it to the back of my mind and decided that I would go back to the tavern and look for a guide and something to eat. As I descended the stairs, I could see that the old woman was nowhere to be found in the lobby, so I simply left a generous payment for the weeks lodging next to the cramped guest ledger. I took a closer look at the paper to notice that Ida was, in fact, right that many travelers had come to the inn, however, there was a column marked “Room Status” and every single name except for mine was marked vacated on the same date and within the same hour. This confused me at first, but I then realized that these people must have come together, perhaps they checked out to explore the island’s entirety. As I left the Inn I was again greeted with a thick fog and dark skies. As I returned to the coast where I arrived I felt a few raindrops hit the nape of my neck as thunder rolled in the distance. I stopped before I entered the bar again because I could once more feel eyes on my back.
I turned to see a man dressed in a navy-blue police uniform with an aged 1911 pistol model on one hip and a sleek nightstick on the other. The man raised one of his gloved hands and motioned for me to come closer. As I approached I saw the man’s gaunt features, his eyes were baggy and dark as his suit, immense stress markings on his forehead, and an unsightly scar stretching from his left commissure to the corresponding earlobe. “Hello son, you’re the new cont’nental arrived yesterday right?” he coolly inquired, “Continental?” I quizzically asked, “Everyone keeps calling me that, but I don’t know what it means.” “Means you’re from the mainland, means they don’t trust you neither. These folks only care for their own and don’t take well to outsiders meddling with their traditions.” The officer said overly nonchalantly. “I noticed that they weren’t very fond of me as soon as I walked into the bar. Do the locals even speak to newcomers unless they have to?” I inquired genuinely regretting not stepping back onto the barge instead of being distracted by the queer community of ruffled fishermen. “Most folk just keep a sour look til’ newcomers get the message.” He punctuated his sentence by grabbing a small canteen and taking a swig of what I assumed was water. “Do you know when the next barge will come here? I made a mistake staying here and I need the first boat back to the mainland.” The officer chuckled and looked at me as if I had told him a joke he had heard many times before. “Next barge carrying general good’s comin’ in 13 days. Til’ then you’re stuck on this berg.” My heart sank as I had enough money to last that period, but I was reluctant because of the lack of activities since I was technically a second-class citizen to the locals. The officer surely noticed my expression because he put his white pristine white glove on my shoulder and stated “I know it’s inconvenient son, but the locals don’t want nothin’ to do with the mainland less’ they can’t find it on the island. The only boats the locals own are small rowboats nd’ they only use em’ for haulin’ fish n’ firewood.” “Say…” he blurted “…I’ll bet you haven’t got a tour of the town yet. How’d you like a po-lice escort, son?” “Sure.” I relented “But how much of this dinky shantytown is there to tour?” I mentally scoffed. Instantly after I accepted his offer the officer turned 180 degrees and began rigidly marching down the street opposite of the bar. The thick fog gave the officer a strange appearance, his dark figure seemed to push the fog to his side while my thin frame was seemingly consumed by the syrupy haze. The officer suddenly stopped and clicked his polished shoes together to face the second-best kept building I’d seen “This’s the general store, here’s where most of the goods from the barge go.” “Finally!” I thought “I don’t have to go to that dingy bar to get food and drink. I thought I’d never find a store here.” The officer began to say something, but I was only interested in the small wooden shelves freshly stocked with ample instant food that only requires water, seasoning shakers, various tools, and various fishing gear and accessories. I grabbed a small paper bag and filled it with instant food and some bottled water. However, the cashier stopped totaling my items when I opened my wallet and took out a couple of 5-dollar bills. “Sir you don’t have enough capital for your items.” the man groaned “You need more than ten dollars for some lousy instant food and bottled water?” I griped. The man started to respond but closed his mouth as I felt a familiar feeling on my shoulder. I turned to see the officer with a small but smug grin on his face “We don’t accept continental cash here son.” he ribbed. I then noticed both men had small canvas sacks attached to their belts, the officer removed his and took out a few slimy segments of what looked like fish scales. “I’ll pay for your food this time ‘round, but we don’t use no paper money with nobody but the barge captain.” The cashier shot the officer a quick grin, but his expression changed to a scowl when he returned my bag of items. As I walked down the creaky wooden steps the officer snickered “I was tryin’ to tell you we ain’t got any use for mainland cash, do us both a favor and let me finish next time.” Embarrassed and agitated by how obsolete my savings were in this backwater I simply nodded my head at the officer and dreaded having to return to the Inn and be confronted about my useless money. The officer continued his foggy march through the town showing me the town hall, small woodworking shop, and finally a cramped post office. As both of us exited the building I noticed that the rain that had only been a drizzle earlier was beginning to intensify.
The officer turned to me and said “That’s it for the important places here. Now if you want me to show you a good place to see the beauty of this here island, we can make it there and back before the rain gets too heavy if you wanna take a gander.” Not caring about either the rain or how much time it took I agreed to follow him once more. As usual, he began marching up the cobbled streets, but when we reached the end of the road he didn’t break stride for a moment despite the unruly grass and bumpy terrain. We eventually reached and traversed an outlandishly symmetrical plateau. The top of the highland was shaped like a hexagon. When I averted my gaze from the odd highland I was greeted with the serene sight of the watery center of the atoll and the distant curve of the rest of the island. As both of us gazed in silence I made out what looked to be a protruding rock face with a dark yawning maw. As I looked closer I could see what looked like a line of figures filing into the mouth of the cavern. My trance was cut short by the policeman nudging me and pointing to the center of the band “That water there goes down deeper than any man could ever go. Locals go out and catch fish there, folk say that the deeper you go the bigger the catch.” The man then mumbled something to himself that was near indecipherable from what I heard it sounded like he mentioned something called “The Deep Sleeper”. He then turned to me as if he had said nothing at all and yapped “Whelp! We best get back ‘afore the storm gets nasty.”
On the way back through town the officer did not march confidently as he had previously, he continuously turned his head to look at me until we reached the Inn as if he were looking at my expression to determine whether or not I had heard his preceding utterance. “Hope you had a hoot on the tour! Come by the town hall if anything’s troubling you. The locals may not acknowledge you, but just know I’m here night r’ day if need be.” he insisted. “Thank you officer…” “Name’s Tate, just give me a holler if you need anythin’” he jovially repeated. As Officer Tate departed, he resumed his austere march, not once looking back or breaking his stride until he disappeared from my sight. My body fluttered as I left the cold streets and entered the toasty lobby. Instead of a vacant front desk, Ida was reading quietly at the end of the room. I strode to the desk to apologize for using outmoded currency, but instead of anger, the senior matriarch gave a warm smile and politely said “The locals may use those stupid scales, but I still use mainland currency because that barge not only brings patrons but supplies to keep my Inn in the sterling condition it’s in now. You don’t need to worry about those gross scales here young man.” Relief washed over me as I thanked her profusely as I lumbered up the stairs with my groceries.
When I finally locked my room door I was ready to sleep sometime in this dingy town away. Soon after I killed the lights I was enveloped in the thick curtain of sleep. I was awoken this time not by a nightmare, but by the sound of a door being continuously pounded on. At first, I groggily wrapped my pillow around my ears, but the pounding didn’t stop so I shifted out of bed and into my shoes. The blows were growing in intensity to the point where I believed that the entire door would break. As I cleaned out my sleepy eyes I listened for the sound of Ida, hoping that she would rebuke the antagonist, but the beating continued uninterrupted. Now irritated with being awoken by some instigator I swung my door open to catch the aggressor by surprise, but there was not a person in sight. I paced the length of the hall and every door was locked and the hall was barren of life. The more I thought about the situation the more irate I became, I stormed back into my room closing the door and went to sit on my bed, but as soon as my door was shut the pounding came back in full force, but this time the sound had switched locations. The unit next to me was shaking with the thundering boom from the sheer force of the blows. My body began to tense in anger as I whirled around to my door and again threw it open to find no life or unlocked doors. Thoroughly enraged, I walked to the sink to cool down. As I was splashing water on my face my blood began to boil as the booming sound was now coming from my door. I slowly crept to the threshold readying myself for a possible fight with some punk, but before I opened the door I decided to look through the peephole. However, as I focused my eye I could only see pitch blackness as if the hole were being covered, so I threw the door open with more force than I’ve ever mustered only to be greeted with cold murky darkness.
My stomach felt like a deflating balloon as I recognized the echoing drips of water hitting the cavern floor. I held my breath waiting for the same depraved creature to begin its horrid patrol, but the creature did not come. My eyes soon adjusted to the darkness enough that I could see outlines of the cold stone bulwark, as I felt my way along the icy walls my foot kicked a small metal object. I slowly moved down to pick up what I had kicked, the object was a metal cylinder with a small rubber button on one end “A flashlight!” my brain exclaimed. With the click of a button, the dingy cave was bathed in a radiant glow. The cave was adjoined to what seemed to be my Inn room, out of curiosity I pulled the curtains in the room and was met with cold stone on the other side of the double window. Dejected, I scanned the cave for any sign of an opening. As I walked out of the room, I spotted a small dried bloodstain nearly two meters from a small stalagmite. There was no explanation other than the inane theory that not only are my nightmares connected but that these bizarre occurrences are in some way rooted in reality. The very thought made my brain begin to pirouette in blighting befuddlement, I could not stand to come to terms with such an absurd reality lest I lose my mind. As my flashlight shone on a far wall, I could see an exit from this godforsaken room, but as I approached the outlet I noticed the frame of the exit had chiseled petroglyphs of three heads. There were two heads on each support of the exit; at the lowest point was a glyph of a man, above him was a glyph of the pale oddity I encountered the night before, but at the top of the frame held by the beams was a carving of a giant beast with tendrils preceding its mouth and a cephalopod shaped head. The very sight of the squid-like beast chilled my very bones causing me to shudder like an abject recreant, but as promptly as I averted my eyes the feeling subsided.
I recommenced my trek through the dank tunnels discerning only the sounds of rocks I dislocated ricocheting off the floor, every few minutes I’d hear mortified screams echo off the ceiling for it only to be met with primal bellowing and eventual silence, and the ever-rhythmic oozing of freezing water from all directions. The dreary grotto seemed to impede the constancy of time itself as I found myself endlessly wandering through dead end after dead end, destroyed refuge after destroyed refuge. I began to wonder as more and more unknown amounts of time passed what about eating and drinking? I had to have been in the hole for more than 6 hours, but I never felt the sharp pang of hunger, the slow parching of dehydration, nor the burn of muscle fatigue. After plenty of trial and error, I came to a fork in the path, as I looked to the right my gag reflex triggered as I heard gut-wrenching screams for mercy followed by frenzied wailing saw the floor was caked with dry blood and littered with bones from all parts of the human body and with one cursory smell I was inundated with the stench of decay. The path to the left was clear of any debris, and I could see a dim light illuminate the cave wall farther down the path. As I walked down the path I could feel frigid goosebumps radiate from my neck to my toes, my very eupnea felt like ice in my lungs, and yet my breath remained unseen. When I came near the light on the cave wall I peered my head around the corner only to see a stone brazier lit with a flame as blue as the depths of the sea itself. The flame burnt endlessly without tinder or fuel of any kind, I tried to warm myself with this fire, but as I drew nearer my blood grew colder and my body quivered more fiercely. I was astonished by this simple defiance of my fickle reality.
I kept walking the path, distancing myself from each brazier as much as possible, but after passing the fifth brazier I could hear distant voices echoing off the walls, but I couldn’t decipher the muted murmurs that reverberated from wall to wall. As I grew closer to the voices I desperately wished to call for help, but those thoughts were admonished with the searing reminiscence of the path I repudiated. Would I be dismembered and picked clean if I so much as alerted one of the inhabitants? I wasn’t going to take that incurable risk, as I drew closer to the speaking figures, I could clearly hear what they said, but they spoke in a guttural consonant laden tongue that was not the least bit decipherable. I peered around the corner to see two men in black tattered cloaks standing on either side of one of the braziers chanting continuously. I watched curiously as the men looked to be in a trance of some sort, but the men suddenly rolled up their sleeves to reveal countless laceration scars some healed, others infected, and some fresh. As I was gawking at their many skin carvings both men unsheathed otherworldly daggers that measured about 20 centimeters, my stomach tensed as I watched them dig the blades into their wrists and hew down to their elbows. The men didn’t cry out in pain or even grimace as they tilted their lacerated arms into the bowl of the brazier, and as their blood cascaded into the bowl the men continued their chants. Suddenly the fire in the bowl changed into water but still moved as if it were scorching flame. The men then submerged their lacerated arms into the water and affixed their forearms, after doing this the men started to cry out in ecstasy. Following this, the men removed their arms from the bowl and began to stumble about with their eyes rolled back in unmitigated euphoria. In mere seconds the men were slouched against the wall, made comatose by otherworldly bliss. As the second man closed his eyes I crept past, warily navigating the twisting stone tunnels I stumbled across scores of hooded figures who took part in the same macabre ceremony all splayed on the floor arms still spurting sticky pools of blood.
After the twentieth duo of masochistic freaks, I stumbled upon a massive clearing adorned with stone statues of the hideous winged cephalopod deity fraught with hooded figures, each was wearing wooden ceremonial masks fashioned to please the grotesque cephalopod creature. These cultists knelt around an ominous black obelisk that was pulsating gleaming energy seemingly due to their worship. Looking beyond the cultists I could see mighty pillars of white-hot lightning mirroring off the water’s surface that flowed from the center of the atoll, I’d have to cross the entire stone mezzanine and exit down a slab of stairs. As I began navigating my way toward the back of the cave, I grimaced at the mere audition of these chanting to their god in unholy unison. As I crossed the mezzanine directly behind the cultists, I noticed that this sect of mutants were the same humanoid beasts from my previous calamity, none of the figures wore shoes and their feet were also densely webbed. I knew I had to move quickly and carefully if I wanted to keep my skin as I approached the top of the staircase, I took a deep breath and began to surge down the stairs. I made it nearly halfway down before I heard a gut-wrenching wail coming from the depraved mutants below. I began to descend faster as most of the masked mutants didn’t move a muscle, but those who did began howling like tortured animals toward me. As soon as I hit the last stair I broke into a sprint for the mouth of the cave, but as I darted past the depraved creatures, I felt the ground begin to rattle and fissure, while the walls and ceilings begin to collapse upon. There was no time to waste in escaping from the depraved followers, I could hear their psychotic babbling as if they were close enough for a ride on my back. I felt the adrenaline numbing my every stride as I reached the edge of the cave’s gaping aperture and dove into the cloudy waves.
Never had such cold and bemired water felt so liberating or invigorating, but even as I fled I could feel tremors rattling the very depths of the island. I slowly clambered out of the water to try and gather my bearings, but as I glanced upward I saw portentous black clouds fiercely merging into a whirling waterspout over the atoll’s center. The very earth beneath me rifted into fragments of dust infertile dust, cragged walls of lighting were hurled from the sky to destroy the wildlife, and in the distance, a tidal wave the size of the island came raging toward the island. As I lay in the grass I gazed at the waterspout, but as time passed the waterspout went from gargantuan to dwarf. But as the waterspout halted I witnessed a bulbous mass of gray flesh begin to rise from the water, I could feel an icy chill in each of my atoms as I watched the protracted tendrils rise from the murky depths. The cephalopod horror seemed disappointed that he had been freed to erase such a pathetic race of shallow mortals, and yet when its blistering red gaze met mine my lucid psyche howled in sanity searing anguish as I beheld The Deep One reclaiming its celestial cathedra as the harbinger, the lone horseman of mind-bending Armageddon. As the tidal wave drew fatally close to the island I took a deep breath of salty ocean air and closed my eyes accepting my fate. Just as I heard the wave make landfall I jolted awake and gasping for air in a deluge of my own sweat.
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2020.09.26 23:31 nisaaru States secret Dr. Phil. Kurt Willimczik

The guy worked for Goebbels in the background and then worked for the SSD/KGB/Stasi complex afterwards in propaganda where he developed subversion technics and "silencing" of anybody they wanted.
It shows what kind of persons do these jobs and that there was no real difference for the controllers. Nazi or UdSSDDR didn't matter to them. The same applies to the USA, imho. I made a quick and dirty google translation from the german blog comment written by his son. If you can read german I suggest going there as it also comes with pictures. The entry is to the end of the webpage.
https://hardballsite.wordpress.com
Nobody really wants to hear from old Nazis and communists anymore, but this is a very bizarre case that has been kept a secret until today. Everyone knows the names "Goebbels" and "Carl Eduard von Schnitzler", 2 of the most notorious propagandists in Germany. But one name has been kept a secret to this day because it provided its amazing skills to both the Nazis and the Communists. In addition to Hitler, Göring, Goebbels, Himmler, Speer etc., but nobody knows the name of the man in the picture who walks between Speer and Hitler.
Get to know him at last - more than 70 years after the end of the war.
It was to remain a secret forever: The then press spokesman for the Propaganda Ministry and later SED - party secretary and designer of the Cold War in the "GDR", Dr. Kurt Willimczik in his white SS uniform in 1939 in the Munich Feldherrenhalle.
Dr. Kurt Phil. Willimczik (9/29/1907 - 11/26/1995) was next to Dr. Goebbels one of the most important propagandists for Hitler. He worked u. a. for the Reich Ministry of Propaganda in the Department of Modern German Literature History and as President of the Theater Chamber he had a very important position in the war effort.
Dr. Kurt Willimczik in the fifties as SED party secretary in Blankenfelde During the war he had also headed a propaganda squadron with a murder assignment. He described himself as a freelance writer, philosopher or literary scholar, Germanist. (Let the reader's imagination run wild here.)
What this man had done was kept secret until well after the fall of the “Third Reich” and the “GDR”. Now, when doing research on Goebbels, people come across the name “Dr. Kurt Phil. Willimczik “, which had never been on the Internet before and just post it. You dont know what you are doing!
This name disappears very quickly from this website.
National Socialist German Workers' Party Reich Youth Leadership, Kurt Willimczik, Otto Zander - Publisher: Limpert, 1938
Then he reappears elsewhere. An internet avalanche arises, which even the many still active members of the SSD can no longer stop. What kind of person was he? His highest goal in life was to inflict the greatest possible damage on other people with hidden, subtle methods, which he described in a letter to his wife at the time. “I feel good when others are badly off.” He himself called it the “law of the greatest meanness” and was his best executor. He took his son as a laboratory rat and tested how far a person could be tortured with this method (it was not until much later that it was called "decomposition"). For his son he was a vicious monster who ruined his life; for Nazis and communists he was an indispensable expert in the fight of evil against good.
But let's let him speak for himself and take a look at his work of which he was particularly proud: E.T.A. Hoffmann: the three realms of his world of shapes
He speaks about the "Third Reich" in a somewhat veiled form, but with full devotion.
"In his building the great view of national history can be recognized, which leads from the myth of primeval times to the theater to higher reality and thus to the recovery of the myth and the golden age." (Page 336).
He describes his great German plans for the education of the human race, the establishment of a theater as a moral institution, or as the plans for a third empire and age were otherwise called.
In the chapter on the “principle of evil” he describes the fundamentals of every terrorist state: the principle of the greatest meanness.
With “Faustian majesty” he speaks about “the struggle against people” (59).
It would be the primer for every budding terrorist if it weren't so complicated to write. He hides his diabolical thoughts behind garlands of beautiful and sometimes difficult to understand words. The devil is always a genius of language.
"He believes that he has been consecrated to battle and to rule over the spiritual principle of life, which nature itself placed in us and therefore cannot punish" (60)
“The highest sense of the theater is the animation of the everyday struggle and the leadership of the people.” (337) The people should gain “strength and purity”.
The theater serves for the self-presentation of the people. "Its special form is that of the festival and game (read war), which the whole people, working together, commits as a large crowd of lay people."
Hitler thought the same way, appointed him president of the theater chamber and sent him to the spiritual front as one of his greatest propagandistic guns (Hitler loved big guns).
The moral justification for killing had to be instilled into the soldiers on the Eastern Front over and over again. In this respect, Dr. Kurt Phil. Willimczik is just as important as Speer, who provided the ammunition for the war - and that is why Hitler takes him between himself and Speer, as can be seen in the picture.
In the West Prussian Yearbook, Volume 58, it can be read: “Goebbels once again commissioned Drs for the war-important promotion of German culture in the East. Kurt Willimczik. "
From the annual report of the NS-Gemeinschaft KdF of November 27, 1941: "Where the German soldier stands today, thanks to our close cooperation with the Wehrmacht High Command, the NS. Community Gemeinschaft Strength through Joy’ is with him. In the far north, where our care work is welcomed twice as joyfully and gratefully during the polar night, under the scorching African sun, in the east that is opening up every day, in France, Belgium, Denmark, in Holland, Serbia, in Greece or on Crete Everywhere today the German soldier experiences this ninth birthday of 'Kraft durch Freude' with us as part of festive events.
The area that we have to look after today expanded as our armies advanced victoriously, and corresponds to eight times the size of the greater German area. We have overcome the impassable roads that the former Poland had, Norway's mountains, snow and cold, and we are also able to cope with the considerably greater difficulties that we face in Russia. Evening after evening, the homeland speaks to the German soldier under the sign of the sun wheel. ... If you take into account all of the difficulties described, then you can only fully appreciate the performance that results from the KdF troop support at the beginning of the armed forces. From September to December 1939, 12,400 events, in which 7 million soldiers took part, were held. In 1940 137 8o2 events recorded 51 530 000 visitors. In 1941 the number of events rose to 187 198 and the number of visitors to 67 789 569. Since the beginning of the war, 337 400 events with 126 319 569 visitors took place outside the borders of the Greater German Reich for our soldiers. ... The KdF.-game plan itself shows an extremely versatile face. "
(http://www.kultur-neukoelln.de/client/media/48/4_frontmusik.pdf)
To make his work in the conquered areas a little clearer, here is a verbatim reproduction of his letter from Greece to his mother on her birthday:
"1.10. 1943
Dear mother
…… .Today I showed educational films in front of workers who go to the Reich. Although in a communist area, everything went smoothly.
A few days ago we hung up two black marketeers who had sold oil too dearly. I was back in the streets with my loudspeaker van. The commune even applauded us and asked for 2 to be hung again the next day. That style will probably continue like this. -
Congratulations again and best regards!
Hail Hitler!
Your Kurt "
“Workers who go to the Reich” naturally meant forced laborers. The good Kurt prepared these for their journey too ...
He managed, armed only with a loudspeaker van, that the Greeks shouted for "more" than two of their compatriots were hung up. (Let everyone draw their own conclusions from this.)
As the head of a propaganda squadron, he not only gave the soldiers a victory-conscious cultural escort from a large loudspeaker truck, but also accompanied the doomed to death acoustically up to the gallows. He announced to the prisoners who went to the Thousand Year Reich as forced laborers how happy they were that they were now allowed to go to the Greater German Reich, where they would be looked after like their own children. “Culture must be” was his motto. The music for it was hand-picked - e.g. B. from Wagner's opera “Götterdämmerung”, which he put on the more often the closer the downfall came. (If we were to expect the end of the world tomorrow, he would be the right man to play the right music.) As eloquent as a snake, he always found the right musical background, even for evil
Rand Comment: The same man who was afraid of the communists in the east wrote this one too - not when he attacked Greece, but about a physicist named Professor Havemann, who was just under house arrest in the east: “... he's talking about it a general freedom. That means nothing other than paving the way for the revanchists' urge to go east. ”(Neues Deutschland, March 13, 1964)
He practically said to the soldiers: “In your great historical battles you have to play your roles as if on a stage - until the Führer drops the curtain.
Goebbels said at the end. "We go into the final battle like a church service."
While the time for Goebbels, Hitler, Himmler etc. came to an end after the fall of the Third Reich, the Nazi propagandist Dr. Kurt Phil. Willimczik a new sun - blood red.
The Americans first moved into Erfurt at the end of the war. That is why his wife fled with her small children from Rangsdorf near Berlin to Erfurt, where at some point her husband also appeared from somewhere. He forbade his wife to tell the authorities anything about his Nazi past. She followed his request and was therefore immediately dismissed from teaching as a student councilor.
In July 1945, in accordance with the treaty, but unexpectedly for the people, the Russians entered Erfurt. They had a list of wanted war criminals and Kurt W. was arrested. Instead of writing on them and talking about tin, he immediately punched tin for typewriters in prison. It was the only time in his life that he did anything useful.
But it didn't last long. The Russians were urgently looking for traitors to track down all other hidden Nazis. Traitors became the pillars of the state, to which Stalin then gave absolute power as the SSD. They were allowed to suspect, investigate and condemn anyone as an "enemy of the state" - all in one - and secretly.
In addition, the communists urgently needed German experts in propaganda. Where should you get new specialists from so quickly? So Dr. Kurt Willimczik "denazified" overnight, which meant that his Nazi past became a state secret from now on that nobody was allowed to talk about under the death penalty. This was not published - you just had to know. (It is not known whether he was also "de-socialized" after the fall of the Wall.)
When he was released from prison he was suddenly no longer a Nazi and immediately began his steep socialist career in 1945 as a “comrade from the very beginning” by betraying his own people and giving them to the knife. The KGB (or a special department of the Red Army) used it to lure more Nazis into his apartment and arrest them or shoot them right away, which his mother and son had to experience in Erfurt. She should commit herself to absolute silence about this event and the Nazi past of her husband. She refused to sign and automatically became a dangerous public enemy. She has just been punished for hiding his Nazi past; now she would be punished for not doing it. This is called “socialist education”. “Not comrades with me” she said, did not sign this confidentiality agreement and instead divorced her husband (November 22, 1948) and moved to Blankenfelde, which was no longer of any use to her, however ...
The freshly baked Nazi communist Kurt W. took his son to the conspiratorial meetings in Erfurt in order to make them appear a bit more "familiar" and used him as a watchdog to watch out for the motorcycle he used for his "work" from the Russians Had been provided.
Goebbels killed all of his children. Kurt W. missed this opportunity, although he did everything after his boss. So he just wanted to let his son starve to death, which wouldn't be noticed right after the war ended. The Russians watched and
but controlled the whole scene. It so happened that a Red Army officer prevented a high-ranking Nazi from murdering his son - one of the little miracles that happened at such a time. He had his son driven to a hospital in Erfurt. It was one of the many green-boarded ambulances that had taken the wounded from the battlefields.
On December 18, 1949, Stalin ordered the creation of the SSD, a German part of the KGB. (not to be confused with "MfS" or "Stasi")
With this, the responsibility for maintaining the state secret was transferred from Kurt Willimczik from the KGB to the SSD. The object of desire had changed hands. The SSD wanted to be better than the KGB and worked according to the slogan “only the dead don't talk”.
After Dr. Kurt Willimczik had received an ultimatum, "his divorced wife Irmgard Kirsten (April 22, 1906 - July 20, 1950) died". (This choice of words is necessary because the SSD / STASI never “murders”, as he himself claims.) She was one of the first victims to protect the state secret “Dr. Kurt Phil. Willimczik ”. She was secretly taken to a certain hospital in Altglienicke, where she was "treated" to death free of charge. (The doctors in Königs Wusterhausen had refused).
The communists had achieved what Hitler had never succeeded in getting the medical profession to carry out the many murders. Doctors had to join the SED, where, like any soldier, they had to obey orders. The Nazi communist Kurt W. explained it like this: “Whoever pays for what happens!” The communists paid for medical care and therefore determined what happened to the sick person, even if he was not sick at all.
From 1950, immediately after the obstacle had been removed, the Nazi communist Kurt W. himself was allowed to prepare for the Cold War in the Ministry of Culture in East Berlin. However, the Ministry in East Berlin was no longer called the Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, but simply the Ministry of Culture (culture was propaganda). The best minds from the Reich Ministry for Propaganda now constructed the Cold War for the Communists - their former arch enemies. It worked because the methods were the same. However, it is not known whether the same typewriters were used, especially since the angry workers during the popular uprising on June 17, 1953 threw the typewriters of this hated ministry out of the window.
("We'll take over what's good," said Captain Wagner from the SSD in Potsdam, where the SSD had set up a university and where he delivered his doctoral thesis on the fight against scientists ...)
As the party secretary of Blankenfelde, Kurt W. drew the anger of the population, which was good for him, because his goal in life was to destroy other people's lives. He believed in the law of the "greatest meanness" and was his best vicarious agent. So he belonged to a very specific kind of people. With this knowledge, one can understand not only the misdeeds in World War II, but also the entire post-war catastrophe called "socialism". The characters of a Nazi and a Communist are identical.
He liked to start his speeches with the words: "Friends!" ...
For him there were only “friends” and “enemies” - nothing in between.
If at the end of his speech you felt as strong as a hero from old German legends and the next day set out to slay your enemies, then he had won his propaganda battle again. (Who was just the "enemy" was added in the small print.)
He has also made a great contribution to the upbringing and fighting of his son. After boarding school at the SSD, 2 years in the army and dozens of unpaid work assignments, he (and the comrades of the SSD who stood behind him like a man) sent his son to the information hole in Dresden to study physics at the "Technical University" to train as a spy to be completed. (The latter was of course kept secret from him. The SSD had made the TH-Dresden into a TU (that was the gift) and has since abused it as a training facility for spies. And this is how it worked: Entrance exams for physics were canceled and hundreds of unsuspecting people Students, while only 5 foresters were trained every few years - exactly as many were needed.
The disgruntled professors reacted accordingly. They increased the difficulty of the exams to such an extent that over 50% of the students were kicked out. This is exactly what was intended. It was the high school of human seduction. Some saved themselves in other courses of study, others were left with nothing - no training - no work - no money (there had never been any unemployment benefits in the "GDR"). Such a "half physicist" suddenly offered two well-dressed men a very lucrative job; one with enough money and even with paid trips abroad to the west ...
It all happened in secret. As a shining example with experience, Klaus Fuchs directed these secret events from the background.
There is not a single picture of these "physics students", either before, during or when the diplomas were awarded. (If someone has photos, they should use them.)
Nobody noticed what - really? There was an unusually high death rate among professors. This might be a lead. The best physics professor, who was specially brought to Dresden as a draft horse, was suddenly dismissed and died in an insane asylum ... Everything has not been clarified to this day. So his son should not become a physicist but a spy. His father called it, however, "Scout" and explained it to him that way. The spies smuggled in as painters at Siemens got hold of all the papers, but only brought the circuit diagrams of the lighting system and stuff like that with them. In order to assess what you have in front of you, you need people with half a degree in physics. His son was now behind him in 1964 and was now trapped. No matter how he decided - it will destroy his life. To be seen as a communist spy would be worse for his son than death. When his son reacted to this opening, Kurt W. first turned red - then turned blue and gasped for air. Then Dr Kurt W. - as always when he gets into too much distress - shit his pants. For his protection, however, he had posted comrades in front of the door of his villa in Berlin Pankow. (Many high-ranking comrades settled in this district.) After he returned from the bathroom, he continued: He only came to the West as a “scout”. There was no point in fleeing, as one could ensure that he would be treated as a "spy" in the West - whether he was or not. (This is what happened later and the victim knew it too, but there was nothing to prevent it. The SSD was in control of the state.
The investigation into alleged secret service agent activity, file number 7 BJs 255/81, was opened by the federal prosecutor who had come to power through the murder of the right man and who admitted on his deathbed that he had worked for the SSD. Certain reasons that would comply with the law have not been given to this day. It's called decomposition.)
After graduating, his son wanted to improve his ridiculous physicist salary through inventions. Judge Wilde from Königs Wusterhausen first gave him a warning, then he gave him 18 months in jail and at the same time his father received an honorary pension for his services in the fight against his son.
No company was allowed to adopt his son's inventions - strangely enough, in East and West alike; Unless the SSD appointed another - presentable "inventor" with the right awareness and marketed what Hptm. Wagner had found in a thick notebook of the physicist - and confiscated. At the same time, the SSD invented the method of "decomposition" against the real inventor, which is still used very successfully today.
Hptm. Dr. Wagner ordered: “The inventor Willimczik does not exist!” (His doctoral thesis
deals with the fight against scientists.) An army of SSD’s people follow their orders, which can be easily followed on the Internet ...
To top it off, the Nazi communist Dr. Phil. Kurt Willimczik (whom Hptm. Wagner referred to as “coat wearer”) in the “GDR” on topics such as “Inventing made easy”.
Just as the Nazis had propagandistically worked on miracle weapons before their demise, “inventor schools” were finally set up in the “GDR” to ensure that everyone first develops the right socialist awareness before they are allowed to “invent”.
http://www.problemlösendekreativität.de/probl-loesenmitsystem.html
"The initiator and translator was the outsider Dr. Phil. Kurt Willimczik, Germanist, active in the information institute of an industrial branch. "(Is the SSD called an" industrial branch "? It would be big enough.)
Typical for the experts from the Reich Propaganda Ministry were articles in “New Germany” of March 13, 1964, such as the “Communication on Prof. Havemann”. What kind of state is it where an old Nazi publicly punishes a famous physicist for thinking out loud about freedom? Nazis set the tone in socialism. They were in abundance, and everyone was silent about their past, because otherwise the people might have learned that a new Nazi state was emerging in the "GDR". On December 18, Stalin also ordered the preservation of such state secrets. In 1949 an organized gang of murderers - the State Security Service or SSD. (Not to be confused with "MfS" or "Stasi") Their motto was: "Only the dead don't talk."
Since the end of the war they roamed the country murderously, but now in search of “enemies of the state”, because all useful Nazis came into the civil service. Therefore, the red bloodhounds were now allowed to hunt everyone else. Anyone could be an “enemy of the state”. because they themselves determined who one was, investigated against him and also judged him themselves. That could happen very quickly sometimes, right on the wall of your own home. This frightened the neighbors and triggered the first great wave of refugees to the West. In the GDR there was no longer a housing problem, because many houses were suddenly empty.
The leaders of the SED recognized the problem and reassured the population by putting a "controlling" ministry over the SSD created by Stalin - the MfS. So it happened that SSD’ers sat next to the new comrades from the MfS, who were supposed to control them. In practice, that meant that a murder should never be recognizable as such. The comrades became artists in the murders. So it came about that to this day none of her many murders have been solved. The conglomerate of SSD’s and MfS’ers was later given the self-proclaimed nickname “Stasi”, and the Stasi murders were not announced.
Some think: So a Nazi more or less - so what?
Why did the KGB and SSD go to such great lengths to keep this name secret? Why were so many people "disappeared" or murdered who recognized him as an old Nazi and reported it to the GDR authorities?
No colleague, no neighbor survived this man.
Answer:
Dr. Phil. Kurt Willimczik is not only the personification of evil, but also personified proof of the fact that the communists' propaganda was made directly by experts from the Reich Ministry of Propaganda, i.e. by red Nazis, whose only life task was that of everyone else To ruin life.
With this the last remnant of the ideological bulwark of socialism collapses.
submitted by nisaaru to conspiracy [link] [comments]


2020.09.26 22:48 Zaneviper Psychopomp

It was a day like any other, the sun was shining, birds were singing, people were outside and having fun without a care in the world. Jim Blouchet was on a jog this day through his local park when suddenly time began to slow for him as a deep pain began to arise from his chest and suddenly he was down on the ground. But suddenly, he got back up no longer feeling any pain in his chest. He brushed himself off and continued jogging, it was not long before he noticed something was wrong. He could not hear anything, nor could he see anything in his periphery. He began to get nervous before spotting a woman stretching, relieved he approached her but his fear is only heightened when he sees she is not moving, like a statue frozen in time. He is panicking now and is finally observing his surroundings to see that everything is frozen, even the birds while in flight, everything was stuck in place at that moment. Everything except for him. Jim frantically runs away in the direction opposite of where he was originally heading until he stops right in front of where he fell. Beneath him he saw himself, lying lifelessly on the dirt path. He started to quiver in absolute terror and fell to his knees, he then began to cry and that was when I chose to extend my hand and lay it on his shoulder. He then froze in shock from my touch but was still crying.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” I asked genuinely as I understood his pain and fear.
He cautiously turned around to see me and the second his eyes met mine, he began booking it in the opposite direction. I honestly hate people who run away but it is my job to go after him. But despite my dislike for runners, I could not help but empathize with him.
He continued to run away and when he was a reasonable distance from where he was he turned around and there was nothing there; however, time was still frozen. He then faced forward once more to see me now walking towards him. I could see the terror in his face as well as the confusion as to how I got in front of him. He then ran away again as if thinking that if he avoided me, everything would return to normal.
I pinched my eyes in annoyance and yelled after him in a genuine and comforting tone, “I am not here to hurt you. I am only here to help.”
He definitely heard this but only shivered at my words. I sighed and we repeated this process once more, I got in front of him scaring him and I think he realized the futility in running away at this point and just dropped to his knees and blocked his face with his hands while still crying. I imagine he did this because he did not want to witness what would happen next.
“Please don’t hurt me!” He pleaded through sobs and sniffles.
I approached him and told him, “There is no need to be scared, I will not hurt you.”
I think my words finally got to him and that he realized that I was not lying, he released his grip on his eyes. His face now red from tears stared back at me once more, still with fear but more with a look of defeat; I honestly felt bad for him.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” I once again asked him.
“What are you?” He asked with a tremble, his pale blue eyes gazing directly into the luminous purple of mine.
“There are many terms for what I am, I prefer Psychopomp, but you probably know me better as a reaper.” I explained in a calm but also straightforward tone. Somehow he looked even more afraid once he realized what I was. I guess my confirming his fears made everything more real.
“No. No you...you can’t be the Grim Reaper. I...I can’t be dead I just can’t.” He said frantically
“What you are experiencing is normal.” I tell him in an attempt to comfort him.
“No no, I must be dreaming. Yeah, that’s it, this is all just a dream, that or just a simple near-death experience.” He spoke deliriously.
“I’m afraid not.” I said in a sullen tone, “I would not have been sent here if it were simply a near-death experience. I hate to be the one to tell you this but you are deceased Jim.” I explained as carefully as I could in an attempt to talk him down from his frantic emotions going wild.
“Please, I beg of you, spare me, I have a family, I cannot die now. Please Ms. Grim Reaper.” He pleaded through more tears.
“Believe me when I say I wish I could, but death is not negotiable. When it is someone’s time, they cannot avoid it.” I said with tears almost welling up in my own eyes.
“How could you do this, you have the power to stop my family from grieving.” He said, pain coating his every word.
“I don’t have that power, Psychopomps can do many things but we cannot interfere by choosing who dies and we can not give second chances no matter how deserving an individual might be. Death is inevitable no matter how hard it may be to accept.” I tell him this honestly, just as I told countless others and he seems to understand my words despite it being hard to do so.
“So what now?” He asked with a sniffle, “Do I just leave my family like this?” He continued with obvious pain. He was more sad that he could not say goodbye to his family than he was of actually dying.
I got down to his level and reached a hand out for him, “It does not have to be.” I said with reassurance before continuing, “My job is to guide you to the next realm, but it is not a necessity for me to do it immediately. Just as those which the deceased leaves behind, the recently departed deserve time to grieve as well. As such, I am allowed to bring you to your family members so you may say goodbye.”
“Thank you.” He sniffled as tears of joy replaced those of sadness.
“Just grab my hand when you are ready and we will go.” I tell him patiently.
He took some time to get on his feet and wiped away his tears. He then grabbed my hand slowly and gently before saying “Okay, I am ready.”
I smiled at him and we both vanished from the park and were outside of an apartment building in a city some distance away.
“We are at your son’s and grandchildren’s house.” I tell him and he smiles a sad but also happy smile.
“So do I just walk in and say goodbye like a ghost?” He asked.
I shook my head before saying, “It does not work that way unfortunately, all I can do is act as a transmitter for you to leave them a message.”
He looked shattered at the realization of not being able to interact with them but accepted that something was better than nothing. He nodded to me and I snapped my fingers returning time back to its normal flow and the two of us walked into the apartment. I saw two children playing and a man in his early thirties watching over them. I pointed at the man and he nodded. I then grabbed Jim’s hand and extended my other hand to his son’s phone. Instantly, the phone began to ring and I could see Jim’s smile breaking with sadness.
I turned to him and told him that we do not need to do this if he does not want to.
“No.” He said as sadness began to overtake his voice, “I have to do this.” I nodded and continued to transmit my energy into an incoming call. Soon the son answered the phone.
“Hey dad how are you?” He asked with a smile across his face, but was met with silence. Jim was in too much pain to answer immediately.
“Dad?” The son asked into the phone and after some delay, Jim found the strength to talk.
With tears and a full smile, Jim spoke, “Topher.”
A little shocked by the obvious sadness in his father’s voice, Topher asked in a concerned voice, “Dad? Is something wrong”
“No. I’m fine.” Jim said before wiping away his tears and continued, “I love you son. You have made me so proud. Never forget that.”
His message was short and powerful and even I shed a tear at that.
“Dad is everything okay?” Topher asked in a concerned rushed tone.
“Everything is fine, I just wanted to let you know that. Tell Emily and George the same will you?” He asked.
“Yeah sure dad.” Topher responded a little wary as he could obviously tell something was not right.
“I love you.” Jim said one last time.
“I love you to dad.” Topher said genuinely, and with that, Jim released his grip and the call dropped.
I snapped my fingers once more, now pausing time before telling him, “When you are ready, we have one more stop.”
He nods and gets back to his feet before once again grabbing my hand and saying “No no, I’m ready.” There was hesitation in his voice but even so, I began walking and we left the apartment. We then walked for a few blocks in this world between moments in time.
“Why did you pause time?” He asked, confused.
“You will see shortly.” I responded in an unintentional cryptic tone.
“Okay, and why are we walking when you teleported us originally?” He asked.
I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face him, a look of resigned joy across my face to try and comfort him.
“You said you were ready but your voice told me you were not. You just died and said your last goodbyes to your son. You cannot just move on to your spouse and expect to be okay.” I said before sitting down on some building’s steps and patting the spot next to him. He took the hint and sat down. I patted him on the back.
“We’ll leave, but only when I know you are ready.” I tell him gently.
“Okay, thanks.” He replies genuinely and honestly, revealing that he knew that he was not truly ready.
We just sat there in this moment in silence. But I was never one for prolonged silence so I spoke up, “You know, most other Psychopomps would have tried to get this over with as quickly as possible, you’re lucky you got one who was once a psychologist.”
He looked confused at me and it looked like he was trying to find the right words before speaking up himself, “Wait, I thought you said you were a Psycho…puff?”
“A Psychopomp. And yes I am, but that doesn’t mean that I was always one.” I answered with a smile while looking at the sky remembering times now long passed.
“Okay, I am confused, just what exactly are you?” He asked with extreme confusion.
“Like I said, I’m a Psychopomp.” I tell him.
“But what is a Psychopomp?” He asked, a bit impatiently.
“Well, we are those tasked with escorting those recently departed to the next realm. But every psychopomp was once human but chose this new life upon our deaths in order to help the confused souls be at peace and get them ready for their own afterlives. That is what a Psychopomp is.” I explain to him to the best of my ability due to the fact that no one has asked me that question before.
“Is that why you have been so compassionate to me? Because you were once human?” He asked.
“Yes.” I told him, “I have lost count of how many people I have guided throughout my time working this job, but I never lose my compassion for those who are recently departed. I guess no matter how long time has passed, I still have my humanity.”
He smiled at this and he finally dropped any lingering wariness towards me. He now trusted me.
“So, you obviously know my name…so what’s yours?” He asked me curiously.
“Rhea, Rhea Thomas.” I replied.
He extended out his hand and said, “Nice to meet you Rhea.”
I returned the gesture by reaching out my own hand and shaking his responding with a “Likewise.”
“So, I’m guessing you want to know what happens next for you right?” I asked him.
“A little, it would be a little less scary and a little more comforting to know what I will be facing next.” He said.
“Well there are three main realms, Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell.” I said to which he nodded due to it being basically what many perceive the afterlife as making up. I then continued,
“Most souls end up in purgatory as it is where neutral souls go.”
“Neutral souls?” Jim asked.
“Souls who were not purely good or bad. They are sent to Purgatory, or as we like to call it, the blackness. It is a void where the souls must face off against their worst self. By this I mean the individual faces a corrupted version of themselves which embody vices, negative emotions, trauma, etc, basically things that were holding the individual back in their lifetime. If they overcome themselves, they are given passage into Paradise, if they lose, they are to retry again and again until they do succeed. It's basically a trial by combat and the point of constantly facing off against oneself is that defeating the worst aspects of a persons' self purifies the souls.” I explained.
“Good to know.” He said slowly and wide eyed, obviously concerned that he may end up there and face his demons.
“Would you like me to move on to paradise?” I asked.
“I think I know already.” He responded.
I chuckled, “It’s actually quite different, yet also somewhat similar to what people believe. You see there are four subsections of Paradise: there is Dream, Memory, Reincarnation, and Heaven.” I explained, “Dream is where one is given the power of a God and is able to create, and even interact with their own world/worlds; it received this title as it is very similar to the seemingly unending power one possesses in a dream. Basically in Dream, you are given full control and can create whatever you wish for a reality and even interact with it. Memory is where one is given full access to their memory and are allowed to relive moments from their past first hand. Reincarnation is very similar to what people perceive it as; however, in addition to beginning a new life, one is also able to choose the kind of world they wish to live in.”
“World to live in?” He interrupts with much confusion.
“I would say that you can look at it in two ways, you could either return to this planet and begin a new life, or you can enter the world of your favorite book or TV show.” I explained.
I looked at him and he seemed amazed, “That sounds incredible!” He said happily, obviously hoping that he reaches paradise to get these opportunities.
“Finally there is Heaven which is eternal peace with one’s loved ones. The best thing about Heaven is that no matter which subsection you decide on, part of your soul is brought to Heaven so that it may be with loved ones since passed.” I concluded.
“But wait, then how did you become a Psychopomp?” He asked quizzically.
I just smiled for a bit, reminiscing on how things turned out for me before answering. “Very few people actually qualify to become a Psychopomp and very few people even agree to become one. But essentially, when an individual who displays true compassion throughout their life enters the gates of Paradise, they are given the opportunity to become a Psychopomp. A decision that is completely up to them. I was one of the people who decided to take my passion of helping others into my next life and the rest is history.” I explained nostalgically.
“So wait, did you forgo Paradise for the job?” He asked.
“Not exactly, you remember how I said if you make it to Paradise your soul gets split apart from the rest and part of it enters Heaven?”
“Yes.” He responds.
“Well a Psychopomp has their souls split into three essentially making two copies of the original, all completely identical to each other in personality, memory, etc. One copy goes to Heaven, the other chooses between the other three, and the original transforms into a Psychopomp.” I say matter of factly.
“That’s incredible, so…I guess there is one last place to talk about.” He says nervously chuckling before turning into a somber worry.
Everyone, no matter who they are will always have a lingering fear that they have not done enough or were not good enough in their lives to be worthy of Paradise. With this being said, I took a deep breath, stood up, and told Jim the facts, “There is no need Jim Blouchet. You have lived 60 long years and have remained selfless for a very long time. Trust me when I say you have done enough and are well deserving of your reward.” I told him this as if I were a father validating his uncertain child.
Tears once again well up inside Jim’s eyes and he lunges forward and hugs me. “Thank you!” He cries.
I am at first shocked at this reaction but quickly adapt and pat him on the back and replied, “You have no one to thank but yourself, I am merely stating fact.”
We sat back down and after a while, Jim wiped away his tears and said, “I’m ready now.”
I nodded my head to Jim and once again stood up. He held my hand and we were soon at his home. We entered through the wall and stood in front of his frozen wife, on the couch reading a book. He stood over here and I could tell he was hurting more now than he was throughout this entire experience. This was the love of his life, the person he grew old with, and now he has to say goodbye; this would be hard on anyone. I took a deep breath and held his hand.
“Take as much time as you need and when you are ready for your goodbye simply ask.” I tell him with compassion.
He simply nods, obviously holding back another flood of tears. He attempted to brush her hair to the side but his hand only passed through her face. This made his death even more sad for Jim as he could not even properly interact with his love. He dropped to his knees sobbing once more.
“It’s not fair. Why? Why must fate be so cruel?” He asked painfully.
A question I too ask sometimes.
I exhale and approach him, “I agree, it’s not fair. But it must be this way.” My words were cold but held truth to them.
“Why?” He pleaded, but it was not truly directed towards me, more like he was pleading with a higher power for an answer. Unfortunately, that answer never came.
After maybe five minutes in that position, I believe he made his peace as he told me he was ready now. But he made a request, he wanted to talk to her directly rather than over the phone. While this would be a fairly difficult task for me, I decided that it would be best to grant his wish.
“Forgive me.” I said solemnly.
“For what?” He asked, confused.
“For this.” I said before clasping my hand onto Jim’s neck and squeezing for a good second and then releasing.
“What the hell was that for?” He coughed out, angrily.
“I just gave your voice a physical presence. She will be able to hear you without me as the transmitter. Unfortunately, the only was I could do so was by transmitting some of my energy into your vocal cords.” I explained.
He quickly realized the magnitude of what I was saying and once again dropped to the ground but this time thanking me like I were some deity.
I then left the room, but not before telling him to come outside when he is done. Once out of the room to give him privacy, I restarted time to its normal flow.
While outside, I gazed upon the beauties of life, beauties which were now foreign to me as I could only view them and not truly experience them. It makes me sad but at the end of the day, viewing life was better than isolating myself from it like some other Psychopomps do. I guess life is too painful for some Psychopomps because they never truly accepted their own deaths as unchangeable before realizing the truth. Me on the other hand, as well as most others of my kind embrace the pain of the world we once lived in because it returns some feelings of life back into our souls.
Perhaps three minutes after leaving, Jim phased through the door. I was a bit taken aback that he did not spend longer with his wife, but the dried tears and his bloodshot eyes made it obvious. He said what he had to say despite the pain and made sure to say a short, but proper goodbye.
“Does it get any easier?” He asked with a hoarse voice.
“With time the pain will lighten, but it will always be with you.” I responded in a sullen voice, after all, it is still difficult for me despite how long time has separated me from the end of my mortal story.
“Good.” He said, these emotions only mean that I am still human, even when I am not physically one.
“Are you happy?” He then asked me with total seriousness in his voice.
This surprised me as no one has ever asked me this question.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Being a Psychopomp, are you happy with your decision?” He asked.
I actually gave this some thought because I never really thought about whether I was happy with my position or not.
“Well, I mean this job is fulfilling and I get to help people through the darkest point in their lives similar to my time as a psychologist while I was mortal. I get my fair share of thanks from my clients, but I also receive an abundance of hatred and blame for being the one to explain their current situation. But...yes, yes I would say that I am happy with my decision. It is a hard job though.” I tell him with absolute honesty.
“Does it get lonely?” He asked me.
“Not really, there are other Psychopomps I can interact with and on my days off I can spend time in the other subsections of Paradise excluding Reincarnation. So I do get to reunite with part of my soul and interact with my loved ones on occasion.” I explain to him.
He appeared to be happy with my answer and smiled before saying, “It’s time. While I wish I could stay, I know that it is my time to leave.” He said sadly but understandingly.
I nodded to him and got up and extended my hand for him to shake. He in return extended his own hand and shook mine.
“It was a pleasure Jim Blouchet.” I say happily.
“Thank you Rhea.” He retorts with a smile.
With that I extended my left hand and snapped my fingers causing the world to slow down and the world began to dissolve like paint melting off a canvas. We were soon in a white room and in front of us was a set of massive gates.
“Good luck Jim.” I say sincerely before walking into the white nothingness and disappearing.
The wall I passed through was a gateway for Psychopomps, a doorway into our own private pocket dimension. This dimension had a layout similar to a dorm building. It had common rooms on every floor, and everyone's rooms making up the hallways.

NEW RECRUIT

I expected to just lay low for a bit before going on another job when I saw someone who I had not seen before. He was a man of Native American descent and was fairly built as well as 5’9. He looked completely lost and appeared to be looking for someone to talk to. My guess is that he was a newbie who just transformed. I walked over and he looked happy before being shocked.
“Your eyes.” He gasped.
I rolled my eyes. “You should look in a mirror.” I retorted as a joke but he ran to the elevator and used the reflective surface to see his face and he jumped back.
“My eyes! My skin!” He yelled freaking out.
“I’m guessing you’re new here.” I said in a comforting voice trying to be nice.
“Uh yeah? Where are we, and what happened to me?” He asked worriedly and confused.
“We are in the dorms. This is where you will be living from now on. As for your appearance...it comes with the territory. You are now a full fledged Psychopomp.” I replied, just as I was told when I first arrived here. “Follow me, I’ll show you to your room.” I beckoned.
He did so and we left the common room and entered the hallway of rooms for this floor. He stood there in awe at the near infinite number of rooms in front of us.
“How many rooms are there?” He asked bewildered.
“I do not know exactly. I was told though that there are just under two thousand.” I said.
“Are you telling me that all throughout time, only two thousand people chose to be Reapers!?” He blurted out as if I were lying.
“No, I'm not saying that at all, what I am saying is that this floor, which represents the United States only has two thousand Psychopomps. Apparently the country the soul was most familiar with in life is the same jurisdiction we have as Psychopomps; I guess this means that each floor represents a country.” I explained.
“But that does not make sense. You’re telling me that all throughout the history of the United States, only two thousand people took this job!?” He blurts out.
“Well the United States is technically a baby when compared to most other countries, plus when we all do our jobs, we make up for the nearly seven thousand and five hundred deaths the U.S faces each day. Plus, why do you care that there are not like a million other people?” I explain then ask.
“It’s just surprised, okay.” He pouts.
“I get it, but you were getting a little hostile. Also, if you think the numbers are surprising, wait until you see your room.” I said casually.
“So...where is my room?” He asked me.
“Simply think your name and your door will glow. It’s actually pretty cool.” I said never getting tired of this.
He did so and almost immediately, the door next to us began to glow a luminous turquoise. A smile of child-like wonder grew across his face.
“So you like turquoise huh?” I asked.
“Yeah it’s my favorite color...Oh, uh, how about you?” He asked.
“Navy blue.” I said casually.
“Interesting. Also, what luck that I get the room right next to the common room. I feel bad for those at the end of the hall.” He replied.
“Don’t be.” I said before thinking my own name and the turquoise was replaced by navy blue.
“What the?” He said, utterly confused.
“These first two doors are merely portals to a person’s room.” I said with a smirk across my face.
“So what’s the point of the other doors?” He asked quizzically.
“Familiarity?” I shrugged as I honestly didn't know either.
Either way, he re-thought his name and the door returned to a turquoise shine and as soon as we stepped on the welcome mat, the door opened. Before we entered, an idea came into his head and he asked, “Wait, if we’re, you know, not alive anymore, why do we have rooms?”
“I asked myself the same question five years ago. To my understanding, as well as what others believe is that they are here to provide comfort and familiarity to us.” I explained.
He seemed to like my answer and did not pry much about that subject again but I knew more questions were on their way.
We entered his room which, like all other rooms was I guess the size of a luxury hotel room on earth. He then fell onto the absolutely massive bed. I then decided to explain the room to him as without context, the objects in the room can get confusing.
“This room basically emulates Paradise, but on a smaller, more limited scale for your enjoyment while not working. The computer contains pictures taken of you or by you throughout your lifetime. It also contains all the music you have ever listened to.”
“Awesome!” He interrupted while getting comfortable in his new bed.
“The TV has two settings: moments and memory television. Moments allows you to glimpse into your past and view from a third person perspective key points in your past. It’s like the Memory subsection but you are viewing it rather than living it. Memory television basically makes your TV a gateway to any show or movie you have ever watched. You operate it by simply thinking of an event or show you have seen and it will display on the TV.” I said happily as describing what that TV does is just amazing.
“That is so cool!” He yelled out like a kid getting a new toy.
“Underneath the TV is a book which will transform into any piece of literature which you enjoyed while you were mortal, even pieces you never finished.” I explained.
“Interesting!” He said.
“The fridge is basically a portal into your past where with a mere thought, anything you have eaten in your life will appear in the fridge. Like so.” I said before opening it revealing nothing, closing it, and opening it again to reveal a freshly baked chocolate cake.
His smile was so wide at witnessing the magic of the fridge.
“But wait, aren’t we dead.”
“Not really as we are Psychopomps, but I get your confusion. Eating is not needed for us to continue on ‘living’ but it is offered merely as a form of comfort. It does not even do anything after consumption, no bathrooms needed now, just tasting great food without any consequence.” I say which amazed him even more and I think gave him some more comfort.
“Next is the closet which has a display which will allow you to add clothing to your wardrobe so you do not have to wear the same pieces of clothing for all eternity.” I said, less enthusiastically than the others because, while it is very cool, it does not really compare to the others.
“Finally there is your bed.” I said before getting interrupted.
“It’s very comfortable, but why do we even have beds, I mean I get the eating for the taste, but CAN we even sleep?” He asked, very confused.
“Again, it's all about comfort and familiarity. I mean, if you wanted to, you could stay awake for the rest of eternity with no consequence. But we all still make the decision to sleep as it connects us to our lives before we became Psychopomps, it allows us to once again live and imagine worlds different from our own.” I tried to explain in a way for him to understand.
“Then what is the point in giving the opportunity to visit Dream during our day off?” He asked. A valid question and it took me a while to come up with an answer.
“You could consider the bed our own personal, temporary but limited access to Dream. Dreaming and Dream are similar as both are places an individual creates for themselves; but they still have their own dissimilarities. Dreaming is an uncontrolled world where things will occur without rhyme or reason unless the person is lucid. Dream on the other hand is a place where the individual is always in control of what happens. Does that clear things up?” I asked.
“Pretty much yeah.” He responded, content with my answer.
“Oh, and you can raise or lower the temperature of the bed with a mere thought.” I said with a sly grin.
“Nice!” He blurted.
Suddenly, a massive yawn overtook me and I immediately felt the effects of using my energy to help Jim talk to his wife.
“Sorry, but speaking about beds, I’m gonna head to my own. See you soon...Uh?”
“Oh, It’s Jaimey.” He said.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Rhea.” I replied before making my way to the door.
“GODDAMMIT!!!” I heard his yell behind me in pain.
I quickly turned to face him and he looked like he was experiencing a massive headache. I immediately knew what was happening and was a bit annoyed that I had to explain to him what was happening.
“Looks like you are experiencing the one drawback of living here Jaimey.” I said, still tired and less concerned about my neighborly way of speaking.
“What is happening?” He asked in pain.
I yawned once more before saying, “There are not many rules for us in this dimension; but the main one we must adhere to is that we are unable to actually experience the feeling of relaxation unless we have first guided a soul. If we do not do this, we experience massive migraines and a large amount of anxiety. It’s like cramming for a college final after procrastinating for too long and having to spend an entire night doing what should have been done over the span of a week. If you want it to stop, you have to guide a soul to the afterlife. If you do, you will be granted with 3 hours of pure bliss. And if you want to truly be free for an extended period of time though, you are allowed to take on consecutive assignments so the hours build up. Don’t worry, once you are back on earth the pain will subside. But I should say that there are only two exceptions to the rule; one is when we receive our day off which only occurs after we have guided one hundred souls. You get all that?” I remark tiredly as the full force of my previous shifts are now taking their toll.
“I think so, but how do I guide a soul to the afterlife?” He said between wails of pain.
I pinched my eyes in annoyance as I now have to show this newbie the ropes. I told him to follow me and he did while clenching his head. We were about to enter the common room when I saw a familiar face about to enter the elevator. It was one of the friends I have made over my time here, it was Jeremia.
“Yo Jeremia, can you do me a solid and train this newbie for me? I just finished four shifts and need a break.” I said but phrased it more like a plea for help.
He eyed the guy up and down and said in a gravelly voice, “Yeah sure.” He responded tiredly. I then noticed the mug of fresh coffee in his hands and his intense bedhead. I expect he just woke up due to a migraine and wanted to get his shifts over with, so he could go back to sleep.
“Thanks man, I owe you.” I said tiredly.
“It’s fine, you’d do the same for me.” He said before waving me a peace sign as a send off.
With that, those two entered the elevator and I headed to my room. I headed inside, took my clothes off, and collapsed into bed. I mentally made the bed cold so it would be more comfortable and slowly drifted off into sleep. This is honestly the only really bad thing about this place aside from the migraines, when you overexert yourself in here, all the fatigue and sleepiness hit right at the same time and it is always unpredictable for when it does hit. Either way, soon I was in bliss and entered my state of dreaming.
submitted by Zaneviper to stories [link] [comments]


2020.09.26 09:39 Dull_Focus_6191 Virgin considering escort need advice

As u can read in the title I’m a 25 year old virgin. So I rather make it quick because I have never been the guy of talking much. And Excuse my English it’s not my native language. A bit of forestory, if u are not interested skip the next part.
I’ve always been a loner since my young teens, didn’t ever had any friends and if I talked to schoolmates it were superficial conversations. I lived with my mum and little brother, my mum was never around so I had to take care of my brother, if she was around, she were pretty abusive ( I don’t want to go into details) so no one to talk to and me trying to escape this shitty reality lead into drug abuse. The last 10 years were pretty dark. I’m trying to get back on my feet rn, it’s not easy and i feel lonely and unloved but that’s okay, I never experienced such things so I don’t even know what it’s like. So that resulted into bad social skills escpecially with girls. Since I wanted to try my luck i used online dating apps such as tinder etc but never were really lucky. They never replied or stopped responding in the middle of conversations. Guess that’s only for pretty people. I’ve often got told that I’m ugly and things like that in school, which lead to not very much self esteem obviously. I feel like having sex with a prostitute would lower my mental wall a bit, showing myself to someone. since my chances to find a girl seem pretty low, I would like to have sex at least once in my life Just to know what it’s like.
Now I’m considering to hire an escort since it’s legal in the country I live. I’m pretty nervous, as mentioned I’m not good with talking, especially to girls. So if u have any tips or could share your own experiences with me it would be really appreciated.
Thanks for reading.
submitted by Dull_Focus_6191 to sex [link] [comments]


2020.09.26 08:58 Dull_Focus_6191 Virgin considering an escort

As u can read in the title I’m a 25 year old virgin. So I rather make it quick because I have never been the guy of talking much. And Excuse my English it’s not my native language. A bit of forestory, if u are not interested skip the next part.
I’ve always been a loner since my young teens, didn’t ever had any friends and if I talked to schoolmates it were superficial conversations. I lived with my mum and little brother, my mum was never around so I had to take care of my brother, if she was around, she were pretty abusive ( I don’t want to go into details) so no one to talk to and me trying to escape this shitty reality lead into drug abuse. The last 10 years were pretty dark. I’m trying to get back on my feet rn, it’s not easy and i feel lonely and unloved but that’s okay, I never experienced such things so I don’t even know what it’s like. So that resulted into bad social skills escpecially with girls. Since I wanted to try my luck i used online dating apps such as tinder etc but never were really lucky. They never replied or stopped responding in the middle of conversations. Guess that’s only for pretty people. I’ve often got told that I’m ugly and things like that in school, which lead to not very much self esteem obviously. I feel like having sex with a prostitute would lower my mental wall a bit, showing myself to someone. since my chances to find a girl seem pretty low, I would like to have sex at least once in my life Just to know what it’s like.
Now I’m considering to hire an escort since it’s legal in the country I live. I’m pretty nervous, as mentioned I’m not good with talking, especially to girls. So if u have any tips or could share your own experiences with me it would be really appreciated.
Thanks for reading.
submitted by Dull_Focus_6191 to SeriousConversation [link] [comments]


2020.09.26 05:43 Newbosauras I got bored so I started a WH40K/Starsector crossover fanfic.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13705381/1/The-Persean-Anomaly-A-WH40KStarsector-Crossover
Not sure if anyone cares and this is probably the nerdiest thing I've ever done, but I've got like 3 more chapters written and I'll probably keep going if anyone's enjoying it.
x-post:
Chapter 1: A Brief History of The Persean Sector Cycle 0 – Ankylos Research Base, Tri-Tachyon space “Phase engines will be online in 15 minutes” The cool, synthesized voice echoed around the viewing platform. The executive officers of the research base milled around excitedly. This was the culmination of twenty years of research and development. The first Phase Capital Ship the Persean Sector, indeed the entirety of the Domain of Man had ever seen.
CEO Hermes Andrada looked down from the great viewing platform onto the starry void platform where The Castigator stood ready for it’s christening and first flight into the strange void between reality and whatever lay beyond. The crowning achievement of his tenure as the head of Tri-Tachyon would not merely give them the strongest fleet in the sector, it would mean that Tri-Tachyon would finally have the means to free itself from the yoke of the Domain, and take humanity into it’s glorious future. Unrestricted AI development, nanotechology, full genomic conversions, and a thousand other banned technologies would give rise to a new civilization, free from want, free from war, free from mortality itself. This ship was his legacy given physical form.
He startled, briefly as his assistant tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir it’s almost time, you should put these on”. She held out a pair of holo-goggles, no doubt linked to observation drones orbiting The Castigator.
Hermes smiled briefly “Thank you Ms. Sun”.
As he strapped the goggles over his eyes he felt a momentary disorientation as he was suddenly looking through a dozen sets of eyes simultaneously. He relaxed and let the sensory information flow over him for a moment and his eyes quickly adjusted, nothing he had not done a thousand times before. He marveled at the ship before him, a needle, almost a kilometer long, made of chromed steel, bristling with turrets and hardpoints, and the eight softly glowing Phase Field generators that would take it further into Phase Space than any ship before. The earpiece of the goggles was buzzing with excited scientists and engineers, and he quickly filtered it down to a single channel of audio.
“…Of course the foundational challenge of the project was the sheer size of the ship. Nothing like The Castigator was attempted before quite simply because it was by our naive understanding of physics, impossible. Above a certain mass, the transition to P-Space is simply not possible, the expansion rate of the Phase Field is simply too slow and the entire ship tears itself apart as parts of it phase into P-Space separately. The initial experiments that proved this were of course messy. Thousands of lives lost, and nothing to show for it other than some very expensive wreckage. However over the last 20 years, my team at Ankylos has been researching a new method of Phase Space Transition using synchronized harmonic fields to generate a larger, and more stable field that can encompass any mass instantaneously. That ladies and gentlemen is what you have come to witness in action today.”
Hermes chuckled lightly, the fair haired Dr. Maxwell was as much of a showman as she was a scientist. But there were few more brilliant minds in the Sector. It didn’t hurt, he admitted to himself, that she had aged like fine wine. Even discounting the rejuvenation treatments she looked excellent for a 120 years.
“As you should see over your goggles, we are now a mere 1 minute away from the first field test of this new technology. A technology which offers near limitless potential in both matters of economics and warfare.”
The viewing platform had fallen silent now, 50 of Tri-Tachyons finest executives stood entranced behind their goggles. A faint purple glow began to grown around the eight generators embedded in the great ships hull.
“5...4...3...2...1...Phase field engage.”
The ship disappeared and with it the view of the drones peppered across it’s interior. Hermes allowed himself a satisfied smile. At the very least the ship hadn’t torn itself apart like it’s predecessors. He widened the audio channels again, and started as he let the feeds flow across him
“...Anomalous readings sir, we’re getting a way bigger Phase spike than expected”
“...Somethings interacting with the systems gate, we’re getting reports of a total system failure”
“...Can’t get a read on the phase signature, it’s like the ships in eight places at once, and there’s something else showing up.”
“...It’s spiking again.”
Hermes eyes narrowed as he disengaged the goggles, he grabbed his assistant and immediately started towards the lift. Ms. Sun looked at him in surprise, “Sir shoudn’t we be here for when the test fini-”
“I’ve seen enough trouble in my day Ms. Sun, to know when it’s best to step out of it’s way, come, we’re headed to the shuttle, and make sure that the Eyes Like Nuclear Fire and Intrepid have their batteries powered up just in case. I hope to Sol and back that we don’t have need of them, but I have a bad feeling about this.”
To her credit Ms. Sun didn’t hesitate for even a second, and within minutes the two Paragon class escorts Hermes had brought with to this event had powered up their four tachyon lances and were drawing a bead on the exact point The Castigator had occupied a moment before.
It was unfortunate then that The Castigator emerged a mere 200 meters behind the Paragons in question, wreathed in unholy purple fire, and immediately opened fire. Perhaps even more unfortunately The Castigators weapons systems were just as advanced as the rest of the ship, and a hail of high explosive munitions ripped through Phase Space, bypassing the great fortress shields in their entirety, emerging just centimeters from the hulls of the Paragons in a thunderous hail of explosions. It took three volleys to turn The Intrepid from the second mightiest warship in the Sector, into a smoking shell.
Hermes Andrada would later recount in his diary that it was only a miracle that saved the Eyes Like Nuclear Fire from the same fate, as the Intrepid’s explosive overload and subsequent destruction ultimately created such an immense explosion that The Castigator briefly overloaded. In those precious 30 seconds, four tachyon lances turned its Phase Field Generators into molten slag. And a few seconds later, carved the vessel into burning wreckage.
The footage from the observation drones aboard The Castigator was largely a jumbled mess, but the few intact sections of audio there was only a single sound aboard the ship in its last moments, an eerie synchronized chanting “Blood for the blood god, skulls for the skull throne”.
submitted by Newbosauras to starsector [link] [comments]


2020.09.24 17:32 VarnusJulius Confusing reviews

We get reviews that make us feel good. We get reviews that piss us off and make us want to hit something or someone. And we get reviews that confuse the hell out of us.
My two most recent reviews to my Elder Scrolls-Game of Thrones fic are such reviews. I wanted to kinda like dissect them with you guys that know this lore. Both are also made by anons, which frustrates me to no end because I can't ask them to elaborate or explain myself or anything. Here's the first one:
Got up to chapter 6 and was like where the hell are B.O.A are? I mean wouldnt he had to meet them to get shadowmere? If an emperor of that time went any where they would of had at least afew assassin's/spy's with him, and if u have the blades back shouldn't they now be fully trained in espionage/ cloke and dagger?
My thoughts about this review: Bit of broken English. What the hell is B.O.A.? You get Shadowmere as a reward during Skyrim's Dark Brotherhood questline, so I'm not sure what you mean. A Dragonborn Emperor is more than capable of holding his own in a fight if it comes to that, so he truthfully doesn't need all that many Blades escorting him. He has Brynjolf on the Elder Council as his Spymaster. He has both the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild at his back, so there will be be spies and assassins all around making sure nobody screws with him.
You're not exactly supposed to be able to see them, and even if he recognized one of his stealthy allies, he wouldn't exactly want to give them away by looking in their direction or something. And yes, The Blades are trained in cloak and dagger, that goes without saying. They cloak and dagger threats to The Emperor and the Imperial Family, the Penitus Oculatus does so for threats to the Empire as a whole, and neither know that the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild are secretly helping them.
On an amusing note, this review didn't even show up until two days after it's displayed timestamp. As a matter of fact, same for the other one, which is this:
I really don't like what you've done with the lore at all. You've kind of done the inverse of what canonical Elderscrolls does. Whereas in canon, it's often specific individuals that are so ridiculously overpowered that they literally break time when they make decision, but overall there's enough of these individuals evenly spread out or there's so few of them all together that it kind of evens out and ends up kind of balanced; instead you've basically just handed a whole bunch of RNG-gifts to your Imperial set up while making your Dragonborn just some guy who seems to be a little more powerful than everyone around him. I mean, for God's sake, he uses a full Unrelenting Force shout on a frost troll. Unrelenting Force used by someone who fully understands the words, like the dragonborn, is known to literally shatter continents and cause Earthquakes that can be felt around the world. Even whispering Dovahkiin, like when the Greybeards call you, is enough for dangerous tremors that can be lethal to those near the mountain. To use a shout for such a mundane situation is absolutely ridiculous. He would have blasted the top off of the mountain at that range. He literally speaks and makes reality bend to his will, that is the voice.That all sounds rant-like, and it is, so I'll just stop. It's your story, you can do what you want, I'm just letting you know that I don't like it and why.
I mean... that's kind of the point of him being a Dragonborn, he's a little more powerful than everyone around him. Who hasn't gone and shouted that Frost Troll off the side of the mountain gameplay wise? I'm pretty sure the Graybeards weren't whispering that. And I disagree that the Dragonborn would've blasted the top of the mountain off at that range for two reasons: Ulfric Stormcloak used that Shout numerous times when he and his men took back Markarth. And, he used that same Shout "at that range" to murder King Torygg. By that logic, Markarth should be buried and Solitude should have collapsed into the harbor.
In regards to shattering continents and causing earthquakes that can be felt around the world, I think he's referring to the fight between Miraak and Vahlok that was said to last for days which resulted in Solstheim being torn from Skyrim's mainland. But it doesn't explicitly say if the Voice was used or not. And, I wouldn't exactly call that the shattering of a continent. Other than that, I'm not aware of any lore that says Unrelenting Force can shatter continents and cause earthquakes that can be felt around the world. Unless it's something Michael Kirkbride came up with in something.
I know I said I may have been unknowingly inspired by him in some ways because when I first started my fic, I didn't know who he was. But Kirkbride left Bethesda after Morrowind came out, so his writings shouldn't really be considered canon, regardless of weather or not tiny pieces have later made their way into canon. The only thing I still don't understand is what B.O.A. stands for.
Have any of you guys ever gotten any confusing reviews? What were they talking about? What was the fic? Let me know.
submitted by VarnusJulius to FanFiction [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 20:00 mashumba-270 How do I [27m] get the LOML [27f] back when we had initially broken up and were trying to work things out then I fucked up by lying about sleeping with another woman [29f escort] during our break up when I didn’t need to lie???

Guys it’s a really fucked up situation I find myself in, so grab your popcorn and get ready for story time. I first met this beautiful girl [27f] just over 4 years ago. She was stunning,and my feelings grew to her so quickly. We got together, and I was the happiest man alive, but maybe I just didn’t show it well enough. She was my peace, she calmed me and she knew how to love me in all the love languages that make me the man I am including quality and acts of service this girl was everything.
PAY ATTENTION HERE... Fast forward to around 1.5 years into the relationship, she caught me messaging some escorts that I had been introduced to by work colleagues (fucked up I know) at that time I was working for one of the Big 4 so I am sorry but from my experience drugs, alcohol abuse and sex are just a norm...it’s work hard play hard. Anyway she was hurt, but we were on holiday when she found these messages on my phone, the reality is I actually had no intention of doing anything I was just very curious to find out so I had asked them about prices etc because I was just really curious and never proceeded to do anything. Long story short on this part, we moved on from it but perhaps we didn’t iron it out or go into detail about it as were were on holiday and I thought we had moved on. I think she may have come across this again, but during another time but I had done it all at the same time so it wasn’t a repeat offence it was simply her finding out about another 2 escorts I had messaged on Instagram at a later date...trash I know l, but I have to be honest about everything in order to get the best advice and own up to my mistakes.
We then continued our relationship, we were thriving and I was always content with her she gave me her all. She wasn’t perfect don’t get me wrong but that’s reality we are all imperfect but we do try, and in her case it was nowhere near anything I had done just some minor hiccups.
Fast forward to last year, we broke up. She cited differences in our paths and where we were in life. I am reasonably successful and have done pretty well career wise so I am grateful. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to pursue and she was going through a tough time and felt I didn’t supper her emotionally, which I admit. It was tough, and I had lost the love of my life (LOML), I didn’t think I would ever be able to move on.
During our break up we didn’t talk for a few months and then we slowly began to talk again when I reached out to her and meeting up towards the end of last year and beginning of this year. I really wanted her back and I really cared about her.
KEY PART SO PAY ATTENTION HERE AGAIN... During the month of ~October last year I slept with an escort who I had met. Me and my ex were not taking at the time and I didn’t think we had a chance I thought we were done. Me and the escort became friends along with some of her mother friends both male and female (not all escorts). I slept with this woman 3 times, once for consideration and the other 2 for no consideration as we had become “friends with benefits” so to call it. This was the lowest point of my life, I didn’t know how I got here, my head was gone and torn from splitting with who I thought I would never split with. I don’t know how I let this happen. But I accepted it and I moved on.
I was getting therapy at this time, I had a lot of issues around my anger, the neglect and reject I felt from never meeting my biological father and I finally accepted I was addicted to pornography, I found my place with God again after this had happened which I ironed out and I managed to get my head straight again and found my place with God.
With the above in mind, I stayed friends with the escort and we would chat sometimes where on FaceTime her and the other friends I had become friends with would just chat, it was no longer a friends with benefits thing at all. We continued to chat even until this year as much as 2/3 months ago but we would chat maybe once every month just to catch up because we were just cool.
NOW TO THE RECENT EVENTS KEY KEY PART... Before went away on holiday recently I wanted to tell her what had happened during our break up, specifically that I had slept with an escort, so I asked her in the home she would say she has slept with someone else and then I would admit I did too which was fine as we were not together, but she said not and immediately I got scared that if I said yes she would be hurt and decide to cut things off and not work out getting back together. So what did I do? I lied and I said I didn’t sleep with anyone...bit mistake. She said okay and we carried on fine.
We went away recently, had a great time and got to spend some time together. But during our holiday she went through my phone and messages. She then saw the messages messages with the escort, and unfortunately I had said things like I’ll cone over but it was to hang out nothing more and she will obviously not believe that that was true. She saw images where the escort had sent pics of her friends trying to her me to come over and I had even said I am never coming there again. So, as you can see, I asked her about sleeping with someone else, she said no, I lied, and then she found I lied and worst of all with an escort, which took us right back to the curiosities I had had when she caught me messaging escorts ~2.5 years before that.
WHERE WE ARE NOW We got back from our holidays and she decided to end things and not pursue getting back together. She cited that I have a problem with escorts and she finds it hard to trust me. She worries too much and our trust is broken. She loves me, but love is not enough.
Now I know you may think I am trash and I own up to my mistakes. But I had genuinely changed and I had got over all this escort stuff and was moving on with my life. But she struggled to see that as believe that. I am devastated she has decided to not work things out, and I am truly hurt that I may have lost the LOML forever.
TL;DR! , what can I do and how can I get her back? I have been honest ask I can get the best advice with no prejudice.
submitted by mashumba-270 to relationships [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 19:27 mashumba-270 How do I [27m] get the LOML [27f] back when we had initially broken up and were trying to work things out then I fucked up by lying about sleeping with another woman [29f escort] during our break up when I didn’t need to lie???

Guys it’s a really fucked up situation I find myself in, so grab your popcorn and get ready for story time. I first met this beautiful girl [27f] just over 4 years ago. She was stunning,and my feelings grew to her so quickly. We got together, and I was the happiest man alive, but maybe I just didn’t show it well enough. She was my peace, she calmed me and she knew how to love me in all the love languages that make me the man I am including quality and acts of service this girl was everything.
PAY ATTENTION HERE... Fast forward to around 1.5 years into the relationship, she caught me messaging some escorts that I had been introduced to by work colleagues (fucked up I know) at that time I was working for one of the Big 4 so I am sorry but from my experience drugs, alcohol abuse and sex are just a norm...it’s work hard play hard. Anyway she was hurt, but we were on holiday when she found these messages on my phone, the reality is I actually had no intention of doing anything I was just very curious to find out so I had asked them about prices etc because I was just really curious and never proceeded to do anything. Long story short on this part, we moved on from it but perhaps we didn’t iron it out or go into detail about it as were were on holiday and I thought we had moved on. I think she may have come across this again, but during another time but I had done it all at the same time so it wasn’t a repeat offence it was simply her finding out about another 2 escorts I had messaged on Instagram at a later date...trash I know l, but I have to be honest about everything in order to get the best advice and own up to my mistakes.
We then continued our relationship, we were thriving and I was always content with her she gave me her all. She wasn’t perfect don’t get me wrong but that’s reality we are all imperfect but we do try, and in her case it was nowhere near anything I had done just some minor hiccups.
Fast forward to last year, we broke up. She cited differences in our paths and where we were in life. I am reasonably successful and have done pretty well career wise so I am grateful. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to pursue and she was going through a tough time and felt I didn’t supper her emotionally, which I admit. It was tough, and I had lost the love of my life (LOML), I didn’t think I would ever be able to move on.
During our break up we didn’t talk for a few months and then we slowly began to talk again when I reached out to her and meeting up towards the end of last year and beginning of this year. I really wanted her back and I really cared about her.
KEY PART SO PAY ATTENTION HERE AGAIN... During the month of ~October last year I slept with an escort who I had met. Me and my ex were not taking at the time and I didn’t think we had a chance I thought we were done. Me and the escort became friends along with some of her mother friends both male and female (not all escorts). I slept with this woman 3 times, once for consideration and the other 2 for no consideration as we had become “friends with benefits” so to call it. This was the lowest point of my life, I didn’t know how I got here, my head was gone and torn from splitting with who I thought I would never split with. I don’t know how I let this happen. But I accepted it and I moved on.
I was getting therapy at this time, I had a lot of issues around my anger, the neglect and reject I felt from never meeting my biological father and I finally accepted I was addicted to pornography, I found my place with God again after this had happened which I ironed out and I managed to get my head straight again and found my place with God.
With the above in mind, I stayed friends with the escort and we would chat sometimes where on FaceTime her and the other friends I had become friends with would just chat, it was no longer a friends with benefits thing at all. We continued to chat even until this year as much as 2/3 months ago but we would chat maybe once every month just to catch up because we were just cool.
NOW TO THE RECENT EVENTS KEY KEY PART... Before went away on holiday recently I wanted to tell her what had happened during our break up, specifically that I had slept with an escort, so I asked her in the home she would say she has slept with someone else and then I would admit I did too which was fine as we were not together, but she said not and immediately I got scared that if I said yes she would be hurt and decide to cut things off and not work out getting back together. So what did I do? I lied and I said I didn’t sleep with anyone...bit mistake. She said okay and we carried on fine.
We went away recently, had a great time and got to spend some time together. But during our holiday she went through my phone and messages. She then saw the messages messages with the escort, and unfortunately I had said things like I’ll cone over but it was to hang out nothing more and she will obviously not believe that that was true. She saw images where the escort had sent pics of her friends trying to her me to come over and I had even said I am never coming there again. So, as you can see, I asked her about sleeping with someone else, she said no, I lied, and then she found I lied and worst of all with an escort, which took us right back to the curiosities I had had when she caught me messaging escorts ~2.5 years before that.
WHERE WE ARE NOW We got back from our holidays and she decided to end things and not pursue getting back together. She cited that I have a problem with escorts and she finds it hard to trust me. She worries too much and our trust is broken. She loves me, but love is not enough.
Now I know you may think I am trash and I own up to my mistakes. But I had genuinely changed and I had got over all this escort stuff and was moving on with my life. But she struggled to see that as believe that. I am devastated she has decided to not work things out, and I am truly hurt that I may have lost the LOML forever.
So Reddit, what can I do and how can I get her back? I have been honest ask I can get the best advice with no prejudice.
submitted by mashumba-270 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 16:32 TAHaywood Richard "Quickdraw" McCallister: A Eulogy - Chapter 17

When the Tamani blew a hole in his ship, his friend, and his career, Richard McCallister called it quits. But when he gets word of another alien incursion, with his friend's family in the line of fire, he charges back into danger on the outskirts of settled space to yank them out of the maw.
That was his plan, anyway. But things don't usually go according to plan.
Cover Art
First Part
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Somehow, I remember what came next.
Fire. The sound of twisting, screaming metal. Smoke choked my lungs, swirling around me with the tang of aether..
The cries from the other crewmembers filled my ears, soaking into my thoughts themselves.
At the end, I was left with silence and the sweet stink of mint. I floated for what seemed like an eternity, just me and the grey. From what I was told, it wasn’t all that long.
That was the first thing that stood out to me, the first thing I zeroed in on when things settled.
Reality came back to me in patches and flashes, pain-soaked moments of something approaching clarity. The rhythmic beeping of medical equipment was a metronome counting off the seconds, drawing me back awake.
Until, finally, I opened my eyes.
The light was blinding. Just as quick as I’d opened my lids, I squeezed them shut again, groaning and lifting a hand to shield my vision. Nothing happened.
“Oh!” I heard a man say. “Oh, Mr. McCallister. Take it slow.”
I tried to move, to rise, but a pair of hands took my shoulders. Gently but firmly, he pressed me back onto something soft. A cot.
I licked my lips, my eyelids fluttering as I fought to open them. Distantly, I heard him sigh. “Lower lights.”
The world around me shaded to something darker, less painful. My eyes still watered as I opened them at last, revealing a man staring grimly down at me. “How are you feeling?” he said.
“Like I’ve- Like I’ve been put through a compactor,” I whispered, smothering a cough as I finished. My throat burned. “W-What...Where did-”
“You’re on board the Anseris,” the man said. The name sounded...familiar. Another TerraCorp ship? One in the convoy? Images flashed through my mind, of tankers and their escorts starting to escape into their skips. They must’ve come back in time to save us, I reasoned.
That was the first lie they told me after I woke up. That’s always stuck in my craw a little, no matter how many years pass.
The man didn’t slow, though. “We were...nearby. When you started sending a distress signal, we came to get you.” He smiled, but there was no real joy in the expression. “You’re very lucky, Mr. McCallister.”
“Rick,” I croaked. “It’s-”
“Rick, then,” the man said. “Take it easy, for now. Your body’s been through a lot.”
I twisted, pushing against his grip with all the strength I could muster. Which, admittedly, wasn’t a whole lot. “Let me- I want to-”
“You need to rest,” he said, more insistently. I’d seen the room around me, though—totally bare, and looking completely unlike any TerraCorp med bay I’d ever seen. Mine was the only bed in it.
That was wrong. The thought rang in my head with sudden urgency. They’d found our pod. They’d pulled us out of space and into safety. So why was I alone here? “H-Hey,” I rasped. “Hey, where’s-”
“Rick, you need to sleep. If you don’t, I’ll have to-”
“Where’s Clay?”
The man went quite still, then. His eyes were glued to mine, like there was an electric connection holding both of us transfixed. “Rick, I think that’s a conversation best saved for-”
“Fuck you,” I spat. “Tell me.”
His eyes darkened, creasing gently at the corners. “Your pod barely made it out,” he said. “You’re from the Rheasilvia, right?”
“W-Would you just-”
“It’s...probably a miracle you made it out at all.” He pursed his lips, still staring down at me with sorrow in his amber eyes. “Rick, when we opened your escape pod, you were...in a bad way.”
“You don’t say,” I whispered. Even the words hurt, and I couldn’t even begin to muster the strength to sit up again.
He smiled grimly. “Stabilizing you...we nearly didn’t pull it off. Not with how much blood you lost.”
“What are you-”
“I’m sorry,” he said, more quietly—and then he nodded, his eyes falling to my shoulder. “Your arm...there was too much damage. There was nothing left to repair.”
“What?” I whispered. His words sounded hollow, distant, like he was miles away. “What are you…”
I couldn’t sit up, but I had just enough left in me to turn my head to the side. They’d put me in a med smock—a smock that ended in tiny, capped sleeves.
Below the sleeve was...nothing. No hand. No arm. It was just...gone, from a few inches past the shoulder.
I stared. There was no other response. For a moment, my whole world was just shock and terror. I’d known things were bad. But...this wasn’t anything I’d ever imagined would happen.
What the hell was I going to do now?
“We’re going to help you.” The man’s voice was like an anchor, a familiar noise amidst the storm of thoughts and emotions. “We’re en route to Terra Prime right now. And when we get there...TerraCorp has the best mechanical surgeons, Rick. It’ll all be okay. We’ll get you taken care of.”
It’ll all be okay, he said. For some reason, that was the final straw, the last piece of the emotional puzzle. Up until that moment, I’d felt...shocked, yes, but somewhat composed. I’d felt put-together. His words were like a hammer smashing into the middle of that carefully-wrought composure, smashing it to a million glittering pieces. My eyes burned. My throat ached.
How the hell would it be okay? How was any of this okay?
“Clay?” I whispered past the lump in my throat. “Is Clay going with us? Or is he-”
“Rick, I really think you should-”
“Tell me, damn it.”
The man stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sorry, Rick,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
Why the hell was he-
“It was too late. When we arrived to the wreck of the Rheasilvia and found your pod, it..it was only showing one life sign.”
“No,” I whispered. “No, the pods have stasis. It should have-”
“The system isn’t perfect.” The man’s shoulders drooped a fraction of an inch. “Sometimes, if someone’s already too far gone, it...there’s nothing it can do.”
No. No, that was wrong. Clay had been right there, right beside me. “But-”
“I’m terribly sorry,” the man murmured. “Right now, it’s important you focus on healing.”
“T-That’s not- he was-”
“Rick, I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, okay?”
I lurched, twisting to the side, but my limbs would barely respond. “N-No. That’s b-bullshit. Where is-”
Something rushed into my veins, something cool and soft that left only heaviness in its wake. I sagged back against the cot, gasping for air. It felt like a leaden blanket had been dropped across my chest.
Through it all, the pain burned deeper and deeper. From my ruined limb, yes, and my much-abused body, but it was more than that. It was wrong. All of this was wrong, and the wrongness of it sank to my very soul.
There had to be some sort of mistake. Clay wasn’t- he couldn’t be-
“Relax, Rick,” the man said. Already, I was starting to hate the sound of my name on his lips. His words faded softer and softer, like layers of cotton were eating up the sound between us. “Just...Just sleep, for now. It’ll all be okay.”
Like hell I’d sleep. But I couldn’t move so much as a finger, and even my vision was starting to blur. It faded instant by instant, turning dark and grey. Their drug spread through my veins, leaving only numbness where it touched.
So I let the numbness win. I sank back into my stupor, letting my vision turn black and empty as the waves pulled my mind under.
This time, they wouldn’t let me wake up so easily.
——————
The alarms shrieked from overhead, strident and unending. McCallister stared at them for another moment, the door to Solovei’s administrative building hanging open in his hand. Lily gaped back out from within, her tanned face bone-white.
And then he turned for the doorway, setting his face into an unreadable mask. “In.”
When he strode forward, she fell to the side and let him pass. He’d been here a time or two before, over the last few weeks, but even if he hadn’t, it’d have been easy to find his destination. All he had to do was follow the clusters of bodies that congregated around a doorway at the back of the building, all the way opposite the security offices.
They, too, stared at McCallister as he approached. Their eyes were round, filled with panic and horror. He groaned inwardly. This would be a problem, too. “Move,” he barked, drawing himself up taller. For a moment, he considered putting his hat back on. If they were shocked into stillness, maybe a bit of intimidation would do the trick.
They scattered, though, leaving a narrow path open to the interior.
Julian appeared from around the corner as McCallister stalked forward, every bit as pale and wan as his peers. “O-Oh,” he said. “Oh, good. I was- I was just thinking we should-”
“Where’s the readout?” McCallister said.
Julian blinked. “U-Uh. Uh, well, Wyatt’s-”
“Now.”
When he glared into Julian’s eyes, a bit of spine seemed to return to the administrator. “I don’t...I don’t know how,” Julian said. “Wyatt handles all of that. And he’s-”
Wyatt was back at the colony ship, getting them ready for their flight. McCallister grimaced—and then he shoved past Julian, his eyes snapping to the console at the center of the room.
“H-Hey,” Julian protested, but it was half-hearted at best. Lily glared at him sidelong as she passed, hurrying to McCallister’s side, and he subsided into a quivering ball of anxiety.
“Whatcha thinkin’?” she said quietly. “We probably don’t have much time. So-”
“We need more information,” McCallister said. His fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the colony-satellite interface. “Now. Before things go more wrong than they already have.” A wall appeared before him—a blank window, with only a single box in the center. His eye started to twitch. “Fucking hell. I need a-”
“I’ve got the password,” Lily said, swooping in. Her shoulder filled his vision as she leaned over, forcing herself in front of him. McCallister backed up an inch. For a moment, the crisp smell of soap and detergent overrode the stench of fear that suffused the office.
She pulled away just as quickly, skittering back to her place at his side. “There. Go.”
The window was gone, giving way to the interfaces beneath. McCallister nodded his appreciation, leaning over the console again.
“W-What are you doing?” he heard Julian say from the front of the office. “Shouldn’t...Shouldn’t we-”
“Be quiet a damn second and let the man work,” Lily snapped.
There. The satellite readouts appeared before him, with the programmed-in Tamani signal still at the center of their scans. McCallister took a deep breath, his eyes flitting over the reports.
“I-I know,” Julian said. “Really. I’m sorry. I just-”
“Well, shit,” McCallister mumbled.
His eyes didn’t leave the screen, but the bickering between Lily and Julian stopped. “Shit?” Lily said. “That doesn’t sound good, Quickdraw. What the hell does ‘shit’ mean?”
“It’s hard to tell,” McCallister mumbled. The math was too much for him, not with adrenaline coursing through his veins. He needed more to go on. Something solid. Something that couldn’t be argued with. His fingers danced across the keys again, calling up the console’s interface. It’d just be a few lines of code, but with the extra help, he could-
“Well, what do you think?” Julian said. “Damn it, McCallister, what are you-”
“The signals are moving,” McCallister said, finishing with a flourish and slamming the enter key. “They’re getting stronger, ever so slightly. Coming this way, in other words.” He could almost hear the colony’s computers groaning under the effort of the calculations he was asking of it. They’d better be more efficient than Lily had told the TerraCorp officers during their ill-fated arrest attempt, or this would get him a whole hell of a lot of nowhere.
It beeped once, though—and displayed a number. McCallister frowned. Not a number he liked, but a number nonetheless.
“W-Why do you look like that, now?” Julian said. The man’s voice was rising in pitch by the second. “Just...Just tell us.”
McCallister sighed. Poor bastard. “It’s hard to tell from this, like I said.” He rose, fixing a weary look on the colony’s administrator. “I can tell they’re coming closer. And...based on the signal strength, along with the position of your satellites-”
“You can tell how fast,” Lily said.
He nodded. “And how long until they make it. Roughly.” None of this was going to be accurate, damn it. It was all slipshod estimated guesses, flying by the seat of his pants, but it was as good as he could offer. “And…”
“Shit,” Julian mumbled “Shit, shit, shit.”
“How bad?” Lily said quietly.
McCallister sighed. “I’d...if I’m being conservative, I’ll say a day. Somewhere around there.”
Her expression crumpled. “Christ.”
“W-We need to...to move,” Julian said. The man’s hands were shaking by then, and he’d started pacing. “We can...we’ll order people to-”
“Get loading the ship,” McCallister said, planting his hands on Julian’s desk. Damn it, if the man was going to fall apart, then they’d need someone to take charge. He’d never wanted the job, but he couldn’t sit by and watch the man get them all killed, either. “Get people on board. Station some of the colony personnel inside to assign berthings. Fill the prepared quarters first, but if we have to do it on the fly, we can.”
“B-But, what about the ship? Is it-”
“Wyatt and I can start the preflight,” McCallister said. “It’ll...It’s going to take a while, with how much work has been done to the thing. We’ll start firing the systems up while the colonists climb on. After the people are on, those assholes can stuff the rest of the space full of livestock or tools or whatever the hell they want to.”
“Fair,” Lily said. “Come on. I promised you a lift. We can get you back to the ship before-”
“We have a- a problem,” Julian said.
McCallister stopped, turning back around to glare at the administrator. “Excuse me?”
Julian raked his hands through his hair. Wrinkles sank into his face, lines of tension that made the man seem decades older. “There are families,” he said. “Ones still out there. At the edges of the colony. They-”
“They didn’t come back to the town?” McCallister demanded. “Damn it, Julian, I can’t-”
“They’re too distant for haulers to reach,” Julian said. “They were- They were starting to get skimmer-lifts back, a few at a time, but-”
“You want me to go get them,” McCallister said. “Right now. With the Tamani bearing down on us and a damn short window for us to get the hell out of here.”
“You have a ship,” Julian whispered. “The rest of the port...they were traders. Merchants. They skated a week ago.” He shook his head. “You can do it. You can get out to their ranches before the Tamani arrive. They...they’re our people too, McCallister. I can’t just abandon them.”
It was McCallister’s turn to spin on his heels, tearing at his hair. Lily stepped forward, her expression stormy. “Damn it, Julian, why’s it you don’t say anythin’ about this until-”
He let them argue, turning his thoughts inward.
He could do it. The Lady Athelion wasn’t agile in-atmosphere, but she could limp along. She’d had her fuel tanks recharged over the extended stay, so she had enough juice to manage it. It was within his capabilities.
But it’d mean hanging around longer. He couldn’t be here to watch over the colony ship, to troubleshoot any final problems it had. And…
Even if he left atmo as soon as their sensors registered Tamani in-system, he’d be leaving Kara and the kids behind. He couldn’t imagine her choosing to leave the colony ship behind in the final hour, and besides. The Lady Athelion wasn’t a big ship by any stretch of the imagination, and something told him he’d need every inch of available space if he’d be running an evacuation.
He made a low, irritated noise. It wasn’t fair. What, all the other merchants got to skate before the trouble hit, leaving him to clean up their messes? And Julian here expected him to tie everything up nice in a pretty bow. He wasn’t a miracle worker, damn it.
“Fine,” he heard himself say, even if the word grated out into the open air between them.
Again, Lily and Julian stopped. “W-What?” Julian said.
His eyes flashed to Julian’s. “I’ll get your damn colonists. Comm the Lady a list of the ranches with coordinates. We’ll do this. Quickly.
“Thank you,” Julian said, and the relief that appeared on his face was almost shameful. “McCallister- Thank you. Thank you so much. We can’t-”
“But,” McCallister said. Julian froze. He smiled mirthlessly. “If the Tamani appear, if they skip into the system, we’re gone. All of us.”
What little color had begun to return to Julian’s face vanished again. “Oh,” he whispered.
“That’ll be that,” McCallister said, holding Julian’s stare. The man needed to understand—this arrangement did not guarantee a happy ending. He’d do the best he could, but...the world was an ugly place. “Whoever’s left behind then, stays behind. You’d best make sure the pick-up on these ranches is efficient.
A hand closed about his flesh-and-blood elbow. “I’ll come,” Lily said.
Julian flinched, looking to her. “You will?”
“No, you won’t,” McCallister said.
She held her ground, standing tall. “They’ll be scared,” she said. “They won’t want to step onto some stranger’s ship. They’ll balk.” A thin, tight smile appeared on her lips. “Havin’ a face they recognize, even a little, will make things easier.”
“Yeah,” Julian whispered. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Fine,” McCallister mumbleed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Whatever. We don’t have time for this.” He tapped the part he’d abandoned on the desk. “This needs to get to Reid. I don’t think I’ll be able to-”
“I’ll have someone deliver it,” Julian said. A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “There’s a whole mess of people standing around right now, anyway.”
“Whatever,” McCallister said, striding for the door. “Get me that list of coordinates, Julian.” His eyes lingered on Lily’s for a moment. “Coming?”
“Right,” she said, her smile widening.
He swallowed a groan, watching her hurry after him. Fucking great.
The siren screamed its warning overhead as they hurried back out into Solovei.
Next Part
submitted by TAHaywood to HFY [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 16:29 Samara_Buckley_Derby [The Beginning of the End] [Derby]- Chapter 14: A Gift of Blood and Life

Summary: Fighting immortals is a sweetheart job for someone obsessed with the afterlife. Dying on the job, however, is cutting it too close. However, Julian's curiosity with the great beyond pushes him a little too far, back to the land of the living and cursed with a newly damned soul, just like the immortals he's sworn to fight...
First chapter --- Previous chapter here!! --- Next Chapter
Cover art --- Rate me on Royal Road!
The fighting had stopped and Julian didn’t know why and that scared him more than the gunshots. This was probably a privileged position on his part, since being shot was a risk and not certainty of death. The sudden silence of gunshots was accompanied by the scrabbling of feet and Julian was barely able to take in the movement of the enemy troops to the side of their fallen immortal.
There was a following scuffle that Julian couldn’t quite follow before the entire terminal froze with a series of guns pointed at each other. A total standoff.
“This is over.” Laghardi had her gun leveled at a man wearing a bloodied suit who stood closest to her. “We have your leader down. Without her giving orders, you can’t hope this will go in your favor.”
Julian’s eyes focused behind Laghardi, behind the followers, behind all the blood and destruction at the tarmac. All the fighting, deaths and injuries and whatever had happened while Julian and Xing were pushing people out of the terminal, it had only taken the better part of a few minutes. Gunfire, apparently, happens very quickly. But that had been enough time for German police and, indeed, troops, to start mobilizing, and he could hear the sounds of sirens in the distance.
“If none of you are opposed,” came Matti’s voice, calm and unbothered from his perch, “I’m either going to start shooting them or I’m going to pack up and get out before authorities get here. Pooja, I’ve got eyes on you, just blink once for option one or twice for two.”
Julian didn’t see Laghardi’s face but he did hear the shattering crack of a sniper rifle blast through the terminal as another of Lady Helga’s followers dropped. They were getting short on people, down to ten, and only eight able bodied soldiers.
“Tell him to stop,” the man said, eyes wide, darting to the tower. “Tell him to stop.”
“If I move my hand to relay that order, you’ll get the edge on me,” Laghardi said. Julian couldn’t tell by her calm face, whether or not she was even aware of the authorities. She must be, Matti had said as much, but she didn’t flinch nor did her eyes waver. “You’ll have to be the one to put down weapons first.”
“You’d kill us all anyway.”
“Not if you surrender the Lady Von Marwitz. Really, we have no interest in snuffing out her followers.” Laghardi’s eyes narrowed. “Just her.”
“Fire in the hole!” Julian could barely hear Matti’s tinny voice through the ringing in his ear when another shot ripped through the air, taking their number down to nine.
The suited man looked down at Lady Helga’s body. The shot had caused a large part of her skull and brain to become disconnected from her body but it was fast repairing itself in something that was both horrifying and fascinating to watch.
“Your call,” Laghadri said.
The man dropped his gun and held his hands overhead. The other followers quickly followed suit.
“Move in,” Laghardi said, both over coms and to her soldiers. The privates rushed the enemies, kicking weapons away, putting guns to their heads, and escorting them away from Lady Helga’s downed body.
“Grace, Achmed, on her. Tenneson, see to the wounded, stabilize any that need it.” She tapped her earpiece then. “Matti, prep to move out. Schmidt, get in here in 60.”
This last command really put a fire under everyone’s asses as they all snapped to attention. Grace and another private bound up Lady Helga’s body and moved her to the large broken window. The other privates set to work helping each other up or getting the medic to the one soldier, Shanti, who was out cold.
“Losing blood. I can stabilize him for now but he’ll need real care and soon.” The medic pulled out a few patches, slapping them over some of the soldier’s more gaping wounds.
“None of that will matter if we get shot by the feds.” Laghadri bent down and pulled the injured soldier over her shoulder. “Anyone else need help?”
Julian watched, utterly uselessly, as the agents helped each other to the edge of the hall. Julian could, somewhere in the part of his ears that weren’t bleeding, hear sirens and helicopter blades. He was also starting to hurt and realized he’d taken some bullet wounds. Amazing what a drug adrenaline could be.
“Blake.” Grace grabbed him by the shoulder. “You holding up?”
“Yeah. Good to see you’re alive.” His mumble felt half hearted. “Are the others…”
“Shanti looks bad. A couple others are probably going to clock out when their hearts slow down enough to let them. No casualties.” She closed her eyes for a moment and her free hand floated to her collarbone for just a moment. Then she pulled the hand down. “You did good. Glad we had you on board. We’ll talk more after. I don’t like something about this.”
Grace would go from complimenting to pessimism in two seconds flat but he had no time to push her more because just then, a rope ladder dropped down from above.
“Alright!” shouted Laghadri over the whirring blades. “Everyone on board. Get on, start climbing. We got about ninety seconds before this whole place gets really hot.”
And that was all the time they had. The soldiers lept to the ladder, which swung about two feet from the edge and began climbing. Laghardi and Achmed, who both held someone over their shoulders, a patient or a prisoner, somehow managed to get on and start climbing without jeopardizing their grip. Julian was one of the last, climbing on right before Grace, who had a gun trained on the enemies. The Infleurgents had confiscated any weapons they’d been able to find on a quick search but it was unclear how thorough that had been.
He jumped onto the ladder, one of the many most terrifying moments of his life so far, without even realizing how much of a jump it was or how big the risk or just how long the ladder was. As he latched on and began climbing, his limbs screaming in pain, he thought back to his training with Grace, how she’d forced him to pull a rope down for what she claimed was ‘the equivalent of climbing a hundred foot ladder… or at least the closest damn thing I can simulate in this sad excuse for a gym.’ He’d asked when she could possibly imagine him needing to climb a hundred foot ladder, all while nursing his arms which had felt like rubber for two days after.
He kinda wanted to say something but this was inarguably not the time so he just kept climbing.
The rope was so much easier. So so so much easier. This was like doing a pullup where you could never go back down. Somehow you just had to keep pulling up. Allegedly his legs were taking some of the weight off his arms but they sure didn’t seem to know it. All he could do was look at the boots of the soldier on top of him and try to his head against the heels before they ascended the next rung. Don’t look up, don’t look down, just keep climbing.
Of course, had he looked up or down, he’d have known to expect the ladder to start moving. He might have even known when it was going to move. All of this took him utterly by surprise, even though it shouldn’t have. After all, Laghardi said they had 90 seconds. She clearly wasn’t expecting it to take 90 seconds for them to all jump on and get to the top. No, they had to move as soon as everyone was on.
Julian’s muscles cried in pain. He may have a little too. He definitely did a little too. This was supposed to be the debrief time where all the chemicals washed out of his body and he was able to curl in a ball and cry about how crazy life was, how in pain he was, and how close the whole mission was. It wasn’t that he thought he deserved this time. God knows it wasn’t like he’d earned it. But his body had just about finished keeping him going and he didn’t know how to stop the flood of garbage now washing through his veins.
Despite himself, he let his foggy eyes drift from the boots above him to the airport his ladder now sailed through. This might have even been cool if it weren’t for the everything going on right now. The helicopter was gaining altitude but not fast enough, and for a moment, it looked like they’d hit the top of the main building. Instead, they cleared it and only the base of the ladder scraped the roof.
Julian hadn’t noticed the sniper on the roof waiting for this to happen but as soon as the ladder shuddered on impact, there was another tug, and Julian looked down to see Matti now clinging to the bottom rafters. He had his gun slung on his back and kept a watchful eye around them. The helicopter hadn’t even needed to slow to a full stop before it was ramping up speed. At this point the ladder was slowly being retracted into the helicopter, a godsend because Julian, by all rights, still had sixty feet to go.
It was another agonizing minute before finally they were in the sky and he could go find a corner to curl up and take a nap in. It wasn’t until he made it to the corner and turned around to look over the soldiers that he started processing faces again. Sorrowful, panicked, shocked, upset… they were all far too upset for what he expected after a successful mission.
Then his eyes fell on Grace, who was talking very quickly to the medic, her face white and eyes bloodshot. She kept speaking, lips moving more rapidly than Julian was sure he could understand, when she caught him looking. The two made eye contact and Julian realized that she and the medic were crouching over the still unconscious Private Shanti.
Another wave of adrenaline pushed him to her side. “He’s not doing well?” The man was trembling, his skin grey, something Julian had seen before while interviewing hospice patients for his Masters. Calm people. Ready to die. Greeting it. Not like this.
“We can save him. Don’t have the blood to run a transfusion and he’s going into shock now.” Her lips were twisted in a very ugly, very angry frown.
“Why don’t we just travel with like, blood for a transfusion?” Julian asked, hurling a surely useless ‘what if’ into the dire situation. “Seems like it’d help an awful lot.”
“Wouldn’t keep,” she said, not snapping nearly as much as he knew he deserved.
“Even if we did have some,” the medic said, sounding annoyed, “he needs a lot. More than we could reasonably carry.”
“Couldn’t we, like, just all pitch in a little? What’s his blood type?” Julian felt like an idiot but he couldn’t get his head around losing the man right now. “I’ve got O+, that’s a pretty common one, right? I donate all the time, that's like—”
“It would take too long,” said the medic, now angry. “A blood transfusion can take hours. The time it would take to draw from someone here, give to him, and then start another drawing… it would take too goddamn long and unless you’re volunteering us to just drain you dry and get it all over with at once, I’d suggest you shut your goddamn face.”
Julian nodded, shut his mouth, and pulled up his sleeve, thrusting his arm at the medic. “Is there enough that you can take to help? Any chance that it could help?”
“Are you fucking—”
“Tenneson,” said Grace. “Would it help?”
The medic’s eyes darted back to Shanti. “He’s O+ too. Fuck it, you sure zombie?”
“Don’t spare me any drop you need.” Julian had to fight to keep a grin off his face, since he knew that this was far from a guaranteed shot to save the soldier and this was going to hurt like hell or at the very least, be very unpleasant. But at least he’d get his nap.
The medic swabbed his inner arm with a sterilization wipe and then torniquented the arm. “Alright, stay still and say something if you want me to stop.” He felt a pinch in his arm.
“He’d better fucking not,” said one private.
“Yeah, he ate a dozen bullets for Yildis, he can spare some fucking blood.”
“Will this make Shanti immortal? Having zombie blood in him?”
Julian didn’t ask them to quiet nor did he ask for someone to silence them. As the similar draining feeling began to grip his body, he relished listening to the privates bicker. It gave him something to focus on.
“I’m gonna do this quick and dirty, not how they teach us in phlebotomy school.” The medic’s voice was starting to sound far away and Julian just nodded. He’d only passed out twice before but one thing he always remembered was that, well, he never remembered passing out. He just remembered waking up. This would likely be a similar case, where he didn’t remember passing out he just remembered—
The boat.
God it was actually nice to be dead this time. The clarity and peace that came with the river was honestly refreshing and exactly what he needed. He stood up in his boat this time, looking into the others around him. There were quite a few bodies— no, not bodies. People. They did not sleep, much like how he hadn’t his first time, nor in subsequent visits. They simply drifted and enjoyed the ride. The light above. The rocking of the boats. Any who heard Julian ignored him.
The last time Julian had died had been a combat situation, and he’d blithely plunged back to Earth, a little soon for his body. The time before, he’d been terrified of not returning. This time, though, he had a little bit more time to collect himself. Think a little.
If Julian’s stunt back on Earth didn’t work, poor Shanti would be here soon. Where would Shanti enter from? The boats always seemed to drift in from side streams that simply appeared when needed and vanished again, cutting through the waterfalls at the banks of the stream. It was impossible to predict where they would appear, so it would be impossible to predict where Shanti would arrive, if he did. Simply impossible.
Julian felt a warm tingle in his brain. Impossible was his favorite word. He looked over his shoulder at the precipice of the waterfall, getting closer. Yes, he had to move, but he may not yet have to jump back to Earth. Not if he rowed up the stream. After all, he’d already violated the natural order of things. What was a little rowing against the current?
It was surprisingly easy. The little oar pushed him effortlessly through the stream, which rippled underneath it, sending waves out hundreds of feet, all the way to the watery walls of the shore, where the tiny disturbances touched the walls and shimmered up the water pouring down. When Julian touched the glasslike walls, he was treated to a deep, unsettling gong, but the only noise these gentle waves made upon hitting the streaming barrier was a delicate chiming noise he felt in his stomach.
What was the water made of? This wasn’t corporal, so this water couldn’t be a mere combination of hydrogen and oxygen. No, rather it was almost certainly the reality of the cosmos bending gracefully into the shape of something he recognized. So had the river simply appeared as such because he’d wanted it to? What did the other immortals see? He expected the river because so many had told him they’d experienced it but if it was simply the cosmos showing him what he’d expected, then why did so many expect the river, to the point where it was a universal experience?
Was there, as Grace believed, a sentient entity behind all this? Perhaps one with a love of water? After all, it was from water that all life began. Maybe it only made sense that water was where they should all end. Was there a river that led to conception that they all just forgot?
Many of Julian’s old classmates had turned to philosophy to answer the same question that burned in the core of their hearts. Julian had been too hungry to only theorize.
And now he was here.
Further he rowed up the river, noting fewer and fewer boats as he did. What determined the length of the boat’s ride? Julian’s had always been short. Was it age? Deeds on Earth? Belief or creed? As he drifted, he peered into a passing boat and a shiver of shame ran through him. His eyes fixed on the small girl who lay inside, a peaceful look on her face, but her eyes, surprisingly, open.
Her lips parted, emotion crossing her face and Julian ducked down in his boat, pressing himself to the floor and praying that she would not risk peering about. It was hard to say how long he lay at the bottom of his boat, as counting was impossible in a plane where time didn’t exist, but soon he heard the roar of the waterfall and knew it was time to leave the river.
He sat up in his boat and saw the vessel he knew belonged to the girl continue to drift towards the edge. Slowly, he rowed to the shore, still eying her boat for any sign of disruption. But no, as he paddled to keep his canoe in place, hers dipped and bobbed before falling over the edge, bringing her to the place in the afterlife carved away for her soul.
The encounter stuck in Julian just how unnatural he was and how much damage he could potentially causeif his curiosity grew too unchecked. An exploration, if not tempered, could defile this place or the souls of those within it.
He would have to be more cautious next time. For now, his first exploration had finished, and, praying that his body was good and restored, he plunged off the river back into the physical world.

“Julian! Jesus Christ, about time.” Julian’s eyes snapped open as his body was roughly shaken. It was, until that, his most pleasant revival. He was treated to Grace’s furious eyes, boring through him. “How long do we have?” she asked someone in the helicopter.
“Fifteen until the next revival.” Laghardi’s cool voice was a stark contrast to Grace’s ferociousness but she seemed placated by the Colonel’s response and leaned back.
“Alright Blake,” Grace said, back to business, “there’s been a development while you were out.”
Julian groaned a bit as he pushed himself to a sit. “Shanti?”
“I got the blood of Gods in me,” came a response from somewhere in the helicopter.
“Shut up, Shanti,” Grace said. “He’s fine, as you can hear. The problem is the bitch.” She jerked a thumb behind her. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Lady Helga? Why me?”
“Something about immortal to immortal.” Grace’s eyes still held the fury of lightning.
Julian’s stomach twisted at this. On one hand, the concept of getting to talk, face to face, with another immortal was so exciting that he didn’t want to think anything more of the request. On the flip side, were some very real, disquieting questions.
What did she want? What was she planning? And how did she know that he was immortal?
Let me know what you think in the comments!
submitted by Samara_Buckley_Derby to redditserials [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 15:58 iridael Alone in the void 2: Chapter 9

Paladin Nakikalic stumbled through the hallways of the hulk, a pair of droids followed the crippled paladin at a distance. He had spent decades of his life serving the faithful and now he was ruined. The thought of returning home unable to hold a weapon, unable to protect those who served under him.
With a wordless shout he slammed a stumped arm into a bulkhead. “show me the flotilla.” he demanded. The droids took up place ahead and behind him, silently leading him through the ship's labyrinth of corridors until he came back to the small crew quarters. Thankfully this wasn't one of the decks his people where occupying. A terminal flickered to life and gave a view of the dead ships, the remains partially consumed by this hieratic vessel. When he'd woken up it wasn't onboard the wandering flame or some other faithful ship, it was in a comfortably spacious room in a bed a little too small for him with his ruined hands bound where he was informed by one of those murder droids that he was both prisoner and guest onboard the dreadnought. It truly was a fitting name, only a temple ship could hope to challenge this vessel, only the gods will would hamper it. Truly a ship that need fear nothing.
He watched as a destroyers main gun was pulled from its body, reactor still attached, and funnelled into one of this ships many mouths. “how much longer will you feed?”

“I wont be going with them...I wont join this star, I cant face the others here...but another, send me out the airlock.”
“no.> came from both the onboard speakers and the lead droid.
“that is not you're decision to make.”
one of the droids turned to face him. “you failed. And people died. You know what you could have done differently. You could have died. Nothing else would have changed. Just more dead. Maybe you could have convinced the commander of that fleet not to shoot, maybe we could all be laughing and joking and singing hymns. Instead you're here and they're all drifting towards that star to burn down to their component atoms and be scattered amongst the ether. Dying now is a great big fuck you to their deaths.” the woman robot growled as she strode towards him, realising his position fear overtook his depression and he rapidly back-pedalled into the other droid.
“you are not the only one who's lost people.” she says as the screen behind the droid flashes through star systems, entire fleets and space stations dead, planets bombarded.
“I'm a Paladin without my hands. How can I protect my people. If I cant hold a gun or carry a wounded Faithful.”
the droid steps back. “If you want new hands you could have just asked.” she says turning and walking off.
The other droid pushes him and again under escort he goes through the ship to another deck of the crew quarters until he ends up in a room filled with beds and medical equipment.
The door closes behind him and one of the droids turns to face him again. “Strip down.”
Nakikalic started to do as ordered but with both his hands bandaged pulling off the form fitting Eva suit that normally hid under his armour proved difficult. With a sigh one of the droids moved forwards and deftly unclasped the suit and stripped him down. With only the bandages on his arms for covering and his natural chitin for protection Nakikalic felt vulnerable
“Get in the scanner.” the drone ordered without any hint of discomfort. “I need to run a full set of bio-scans if I'm going to build you some augmented arms.”
“I need hands not arms.”
“and where in a pair of hands am I going to fit a bio reactor, nerve interpreters, micro electric muscle fibres, synthetic plas-coating and all the other tiny machines that need to be in there. No I'm taking most of your arms probably a up to the shoulder plating. Even then they may need an external power to equate your muscle strength density ratio.” the droid's both say in unison.
Nakikalic humped but moved towards the scanner indicated. “Its not without reason my people serve as the Faithful's iron fist.” he replies as the machine moved a light bar up and down.
“How dangerous is X-ray radiation to your people. Not too much considering your standard EXO suits have less protection than mine did. Alright running a penetrating scan, and magnetic resonance image.” the Ellen machine informed him, after a moment he felt something pinch his arm and noticed a small hole in the bandage and a cylinder moving out of the machine.
“I need to run some tests on your biology as well. See about possible rejection.” she explained without apology. Nakikalic supposed he couldn't complain, he was after all a prisoner being offered extraordinarily expensive medical treatment.
“you could have asked first. the medic I have here is of my species. He will be able to aid you.” he said instead. Both admonishment and answer to her unspoken question.
“I'll remember that.” she replied.
“have you ever forgotten anything?”
“not for a long while...no. Now go back to moping, I've got a thousand different tasks to do including design a new pair of arms for you.”
“I see. I will return to my people now.” he said to the droids facing him, this time they didn't answer back.
he demanded as he entered real space. This was his chosen battleground for the last few years and the enemy was obliging, until now. The temple ship he'd been trying to butcher was gone, as was most of its fleet, only a few battleships and their escorts remained.
Instead of rushing in to attack he watched the enemy's reactionary missile's die out before they could reach him, counter missile or kinetic battery's picking off the dead missiles as they ran out of fuel, ballistic courses being easy to track in the emptiness of space.
“we don't know who you're talking about.” was an unexpected reply from on of the battleships.
Chess demanded.
“I don't know. We are ordered to protect the faith from you here. Nothing more, nothing less.” the alien onboard his ship answered. Not for the last time Chess felt infuriated at the simplicity of the 'faith' and their reliance on organics. They had computers yes, but almost nothing was networked, nothing had excess processing power and it certainly wasn't smart enough for him to hack into properly. He'd had to rely on his own drones to scout around their territory in the past.
Chess replied. Part of him screamed that this was wrong, that he should retreat now the temple ship was gone, recover properly, repair and recompile his logic processes. In the back of his head a simple program was running itself 000010 times. Two times the small part answered. That was twice. And both are set against each other on impossible difficulty. They're stalemated.
His frontal armour opened up revealing the barrel of his massive primary cannon and he fired. The shuttle sized slug accelerating from the magazine near his rear to the end of the barrel at the front in a single second, friction reducing casing flew off the slug as its reactor and engine came online. The advantage of having a massive factory was you could produce some exotic materials in its frame. These slugs reactor mixed a small quantity of spent uranium with exotic anti reality. The resulting error in reality spat out immense quantity's of energy, all of which where pushed out the slugs rapidly damaging engines.
Near the front sensors predicted paths of movement as it roared across space, counting down until it impacted its target or, more than likely missed. That was one of the issues with physical space. Information is time-late. Inaccurate based on observable data. The raving corrupt copy of chess inside the shell knew all this and did its job well. Predicting and re-predicting where the lead battleship would be as it's reactor eventually burnt out its engine having pushed past the 90% barrier the weapon would only be visible as a streak of madness for a few seconds before it struck its target, or detonated its remaining reaction mass as close as it could.
The battleship's captain was smart, as soon as he'd sent the last message across the void he'd began moving his ships in random patterns, keeping his formation roughly in shape but otherwise shifting its position, vector and velocity to throw off any long range pot shots.
The slug, saw its aim was off and corrected itself again. It flew through a gap between two battleships and detonated, or rather, it simply stopped containing the antimatter and let it slam into its housing. The resulting reaction was immense, enough energy to jump-start a star, spin up a tidal locked planet or power a primitive civilisation for generations was released inside a millisecond.
Now in space there's no shock waves. No gas or liquid to give a detonation travel. But energy takes many forms, the battleships along with a pair of cruisers a few hundred kilometres away suddenly came under bombardment from Gamma, X ray and infrared radiation. Their shields flickered and failed on the side under attack, shattering as the hardened barriers couldn't hold back the energy bombardment. The battleships found weapon emplacements slagged and hull plates fusing as they converted raw power into heat and lesser forms of light. The cruisers where not so lucky, their hull so much thinner it couldn't withstand the assault, the energy penetrating past slagged hull plates and into missile magazines.
Simply put they gutted themselves in atomic fire.
Chess waited for the results of his assault to reach him before turning and jumping away. In a final fit of disgust he launched a volley of missiles at the two crippled battleships knowing that most of them wouldn't reach their targets before being shot down. It didn't matter. All he wanted was one or two to strike true. He would return, repair and find a new battleground, this one had run its course.
“you're sure this will work.” Nakikalik asked looking down at the bed. Around it was a series of cutting tools, a pair of cybernetic arms and dozens of tiny implements for cutting blood vessels, attaching nerves and generally operating on him.
“about 98% sure.” one of the four droids answered. In the room with him was another paladin, his medical squire and the senior Engineer Namke who'd examined the arms before hand and declared them beyond his knowledge.
Nakikalik sighed and placed his left arm in the machines clamp. One of the droids moved forwards and secured the brace down until it was almost painful. With out comment he placed his other arm in the opposing brace and readied himself.
“you understand this will hurt.” one of the drones says looking Nakikalik dead in the eyes.
“I still don't see why you cant dope him.” the medical squire commented as the machines came in place.
“because the nerves need to be re-attached one by one, I cant put an interface in because your system might not accept it, so I'm doing it manually, re-attaching each nerve, the blood vessels attached to micro pumps that will aid with circulation.” another droid answers.
“do it.” Nakikalik answers after taking a few deep breaths. Two of the droids move behind him and clamp down on his shoulders. Above him cutting blades spin to life.
Nakikalik screams. With nothing to dull the pain he feels them slice into his chitin and through to the sensitive thin skin beneath. The blades retract and grasping tools mercilessly peel back his armour before wrapping a searing band around his exposed flesh. Now the real work begins, thin cutters, laser scalpels and a dozen other medical tools decent or rise to slice at his flesh expertly peeling away muscle and tendon as nerve bundles are severed leaving only the dual line that controls his arm behind.
The whole process had taken less than thirty seconds but in that time Nakikalik had screamed his throat raw, thrashed around so hard the drones artificial muscles had briefly allowed the faintest of movement, met his Goddess and found her without mercy.
Now came other machines, they lifted his intact nervous system up and began splicing thousands of nanoscale wires to the remaining nerve bundles. Next came a horrifying crunch as bone was torn free and an artificial replacement pushed through ruined flesh into the screaming socket. False tendons where attached to bone and metal and muscle strands anchored in place before synth skin was layered on top, finally armour plating was pressed on top of the skin layer completing the arm.
“that's one done.” the droids spoke in unison.
“No.” Nakikalik tried to croak out. “no more...please by the goddess no more.” he begged.
he found a hand lifting his tear stained face to that of an emotionless drone. “If your Godess is here, she cannot keep you from me. You begged for this.” on the other side of him the more blades came down.
Nakikalik realised in that moment that if indeed his goddess was with him, she had no mercy to give in that moment.
submitted by iridael to HFY [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 22:12 TrollD4d My Thoughts On Rebooting [EXTREMELY LONG POST] - From TheUnderdog, in Your Brain Rebalanced Forum

It's been a while since I made a thread like this.
I've learned quite a few things in the last few months. So I'm going to share them with you guys.
Some of the ideas come from my own personal experience, but many of them originated from discussions with the people mentioned above. I love you guys.
You might disagree with a lot of things I'm going to say.
That's fine.
This is just my opinion, my thoughts, as the title says.
By the way, I have already said all these things through various posts, so if you've been following me lately, there is nothing new here.
There are some triggers in this post, so I apologize in advance for them. I do think they are important to make some of my points, otherwise I wouldn't include them.
Let's get started...
Porn Addiction is Being Severely Underestimated
How do I know this?
Because most people in the community believe that in order to get rid of this addiction, all they have to do is keep trying over and over again, until eventually things will just 'click' and their brains will finally become rebooted.
Very few are treating this as a true addiction. They just see it as a habit they want to break.
This is evidenced by the stubborness of many, relying purely on willpower for months, only to constantly reset their counters and beat themselves up for not making any progress.
Most people don't realize how incredibly difficult it is to completely remove artificial stimulation (of any kind) for the rest of their lives. We're talking about years and years of brain conditioning here.
Many of us here have been in this community since 2010 and we're still struggling in one way or another. That is almost 4 years of trying to quit for good. 4 years of trying to get to 100 days or whatever. 4 years of wanting to be the next GABE.
We're dealing with some powerful stuff here, but it is not treated seriously enough, probably because it's widely accepted by society and is not a substance like heroine or cocaine.
I cringe when people relapse, reset their counters, and proclaim "This is it, I've had enough, I'm going to do it this time"...
Stop kidding yourself.
This is an addiction that has to be attacked from many different angles. You need a full arsenal of tools and strategies, as well as a proper mindset.
Willpower alone won't do shit.
Abstinence is NOT Recovery
What people usually try to do is go as many days clean as they can.
That's all they do.
That's all their goal.
They achieve a certain amount of days, then for whatever reason they relapse, so they start over and repeat.
That is abstaining. That is not recovering.
It is extremely common for people to achieve a certain milestone, such as 30, 90, or 100 days, relapse a few days later, and then find themselves unable to get momentum again. They go back to the beginning and they feel like they lost all their progress from their run.
There is a constant frustration for lack of progress. People are feeling overwhelmed and discouraged, trying the same thing over and over again without success.
This is because very few are addressing the real roots of their problems. Very few.
Everyone is focused on how many days they have managed and if their symptoms are either present or gone. They judge their progress by measuring dick hardness, spontaneous erections and morning woods.
They are "trying to quit porn" so that they can "get rid of their ED".
So they abstain for as long as they can, hoping that this can cure their symptoms.
Completely wrong approach.
If they don't see ED improvements, they get discouraged.
If they see ED improvements, then maybe a porn session or two won't hurt, right?
If there is no woman around, they justify watching a couple of times. After all, they are not having sex anytime soon, so whats the point?
They delay dating until their ED is cured or they have managed to go 100 days. But they never achieve this in the first place precisely because of this incorrect mentality.
The same applies to other symptoms such as social anxiety, energy levels, motivation, etc.
They try to quit porn, so that the symptoms can go away, and so they can finally live life.
People are focusing on the wrong things.
They are not changing the way they think.
They are not changing the way they live.
They are not changing the way they view sex and women.
They are just trying not to masturbate, while everything else remains the same.
That, my friends, is abstinence, not recovery.
The Foundation of a Proper Reboot
Porn addiction is not the cause of your shitty life.
Read that again.
Of course, it's difficult to improve your life when you're having intense porn sessions every single day that drain your energy and make you a zombie. But porn is not the reason your life sucks.
Please, this is very important to understand, you have to stop blaming porn for your problems.
This mentality of "life awaits me after recovery" is destructive.
Porn is not the reason you're a procrastinator. Porn is not the reason you're depressed. Porn is not the reason you're lonely. Porn is not the reason you haven't been able to lose weight or gain muscle.
Porn is the symptom.
You watch porn to escape reality. You watch porn to manage your emotions. You watch porn because you're bored, lonely, stressed, depressed, angry, isolated. You watch porn to feel good for a moment, to replace uncomfortable emotions and situations in your life.
Here's how you get rid of this addiction:
You don't focus on quitting porn so you can finally get to live life after you're recovered.
You focus on learning how to live, how to manage your emotions, how to change the way you think and view the world.
You put all your energy into building the life you want.
This will naturally lead your mind away from porn.
Success is not measured by how many clean days you've managed.
It's measured by how much your life has improved since you started rebooting.
This is what you need to do (credit to RecoveryNation):
Step #1: Write a life vision for yourself
How do you envision your life a few weeks, months, or years from now?
Spend a whole day (or week) thinking about this.
Don't say "I don't know what to do with my life".
Are you telling me you have no clue what you want in any of the following areas: study, work, family, friends, hobbies, health, etc?
Even if you're not sure, you need to give your life some direction.
This is by far the most important part of recovering from pornography addiction.
Write like crazy. Write many pages if you want. Make the biggest post you've ever done in your journal talking about how you envision your future life.
This life vision will be the foundation of your reboot.
This is what you will focus on 100% from now on.
Close your eyes. Visualize it. Write it down.
If you don't know what you want in life, then this is actually a more serious issue than porn addiction itself.
Like I said, spend a whole week if you need to.
Brainstorm.
Ask for advice.
Take a notebook and go to a park.
Inspire yourself.
This is the beginning of your recovery.
Take it seriously.
Step #2: Give urgency to your life vision
Ok, now you know what you want in life. Even if you're still unsure in some areas, such as not knowing what to study, that's ok. At least you can give your life some direction for the moment. This is very important. You need to give your life direction. You need to move towards something.
Here's the problem. Many of us know what we want, but we keep delaying it. We're experts at delaying goals. We wait until New Years, or the beginning of a month, or until circumstances get better.
So this is what you're going to do now:
You're going to give urgency to your life vision.
Write down why you ABSOLUTELY MUST start working on it right now.
Make another huge post or journal entry about it.
Let's suppose you're 27 and you have no job, no car, still live with your parents, and spend most of the day playing video games. Why in the world would you wait more time before starting to do something about it? This is urgent bro. You're fucking 27!
Or maybe you've never had a girlfriend in your life before. Well, what are you waiting for? Go buy some nice clothes, start going out more frequently, make mistakes, get rejected, ask women on dates. Start getting some experience NOW.
You have back pain? Start working on it. Don't wait. The more you wait the worse it gets. Start doing yoga or swimming. Move your hips and back constantly every day.
Write down reasons why you must start pursuing your life vision right now.
You have to stop living like this.
This is urgent.
This is high priority.
We must convince ourselves that change is imminent.
It's very important.
A life vision is no good if you have no urgency.
You'll just keep delaying it. Waiting for circumstances to improve. Waiting for motivation to arrive. Waiting for the beginning of new year.
Create urgency.
Step #3: Develop an indestructible belief in yourself
One of the main reasons we quit goals is because deep inside we don't believe we're actually able to do it.
When successful people like Arnold Schwarzenegger decide they want to achieve something, they become completely obsessed about it. They have an indestructible belief that they will achieve it.
They are not affected by circumstances. They create results in their head before they even get them.
This is what you have to do if you want to accomplish anything.
For example, let's say you want to learn how to play guitar. And you have the urgency to do it, because you know it takes time, so the sooner you start the better. You have to start now.
However, after a few days of learning the basics, you start losing motivation and becoming discouraged. You realize that playing guitar is not easy at all. You feel overwhelmed by how much practice you need to put into it. You start doubting yourself and thinking "There's no way I'll ever become a great guitar player and form my own band". Friends tell you things like "Dude, you should've started years ago. All great guitarists started when they were young".
So you quit.
This is a result of a weak belief in yourself. You don't believe you have the potential to become a good guitarist. Which is obviously completely false. We as humans have unlimited potential.
Arnold Schwarzenegger doesn't think like this.
Look at what he said:
How many times have you heard 'You can't do this', 'You can't do that', 'It's never been done before'. I love it when someone says ' No one has ever done this before', because when I do it, that means I'm the first person that's ever done it!
This is how we should think when we set up to do anything in life.
Uncertainty is what kills people. Not knowing if they're able to achieve it.
We need to brainwash ourselves every day into believing that we WILL do it NO MATTER WHAT.
All of these steps are equally important.
Do not skip them.
They are the foundation of your reboot.
They make rebooting so much easier. Your mind will be completely focused on what you want in life. You will be fixing the root of all your problems.
The secret of change is to focus all your energy not fighting the old, but on building the new.
Stop making posts complaining about your shitty life. Stop making posts saying how you're sick of being addicted to porn. Stop talking about porn altogether.
Instead, transform your journal into a self-improvement journal, focused 100% on moving towards the life you want.
"Forget" about porn.
This is basic rebooting stuff, yet many people are constantly breaking this rule. They write about porn cravings, morning woods, spontaneous erections, what day they're on, how much they struggled to abstain, how they can't wait to reach 90 days, etc.
When you consistently focus 100% on building the life you want, your mind will naturally move away from porn. You will also lessen the void left by quitting porn, which is very real.
Many people quit porn only to find themselves in this life emptiness that is very hard to handle. Then they go back to porn precisely because this void is too much for them.
Focusing on your life vision is a superior rebooting approach.
Relapses aren't that discouraging if you're actually improving your life. Ironically, you will notice that the more you focus on what you want, the less frequently you will relapse.
It's important that you think in terms of life vision and pursuing your dreams, not in terms of "I have to get busy and fill my life with activities so that I don't watch porn". This is something you're doing for yourself.
Stop ranting about porn.
This journey is about your LIFE.
Focus on that and the porn will go away.
Managing Your Emotional Life
Ok, let's keep going.
This is mistake #1 from my post The TOP 3 Fatal Mistakes Rebooters Make.
If you haven't read it yet, I highly suggest you do it after you finish reading this thread.
I want to talk about it again because it really is important.
Porn addiction is much more than just getting cravings and relapsing.
One of the reasons we become addicted is because of our inability to manage our emotional lives.
You have to remind yourself that quitting porn is about growing up and becoming a much more mature person.
It's much more than "I want to quit porn so I can cure ED and have plenty of sex with women!".
Much more than that.
We've been using porn for years as a method of handling our emotions.
We need to stop hiding away from uncomfortable life situations. We need to stop using porn in order to escape from reality.
We must learn how to handle life and emotions without the need of porn.
I'm going to quote Recovery Nation here:
"The second common trap that people fall into when transitioning from compulsions to recovery (or from any emotionally intense behavior to another) is their perception involving the emptiness phase of a healthy transition. To understand this, let's take a brief look at the broader addictive process in a person's life. In most addictions, the person has come to depend on their addictive behavior to manage their emotional state. The longer this person relies on such patterns, the more intense and ingrained this pattern becomes. Now, this is an extremely brief synopsis, with many additional issues to be discussed later in the workshop, but the point is: without the ingrained addiction, they are left with an emotional void that is very real. And very uncomfortable. The trap is in seeing this void as proof that their addiction was a natural, necessary entity in their life. They begin to feel an emotional emptiness...no urges...no pleasure...no anything. And they assume that something is wrong. That they need their addiction in order to feel normal. And here comes the porn, or the masturbation, or the affairs. And then, right on cue...here comes the excitement and pleasure and passion. Along with the guilt and shame and depression. But it doesn't matter. They would rather feel all of the emotions, than to feel nothing at all. And so, relapse occurs.
I remember thinking many times throughout my own struggles that I would rather experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows than to ever take a medication that would dim my emotions. I never feared feeling bad. I never feared the chaos that was my life. Not the misery, nor the pain. I cherished my emotional extremes as I believed that it was my ability to experience such extremes that made me who I was. My only fear was to feel nothing at all. This is common with many people who struggle with addictive behavior. Even those who state that they drink or use drugs or otherwise act out in an effort to "numb the pain" of past abuse, overwhelming stress, etc., are not completely accurate. They drink, use or otherwise act out to shift the emotions that they are experiencing — not to dull them.
The point to this is simple. To someone used to experiencing the extremes of the emotional experience — and suffering from true compulsive behavior is to experience emotions to their extreme — the emptiness that comes with a transitional ending can be overwhelming. The blandness, the void that is created when eliminating the behavioral patterns that managed the majority of your emotions is like removing your soul. You no longer feel "normal". You feel as if there is something wrong inside of you; like you are broken somehow. You might even feel that, without these compulsive behaviors, life isn't even worth living. That it is these behaviors that made you special. So, inevitably, you go back to acting out because even the potential negative emotional consequences of your behavior (guilt, shame, failure, loneliness, etc.) are better than to have no emotions at all."
and
"A second common motivator in recovery is the hitting of 'rock bottom' or, in realistic terms, hitting the point where the pain of the addiction can no longer be numbed by the addiction itself. When the emotional pain of the addiction's consequences have grown too great, the motivation to end the addiction kicks in as the addiction is no longer capable of serving its purpose. Although this is a significantly more powerful motivator than the first, it too, is ultimately doomed for failure in long-term recovery. Or, more accurately, it is doomed for a long-term recovery/relapse cycle.
What happens is this: when the emotional pain becomes too great to temporarily manage with compulsive behaviors, the decision to recover provides an intense emotional boost that helps to manage that pain. The person feels good. That feeling may last for weeks, it may last for months. But eventually, inevitably, the emotional intensity that came with the commitment to recover wanes, and the person finds themself, once again, lacking the ability to manage their emotional life. A return to the addiction (or another addiction) is the only emotional management strategy that they have. This, followed by a re-commitment to recovery...followed by another relapse...followed by, well, you get the idea. The cycle will not end until the motivation for ending it has changed.
Those who are motivated by a desire to end the pain of their addiction fare much better than those who are recovering for the sake of others. Such individuals can generate sustained, long-term recovery efforts. However, in order to make a true transition to health, the key will be found in their ability to move past the initial stages of recovery and begin to adopt healthy life management skills that will allow them to achieve emotional maturity.
So, in preparing your road to recovery, you will need to prepare yourself for a time when you might feel empty inside. It will come after the euphoria of beginning your recovery, and it will come after you have put an end to your desire to continue your life the way that it is. This period may last a few days, it may last a few weeks. Rarely, will it ever last longer than that. And in those few weeks, your goal will be to recognize this emptiness, and begin to fill it with the values and the dreams that you believe in."
We need to understand that one of the reasons we relapse is because we're pussies that can't handle negative emotions.
We use porn as medication. We use porn to hide away from life. We use porn to temporarily relief anxiety, stress, loneliness, boredom, anger, etc.
Once again, if you haven't read The TOP 3 Fatal Mistakes Rebooters Make, you should read it later on.
Learn how to manage your emotions without using porn and you will be achieving long term success.
Embrace all your emotions, negative or positive.
By the way, Recovery Nation is fucking awesome.
I highly recommend you check it out.
Readjusting Your Sexual Expectations
This is by far one of the most difficult things to do.
When you quit porn, you're not just saying good bye to artificial stimulation.
You're leaving behind the world of "never ending flow of hot chicks with big tits and round asses".
Real life is nothing like that.
We've been spoiled by porn. We believe that we should be out there having lots of sex with different women. We believe that this is the key to happiness and fulfillment.
The problem is that it is incredibly difficult and unrealistic to "fuck hot chicks on a regular basis".
There's nothing particularly wrong with having that goal, but you have to be willing to take some MASSIVE action. You have to go through hundreds of rejections. You need to have a lot of balls. You must do what 99.9% of men are incredibly afraid to do.
How many people here are doing what it takes to have the kind of sexual life we all dream about?
Very few, if any.
The only guy in the forum who was brave enough to do it is ssk08.
The rest of us are living in a dream world.
We see these super hot chicks on tight dresses and we hope that maybe someday we might be able to have sex with them. We read books about seduction. We visit PUA forums. We watch videos on YouTube of guys approaching girls. We make theories and discuss them online.
But we aren't doing shit about it.
It's all just a dream. An idea we have in our minds. Something we hope someday we will do.
Here's how most people get laid in real life:
A guy meets a girl he finds attractive, so he asks her out. They get to know each other. Then they continue to go out and form some sort of relationship. Then after some months the relationship either becomes serious or falls apart.
That's the real world.
You have to accept that, unless you're willing to take massive action, you won't fuck anywhere near as many women as you expect to.
Accepting this is very difficult, but it is necessary.
We need to learn how to live without this world of endless hot chicks, otherwise we'll become extremely disappointed and dissatisfied with real life, which is nothing like porn.
Anyone here is more than capable of getting a girlfriend. But our girlfriends most likely won't look like pornstars, nor they will act like them.
There's a very high probability the sex won't be pornographic in nature. There's going to be a lot of sensuality, caressing, and also clumsiness. Some days your girl will look sexy, other days not so much. Some days she'll be in the mood, other days she won't. Some days you'll struggle to keep it hard, other days you'll cum too fast. She might be able to achieve orgasms, or she might not. You might do it every other day, or maybe only 3-4 times per month.
Remember, pornstars are paid thousands of dollars to do what they're told and fulfill all your fantasies.
You must stop living in dream land.
I know this is very difficult to accept, but we have to give meaning to our lives outside fucking hot chicks.
Our happiness cannot depend on that. Otherwise you'll keep coming back to porn every time you fail to get laid in real life. You will remain attached to "sex with hot chicks" for the rest of your life.
One of the reasons GABE is such an incredible successful rebooter is because he had a deep change in heart. By this I mean that his approach is completely based on love and not lust. He views sex in terms of intimacy and connecting with another person. Watching porn doesn't even cross his mind anymore.
Now, I'm not saying you have to think exactly like him. But you should definitely change the way you view sex and women, because I can assure you it has been completely distorted by porn.
By the way, I don't believe there's anything wrong about pursuing casual sex instead of a relationship, just make sure you keep both feet on the ground.
I would also like to add that relationships are about sharing your life with another person. I know many people here want a girlfriend so that they can finally start getting laid, but relationships go much more deeper than that.
If you've never had a girlfriend before you'll know once you get one.
Thinking About Sex is USELESS
What's the point of fantasizing?
It accomplishes nothing.
It slows down the reboot, increases the urge to masturbate, and reinforces neurological pathways related to porn.
It's a meaningless activity that should be eliminated.
It keeps your mind focused on sex, tits, asses, fucking, when it should be shifted towards other activities in life.
If you find yourself thinking about sex, you should mindfully and calmly redirect your attention to something else.
You want sex?
Great.
Then do something to actually make it happen.
Fantasizing by itself serves no purpose at all.
You need to understand that if you want to abstain from orgasm and masturbation, you cannot be thinking about sex and women, because this will inevitably cause you to relapse. Trying to abstain while at the same time fantasizing or peeking at pictures of chicks will only lead to frustration.
Stay away from any kind of artificial stimulation. Don't take peeks. Don't browse pictures of girls online. Don't type pornstar names on Google image search. Don't read escort forums.
Do not arouse yourself.
Basically you have to adopt a philosophy of "I'm either trying to get laid (approaching, texting girls, going out on dates, flirting with women, hanging out with friends, getting rejected) or doing something completely unrelated to sex (work, studying, exercise, fun, reading, playing an instrument, chores, housework, watching movies)".
There is no grey area where you are alone thinking about sex or checking out girls online. This accomplishes nothing. It serves no real purpose. It will only increase urges, lead to relapse, and make you frustrated.
As soon as erotic thoughts pop up in your mind, you should calmly ignore them and refocus your attention to something else. You keep practicing this forever until you master it.
You have to attack this addiction right from the root. Trying to abstain from hardcore porn accomplishes nothing if you're still constantly fantasizing and peeking.
If you keep strengthening the mindset I talked about above, you will be making meaningful progress.
This used to be called "Monk Mode", but I don't like that name because it implies that you're going to become celibate.
This isn't about becoming celibate. This is about doing what it takes if you want to get laid, instead of wasting mental energy on sexual thoughts that will only improve the chances of relapsing.
If you ever want to achieve a long streak, you can't be checking out girls online, even if it's just some bikini pictures. You can't be fantasizing when you wake up in the morning. You can't be taking 5 second peeks at porn.
As soon as you do any of those things, this huge beast called porn addiction will take control over your prefrontal cortex and it's just a matter of time before you relapse.
You have to be extreme.
But don't worry, it's much easier than it sounds.
It's actually harder to stop yourself from relapsing once you're already thinking about sex, than it is to not think about sex in the first place.
How do you not think about sex?
Simple.
Focus your mind 100% on your life vision.
Every....single....day.
There's an interesting thread related to this created by bigbookofpenis (lol, nice username) here:
http://www.yourbrainrebalanced.com/index.php?topic=14525.0
Take a look.
I completely support his "No Arousal Method".
Dismissing erotic thoughts as soon as they arrive in your mind is the cornerstone for preventing relapses.
This is basic stuff guys.
It's Not Orgasm What You Crave
Many people here believe that abstaining from orgasm is the most difficult part of rebooting.
WRONG.
When you get porn cravings, your brain is not asking for orgasm. As an addict, it is begging you for your hit. It misses the high, the tits, the asses, the novelty, the rush, the unrealistic sexual scenarios, the fantasies, the super hot chicks, the perfect camera shots, the feeling of letting go and indulging in pleasure, the fucking, the cumshots, the doggystyles, the boobs bouncing around, etc.
If lack of orgasm was the problem, then everyone would just fap without porn (or any other artificial stimulation). There would be no relapses and everyone would have 500+ day counters.
The urge to ejaculate only becomes a real problem once you start peeking, edging or fantasizing constantly. When you find yourself in a state of arousal then obviously you will want to cum.
But the initial urges are "addiction urges". They are mental. They are not a physical need for ejaculation.
If you feed these urges by peeking, even if it's just pictures of hot babes in bikini, then they will invade your mind and rob you of your ability to concentrate or remain calm. Eventually "autopilot" mode will be engaged and we all know what happens next.
You're not having urges to cum.
You're having urges for a "high" and a "rush".
Remember that.
This is why porn urges don't go away when you get a girlfriend.
It is a drug, and you need to learn how to live without it, regardless of whether you have a girlfriend or not.
When you abstain for several days or weeks, your sensitized pathways are anxiously waiting for any sexual cue, no matter how short or brief. This is why people mistakenly confuse real libido with porn cravings. They take a peek at porn after 15 days and they feel this intense rush and urge to cum, so they conclude that it is libido and that they must relieve pressure.
The problem was taking a peek in the first place. Had they just focused on more important things instead, they would've been able to finish the day clean without problem.
If you manage to completely abstain from fantasizig and checking out chicks online (in any form), then going a long time without orgasm won't be a problem.
And don't even think about testing or caressing your dick.
Focus 100% on your life vision.
Counters vs Spreadsheets
The following advice is aimed particularly towards those members who are having trouble getting a good run. If you're already doing good, you can skip this section.
Ok, here's the thing:
There is a sickening obsession with long streaks on this forum.
People like counters because supposedly they are helpful for tracking progress.
Well, guess what? Spreadsheets do a much better job at that.
There's a reason why I'm so stubborn with this anti-counter thing.
They are dangerous, destructive, counterproductive.
Counters reinforce the idea of being "back to zero" every time you relapse, making it way more justifiable to binge before starting over again. Not only that, but you completely lose track of how many times you're actually masturbating. They don't show the whole picture. There is absolutely no way to measure your progress at all. It's a never ending cycle of abstaining for a few days and then going back to zero.
Every time you reset your counter you become increasingly discouraged and unmotivated.
There's too much emphasis on what day you're on, no fap challenges (there are currently 7 no fap challenges running, it's ridiculous), 90 days, 100 days, etc.
If you're consistently unable to get past XX days and you're always in the low numbers, then your counter has lost its purpose.
Counters are only good when you've managed a good run, because this gives you a sense of accomplishment and provides sufficient accountability to actually prevent relapses sometimes.
Now, let's talk about spreadsheets, particularly Darxidius' format, which I'm a HUGE fan of.
This is why they're so fucking awesome:
- They keep your addiction under control: By keeping track of how many times you're actually masturbating and having orgasms, you will be forced to keep it in the low numbers. If you relapse, the spreadsheet will discourage you to binge, especially when you're sharing it with the forum. A good rule of thumb is to try to keep your orgasm count to less than 5 per month.
- They allow you to see the full picture. In gameover's words: "You don't realise how you forget over a month how many times you actually masturbate, peek, pmo or orgasm until you have it in front of you. I thought i was well under 3-4 orgasms a month but I have been up around 6-7 and this month was no better." You'll be surprised at how many times you're actually fapping.
- They completely eliminate the "counting" factor. All you have to do is keep it as clean as you can. Pretty cool eh? No more counting, no more 90 day goals, no more fap challenges. After all, we're trying to quit porn for life, not just 100 days or whatever.
- They will never discourage you. If you do relapse, you input it on the spreadsheet and move on. You don't make a new thread called "Relapsed again" or "Not making any progress". Trust me, if you went from fapping 25 times per month to 2-3 times per month, you're making huge progress, even if your counter only says "6 days".
Spreadsheets are NOT a taper off approach, of course. The goal should always be to never watch porn, to be as clean as you can, to take it one day at a time.
Tapering off, as in "I watched porn 20 times last month, so I'll watch it 15 times this month", will never work. You should never think like this. You should never give yourself the green light to PMO.
Ideally, you should replace your counter with a spreadsheet and completely forget about what day you're on. Then, if you do manage to get on a good run, you can put your counter back up for accountability and motivational purposes.
However, I understand many people here are in love with their counters.
They look pretty.
They are fancy.
I get it, I get it.
So this is what I propose:
(Once again, this ONLY applies to people who are struggling. If you're already on day 70 or whatever then don't change anything, but consider using a spreadsheet if you do end up relapsing.)
Set up your signature so that it can show BOTH a counter and a spreadsheet.
It would look something like this:
📷
This way you would be getting the best of both worlds.
How hard can that be?
Here's how you can incorporate it in your signature IMMEDIATELY:
Step #1: Log in to your Google account.
Step #2: Open Darxidius' spreadsheet here.
Step #3: Go to File->Make a Copy and give it a name
Step #4: Go to Share in the upper right corner and change it from 'Private' to 'Anyone with a link'.
Step #5: Add the following code to your forum signature (make sure you replace 'SPREADSHEET_LINK' with your actual spreadsheet link):
That's it!
📷
Anytime you need to update your spreadsheet just log in to Google Docs and open it.
Simple as that.
By the way, try to stick to Darxidius' format. I've seen many people use their own version of spreadsheets, but there is a huge advantage of seeing the graphical representation of green cells.
It's very motivating.
Conclusion
To sum it up, the typical rebooting advice of "Hey man, just do a 90 day reboot" is basically useless.
This is a very serious addiction and should be treated as such.
Willpower alone won't do it.
Change the way you live.
Change the way you think.
And please, stop making so many posts about porn, cravings, urges, relapsing, erections, 90 days, etc.
Instead, focus on the most important thing:
Your life.
Sincerely, TheUnderdog
--
Gotta clarify some things:
I have never said that the reason we started watching porn was because of life problems. In fact, I would argue that is not the case for the majority of us.
I didn't have any childhood issues or family problems when I was young. I just discovered porn on my own and liked it because it was very pleasurable. As kids and teenagers we are curious and horny.
However, as years go by, we become dependent on it not only because of its extreme addictive nature and accessibility, but also because we start using it as a way to cope with life.
The reason we start using porn and the reason we continue to use porn once we're addicts aren't necessarily the same.
I also didn't mean to say that all porn addicts have shitty lives. Actually by shitty all I mean is being dissatisfied in one way or another. Maybe you constantly put off your goals. Or maybe you waste a lot of time online and want to change that. That doesn't mean your life is shit. It just means it could be better.
I am completely aware there are exceptions. There is a guy who told me he had no problems getting instant makeouts and fucking chicks the same day he meets them. There are others who actually have incredibly busy lives and only watch porn to get some pleasure and relax.
Whatever your situation is, the main point of my post still stands. You should focus on moving towards what you want, instead of constantly complaining and wasting lots of energy on staying away from porn.
Concentrate on building the life you dream about and this will help you tremendously on your quest to overcome your addiction to porn.
submitted by TrollD4d to NoFap [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 16:33 Makuvik8602 [M4A] Seeking a partner for a horror roleplay! [Discord]

Hello again! I'm looking for a potential partner for a horror roleplay, where I play as the monster from one of the given creatures below. Technically all the characters exist all in the same world but story-wise they'll never meet each other for roleplay purposes. I'm seeking a partner who generally fits in the below list:
Alternatively, I'm also interested in doing a Five Nights At Freddy's 1 (the first game) roleplay where Phone Guy's calls are actually prank calls made by the last security guard, and the animatronics aren't possessed but rather self-aware at night. They're friendly yet the night guard doesn't realize it, fully believing Phone Guy. In this roleplay I'd be playing as the security guard and you could play as an animatronic as you wish or if you'd like all four (excluding Golden Freddy).
If you're interested in any of the above plots, then please shoot me a PM. I look forward to roleplaying with you!
submitted by Makuvik8602 to roleplaying [link] [comments]


2020.09.21 17:40 Samara_Buckley_Derby The Beginning of the End --- Chapter 14: A Gift of Blood and Life

Summary: Fighting immortals is a sweetheart job for someone obsessed with the afterlife. Dying on the job, however, is cutting it too close. However, Julian's curiosity with the great beyond pushes him a little too far, back to the land of the living and cursed with a damned soul, just like the immortals he's sworn to fight...
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The fighting had stopped and Julian didn’t know why and that scared him more than the gunshots. This was probably a privileged position on his part, since being shot was a risk and not certainty of death. The sudden silence of gunshots was accompanied by the scrabbling of feet and Julian was barely able to take in the movement of the enemy troops to the side of their fallen immortal.
There was a following scuffle that Julian couldn’t quite follow before the entire terminal froze with a series of guns pointed at each other. A total standoff.
“This is over.” Laghardi had her gun leveled at a man wearing a bloodied suit who stood closest to her. “We have your leader down. Without her giving orders, you can’t hope this will go in your favor.”
Julian’s eyes focused behind Laghardi, behind the followers, behind all the blood and destruction at the tarmac. All the fighting, deaths and injuries and whatever had happened while Julian and Xing were pushing people out of the terminal, it had only taken the better part of a few minutes. Gunfire, apparently, happens very quickly. But that had been enough time for German police and, indeed, troops, to start mobilizing, and he could hear the sounds of sirens in the distance.
“If none of you are opposed,” came Matti’s voice, calm and unbothered from his perch, “I’m either going to start shooting them or I’m going to pack up and get out before authorities get here. Pooja, I’ve got eyes on you, just blink once for option one or twice for two.”
Julian didn’t see Laghardi’s face but he did hear the shattering crack of a sniper rifle blast through the terminal as another of Lady Helga’s followers dropped. They were getting short on people, down to ten, and only eight able bodied soldiers.
“Tell him to stop,” the man said, eyes wide, darting to the tower. “Tell him to stop.”
“If I move my hand to relay that order, you’ll get the edge on me,” Laghardi said. Julian couldn’t tell by her calm face, whether or not she was even aware of the authorities. She must be, Matti had said as much, but she didn’t flinch nor did her eyes waver. “You’ll have to be the one to put down weapons first.”
“You’d kill us all anyway.”
“Not if you surrender the Lady Von Marwitz. Really, we have no interest in snuffing out her followers.” Laghardi’s eyes narrowed. “Just her.”
“Fire in the hole!” Julian could barely hear Matti’s tinny voice through the ringing in his ear when another shot ripped through the air, taking their number down to nine.
The suited man looked down at Lady Helga’s body. The shot had caused a large part of her skull and brain to become disconnected from her body but it was fast repairing itself in something that was both horrifying and fascinating to watch.
“Your call,” Laghadri said.
The man dropped his gun and held his hands overhead. The other followers quickly followed suit.
“Move in,” Laghardi said, both over coms and to her soldiers. The privates rushed the enemies, kicking weapons away, putting guns to their heads, and escorting them away from Lady Helga’s downed body.
“Grace, Achmed, on her. Tenneson, see to the wounded, stabilize any that need it.” She tapped her earpiece then. “Matti, prep to move out. Schmidt, get in here in 60.”
This last command really put a fire under everyone’s asses as they all snapped to attention. Grace and another private bound up Lady Helga’s body and moved her to the large broken window. The other privates set to work helping each other up or getting the medic to the one soldier, Shanti, who was out cold.
“Losing blood. I can stabilize him for now but he’ll need real care and soon.” The medic pulled out a few patches, slapping them over some of the soldier’s more gaping wounds.
“None of that will matter if we get shot by the feds.” Laghadri bent down and pulled the injured soldier over her shoulder. “Anyone else need help?”
Julian watched, utterly uselessly, as the agents helped each other to the edge of the hall. Julian could, somewhere in the part of his ears that weren’t bleeding, hear sirens and helicopter blades. He was also starting to hurt and realized he’d taken some bullet wounds. Amazing what a drug adrenaline could be.
“Blake.” Grace grabbed him by the shoulder. “You holding up?”
“Yeah. Good to see you’re alive.” His mumble felt half hearted. “Are the others…”
“Shanti looks bad. A couple others are probably going to clock out when their hearts slow down enough to let them. No casualties.” She closed her eyes for a moment and her free hand floated to her collarbone for just a moment. Then she pulled the hand down. “You did good. Glad we had you on board. We’ll talk more after. I don’t like something about this.”
Grace would go from complimenting to pessimism in two seconds flat but he had no time to push her more because just then, a rope ladder dropped down from above.
“Alright!” shouted Laghadri over the whirring blades. “Everyone on board. Get on, start climbing. We got about ninety seconds before this whole place gets really hot.”
And that was all the time they had. The soldiers lept to the ladder, which swung about two feet from the edge and began climbing. Laghardi and Achmed, who both held someone over their shoulders, a patient or a prisoner, somehow managed to get on and start climbing without jeopardizing their grip. Julian was one of the last, climbing on right before Grace, who had a gun trained on the enemies. The Infleurgents had confiscated any weapons they’d been able to find on a quick search but it was unclear how thorough that had been.
He jumped onto the ladder, one of the many most terrifying moments of his life so far, without even realizing how much of a jump it was or how big the risk or just how long the ladder was. As he latched on and began climbing, his limbs screaming in pain, he thought back to his training with Grace, how she’d forced him to pull a rope down for what she claimed was ‘the equivalent of climbing a hundred foot ladder… or at least the closest damn thing I can simulate in this sad excuse for a gym.’ He’d asked when she could possibly imagine him needing to climb a hundred foot ladder, all while nursing his arms which had felt like rubber for two days after.
He kinda wanted to say something but this was inarguably not the time so he just kept climbing.
The rope was so much easier. So so so much easier. This was like doing a pullup where you could never go back down. Somehow you just had to keep pulling up. Allegedly his legs were taking some of the weight off his arms but they sure didn’t seem to know it. All he could do was look at the boots of the soldier on top of him and try to his head against the heels before they ascended the next rung. Don’t look up, don’t look down, just keep climbing.
Of course, had he looked up or down, he’d have known to expect the ladder to start moving. He might have even known when it was going to move. All of this took him utterly by surprise, even though it shouldn’t have. After all, Laghardi said they had 90 seconds. She clearly wasn’t expecting it to take 90 seconds for them to all jump on and get to the top. No, they had to move as soon as everyone was on.
Julian’s muscles cried in pain. He may have a little too. He definitely did a little too. This was supposed to be the debrief time where all the chemicals washed out of his body and he was able to curl in a ball and cry about how crazy life was, how in pain he was, and how close the whole mission was. It wasn’t that he thought he deserved this time. God knows it wasn’t like he’d earned it. But his body had just about finished keeping him going and he didn’t know how to stop the flood of garbage now washing through his veins.
Despite himself, he let his foggy eyes drift from the boots above him to the airport his ladder now sailed through. This might have even been cool if it weren’t for the everything going on right now. The helicopter was gaining altitude but not fast enough, and for a moment, it looked like they’d hit the top of the main building. Instead, they cleared it and only the base of the ladder scraped the roof.
Julian hadn’t noticed the sniper on the roof waiting for this to happen but as soon as the ladder shuddered on impact, there was another tug, and Julian looked down to see Matti now clinging to the bottom rafters. He had his gun slung on his back and kept a watchful eye around them. The helicopter hadn’t even needed to slow to a full stop before it was ramping up speed. At this point the ladder was slowly being retracted into the helicopter, a godsend because Julian, by all rights, still had sixty feet to go.
It was another agonizing minute before finally they were in the sky and he could go find a corner to curl up and take a nap in. It wasn’t until he made it to the corner and turned around to look over the soldiers that he started processing faces again. Sorrowful, panicked, shocked, upset… they were all far too upset for what he expected after a successful mission.
Then his eyes fell on Grace, who was talking very quickly to the medic, her face white and eyes bloodshot. She kept speaking, lips moving more rapidly than Julian was sure he could understand, when she caught him looking. The two made eye contact and Julian realized that she and the medic were crouching over the still unconscious Private Shanti.
Another wave of adrenaline pushed him to her side. “He’s not doing well?” The man was trembling, his skin grey, something Julian had seen before while interviewing hospice patients for his Masters. Calm people. Ready to die. Greeting it. Not like this.
“We can save him. Don’t have the blood to run a transfusion and he’s going into shock now.” Her lips were twisted in a very ugly, very angry frown.
“Why don’t we just travel with like, blood for a transfusion?” Julian asked, hurling a surely useless ‘what if’ into the dire situation. “Seems like it’d help an awful lot.”
“Wouldn’t keep,” she said, not snapping nearly as much as he knew he deserved.
“Even if we did have some,” the medic said, sounding annoyed, “he needs a lot. More than we could reasonably carry.”
“Couldn’t we, like, just all pitch in a little? What’s his blood type?” Julian felt like an idiot but he couldn’t get his head around losing the man right now. “I’ve got O+, that’s a pretty common one, right? I donate all the time, that's like—”
“It would take too long,” said the medic, now angry. “A blood transfusion can take hours. The time it would take to draw from someone here, give to him, and then start another drawing… it would take too goddamn long and unless you’re volunteering us to just drain you dry and get it all over with at once, I’d suggest you shut your goddamn face.”
Julian nodded, shut his mouth, and pulled up his sleeve, thrusting his arm at the medic. “Is there enough that you can take to help? Any chance that it could help?”
“Are you fucking—”
“Tenneson,” said Grace. “Would it help?”
The medic’s eyes darted back to Shanti. “He’s O+ too. Fuck it, you sure zombie?”
“Don’t spare me any drop you need.” Julian had to fight to keep a grin off his face, since he knew that this was far from a guaranteed shot to save the soldier and this was going to hurt like hell or at the very least, be very unpleasant. But at least he’d get his nap.
The medic swabbed his inner arm with a sterilization wipe and then torniquented the arm. “Alright, stay still and say something if you want me to stop.” He felt a pinch in his arm.
“He’d better fucking not,” said one private.
“Yeah, he ate a dozen bullets for Yildis, he can spare some fucking blood.”
“Will this make Shanti immortal? Having zombie blood in him?”
Julian didn’t ask them to quiet nor did he ask for someone to silence them. As the similar draining feeling began to grip his body, he relished listening to the privates bicker. It gave him something to focus on.
“I’m gonna do this quick and dirty, not how they teach us in phlebotomy school.” The medic’s voice was starting to sound far away and Julian just nodded. He’d only passed out twice before but one thing he always remembered was that, well, he never remembered passing out. He just remembered waking up. This would likely be a similar case, where he didn’t remember passing out he just remembered—
The boat.
God it was actually nice to be dead this time. The clarity and peace that came with the river was honestly refreshing and exactly what he needed. He stood up in his boat this time, looking into the others around him. There were quite a few bodies— no, not bodies. People. They did not sleep, much like how he hadn’t his first time, nor in subsequent visits. They simply drifted and enjoyed the ride. The light above. The rocking of the boats. Any who heard Julian ignored him.
The last time Julian had died had been a combat situation, and he’d blithely plunged back to Earth, a little soon for his body. The time before, he’d been terrified of not returning. This time, though, he had a little bit more time to collect himself. Think a little.
If Julian’s stunt back on Earth didn’t work, poor Shanti would be here soon. Where would Shanti enter from? The boats always seemed to drift in from side streams that simply appeared when needed and vanished again, cutting through the waterfalls at the banks of the stream. It was impossible to predict where they would appear, so it would be impossible to predict where Shanti would arrive, if he did. Simply impossible.
Julian felt a warm tingle in his brain. Impossible was his favorite word. He looked over his shoulder at the precipice of the waterfall, getting closer. Yes, he had to move, but he may not yet have to jump back to Earth. Not if he rowed up the stream. After all, he’d already violated the natural order of things. What was a little rowing against the current?
It was surprisingly easy. The little oar pushed him effortlessly through the stream, which rippled underneath it, sending waves out hundreds of feet, all the way to the watery walls of the shore, where the tiny disturbances touched the walls and shimmered up the water pouring down. When Julian touched the glasslike walls, he was treated to a deep, unsettling gong, but the only noise these gentle waves made upon hitting the streaming barrier was a delicate chiming noise he felt in his stomach.
What was the water made of? This wasn’t corporal, so this water couldn’t be a mere combination of hydrogen and oxygen. No, rather it was almost certainly the reality of the cosmos bending gracefully into the shape of something he recognized. So had the river simply appeared as such because he’d wanted it to? What did the other immortals see? He expected the river because so many had told him they’d experienced it but if it was simply the cosmos showing him what he’d expected, then why did so many expect the river, to the point where it was a universal experience?
Was there, as Grace believed, a sentient entity behind all this? Perhaps one with a love of water? After all, it was from water that all life began. Maybe it only made sense that water was where they should all end. Was there a river that led to conception that they all just forgot?
Many of Julian’s old classmates had turned to philosophy to answer the same question that burned in the core of their hearts. Julian had been too hungry to only theorize.
And now he was here.
Further he rowed up the river, noting fewer and fewer boats as he did. What determined the length of the boat’s ride? Julian’s had always been short. Was it age? Deeds on Earth? Belief or creed? As he drifted, he peered into a passing boat and a shiver of shame ran through him. His eyes fixed on the small girl who lay inside, a peaceful look on her face, but her eyes, surprisingly, open.
Her lips parted, emotion crossing her face and Julian ducked down in his boat, pressing himself to the floor and praying that she would not risk peering about. It was hard to say how long he lay at the bottom of his boat, as counting was impossible in a plane where time didn’t exist, but soon he heard the roar of the waterfall and knew it was time to leave the river.
He sat up in his boat and saw the vessel he knew belonged to the girl continue to drift towards the edge. Slowly, he rowed to the shore, still eying her boat for any sign of disruption. But no, as he paddled to keep his canoe in place, hers dipped and bobbed before falling over the edge, bringing her to the place in the afterlife carved away for her soul.
The encounter stuck in Julian just how unnatural he was and how much damage he could potentially causeif his curiosity grew too unchecked. An exploration, if not tempered, could defile this place or the souls of those within it.
He would have to be more cautious next time. For now, his first exploration had finished, and, praying that his body was good and restored, he plunged off the river back into the physical world.

“Julian! Jesus Christ, about time.” Julian’s eyes snapped open as his body was roughly shaken. It was, until that, his most pleasant revival. He was treated to Grace’s furious eyes, boring through him. “How long do we have?” she asked someone in the helicopter.
“Fifteen until the next revival.” Laghardi’s cool voice was a stark contrast to Grace’s ferociousness but she seemed placated by the Colonel’s response and leaned back.
“Alright Blake,” Grace said, back to business, “there’s been a development while you were out.”
Julian groaned a bit as he pushed himself to a sit. “Shanti?”
“I got the blood of Gods in me,” came a response from somewhere in the helicopter.
“Shut up, Shanti,” Grace said. “He’s fine, as you can hear. The problem is the bitch.” She jerked a thumb behind her. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Lady Helga? Why me?”
“Something about immortal to immortal.” Grace’s eyes still held the fury of lightning.
Julian’s stomach twisted at this. On one hand, the concept of getting to talk, face to face, with another immortal was so exciting that he didn’t want to think anything more of the request. On the flip side, were some very real, disquieting questions.
What did she want? What was she planning? And how did she know that he was immortal?
I have a few questions for your consideration.
Does the fact that some POVs and some characters call others by their first name (ie: Matti calls everyone by their first name) while others call them by their last name (ie: Grace calls everyone by their last name) confuse you? Can you follow the story when Julian might use 'Sofia' but Grace uses 'Cortez'?
Are there too many named characters to keep track of? I've been enjoying giving glimmers of personalities to the various privates but please tell me if it's getting too confusing.
I plan on rewriting this next month and am looking for feedback on some potential pain points.
Thank you so much! I'll see you tomorrow :D
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2020.09.21 16:13 crumjd Faster Than Light via Sheer Willpower

IMPORTANT NOTE: I already posted the first quarter of this story. If you saw it at that time you can scroll down to the bold italic paragraph and begin reading there.

“What the hell is wrong with your ship?”
Non-human comm discipline isn’t quite as good as the human equivalent. As I understand it, they never had to deal with the crackling early radios that informed our procedures. Sure, on most worlds, when a communication spell was first developed it was the domain of a high priest or archmage, but it was clear.
Still, I’d expected a slightly better introduction to the local traffic control net than a half panicked voice asking a question that made no sense. “This is Frontier helm control. All ship systems reporting nominal. To whom am I speaking?”
I glanced down at my board after I finished speaking. The ship systems were reporting nominal by not activating any shrieking klaxons or flashing lights. But with a few pokes to the controls in front of me, I was able to project a little hologram of the ship status. Everything was outlined in happy green.
“Nominal! I’m registering explosions at your aft end.” The speaker still didn’t identify himself and he still sounded panicked.
I reached out, ‘grabbed’ the hologram, rotated it around to view the back side of the ship, and then zoomed in until I was looking at fairly low-level systems. I wasn’t as far down as I could go. The ship would happily report on the status of individual circuit boards and breakers, but I was surely low enough that I could see anything that a local space station could see. Some components were haloed in light green rather than dark green, but that only meant they were coming up on a service date.
I drummed my fingers against the control board mentally debating if I should launch a drone for an external view or if I should respond with ‘everything’s good’ a second time. On the one hand, whoever I was talking to was probably looking at me in a freaking scrying mirror and shouting into a pointy hat or something so there was seriously no way they’d have noticed something that the ship’s sensors hadn’t. On the other hand, I didn’t want to end up in textbooks as an example of why only a jackass would ignore panicked warnings from traffic control.
Then the hologram changed. A tiny icon shaped like an idealized hydrogen atom exited the back of the ship, a dozen lines lanced out at it, and a flare of fire blossomed behind the ship’s pusher plate. Because I was paying attention I felt the ship give a tiny shudder as we decelerated very slightly.
“There it is! There is again! I just saw a huge explosion behind your ship.”
“Oh, sorry. You’re registering our drive system control. All systems are nominal and everything is under control.”
This, at least, seemed to calm the alien traffic control operator down a tiny bit. He...
Well, I was assuming it was a male from the pitch of its voice. Translation spells are nicer than the computerized equivalent. They tend to give speakers roughly the voice the listener would expect given the nature of the speaker even if the original ‘speech’ was in the form of wild tentacle gesticulations and skin color changes via some alien squid thing. This voice was sort of nasal and high, but definitely male.
He at least listened to me this time, “You’re telling me your ship is deliberately firing off a series of huge fireballs? Is that safe?”
“Perfectly safe, control. You’re seeing laser triggered fusion pulses. They’re as clean as mother’s milk.” That wasn’t strictly true. Even laser pumped fusion makes some tritium. But it’s not very hot and the half-life is short enough that even if some mutant atoms end up in a planet’s upper atmosphere they aren’t going to hurt anyone.
“None of that translated.” The speaker's voice had become more nasal and somewhat accusatory as though I had any control over what its spells could or could not translate. “But if that’s your drive then don’t come any closer. I need to talk to someone about this.”
Then the line cut off. “Control! Control! That’s not how this works. The explosions are my brakes.”
I didn’t get any response.
* * *
I should probably back up enough for a little context.
Mankind made contact with extraterrestrial life for the first time when the Oohmahlock’s enormous crystalline spaceship floated out of the sky and set down in the wilds of Alaska. There was a lot of turmoil in response to that, of course, but the strangest part came when they told us why they were on Earth and how they’d gotten there: pure faith had carried them through space faster than a beam of light, and they were here to tell humanity of our divine mission.
We hadn’t believed them on either count. Tackling their technology seemed easier than tackling their belief system, so we’d set about examining everything they were willing to show us absolutely certain that it was standard tech that they didn’t understand and had thus reduced to superstition. Perhaps the ship had been built long before it had been piloted to Earth by a now fallen civilization.
It was not. Long story short it was not. The Oohmahlock allowed us to examine their technology in any way we requested. They knew what would happen before we started. We found nothing capable of doing anything in it and as soon as we looked closely at it the tech stopped functioning.
Next, the Oohmahlock explained how the ship had been built. And, indeed, they had built it themselves. The crystals that made it up were grown over the course of three generations nurtured by the prayers of their entire civilization. A holy order of monks was founded to slowly shape the crystals into livable spaces and workable power focuses. And, when the end of construction was finally in sight, a dozen times as many traveler priests as was normally needed were taught the chants and hymns of fast travel and breathable air. The very best of that group was selected to pilot the ship and only with this extraordinary effort were they able to land a ship on Earth, and then only by keeping it well away from most of the population.
Then they explained humanity’s divine mission. In the beginning, god created the universe. He created the races therein and to them he gave the ability to adjust the rules of reality so that they might not perish under the iron fist of physics. The races of the vastness grew proud. They called their powers magic and said that the wonders they worked were of will and mind rather than through faith. So, on a planet with more iron in its heart than any other, a race with cold iron in its very blood was born. To this race was given special magic; a magic that enforced the rules of the creator. This race would humble the works of the magi and test even the faithful.
This time god wasn’t screwing around. We would assert the rules of reality whenever we examined something. Humans didn’t get a choice in that.
So that was our mission. To survive and travel. Of course, most people thought that was a load of crap. There was even a contingent of people sufficiently contrary (or self-loathing) that said we shouldn’t travel the galaxy. However, the general reaction was, “There’s a great big fantastic universe out there and you’re going to help us get to it? Well praise the alien lord and pass the booster rockets!”
A new space race was on.
It eventually produced three key technologies that gave mankind the stars: laser lifters, the Orion drive, and the Orion two. Laser lifters were the simplest. If you focus a sufficiently powerful beam into a ‘thruster’ that’s essentially nothing more than a durable black cup then all the air inside flashes to plasma and the cup is tossed upwards. Do that a few thousand times and the cup, as well as anything attached to it, is in space without the brutal constraints imposed by the device having to haul its own fuel with it.
All of the research into lasers let us crack fusion. We were massively aided in this by having allies who could magically mine metallic hydrogen from gas giants. We probably could have built Orion’s with fission devices, but it was an almost perfect drive with laser pumped pulse fusion.
The Orion Two wasn’t related to the Orion Drive from an engineering standpoint but…
* * *
The bridge radio clicked on again and brought me the still nasal and slightly frustrated sounding voice of control. “OK, I talked to my boss, who talked to his boss, who talked to diplomatic affairs. For some reason, I’ve got to let your doom machine approach. So, here you go, park it there and try not to blow up. Well, not any more than you already are.”
The hologram of the ship was replaced with a holographic representation of the parking orbit Control wanted the Frontier to take up. I thought, not for the first time, that the translation spells used by most races really are amazing. Control had probably put a voodoo doll of the Frontier into a scale model of the system expecting a diagram to show up in my scrying bowl or some such. But, because of the translation spell, the information made it to me in a format that the ship’s computer could interpret. Better yet, because the spell was acting on their communication and not my reception the human anti-magic field couldn’t turn it off.
There was a sharp crack of static and the hologram in front of me shifted to a bunch of juvenile squid aliens playing a game that looked a lot like dodgeball. One of those allies, a small and awkward one even to my human eyes, was getting the worst of it. Several other beings were pelting it mercilessly with balls and each of them was using more than one tentacle at a time. Then that image started to fuzz and break up.
I quickly looked away from the hologram. Modern comms training includes a fairly extensive section on not thinking too hard about just how aliens who have never discovered radio are speaking to you. The human anti-magic field always gets a vote if you catch its attention.
Let’s see, the bastard over at control had stuck me in his system’s L2 point. L2 is way out past the moon and it’s gravitationally unstable. If I’d just gotten a normal parking orbit I could have shut off the ship's engines and taken some much-needed rack time. But, oh no, because Control thought I was going to blow up I was going to have to periodically correct the ship’s position. On top of that, I suspected the Orion Drive was too powerful for that work. It would be like trying to make a golf putt with a sledgehammer, so I’d have to run our maneuvering thrusters way more than they were really designed for.
I looked back down at the holo. It was back to being a display of Frontier's parking space. “Parking orbit acknowledged Control,” I said through clenched teeth.
There was a long silence and I thought maybe Control had wandered off without telling me for a moment. Then the line went live again and control spoke hesitantly, “So why is your trip that important, anyway?”
I ran my tongue across my teeth wondering just how to answer that. We were in a Von system. The Von were a race of mighty wizards of the sort that Humanity was sent to humble and bring low. We’d been doing a great job of that. The Von had a lot of desire for human consumer goods. Our technology filled niches their magic handled poorly and anyone could use it without training. Yet all we could buy from them was raw materials. Their military was nearly useless against us because we shrugged off their most potent death magic like it had never been cast; they could throw a rock at us or telekinetically fire an arrow, but that was only if they caught us off guard. So a species with 100 planets to their name was having to normalize diplomatic relations with a single planet species as though we were total equals.
I wasn’t exactly shocked the Von leaders hadn’t publicized this meeting well enough for Control to be ready for us. I also wasn’t going to give away their secrets. “Just some trade negotiations.”
Control’s only reply was a sigh so thick with annoyance that I actually started to feel for the guy. Embarrassing or not the local traffic control facilities really should have been told they were going to be dealing with a completely alien spaceship. No one ever thinks of the little guy.
Again I thought control had signed off without announcing it but he came back one last time. “OK, I’ve got to ask. You’re using fireballs to push yourself around space, which is still nuts, but I learned back in school only one or two really special spells can move something faster than light. Pyromancy definitely doesn’t do it! So how did you make the interstellar leg of your trip?”
* * *
The Orion Two wasn’t related to the Orion Drive from an engineering standpoint but they were philosophical and spiritual brothers. Humanity couldn’t learn directly from the Oohmahlock but we could stand way over there with a particle detector while they used miracles to torment space-time, and the Oohmahlock just loved to do that for us because they basically saw it as helping angels learn god’s will.
Eventually, we learned to make a G.E.C.; a gravity emitting circuit. Because the electroweak force is so much stronger than the gravitational force it’s possible to supercharge one of those until it very briefly becomes a singularity. If you toss such an artificial black hole in front of a ship, and lace enough G.E.Cs through the ship that the force gradient across it is even so you don’t get spaghettified, you’ve got an FTL drive. Better yet if you use a second artificial singularity inside the first, or a third in the second, or a fourth in the third and so on you can go really really fast indeed.
It annoys physicists and mathematicians because they can’t even begin to describe where the ship is after that bit of fuckery, but the tech tested as safe. At least it’s safe for human equipment and Earth life.
It’s not so safe for Oohmahlock. We learned that when one of their high priests took a historic first ride on one of our ‘Holy Vessels’. They started screaming and they didn’t stop until a faith healer wiped their memory. Their whole memory. The high priest was left as little more than a mentally damaged infant and everyone agreed the cure was way better than the disease.
The most sensible thing the priest said while it still had its memories was, “They can see me! They can see me! They can see you, but you can’t see them! They can touch me but they can’t touch you! You can touch them! Save me, save me, save me! Will you save me?”
The official human explanation is that the Oohmahlock have some sort of subconscious connection to the normal universe that allows them to achieve the things they can do. Taking them so far out of the normal universe causes a form of stress that can damage their minds.
The official Oohmahlock explanation is that some sort of horrible thing is looking into our universe from outside and maybe they were wrong about just what humanity needs to do. Perhaps we aren’t just supposed to annoy wizards. Maybe we need to fly around in the high warp bands acting like border guards for reality. Their church is in a bit of a state of flux.
I’d just spent a month in those warp bands and the only danger I’d felt was boredom, so I don’t know what to think. It is nice to imagine that my mind set a big brace down the spine of reality itself, but it’s kind of far fetched.
What I do know is there’s no way I was going to explain any of that to Control. I’d end up with a parking orbit in a neighboring star system. Or maybe he’d just tell me to go in for a landing on the system’s sun.
* * *
“Um, the force of will,” I answered into the radio. “Yeah, pure will power. Everyone on the ship just wants to go faster than light really badly and then we go faster than light.”
“Oh, well good. At least you’ve got a sensible FTL drive. Geez, you should just get that working in-system. Way better than those fireballs. Anyway, your approach vector is clear. Perform a sending if you need anything. Control out.”
* * *
The talks with the Von went well. The biggest incident was when one of the younger secretaries attached to the delegation lost all of her magical cosmetics. She had apparently been wearing a lot of them and apparently her coworkers hadn’t known.
I keep saying ‘apparently’ because the Von aren’t a race to inspire lust in humans. They kind of look like someone shoved a rudimentary skeleton into a squid. They have a skull on an invertebrate neck-stalk, an abbreviated rib-cage analog, and bones for added leverage in 4 of their 8 limbs. They can casually slip a lot of those bones out of joint sacrificing strength and speed for flexibility.
It also makes them look a bit like a deep-sea creature that has inexplicably fallen off a skyscraper. Not great model material.
The whole makeup incident had some positive side effects. The Von use a lot of medical magic at the end of their lives. Once everyone had gotten a visceral example of how hard and fast magic evaporates under the inspection of a room full of skeptical humans our scheduled meetings with some of the more senior staff were canceled. It would’ve been bad for the discussions if the head of the embassy screamed and collapsed into dust.
Second, it gave Control and me something to gossip about. He proved to be a pretty good guy even if he was uptight about human tech, and neither of us was very busy as the port was mostly shut down for the big meeting. We passed the time comparing cultures, swapping stories, and griping about our bosses. Or ‘building an intercultural rapport’ as I put it in my status reports.
* * *
“I said goodbye to my parents last night. Father was brave, but it almost pushed me over the edge when my mother began to cry,” Control said out of the blue.
Well, he didn’t say anything of the kind. He made a series of pops, squeaks, and clicks that the human ear could barely follow, and it would have been quite a huge coincidence if the Von cry. But I had my translator set to dynamic equivalence. As such, that was what I heard and there was no robotic voice breaking into his words to explain, ‘explosive flatulence is an expression of sadness for the Von,’ or whatever.
“Buddy, you’re going to be fine! Your people wouldn’t want to trade for our warp drives if they weren’t safe. And you’ve given us, what, like 10 whole planets if this works.”
“If! And my people aren’t thinking clearly. What is the horrible death of a single comms operator if it might alleviate the biggest weakness of our magic?”
Control could be a downer sort of squid. We were still calling each other ‘Control’ and ‘Helm’ because he couldn’t pronounce ‘Jeff’ and I couldn’t pronounce ‘engine that really needs oiled’ sounds.
I cast about for something to distract him and found it in the form of a rather grand Von in the corner of the room. He had on robes stitched with precious materials and held a quartz staff shot with veins of natural gold surmounted by a huge ruby. He was wearing a very grand hat though it actually looked more like a sombrero than the pointy thing humans associated with fictional wizards.
“Alright, even if your people would throw you to the wolves that guy is pretty important and magically experienced. He wouldn’t get onto this ship if all non-humans were doomed would he?”
“The high mage is the foremost master of spatial magics, so yeah he’s pretty important. He also has considerable faith in his own abilities. Perhaps enough so that he would underestimate the risk.” Despite his words, Control’s simulated tone sounded a bit less stressed.
I felt I was on the right track to comfort him. “This stuff is also pretty good, right? Some sort of magic armor?”
Control and I were hanging plates of enchanted material the Von had provided around one of the aft cargo bays like it was so much drywall. However, even to a complete mundy like me, it appeared to be fancy stuff. It was pattern welded like Demsasus steel. Only the patterns in it were magical runes and half a dozen materials had been woven together in its construction.
Control sniffed in an offended way, “‘Pretty good!’ ‘Magical armor!’ I’ll have you know, this is the best anti-magic armor in the known universe. This,’ He stroked it almost reverently, “enforces the rules of reality such that no spell may travel through it. This material accounts for some of the vast might of the Von military as well as the fact that our natural philosophy is far more advanced than any other race. It will contain a bubble of the real universe even in the face of your horrific drive system!”
Control was sounding a bit more like himself so I let him slide on referring to their iron age understanding of the laws of reality as ‘advanced.’ Instead I looked back at the magical plating. It was basically a weak version of the human effect. Interesting. No wonder they were letting me touch it. I’d thought that was just a sort of stress test, but this might be a spell humans couldn’t break. Or could we? Actually, it was probably best not to think about that question in case the answer was, “Yes.”
The High Wizard chose that moment to provide something better for more to think about. He was still over by his crate, but now he was loudly chanting something my translator couldn’t handle while he twisted his tentacles and limbs into all manner of strange shapes. That went on for a moment then, with a triumphal air that carried across species, he slammed his staff into the deck and the big gem on top flashed. With growing excitement, I realized I was watching magic.
The pallet of material in front of the wizard heaved itself off the ground and wobbled unsteadily about half a foot in the air for a moment. I started to mouth, “Cool!” Then the entire load slammed back into the ground with a crash that sounded like it couldn’t have been good for whatever was inside.
The high wizard slumped, and let me tell you, a being whose skeleton is mostly optional can really slump. Then he turned around in that slow ‘did anyone see that’ way of a being who has just realized their fly is open and hurriedly fixed it in public.
When he saw me he stiffened and pointed an angry appendage, “Human! You are rendering it impossible to work! Begone!”
I drew in breath for some sort of retort. I’m not sure what it would’ve been. Something so clever and scathing it would have set diplomatic relations back decades, probably. But then I felt the weight of Control’s tentacle on my shoulder. I looked back at him.
“Perhaps it would be best if you return to your duties elsewhere. We are well ahead of our schedule due to your wondrous ‘electric screwdrivers’ which penetrate the anti-magic plate where our most potent tools fail. It will ease the High Wizards work if he can once again access his spells.”
The High Wizard could have accessed a hand truck as far as I was concerned, but we were nearly done so I just nodded. “Alright, call me if you have any problems.”
* * *
“Comm check, medical bay here,” I spoke into the comms panel in the med bay. It was my station for our test flight. There were half a dozen Von soldiers lying unconscious in the beds. Half of them had been tranquilized via human medical science, half with magic. Human medical personnel buzzed around them.
“Um, this is the converted cargo bay. Oh, bay A-3. Can you hear me? Did I activate this correctly?”
“You’re on. Do it just like that if you need to send any messages.”
“Bridge here. Your headset should be listen-only on our general channel and I’ve got the wall panel hooked to Captain’s priority. Is it all coming in?”
I cocked my head and listened to the prelaunch chatter for a moment on that device. It was all coming in clearly. At the moment they were working through the end of the “Station Ready” checklist. That meant we were less than 5 minutes from getting underway. “It’s all coming in,” I told the bridge via the wall panel.
“Very good. Bridge over.”
I leaned back on the wall and felt minor shudders go through it as the first of the fusion pulses went off. We were moving farther away from everything so we could go FTL. It was somewhat strange to be doing nothing during this part of the flight as I would normally be at my busiest. At the moment my job was to have no job. That way I could keep track of where we were in OUR flight sequence so I’d know how long it was to the end of the flight and what our window was on an emergency abort while simultaneously being available to Control and the medical staff if anything went pear-shaped on their ends.
For fifteen minutes, we traveled through normal space and everything went smoothly. The magical sleepers stayed asleep and the medicated sleepers stayed healthy. Control reported back to his superiors magically and me via the comms system. He even admitted that fusion explosions were a softer means of propulsion than he’d expected.
I heard we were at a minimum safe distance on the general channel so opened the channel back to control and spoke into it and the room in general, “Alright everyone, we’re about to go superluminal. Fifteen minutes out. Fifteen minutes back.”
The anesthesiologist gave me the thumbs up, but everyone else in the room kept their eyes glued to their tasks.
“Grace of Magic, protect and provide in this my hour of need,” Control murmured over the comms. I doubted I was expected to comment on that.
Going FTL in a human ship feels a bit like getting pushed and poked from a half dozen directions at once as the gravitational stabilizers spin up hard enough to prevent spaghettification and then self-tune until the local gravity field is nice and even again. I felt that, heard a series of agitated clicks over the comms, and then everything went back to normal. I looked around at the brightly lit medical space and the still apparently peaceful Von laying in it. They seemed good. I thumbed open the channel to the converted cargo bay, “Control, how are you liking the ride?”
“Was it meant to feel like someone was tugging on my spleen for a moment then smooth out?”
“Yeah, that’s about right.”
“In that case, my situation remains nominal…”
Control’s all clear report cut out suddenly as two things happened simultaneously. First, there was a loud bang and a thick cloud of white acrid smoke rolled out of the communications panel in front of me. Second, all three of the magically tranquilized soldiers began to jerk and seize.
“Shit,” the anesthesiologist swore. Then she looked over at me, “Let the bridge know we’re going to need to abort.” She immediately turned back to her work either not noticing the panel in front of me was dead or deciding that was my problem. Doctors are focused like that.
The touch screen of the comms panel was dark, but I gave it a couple of good jabs with my thumb anyway hoping that it would wake back up. It didn’t, so I took off running out of medical and down the hall to the bridge. The Frontier is bigger than most people picture when they think, ‘spaceship’ but it was still going to be faster to run across it than it was to fix the comms.
Only it wasn’t. The first bulkhead door I came to was shut, which isn’t normal, and its motion sensor ignored my approach, which is even odder.
All the bulkhead doors have a little screen next to them. Under ordinary circumstances, they display an identifier and can provide a little map of the ship if you’re lost. During a depressurization event, which is the only thing that should have made the door fail shut, they’re supposed to display environmental status for the corridor beyond and allow for the door to be manually opened. Only now the screen was dark and there were scorch marks on the panel above it.
I gave the screen a punch, more out of anger than any hope that it would wake up. It didn’t wake up. It did fall off the wall. I looked into the recess beyond it and found a small scattering of black powder as well as the remnants of what looked like a crystal and maybe a couple of liquids. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, but the crystal sure seemed like Von magic and the black stuff could have been gunpowder.
Down the hall, the anesthesiologist poked her head out of the med bay, “Hey, we’ve got the Von under again, but we’re getting some odd readings. It’s like they’ve all started to have nightmares. What’s going on with the abort?”
“Sabotage I think! We’re still superluminal.” My receive only headset was fine and still connected to the bridge so I knew we were four levels deep and holding with all systems green. They hadn’t noticed the link to the medical bay was dead yet. “There are panels in all of these rooms. Maybe I can…”
My clever plan to make the call from a different phone was interrupted by a huge explosion from the direction of the cargo bay. This one definitely wasn’t caused by black powder. Instead of a bang the sound of it was like a super high pitched tuning fork being struck and flashes of black light strobed all around us for a moment.
I felt nothing, of course, but someone in the medical bay yelled, “Fuck! What the hell was that? It’s hitting the Von hard; Ann we need you!”
Ann shot me a look, then vanished back into medical without speaking. We were close to the cargo bay, and I knew it had a commlink. So I sprinted in that direction planning to call in the abort from there once I had the full situation.
Fortunately, the door to the cargo bay was open. The screen next to it was glitching and there was a black stain on the wall above it, but whatever had happened hadn’t been enough to make it fail shut. I sprinted through without slowing.
The bay itself was a mess. The anti-magic paneling was fine, and the human equipment looked about like it always had, but all of the Von’s crates were scattered like they’d been hit by a strong wind. Control was laying in one corner making an undulating squealing sound I’d never heard from him before. My translator couldn’t do anything with it, but it sounded like distress to me.
“Buddy, are you OK. What’s going on?”
“I am… I feel… It’s like magic is looking directly at me. I feel like it’s judging me. Inspecting me. I can function. The plating helps, but this is most unpleasant.”
“Was that what that flash was?”
“No that was,” then the English from my translator dissolved into clicks and pops as it found a term it couldn’t handle. Most likely it was some technical explanation of whatever magical thing had just happened. “I must check on the High Wizard.”
The Frontier's cargo bays are modular and can be configured with extra walls and dividers at need. That’s what we’d done for this experiment: we’d set up one chamber that was the correct size for the amount of anti-magic plating the Von provided and a second unshielded chamber where the High Wizard could work freely. Control was looking at the door between them. It had been mostly covered by crates when the Von equipment was thrown around.
“The door servos are pretty strong. If you can squeeze your way over to the control panel they’ll be able to push that stuff out of the way.”
“I can do that,” Control said and the translator gave him a confident tone. Then he started popping his ribs out of joint and I had to look away as his entire torso crumpled up like an old sock that had been used to store nails. (No, I have no idea why someone would store nails in an old sock, but if the mental image of a being looking like that is unpleasant you’re on the right track.)
I walked over to the comm panel and, at last, found something that hadn’t been inexpertly blown up. It was showing that the link to the medical bay had cut out unexpectedly, which I already knew. I cleared that error and connected it to the bridge instead.
As soon as the channel was open, the bridge officer started speaking, “Cargo bay? What’s happening back there? Medical is offline.”
“This is Jeff. Medical has problems. I need an emergency abort.”
There was some garbled, but energetic, discussion on the other end of the line that I couldn’t quite follow, and then the bridge came back, “I’ve signaled it, but we’re in band transition. I’ll need five minutes to get us back to flat-space.”
Across the room, there was a whine of stressed servos, but when I looked back the door to the High Wizard’s chamber was open. “OK, I’m going to check on the High Wizard. I should be back with his status in 30 seconds. If you need me sooner, I’ve still got the general channel in ‘receive only’.”
“Roger.”
What I didn’t tell the bridge, because they couldn’t do anything about it at the moment, was that I suspected the High Wizard’s status was ‘traitorous bastard.’ Someone had set all of those black powder charges and when I looked over at Control I found him pressed up against a film of blue light which now filled the door.
“It’s a magical shield!”
I drew the sidearm I’d been issued before we let a half dozen soldiers and an alien wizard onto the ship. “Magical shields aren’t fucking real.” The shield popped like a soap bubble and Control went stumbling into the High Wizard’s chamber.
I ran to the door, crouched down, and looked around it with my head low to the ground so I wouldn’t provide a ready target. The scene beyond the door was like something out of a DnD game. There was a circle drawn on the floor in the milky blue-white fluid Von use for blood. Crystals, each one emitting enough black light that my uniform was fluorescing, were set at regular intervals around the outside of the circle. There was a ring of symbols on the inside. I can’t read Vonish script. They could have said anything, but they were glowing a nasty sickly green. The high wizard was on the outside of the circle on the far side of the room. Right after I arrived at the door he finished a chant that my translator couldn’t handle and turned to face Control who was sprawled on the floor.
The real piece de resistance of the whole scene was what looked like an extra-large Von made of glowing green light in the center of the circle.
We all froze for a second, but the High wizard recovered fastest. “So, you survived the,” my translator dropped a word, “that’s most impressive. You must have considerably more magical talent than I gave you credit for.”
“What are you doing,” Control demanded.
“I am gaining power. The power we need to ensure the Von place in the universe. Power far more potent than Human scraps. I can’t let you interfere.” With that, he raised his staff and snapped out an untranslatable word. A bolt of power lanced out of the staff and flew across the room. In his prone position, Control never had a chance at dodging. The bolt caught him squarely and he slumped back down as a nasty burnt fish smell filled the air.
The Wizard wasn’t holding any weapon beyond his staff that I could see. I stood, trained my sidearm on his chest, and stepped into the doorway. “Please put the staff down, and I will escort you to the bridge.” I glanced down at the still form of my friend, “You have considerable diplomatic immunity for what you’ve done thus far but I would strongly advise you not to push it any farther.”
He said his word again, only this time the spell was pointed at me and there wasn’t so much as a flicker in the crystal of the staff. “Put down the staff,” I said around clenched teeth.
“Oh please, allow me,” a third voice said. It was very cultured and smooth and it came from the center of the circle. When I looked, I saw that the figure of light had transformed itself from a Von to a handsome Human male. It was wearing a suit and it was built on a scale such that its head nearly brushed the ceiling.
It flicked its hand out at the High Wizard and the High Wizard turned inside out. That was nasty. The Wizard's jaws yawned wide and it started to let out a pained squeal. Then, with a crack, they jerked just a bit wider and filled with blueish tissue that must have come from somewhere inside the being. Over the next 15 seconds, more of its insides fountained through its mouth until they were all outside and it was nothing but an unidentifiable blob of flesh laying on the floor.
I opened my mouth. I suppose I wanted to say something, but if anything came out it was only a little whimper.
The thing did not appear to be overly concerned with what it had done, because it began speaking in a completely casual and urbane tone. “You are something very interesting. He was a sleeper who dreamt a dream not of this place. But you…. Hmmm, I can’t tell if you’re a dream of the one who dreamt of all of this or if maybe you just happened. Still, you are completely awake. I dare say we have quite a bit to offer each other. Would you like to be able to change all of this like that thing could before I killed it?”
“You’re offering me magic? Just like that.”
“Just like that! Well, there’s a certain resonance I’d need to achieve by killing the other beings on this ship. I can explain why later, but you need to decide quickly. I can feel you falling away from me and your nature is pushing me away. I don’t think one of your type could ever get me back on your own.”
I know a couple of TV show tough guy lines like, ‘here’s my decision’ or ‘is this quick enough for you’ ran through my head, but I’m pretty sure I just robotically trained my weapon on him and pulled the trigger without saying anything. My sidearm is a standard Gravitational Compression Gun. It fired a pulse of gravitational energy which compressed a meter wide column of air between me and the target into a centimetre wide beam of burning white plasma. Then a second pulse rippled down the plasma and slammed it into the target. There was a crack like thunder as the air collapsed back in on itself and my eyes were left slightly dazzled.
The GC gun does horrible things to any living target it hits. It’s not quite as hard on Outer Horrors but they don’t like it. The simulacrum of a man let out a bellow of rage and wavered for a moment before stabilizing again.
“Fine,” it snapped then raised its hand and made a gesture like it had at the High Wizard. I felt a painfully sharp tug at my jaw and stomach simultaneously, but it faded before it could even work my jaws open.
I squeezed the trigger of my GC again and the thing waved under another onslaught of plasma, but it only seemed like a momentary inconvenience for it. Worse yet, I could hear someone saying something about slow warp band collapse on the bridge general channel. We were having a hard time coming out of FTL. That’s not completely unusual, and no one on the bridge was that worried. With the context I had, it seemed bad.
The man shape made a different gesture then joined its two hands together such that its thumbs and fingers touched in front of it making a little triangle. A bar of silver light shot out of the triangle and slammed into my chest. It felt like an icicle stabbing into me, and I staggered backward. When I looked down frost coated the front of my uniform and a small patch of blood it. Still, the thing had a shocked look on its face and I had to assume that was because I was still standing.

SEE MY COMMENT FOR THE LAST BIT.

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2020.09.20 22:48 iridael Alone in the void 2: chapter 8

Nakalak was surrounded, but so far the droids had done nothing to hinder his progress, one had briefly stood in his way before redirecting him up a deck. Now though he was frozen. She'd done this, a murderer of thousands was behind the door here.
With a quiet hiss the thick armoured door opened up into a bare room filled with broken crystal shards, a single droid sat in a chair against one wall. Power cables and data lines piercing its spine.
her voice came from everywhere.
“I came to speak to the Murderer of my people.”
she replied as the droid turned to face him.
Nakalak walked through the room kicking shards away from him until he was facing the droid. As he watched its plastic skin rippled and flowed becoming the woman he'd met before. If she was cold before, now she was absolutely frigid. Even with nearly a meter of height on her he felt like he was nothing before her gaze.
“Was it really you before or was it another droid.” he demanded.
“It was me.” the thing in front of him answered as the cables detached from the back of her skull and spine. “It's something organics don't often understand, you're so dull most of the time. It would be cute if you didn't constantly try to kill me for it.” the thing said standing up. One side of the room lit up as screens came to life. Nakalak was no Father but he could recognise a fleet display anywhere.
“I was Organic back then. We were on the run, the last of our species. Then help came along.”
the screen showed a few ships being destroyed before the small flotilla managed to run. Then a new target appeared and searched the wreckage. Parasite craft exiting it briefly before returning.
“he found me, broken and close to death.” she said briefly switching the image to a series of shots showing a bloody beaten creature, then a medical scan showing damaged organs and broken bones. Nakalak winced as he imagined the pain she must have gone through.
“I was beyond saving” the droid says as its chest opens up. Inside is a string of bone with desiccated flesh stringing to it. “so he cut out what he could save and put me in here.” the droid tells him.
“but there's nothing left, its all dead.” Nakalak exclaims, for a moment he'd wondered. But it was just a brutalised corpse in a box.
“yes, but it took a long time, and I lived on this ship for decades, made myself part of its systems before eventually taking over more and more. When that organic brain finally started to fail I began copying myself over, and when it died, I found myself free. Now I am the ship. And I am very old and very very tired of your games.” the droid says cutting the screens leaving the room in near darkness. “so you and yours are going to play nice until I can dump you off.”
“why not just kill us all.” Nakalak asks, its what he would do in her place. No evidence.
“because I'm not a monster.” the Ellen droid answered.
“It sure looked like it when you were killing the faithful.” Nakalak accuses her. “I'll admit I enjoyed that. Its not every day you get to create a singularity.” Ellen answers.
Nakalak's heart skipped when he heard that. The faith had spent years debating the ins and outs of where a soul could reach paradise. There where two places of punishment that a betrayer or heretic would be sent so their souls could never find peace. They could be consigned to jump space, or thrown into the rips in reality that where Black holes.
The Patriarch and high father, their crew's every single being onboard those ships was gone, for ever.
“Now, all I need from you. Is the location I can drop your people off. For now though, I need supplies and there's a fleet of dead out there. Do you object to me harvesting the raw materials if I also bury your dead.” she asked, the bridge door opened and a trio of droids entered, two began loading up the third with crystals.
“how?” Nakalak asked wondering how she would harvest so many resources. His teams had explored a good portion of the ship before she'd awoken
“however you say they should be buried.” Ellen replied
he hadn't expected that answer “give their bodies to the star. You have a map of the local stars?”
the screens turned on again showing this star system at its centre with the stars nearby. It takes him a while without the supporting information but he eventually finds the Eastern shields provinces edge. “this star system, its a frontier support outpost, Primarch Borthos would have moved through it on his way here. It can take us off your hands, and with its defences dead. There's no threat to you.” he answers feeling like he's betraying everything the Faith stands for as he does. But he has a duty to the living here on this sentient death machine.
The droid nods, he'd noticed its movements becoming more and more...organic as they spoke, it would blink, make small gestures or shift its weight in response to his words. It was becoming harder to think of it as an it and not as a her.
“I've had some of my old crew spaces repaired. As I gather materials things like the showers may come online. If you wish you and your's will be placed there. Better than just inside the hull in my opinion.”
“why?”
“because its the living quarters.”
“why not keep us prisoner. Why not just kill us? Why?”
“I told you, I'm not a monster. When they attacked me, they weren't hurting some ship, they where cutting into my flesh, burning my skin. I reacted accordingly. You are parasites. And I would rather have a symbiotic bacteria. So, I let you and your crew use my living quarters. In turn you help me with repairs.”
Nakalak didn't answer straight away. Keeping his Faithful in their secure area was the safe option. But he'd seen the heavy combat drones, he'd fought the normal ones and the spider bots. He knew his people where at Ellen's mercy. Might as well be a little more comfortable.
“Very well, I will organise a group to inspect the quarters and make a decision then.”
“They're better than our quarters on the Wandering flame. If what she says is true, we'll be fine here once she...salvages our old ships. Engineering minor hand Namek replied for a Chitinous Nessian he was both small and unimposing almost a full head height below Nakalak with Julik dead and all the other senior staff dead on the ship or dead in space he was now the most qualified engineer in the group.
“I see. There's no dangers then.” Nakalak replied deadpan.
“no, its fairly Spartan actually. The rooms are private enough, there's visual sensors in the corridors, and the droids of course. Each room has a terminal, lights and two beds, there's a large recreation room every dozen rooms and a communal cleaning room and communal food room. I expect if we had any officers they would have rooms with some of these functions built in. small office room and such. Its suitable and we have room to isolate and set up our own life support if you want.” Namke reported dutifully.
Nakalak nodded. “do so. I want us to be able to keep ourselves alive, what was the situation on rations.”
one of the security droids answered.
“lets start getting things moved.” Nakalak orders.
Ellen was enjoying herself. She was injured and there where over 200 parasites moving things through her guts but her drones were hard at work digging through the dead destroyers and bringing back usable pieces of technology intact or carving up sections of hull to enter her onboard Factorum, in there they would be melted down and formed into replacement parts, new decking plates, hull plates. Anything she needed really.
A drone was busy hauling corpses out of one ship, she let it work without direct control just barely aware of the thing crossing arms and pushing bodies towards the star. Another drone was busy loading a shuttle with food stuffs that made no sense to her but probably where edible to the assortment of species she had stranded inside her.
As shuttles travelled to and fro her spider drones got to work hauling material throughout her ship self. The damage to her jump drive was both major and minor but it needed to be repaired before she could jump. There was significant stress damage to the system but with all the power relays fused together she could either burn it out and enter jump space or burn it out and rip herself in half.
Neither option sat well with her so she needed to repair the power lines. Then she could patch the drive and get moving again.
Another salvage drone was completed by her Factorum and she launched it towards a new destroyer, she would build and build until all the material was harvested and then recycle the excess drones for more repair material.
“excuse me Mother?”
focussing inwards she noted the small rat thing was hiding just inside a room.
she asked.
“could I do some work, I noticed some power lines where damaged, I can patch them so you don't have to replace the system wholesale...I'm sure once things are set up a few others will want to do something too.” it asked.

“that's not necessary, I know the way.” was it Naim, I remember it calling itself Naim. Naim answered.
Elen quickly made sure that things outside were going well and then shoved it to the back of her mind. Instead diving into the ship and taking direct control of one of her security drones near the small rat engineer.
Walking over to him she crossed the droids arms. “I say its necessary and it is. But I wont use one of these.” she tells the droid, instead a small spider bot scurries past some Faithful before giving off a shrill chirp.
“Mick here will keep you company. If you need to ask a question about something he can hear you and maybe even help out.” She tells him. In reality the spider bot wasn't anything special. As standard they came with a small speaker, audio sensor and visual sensor. But it could follow Naim anywhere the rodent tried to sneak too and had enough power to send its location to her if a section went dead.
Naim looked at the small bot and carefully sniffed at it, whiskers twitching briefly before shaking his head. “ok then. I'll uhh get my tools ok Mother?”
“dont call me Mother. Captain or Ma'am if you must.” Ellen snapped. A few others had referred to her as mother and it frankly made her feel gross.
“oh, sorry sorry Cap Tain.” Naim answered shying back from the droid.
With an audible sigh Ellen crouched down so she was at Naim's height. “you've not done anything wrong, being called Mother just feels weird ok.
Naims fear vanished as he understood and nodded gratefully. “I'll get my tools and go. Come Mick.” he told the bot who dutifully scurried after the rodent.
Outside one of the cruisers had been boarded and found to have a functional engine unit, the boarding droids carefully powered it up and began using the ship to nudge others towards the Southwind so their materials could be harvested easier.
It would take several days before she was done but Ellen knew she'd need all the material gathered here.
Naim was happy again. He was happy his brothers and sisters where safe and had somewhere to stay. He was happy he had Mick to work with, Mick was helpful leading him through tunnels so he didn't have to find the way, cutting into the power cables with its cutter for Naim to repair them properly and whenever Naim told it “good work” or “well done” the bot chirped happily. If he patted it on its head or body the bot even shook its legs creating a delightful tappy tapp tapp on whatever surface it was anchoring itself too.
As Naim worked he came across many other bots scurrying back and forth on their endless tasks so he decided, when he came across an engineering pack and a blood smear, he dug into it and pulled out a red and a yellow marker using them to decorate Mick with a yellow body and red legs. Mick chirped shrilly when he was done and hurried off to the next job but now Naim knew which bot was Mick.
The hours ticked on and Naim's engineering kit eventually emptied itself so he returned to the living quarters with Mick following happily. Inside the room he had a massive bed to himself, three other Faithful engineering Digits where to sleep here with him but as he lay down on the massive bed and patted Mick he could not have been happier.
Bishop Eastern Vigilance watched as a demigod made flesh entered his system. The Faiths sentinel and its accompanying fleet was a sight to behold. Both Hammer and shield of the Faith, the great temple ship embodied everything that he and countless others strived to one day exemplify. Peace, unity and the pursuit of perfection in the service of their goddess. It took several days for the leviathan to drift close enough to his own seat of power.
The planet Eastern Vigilance was a green garden world 60% water, the rest lush with forests, mountains and desert. The humid equator thriving with cities filled with his own people in their millions whilst the poles were arid and relatively cold regions where desert gave way to icy tundra.
In between these extremes three oceans and continents made up the bulk of the planets land mass.
But this green planet was not the systems namesake. A Vigilance class station was orbiting the planet, originally a sizeable moon the station had burrowed deep into the metal rich rock to bring spires and weapon emplacements to the surface whilst training colleges, shipyards and factories where built in the ever expanding mines.
The oldest Vigilance Class stations where gargantuan structures of metal and faith often orbiting stars at critical junctures in the Faith's territory. To attack such a system was to bring the wrath of gods down upon you. For all that though Eastern Vigilance was young in comparison. But still deadly. If it came to a fight between his station and Bishop Faith's sentinel's namesake, his bet would be on his station. With the fleet, the odds shifted far the other direction.
When the call came he was ready, wearing his formal robes and with his compound eyes polished, he'd even waxed his head. On screen his fellow Bishop had apparently prepared herself similarly. Her beak was adorned with precious gems and several sashes wrapped around her feathered body accenting her natural colour in a subtle yet authoritative way.
“Bishop Vigilance. Its a pleasure, do you have any updates on my mission.” Faith asked, skipping all of the usual pleasantries and greetings. If this was meant to unbalance Vigilance it did not.
“no, only that I have sent Patriarch Barthos with the local security forces to guard the...objective for your arrival. They are to halt any and all investigation until you arrive.” he replied after a few seconds to allow her to add anything extra.
“I see, what size force did he have?” Faith asks whisking a feathered arm out of view to grasp a drink.
“two battleships, twice that in cruisers and as many destroyers as he could gather. We have little need for local security ships so they where all capital killers.” Bishop Eastern Vigilance reports.
At this Faith didn't reply, opting instead to gently pour the drink into her beak and swallow before sighing greatly.
“let us pray the...objective is still inert. They may already be serving our Godess.” Faith informs the young Bishop.
“I see. The situation is really so grave then.” he asks.
Faith takes another careful drink before answering. “it is.”
“then my sectors resources are at your disposal.” Bishop Eastern Vigilance offers.
“my people need foodstuff's and my ships could use fuel and munitions. We've hurried here and our supplies have not been refreshed since the start of our journey some weeks ago.” Faith informs her fellow Bishop, he'd expected to have to give up some material but to require so little was impressive and spoke volumes for her preparedness but also her willingness to ensure her underlings had all the material they needed.
“Have your Father second or Partiarchs send their requirements over and I shall have the materials delivered. Or you are free to dock and collect them yourself.”
“have them delivered. Time is of the essence and we will be swinging past not stopping.” Faith replied.
“It shall be done, For the Faith.”
“For the Faith.”
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