Low tide fire island

Coquina, tiny shells, is a natural seashell rock found in St. Augustine.

2017.05.29 10:27 LazyLooser Coquina, tiny shells, is a natural seashell rock found in St. Augustine.

Coquina, tiny shells, is a natural seashell rock found in St. Augustine. The Castillo is the most significant building using this stone, but in St. Augustine 1st, the one remaining British building and 2nd period Spanish buildings are made of coquina. The Island itself was originally called La isla de la cantera (Quarry island) before it was named Anastasia Island. The rock was cut by hand and moved to Quarry creek and floated across the bay to the Castillo and city.

2023.03.28 19:29 Dismal-Jellyfish 2/16/23 Nomura requested an order to permit to issue multiple classes of shares & to impose asset-based distribution &/or service fees & early withdrawal charges. Are they trying to make it more expensive to remove money from them? (as a way to stem the outflow tide?)

2/16/23 Nomura requested an order to permit to issue multiple classes of shares & to impose asset-based distribution &/or service fees & early withdrawal charges. Are they trying to make it more expensive to remove money from them? (as a way to stem the outflow tide?)


Nomura Alternative Income Fund and Nomura Private Capital LLC.

Summary of Application

Applicants request an order to permit certain registered closed-end investment companies to issue multiple classes of shares and to impose asset-based distribution and/or service fees and early withdrawal charges.

Hearing or Notification of Hearing

  • An order granting the requested relief will be issued unless the Commission orders a hearing.
  • Interested persons may request a hearing on any application by e-mailing the SEC’s Secretary at [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) and serving the Applicants with a copy of the request by e-mail, if an e-mail address is listed for the relevant Applicant below, or personally or by mail, if a physical address is listed for the relevant Applicant below.
  • Hearing requests should be received by the Commission by 5:30 p.m. on April 17, 2023, and should be accompanied by proof of service on the Applicants, in the form of an affidavit, or, for lawyers, a certificate of service.
  • Pursuant to rule 0-5 under the Act, hearing requests should state the nature of the writer’s interest, any facts bearing upon the desirability of a hearing on the matter, the reason for the request, and the issues contested.
  • Persons who wish to be notified of a hearing may request notification by emailing the Commission’s Secretary.

How is Nomura connected to GameStop?

ringingbells has been all over this:



Immediate Identifier: Apex routes the majority of their order flow through this dark pool.
The revelation made by congress in the Congressional Report was that Instinet was getting ECP charges (the same charge that placed Robinhood in immanent default on January 28, 2021 and caused a 15 hour congressional hearing) for 2 YEARS leading up to the "meme stock event" to the tune of $50B dollars. There were actually 6 firms, including Robinhood and Instinet, that were defaulting that morning and accumulated a $9.7B ECP waiver.
Congress said in the report:
"This represents a moral hazard that undermines the deterrent value of the Excess Capital Premium charge."
The Instinet development means that higher entities (DTCC or SEC) knew a problem like this WAS possible because it WAS already happening on a continuous basis, so this IS actually a large over-shadowed development for this subreddit. This will come off as 'Badgering' the sub w/ the topic. However, all that bullshit the DTCC, brokers, and the SEC were saying in the hearings like "We couldn't predict this," "It was out of the ordinary trading behavior," yada yada... was true and not true, simultaneously. A continuous waiver for a specific dark pool was happening in the background, so much so that congress concluded that the same thing they grilled Robinhood about was actually a factored in COB for another company. Instinet solely clears for hedgefunds, asset management firms, pensions, etc... The system was breaking already predictably and continuously, and this is not me saying this, this is a congressional declaration / development after the initial hearings. If the ECP is part of the Dodd-Frank Act then the DTCC was 'waiving' in violation of a congressional act, and if the SEC did know, they were not enforcing it continuously. The DTCC didn't tell the US House on Financial Services until JULY (waaay after all the hearings) that this continuous waiving was happening.

Instinet's Parent Company, Nomura, Bought 1/2 of Lehman Brothers In 2008

Lehman Brother's Collapse Acquisitions:Nomura acquisitionNomura Holdings, Japan's top brokerage firm, agreed to buy the Asian division of Lehman Brothers for $225 million[134] and parts of the European division for a nominal fee of $2.[135][136] It would not take on any trading assets or liabilities in the European units. Nomura negotiated such a low price because it acquired only Lehman's employees in the regions, and not its stocks, bonds or other assets. The last Lehman Brothers Annual Report identified that these non-US subsidiaries of Lehman Brothers were responsible for over 50% of global revenue produced.[137]
'U.S. House Committee on Financial Services Report On GameStop'
Released Friday June 24, 2022 (138 pages)
To combat the misinformation, reuploaded all Three Direct Govt Streams of The GameStop Congressional Hearings, in their entirety, with a Running TimeCode in the top right hand corner that also displays the Part # and the Date. Also made the SEO keyword searches align with what people search for on YouTube when searching for the GameStop Congressional Hearings. Why is this important? People can search "GameStop Congressional Hearing Part 2" and actually get the video, instead of getting a bunch of crap.
Most Importantly: All the videos have the direct link to their government live stream counterparts in the US House Committee on Financial Services YouTube Page, so people can go to the source if they choose.


2/16/23 Nomura requested an order to permit to issue multiple classes of shares & to impose asset-based distribution &/or service fees & early withdrawal charges. Are they trying to make it more expensive to remove money from them? (as a way to stem the outflow tide?)

submitted by Dismal-Jellyfish to Superstonk [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 19:24 roundtriptraveler Differences Finishing Euro White Oak vs. Birch Butcher Block

Hello all. I don't have any woodworking experience, but am wanting to get into it as a hobby and think finishing a desktop will be a nice starter project. I'm planning to order an unfinished butcher block to be used as an office desktop. I am considering either Euro White Oak from Floor & Decor, or standard Birch Butcher Block from Lowe's/HD. My plan is to keep the wood on the lighter end / more natural -with a satin/matte finish. A lot of folks have recommended Rubio (Natural, Smoke 5% or White 5%) and I've also seen 50-50 oil based poly/mineral spirits mix to achieve the look I'm after, while still offering necessary protection.
Thank you for sharing your knowledge with a beginner!
submitted by roundtriptraveler to finishing [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 19:14 penmaster3000 Power Stone Lore

The story profiles from the manual in text form, separate from the fandom pages:


"Red Whirlwind"
Age: 21
Hometown: London
Fighting Style: Boxing
Hailing from the town of Londo, the noble Falcon circles the world in his airplane "Hockenheim." He searches for the Power Stones which were revealed in an ancient family legend. Falcon has a strong sense of justice. He specializes in boxing and destroys evil with sharp moves and explosive punches. Falcon is a balanced fighter with neither the flash of outstanding strengths nor the drawback of outstanding weaknesses. During a power change, he gains powerful moves for both close and far-range combat.


"Scorching Beauty"
Age: 23
Hometown: Mahdad
Fighting Style: Gypsy Dancing
Rouge, the Gypsy fortuneteller, is both mysterious and graceful. Guided by signs in her crystal, she travels the world collecting Power Stones. She has a unique ability to control flames at will! Her fighting style is mesmerizing: she moves as if dancing and chars her opponent's body and soul with her flames. Though her normal attack and defense abilities are relatively low, Rouge's flame attacks have long-range and inflict severe damage. She runs more quickly than many of the other fighters.

Wang Tang

"Agile Dragon"
Age: 19
Hometown: Tong-An
Fighting Style: Kung-Fu
A master martial artist from the town of Tong-Ang, Wang Tang is following his teacher's advice and seeking Power Stones around the world. Always optimistic, Wang Tang is second to none in Kung-fu skills. Wang Tang's merit is outstanding agility. His successive moves don't allow opponents to catch their breath. He is also excellent at special actions such as wall climbing. He floats like a butterfly and stings like a dragon!


"Master Swordsman"
Age: 19
Hometown: Mutsu
Fighting Style: Kenjutsu
Ryoma's original home is an island country. Since no islander could compete with his skill, he tours the world seeking out tougher opponents. When he faces an opponent, he cuts the enemy down instantly!
Thanks to his katana, Ryoma has a long reach, but he is open to attack if he misses his target. Ryoma is weakest when picking up and throwing objects. He can beat an enemy with one stroke of his katana!


"Cherry Blossom Dancer"
Age: 16
Hometown: Oedo
Fighting Style: Ninjutsu
Officially, Ayame is a star artiste in a traveling troupe. Secretly, she is descended from a ninja family and is herself a ninja. Obeying her master's order, she is on a quest to acquire the Power Stones.
Ayame's attacking power is frail and she is weak when throwing heavy objects. To compensate, she runs more quickly than any other fighter. During a power change, her attacks are very powerful. Her best strategy is to avoid attacks while collecting Power Stones.


"Heavy Tank"
Age: 38
Hometown: Dawnvolta
Fighting Style: Brute Strength
This miner from Dawnbolta has nerves of solid steel and never gets upset. He is journeying from mine to mine to dig the legendary Power Stones. In fighting, he relies on his unrivaled strength.
Gunrock is a power fighter with a huge body. Though he is slow, his power outweighs the weakness. Thanks to his magnificent strength, he is better at throwing objects than any other warrior.


"Mad Clown"
Age: Unknown
Hometown: Manches
Fighting Style: Original
Jack makes no distinction between good and bad. His pleasures are simple- he likes anything shiny, and he loves to cut with his knife. In Manches, his hometown, he used to rob strangers of their jewelry. One day, he overheard a tale about Power Stones, the most glittering jewels of all. His new hunt has only just begun.
Unpredictable and mysterious rapid moves are Jack's strengths. However, his attacking power is weak. Confuse opponents with tricky moves!


"Proud Eagle"
Age: 28
Hometown: Dullstown
Fighting Style: Power Fighting
Galuda lives in the western wilds. He is a shaman with a tender heart and hatchet-sharp intelligence. To save his village from a mysterious disease, he is on a worldwide search for Power Stones. Though he is a pacifist who abhors fighting, Galuda has sworn revenge on the "one-handed man" who brought sickness to his people Galuda's offensive and defensive abilities are high. He doesn't have any notable weaknesses. Get close to an opponent, and aim for powerful throw moves!


Age: Unknown
Hometown: Skull Haven
Fighting Style: Buccaneer


Age: Unknown
Hometown: Avalon
Fighting Style: Wrestling
submitted by penmaster3000 to capcom [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 19:11 Mizzno [H] Games [W] A Hat in Time, CODE VEIN, Mega Man 11, Tower Unite, Coromon, Offers

For sale, for Steam gift cards (or gifted Steam Wallet balance):

For trade:
*tentatively up for trade, assuming I buy the bundle


IGS Rep Page: https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/ti26nz/mizznos_igs_rep_page/
submitted by Mizzno to indiegameswap [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:59 EldritchEggoWaffle WARDEN OF THE WEAVER - PART 63: "THE UPRISING BEGINS"

Nantha didn't have the heart to tell them. She didn't know how to tell them. She didn't even know where to begin.
Annid Long-Tree, leader of the Savage-Sisters approached the entrance to Tube House. At her side was Ehsh, and several other Savage Sisters, as well as an entire posse of she-Jikk prisoners.
Annid's eyes studied Nantha's closely. "Where is Prince Yallan?"
Nantha forced herself not to look away, to maintain eye contact. "He wanted me to tell you all to go on without him."
"What?" It was Ehsh this time.
Annid looked baffled. "What are you talking about? This isn't the time for jokes, Nantha. Tell the Prince to hurry. We've got the gate open."
"He isn't here," Nantha said flatly. "He's already down below, working to free the prisoners in Jailhouse 2."
Annid considered this a moment. She appeared to do some brief mental calculations. Finally, she nodded. "Well, why didn't you say that from the start? Then let's get going. The Jail-Keepers and Guards will rush in anytime now."
Nantha gave a meaningful nod. "I'm right behind you."
She followed the others away from Tube House and across Dark Cell toward Gate Wall. They did indeed have the gate opened, just as Annid had promised.
"Was it difficult to pry open?" Nantha asked.
"A little," Annid admitted. "But we used the pickaxes and mining tools, just as planned." She pointed to the bars of the gate. Several of them were bent out of shape in the middle. The gate itself hung open, slightly askew. Just on the other side, a crowd of prisoners stood waiting. All of Dark Cell was here, it seemed. Many of them wielded the pickaxes and large chisels used for mining the ore they'd been forced to collect for the Guards.
Nantha felt excitement and adrenaline swell up in her chest. Were they actually doing this, after all these years? It didn't seem possible. It felt like a dream.
The ordinarily dank, stale air of the jail seemed almost electric in that moment. Nantha felt alive for the first time in more years than she could recount. She wasn't just drawing breath, surviving from one day to the next. She was actually living.
Even if this escape attempt meant her death, she thought it would be worth it just for this brief feeling of being alive.
"The Prince is in Jailhouse 2 already," Annid announced to the crowd.
Lively murmurs broke out at once. Nantha's exaltation turned to anxiousness. They were going to be suspicious. Of course they were. Why wouldn't they be? The Dirt Prince was their leader. This uprising was his uprising. Would they truly believe he'd already made it to Jailhouse 2? What more excuse for his absence could she possibly give them? What other reasons would they actually accept?
"How?" asked someone in the crowd. "We never saw him leave?"
Nantha's heart sank. Doing her best to remain calm, she said, "Prince Yallan has his ways."
For a wonder, this actually seemed to satisfy them. Thanks the Gods for Yallan's esoteric, eccentric nature. Yallan, or whoever he was. So much of what Nantha thought she'd known about him had turned out to be a lie. Yet, still, Jikk or human, or whatever he might have been, if there was one fact about him that remained indisputable, it was that he was definitely one who had some rather strange ways about them. Clearly, if recent events in the Tubes were any indication. But then again, Nantha mused, it likely took one of strange ways to not only plan, but pull off something as mad as the uprising.
After a few more moments of excited chatter, they got moving without any further inquiries into the Prince, or his whereabouts. Much to Nantha's great relief.
If they were still alive when the uprising was over, she could tell them all the truth then.
Or, she thought as they marched down the wide corridor toward the rest of the jail, perhaps it was something she'd simply keep to herself. What good would knowing do any of the others? Knowing the truth certainly hadn't done her any good. As she looked around at the determined faces of her sister-Jikk, a part of her thought that it was best this way--with the so-called "Dirt Prince" nowhere in evidence, and the truth unknown to anyone save for her. Afterall, she told herself, The Jailer's crimes had been against she-Jikk more than anyone else. Sure, he'd taken younglings, and the elderly, and the disabled. He'd occasionally taken male Jikk; particularly those who caused too much trouble for his liking in Lo Syy Tett. But he hadn't targeted anyone else the way he'd targeted she-Jikk. The population of the Jails was around 85 to 90 percent she-Jikk.
Therefore, why should a male be the one to lead the uprising? Even before you considered the fact that said male wasn't even a Jikk.
Yes. It was much better this way. More fitting. Perhaps, if by some great miracle they survived all of this, Nantha could begin planting the idea that the Dirt Prince had really been apart of the planning stages of their revolt, more than anything else. The actual execution of said plan, however? That was a purely female undertaking.
Nantha walked between Annid Long-Tree and Ehsh, her head held high. There was still much to do. They were far from being in the clear yet. This was only the first step. The beginning.
They had lots more still to do, if they wanted to capture sweet, sweet freedom.
And as Nantha knew all too well, this was the only chance they would ever get...
The passageway was littered with decapitated corpses.
Ekkr stared down at the boomerang in his hand, with a growing mixture of wonder and horror in almost equal measure. This seemed far too powerful a weapon for someone like himself to wield.
"Well done, lad!" Wolfgang exclaimed.
"Shhh!" hissed the she-ant. "You idiot. Do you want the entire Jailhouse to hear you?
"Oh, right," Wolfgang said, lowering his voice. "Appologies, lass."
They moved down the passageway, stepping over or around bodies of fallen Jail-Keepers. Ekkr counted nine of them in total. The boomerang had cut a clean path straight through them all. Ekkr took slow, deliberate steps forward. The metallic scent of fresh blood hung in the air like an invisible vapor. Having Wolfgang at his side was the only reason Ekkr was able to continue on without stopping out of shock, or fear. Kanka and Ullteffa were close at their heels, wordlessly surveying the corpses.
As they made their way beyond the gruesome scene and down the remainder of the passageway, an almost tangible silence fell over their small group. Ekkr could practically feel the she-ant's eyes boring into the back of his head.
She's REALLY going to mistrust me now. She's probably waiting for the right moment to slip a dagger into my back, just to eliminate me as a potential threat.
The passageway became a wide corridor. Here, were the first banks of jail cells. The walls on either side of the party were lined with them; cold black steel bars like the teeth of a dark stone maw. These cells were empty.
Ekkr stopped, turning to face the others. The Ronzaxx and Willtakk also stopped walked. Ullteffa regarded him with calice suspicion. Ekkr saw her hand twitch for a brief moment, as if she intended to go for the ebony saber strapped to her back--perhaps, mostly out of reflex--before deciding to wait a moment. The Bandit only scowled, folding his arms across his chest. Wolfgang, for his part, continued walking a few more steps before halting. He did a kind of pivoting spin on the heel of one boot, reminiscent of the way Ekkr had seen Grassblade Proeliators turn in order to do an about face, for their marching drills during training exercises.
The frog raised his hairless brow. "Trouble, my boy?"
Ekkr felt his entire body tense. He was very conscious of where he held the boomerang, making absolutely certain not to do anything with it that might be misinterpreted as a threat. He looked the she-ant directly in her dark gemstone eyes. The moment he did this, he wished he hadn't. He saw nothing resembling mortal emotion in those eyes. They were cold and hard as the Void Gems from which they'd been fashioned. He summoned all the (considerably scarse) courage he had in him. He thought of the leaf, and the Weaver. He thought of his new title. He was Curator. That had to mean he was worthy of something didn't it? Well.. something. What that something might have been, he hadn't a clue, but there it was all the same. Ekkr Thrice-Flown, Curator of the Weaver.
This didn't do much to still his rapid-beating heart, but it did grant him a small modicum of strength in his resolve. He leaned on that small modicum like a crutch. Like a steady stone buttress during an earthquake. Like a hand helping an injured friend stand upright, after a nasty fall.
"I can't keep going on like this," Ekkr said. "Every moment. Waiting for a blade to slide across my throat. Please. I really have been truthful with you. I am just as confused as you are in this moment. The dagger you gave me... I threw it, and it came back as... well... as this." He looked down at the boomerang, not daring to move it even an inch; even to emphasize his point. "This is completely new and strange and unknown to me. So... I suppose what I'm saying is... please. I beg of you. I... actually, I don't know what I'm asking. I'm just..." he trailed off. He had no idea how to finish.
The she-ant and Ronzaxx only stared at him, looking utterly indifferent.
Wolfgang (bless him) decided to step in. He moved closer, to clap a webbed hand on Ekkr's back. "I believe what this right and fine gent here is trying to say, is that you're a beautiful woman, in need of a strong gentleman like myself."
Ekkr couldn't believe it. His mouth fell open. He actually emitted a small squeaking sound, for a brief instant. He stared at the frog with complete incredulous. "I meant no such thing!"
The Bandit bowed his head, jabbing his fingertips into his hard brow. He muttered, just loud enough to be heard: "Please let me kill 'em, Boss Lady. Please let me kill 'em. Can I? Please?"
Ullteffa said nothing. Her eyes never left Ekkr, but she maintained a complete and agonizing silence.
Wolfgang said, "Wasn't it, lad? My mistake. Perhaps, it was I who meant to suggest that very thing."
Ekkr openly cringed. This was almost as painful to witness, as it was terrifying.
"Well, maddam?" Wolfgang said, grinning. "What do you, my lady?"
Ullteffa's eyes finally left Ekkr, shifting over to Wolfgang. Then, she blinked. Once, then a second time. It was a bizarre, surreal thing to witness due to her Void Gem eyes.
For a moment, the painful silence hung between them. Ekkr felt every fraction of every second pass in excruciating stillness.
But then, like a ray of sunlight from behind a dark cloud, the she-ant blinked a final time... and smiled.
She actually smiled.
Ekkr was stunned. Baffled. Stupefied.
He now realized how beautiful the she-ant truly was. He'd been too terrified of her to see it before. She was gorgeous. Much too gorgeous to smiling in this way at the frog. It made no sense. It was mind-boggling.
Kanka went on scowling for half a second. Then, his scowl fell away as his eyes went from Ullteffa to Wolfgang--Ullteffa to Wolfgang, back to Ullteffa, back to Wolfgang--before finally landing on Ullteffa one finally time and remaining there. A look of both jealousy and anger began to wash across his cockroach face. It made him look menacing, and a touch pathetic. Almost like a Learning Hall bully who torments other younglings because of his own insecurities.
Ullteffa said, "You truly are an idiot. You do know that, don't you?" She sighed, shaking her head. She was still smiling, however. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the smile vanished and she was all business once more. "Let's get moving."
When Ekkr and Wolfgang remained where they were, the she-ant sighed again; this time with a bit of frustration added. "Fine. I still don't trust either of you, but I'll set my suspicions aside. This time, I sincerely mean it."
The Bandit stared at her, as if he couldn't believe what she'd just said. "But Boss Lady, we--"
She raised her hand, silencing him. Kanka glared off into space, mumbling something under his breath.
Ullteffa said, "Now then. If we keep standing here, we're only going to give The Jailer more time to plan our executions."
This got them all in motion again. As they walked beyond the empty cells, Ekkr looked over to the frog. Nothing seemed to make sense when Wolfgang was around. It was as if the frog were a force of nature, and everything (or everyone) around him was caught up in his peculiar brand of charm. The amphibian had all the whimsical charisma of a trickster God. Ekkr began to wonder just how much Wolfgang's company had influenced him. He also began to wonder just how much of their current situation was prompted by the Weaver, and how much had been on account of Wolfgang. The Weaver had directed him here, but the courage it took to actually go delving down in the lair of The Jailer? That might very well have been a different story.
Wolfgang, noticing Ekkr watching him, looked up and grinned. He tipped Ekkr a wink. Ekkr sighed and turned away. What a strange, strange creature, he thought.
They walked on, down a wide passage and out through another corridor. There were no jail cells here. In there place, were a set of stone doors; rounded at the tops, and lighter gray than the surrounding stone. Ekkr stopped before the third door on the left, pointing.
"This one," he said.
The others nodded, gathering around the door.
Instead of a handle, or doorknob, there was a notch punched into the rock. Ekkr placed his hand into the groove and pulled. The stone door came down like a drawbridge. It was much too heavy for the Jikk to hold. When it swung down, it slipped from his grasp. The Bandit darted forward, just in time to catch the heavy slab of stone before it crashed to the floor.
Kanka shook his head, flashing an irritated glare in Ekkr's direction. "Who needs alarm bells when they've got you around?"
"Apologies," Ekkr said lamely, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
Kanka gently lowered the slab onto the floor. The four of them walked across it and into an oval-shaped room of pale gray stone. There was a steel rod sticking up from the center of the room. In the place where the rod disappeared beneath the floor, there was an inch-and-a-half wide gap, outlined by a circle carved into the stone.
Once they were all inside, Ullteffa said: "Allow me."
She stepped forward and took hold of the steel bar. She pulled it toward her, then moved it in a slow circle, letting it trace over the gap in the floor. For a moment, she looked like a dye maker stirring a pot of boiled plant pigments. The door behind them sprang back into place with a muffled slam. There was a soft scraping sound--the whine of metal gears--then the entire room began to turn. An overlapping wall began to encroach upon the door, swallowing it inch by inch as the room moved. The beginnings of a narrow gap appeared in the far wall, at the same time. Little by little, the gap widened as the room continued to turn, until an unobscured passageway opened where the wall had been.
"Fancy," said Wolfgang. "A rotating room."
The she-ant said nothing. She released the steel rod and stepped away from it. She looked to Ekkr expectantly.
Ekkr nodded, remembering he was the one who was supposed to lead the way. He tensed his shoulders and stepped through the mouth of the passage. Wolfgang followed beside him.
The four of them walked for only a short distance, before they reached a new corridor, lined with jailcells. There were long hallways winding into darkness, breaking up each set of cells--six cell blocks in all, with a hallway between each. And in every cell, there were prisoners. Some of them were lying down in the corner, sleeping. Others were leaning against the bars. Most of them were sitting in the middle of the cell floor looking utterly pitiful. Ekkr spotted a small handful of younglings, and a single elderly male. The rest were all she-Jikk. Each cell contained between twelve and fifteen prisoners. Close to eighty inmates in all.
The four of them stopped in the center of the corridor, looking around at the prisoners. For Ekkr, it was an absolutely heart-wrenching sight.
One of the younglings rushed over to the bars of her cell. She called out in a small, weak voice: "Are you here to help us? Please. Please help us. Get us out of here."
An aging she-Jikk reached down and swatted the youngling across the side of her face. She furiously whispered, "Shut up! We don't know who they are. Sit down and be quiet. Now!"
The youngling bowed her head and did as she was told. Ekkr saw the little one's wings begin to quiver, birthing a soft bzzttt sound; the Jikk equivalent of sobbing.
Ekkr held up a hand and waved. "It's alright. We don't work for The Jailer."
"We aren't here to help them, either," Ullteffa scolded. "Keep moving, Ekkr Thrice-Flown. We don't have time to chitchat."
Ekkr stared out across the corridor at the frightened, hopeless faces of the prisoners. Could he really just walk away and leave them?"
"Can't we do something?" he protested. "At least open their cells, perhaps?"
"Ekkr Thrice-Flown," Ullteffa said in a tone that was all the answer he needed.
Ekkr slumped his shoulders, feeling deflated. This wasn't right. These were innocent Jikk. How could he just leave them here?
That was when the Weaver's words echoed throughout his mind.
Find the Warden. Free the prisoners.
Yes. Yes. This was it. This was his purpose here. Half of it, at least. The Weaver had sent him here to help these Jikk. This was what he needed to do in order to find his redemption. Free the prisoners. This was his mission.
But how in Vellnoth's Name was he supposed to actually accomplish this?
As if sensing his distress, Wolfgang placed a webbed hand on Ekkr's arm. "We can come back for them, lad."
Ekkr looked down at the short, stubby Amphibian. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, my good man, we came here to free the canine, did we not? Once we've done that, I see no reason why we cannot help these fine folks find freedom on our way out, lad."
Ekkr considered this a moment. If the Warden were with them, they might just be able to pull this off, and live to tell the tale. The canine would definitely assist them, as well. Success would all depend on how The Jailer responded to their trespassing in his domain. But... maybe, just maybe, they could do it. The chances of helping the prisoners, and actually getting them out of this place would go up drastically if the Warden was also free and at their side.
Ekkr gazed over at the inmates again, before turning back to Wolfgang. "Alright. But you must give me your word we will return for them."
"My word is my bond, lad. I give you my word as a gentleman, and a swordsman."
"Alright," Ekkr said. "Then let's go find the Warden."
Paladin Zeyas (known to the inmates of Dark Pit as Dirt Prince Yallan Torchpath) moved along the wall of the slender passageway, feeling for the unseen Rune he knew would be there. After searching around for several moments, his fingertips finally slid across an uneven part of the stone. To the untrained eye, the wall here was no different than it was anywhere else. To Zeyas however, it was his key to breaking out of this place. He pressed his fingers into the Rune. Soon, the stone began to glow with soft red light. Then, the light brightened to a vibrant crimson.
Zeyas pushed against the Rune. The floor slid out from beneath his feet, sending him falling into darkness. He used the wings of his armored suit (the one designed to make him look indistinguishable from a Jikk when he wore it) to avoid a nasty landing. He came down several levels below Jailhouse 1.
He secured his helm back in place, giving himself increased low light vision. He was in the Main Access Tunnel now. The Master Switch was located somewhere on this floor. All the Paladin had to do was find it, activate the thing, and every door to every cell in the entire facility would open. It was a fail safe, in the event of some major catastrophe. And now, it would serve as Zeyas's greatest tool in aiding the Jikk in their uprising.
The Paladin ran down the long corridor, through unlit tunnels and dark passageways.
Soon, he would give the Insectoids of this place their freedom.
Nantha became one more face in a sea of prisoners. She let herself blend in with the crowd. She was glad not to be leading the charge, but was all the more glad to be apart of it. They marched on, into the general inmate areas of Jailhouse 1, putting Dark Pit further and further behind them.
"What's happening?" asked an alarmed voice from one of the cells up ahead. "Is this a riot?"
"Freedom!" someone in their group shouted, raising a hand.
"Let us out! We want to come with you!"
Nantha heard Annid's voice answer. "Patience. The Dirt Prince is finding the Master Switch as we speak, if all is going according to plan. We have our own part to play. As soon as your cell doors open, make for the nearest corridor. Soon, we will all be free."
There was a collective cheer from the other prisoners.
Nantha only hoped Annid's words would prove true. And that the so-called Dirt Prince was really still holding up his part in things. Otherwise, this might all be for nothing, she realized.
The members of the uprising pushed on. They slipped down passages, moved through large cavernous chambers, toward their destination: Coridor Prime. If they could just make it there, they'd be able to access almost any part of the Tunnels. It was a secret of this facility Yallan had discovered, though he'd never revealed how he came by the information. You couldn't get to Corridor Prime unless you went through Tunnel Eight. It only went one way. Once your left Corridor Prime using one of its many shafts and passageways, a Rune Seal blocked you from returning, unless you went all the way back to Tunnel Eight. It was a security feature, and an escape detourant. You had to know which shaft to choose, or else you'd end up in the wrong part of the Tunnels, without a way back.
According to the Prince, they just had to go through the shaft marked with the Source Rune symbol for 'lake'. This would leave them in the chamber beneath the Chartreuse Pool.
The forbidden waters...
Nantha thought back to her time in Lo Syy Tett, all those years ago. She recalled learning about Jikk customs and the Jikkellian faith. She'd been taught that the Chartreuse Pool was forbidden, in accordance with religious law.
The Jailer had used this to his advantage. Used, and abused this fact. The truth was, even by the laws of their faith, Jikk could enter the Chartreuse Pool, so long as they were given a blessing directly from Vellnoth the Lesser. The Jailer and his minions claimed to have such a blessing.
The Mind Mother's influence had convinced them all of the validity of this claim. That same influence had also convinced them the Green Leaf Scrolls' passing reference to the forbidden nature of the Chartreuse Pool was actually one of their religion's core tenants.
Yallan (who wasn't actually named Yallan) had been right. The Mind Mother did have to be destroyed. Jikk needed to realize the atrocities being committed here. As long as the Mind Mother lived, that couldn't happen. Perhaps, on an individual level, it could. But not on a wide scale. Nantha was bitterly glad the false Prince had slain the awful creature. Otherwise, she and the other prisoners might have been too fearful of Vellnoth's wrath to utilize their main escape route.
Nantha snapped back to the present. The crowd in front of her had stopped abruptly, just as they reached the mouth of the next tunnel between corridors. There were whispers of alarm, even fear. Nantha was forced to squeeze or push her way between several inmates, before she was able to make it up to the front of the pack.
Now, she saw what had promoted commotion; the reason why they'd stopped.
The tunnel was not very long. From here, Nantha could see where it ended, before it gave way to yet another block of cells in the corridor beyond. And there, at the opposite end of the tunnel, stood a group of figures. There were four of them. Each one wielded a weapon.
There was a meek looking Jikk. He held a weapon Nantha had never seen before. It was emerald-hued and almost looked like a throwing knife, but not like any normal throwing knife. It was curved in the center. The Jikk seemed just as anxious and alarmed as Nantha felt. Oddest of all was the fact that--aside from a pair of sandals and some tattered undergarments--he was completely disrobed.
Beside the Jikk was one of the strangest creatures Nantha had ever seen. It had a large round head that seemed too massive for its body. In place of chitin, the thing had flesh as green as a spinach leaf, and stood much shorter than the grasshopper man beside it. The creature was dressed in odd attire that didn't seem to match any of the modern styles. The creature had a wooden crossbow in its arms.
The other two figures were what Jikkellians referred to as Children of Ziilk; followers of the false God sometimes called Rogue In Rouge.
A Ronzaxx roachman and a Willtakk she-ant. The former held a silver dagger that might have glistened had there been any light source; the latter wielded an ebony saber. While the Jikk looked concerned and the short green creature appeared almost excited, the two Children of Ziilk were watching the large group of inmates with a mixture of amusement and something close to menace.
One of the braver she-Jikk in front of Nantha snatched a pickaxe from the prisoner beside her, and stepped forward. She raised her voice so that it carried across the tunnel. "We aren't going back to our cells now matter what you do!" she challenged. Although the she-Jikk spoke with confident command, Nantha could see her left leg trembling slightly out of fear
Nantha thought she heard the she-ant snort at this--as though the words were too ridiculous to remain silent--but it may have only been her imagination. Across the tunnel, it was difficult to know for certain.
The partially nude Jikk stepped forward. He kept his weapon lowered at his side, as it he weren't sure what to do with it. In a warm, friendly tone, he said: "I'm not going to force you back to your cells. I'm here to help you escape."
Nantha and the other inmates glanced around at one another. None of them seemed to have any clue how to proceed.
The panicked faces of several Guards and Jail-Keepers appeared before him. Floor Master Guvven considered them a moment, before raising a hand and gesturing for them to speak.
"Uh, Floor Master Guvven, sir? There are trespassers," said one of the Jail-Keepers (Guvven could never remember most of his subordinates' names, nor did he care to remember; they were unimportant to him--he cared only for his Riot Responders).
Guvven stared at him, stonefaced. A congregation of Purple Spiders clinging to the roof of the chamber cast soft, odd shadows across Guvven's features. "Do you think I'm not already aware?"
"No, sir, but they just took out several of our Jail-Keepers. They even got Gosoma."
Guvven cocked his head to one side. Now this was interesting. Gosoma of the Lash was one of his best. Anyone who could take down the head Riot Responder was a force to be reckoned with. This intrigued Guvven a great deal. It had been so long since he'd seen any real action.
A Purple Spider dropped down from the ceiling and landed on his shoulder. Through the spider, came the voice of Porter Huuth. He said, "All Floor Masters are to head to Jailhouse 1 immediately. We have trespassers. Leave Jail-Keepers and Guards at their post. Don't let any prisoners out of their cells. Bring only your top warriors with you. Head to Jailhouse 1, Tunnel Seven. Intercept the trespassers, and cut them off before they reach Tunnel Eight. They'll be bound for Corridor Prime. Kill them on sight. These orders come directly from The Jailer himself. Make haste, everyone. If you fail, you deal with me."
The voice cut out and the spider scurried down Guvven's arm, before dropping onto the floor and scampering away.
Guvven realized the Jail-Keepers and Guards were all still standing there, watching him expectantly with varying degrees of anxious fret plastered across their features. "What are you all still doing here? Did you hear the orders? Get to your posts!"
All at once, every one of them turned and made off for the cell blocks, practically tripping over one another as they went.
Just before the last of them were out of sight, Guvven called: "And send me my Riot Responders! The ones I have left!"
"Yes, Floor Master," one of them said.
Then, they were gone.
Guvven voiced a single dry cackle. "Well then. Looks like we're in for some fun." He reached for his massive warhammer which he'd propped upright against the chamber wall. Hammer in hand, he moved to the back of the room and stopped before a chest-high steel cage. Glowing yellow eyes shaped like dagger blades peered out at him through the bars, from the darkness beyond the cage door.
Guvven bent down to fiddle with the lock. "Been a while since I let you out of here, eh? You ready to go hunting again, old friend?"
There was a deep, hungry growl from inside the cage. Guvven grinned. "That's right. You're gonna have some fun with me, my friend." Guvven flicked the lock and popped open the door.
Elsewhere, in various parts of the jailhouse, the other Floor Masters had just finished listening to Porter Huuth's message.
In Jailhouse 3, Floor Master Ovtuk watched the Purple Spider that delivered the orders as it made for a crack in the stone floor of the tunnel.
He turned to the figure on his left. "Strongest warriors, he said?"
"That's what he said," replied Floor Master Snann. "I would reckon that means the four Majors."
Ovtuk nodded. "Sounds about right. I'll bring Meex while I'm at it. Can't think of a good reason to leave him behind."
Floor Master Snann unfastened the leather thong he used to secure his vine whip to his belt (his vine whip, which might have been called a "cat-o'-nine-tails" were he from a place called Earth, or if he knew what a cat was). "Let's go make the Porters of the Hand proud."
And in a part of the jailhouse known as Dread Point...
Floor Master Klivis and his strongest warrior--a Jikk built like a brick shithouse who went by the name Foxglove--marched down the long winding passageway that would take them up to Jailhouse 1. As they neared the end of the passage, a sinister sounding voice called out them.
"Leaving without me?"
Klivis and Foxglove both stopped and turned at the utterance. Klivis felt a slight chill run along the base of his neck (a rather uncommon occurrence for an Insectoid with an exoskeleton) when his eyes fell upon the one who'd spoken.
Klivis was a mean, merciless Floor Master by all accounts. He favored beating the prisoners, over... well, pretty much everything. Beating prisoners had become something of a passtime for him. It gave the Floor Master a thrill like nothing else ever had. He was a cold, calice Jikk who reveled in violence.
And yet... even Klivis felt uneasy around the figure he now saw before him.
"Nazro?" Klivis whispered. He wasn't sure why he was whispering. Something about the other Floor Master almost seemed to demand it. As if he had to lessen even the volume of his own voice in the presence of this particular Jikk. "You made it up here rather quickly."
"Of course," said Nazro cheerfully. His voice and expression were that of a good-natured chum, chumming it up with his fellow chums. This was all an act, however. Klivis could see it in his eyes. Even when Nazro smiled, his eyes remained cold and lifeless.
"I see," Klivis said sheepishly. It was all he could think to say.
"The Porter said to make haste, afterall."
"He did," Klivis said. He looked to Foxglove for assistance, but Foxglove seemed to be studying the floor as if it interested him a great deal.
"Come on," Nazro said. "I'll walk up with you."
Klivis didn't think there was anything in the world he desired less than to be accompanied by Floor Master Nazro. However, unable to come up with a good excuse to avoid this uncomfortable situation, Klivis simply nodded. "Alright then."
Together, the three of them made their way to Jailhouse 1. As they did, the rest of the Floor Masters and their top subordinates did likewise. And in no time at all, the Tunnels near Dark Pit were crawling with them...
The Comet's Crest Chancellors gathered around the white marble fountain, gazing with great interest into its shimmering waters. Through the surface of the water, they saw as one might see through a pane of glass...
Desolate Chasm--private quarters of The Jailer...
* * * * * *
From the ceiling, the glow of an entire nest of Purple Spiders bathed the room in soft lavender. Yet, this glow was unable to penetrate many of the shadows within; as if they weren't shadows at all, but rather, living things spawned of the absence of light. A portion of the floor near the entryway had been raised, revealing a previously hidden chamber no bigger than a jail cell. A slab of dark brown stone the size of a coffin sat in this crawlspace beneath the floor. The three Blind Black-Robes stood before this secret chamber. Together, moving in synchronization, they stooped down over the stone slab and placed their hands onto its cool, rough surface.
There was a sound like boiling water being poured over ice cubes as the rock began to crack apart, sending hairline fractures across the length of the slab. The stone split in two, right down the center. The two halves fell against the walls of the crawlspace, revealing that the stone slab had in fact been hollow. There was a Jikk inside the stone; lying on his back with his arms and legs, wings nearly tucked away. He stared up at them with emotionless regard.
From the back of the room, a voice that sounded the way a graveyard might sound were it given the power of speech, echoed throughout the chamber. "Ellgost. My only son."
The Jikk inside the broken stone sat upright and looked around. Beyond the three blindfolded earwig men, stood a table of polished ebony. It was as long as the bar counter in a tavern, and ran from one wall to the other--cutting across the entire room from left to right. There were strange instruments and mechanisms at one end of the table. Atop the opposite end, was a bulky object beneath an old gray tarp. And at the center of the table, sat three figures. Two of them were engulfed in shadow, obscuring their form. They appeared to be completely motionless. Between the pair of shadowed figures was the third.
* * * * * *
A Chancellor gasped, taking a step back. "Gods," he whispered. "Is this what's become of The Jailer? This is his new form? It's... horrific."
The other Chancellors said nothing. Even beneath the hoods of their cloaks, the concern on their faces was unmistakable. One of them turned to the Kite Monk who'd been waiting patiently--sitting atop a white marble bench, looking as though he were in deep contemplation--on the far side of the great hall.
The Chancellor said, "You were right to come to us, Proyy Nogg Wexx. I would agree that these matters are certainly dire enough to awaken the True Master."
The monk rose from the bench. "Did you see what's unfolding in the woods with Gupp Ro' Gamm? That fool refused to heed my--"
The Chancellor interrupted. "That is not our greatest concern. What we see in the Gazing Pool may well be the first flickers of rapture's fire. The beginning of the end, as it was written in the Scrolls."
"Silence," said the head Chancellor. "Watch the water. Something is happening."
And something indeed was...
* * * * * *
The Jailer--his transformation now complete--rose from the table and turned back to face the two shadowed figures. "Hithrid, you bitch. I keep you now as you were then. You and the Betrayer. You are fortunate. You get to witness this blessed day. A day you do not deserve to take part in. Consider this my final gift to you."
The two figures remained silent, motionless.
The Jailer turned to the Black-Robes. "Bring me the Black Vine Shroud."
The three earwig men made off at once to do as they'd been told. They moved to the far corner of the room and surrounded a mass of knotted, tangled vines the color of coal. Black roses between long dark thorns sprouted up from the growth. The Blind Black-Robes hooked their arms beneath vines, lifting the mass as they did this. Now, the underside of the growth was visible, revealing that there was in fact a wooden casket beneath the many vines. They slowly made their back to the large table, carefully placing the casket--vines and all--atop its smooth polished surface. With this accomplished, they stepped away and made themselves scarse.
The Jailer took several deliberate steps toward the Jikk inside the broken stone slab. "My son. We are together at last," said The Jailer in his thunderous voice. There was the slightest touch of sentimentality in his tone. Hearing such an inflection coming from his horrendous new form would have been deeply unsettling for anyone else. However, the Jikk he'd called his son only looked up and smiled.
The Jailer said, "I've kept you in this piece of the God Shelf since you were still a larvae. I dropped you into such a small hole in the rock. Now, look at you. Grown and ready to stand at my side. I've worked on softening that stone all these years, so that it could be cracked when the time was right. I've fed you Knowledges and Wisdoms to nurture your mind. I've transmitted Dark Energies and the Old Arts to strengthen your body. You have received an immeasurable quantity of my power, in a constant stream for your entire life. Your potential is limitless. I am soon to Ascend, Ellgost. I shall be Godhead, and you, my Numen. Do you understand, my son?"
Ellgost got to his feet. He began to rise from the crawlspace, levitating over the stone which had served as his entire world until mere moments ago. "Aye, father."
"Then we shall unseal the Black Vine Shroud together," said The Jailer. He turned back to the large table behind him, his dark eyes returning to the shadowed figures there. "And with its unsealing, your purgatory shall be made eternal, Hithrid."
Ellgost lowered himself to the floor beside his father. Together, as father and son, they approached the Black Vine Shroud; The Jailer taking one end, Ellgost taking the other. The two of them began tearing away the dark vines.
* * * * * *
Several Chancellors gasped in unison--watching the Shroud's unsealing with mounting terror and revulsion. A few of them tried to speak, but couldn't. The water began to ripple, disturbing the image. It was almost as if what the Shroud concealed was too abhorrent for even the fountain itself.
One of the Chancellors collapsed. The others acted as if they didn't even notice.
After several long moments of silent, one of the Chancellors finally lifted head, to turn to the others. "It's finally happening," he whispered.
"What is?" Proyy Nogg asked in an alarmed voice.
"The end of everything," said the head Chancellor. "All of existence."
submitted by EldritchEggoWaffle to weavingtheweird [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:59 Alpineodin [H] Assortment of bundle leftovers [W] csgo keys/items

IGS REP page
alot from the recent relief fund bundle and a random assortment from throughout the years and years of bundles lol.
looking for CSGO items/keys. thanks.

submitted by Alpineodin to indiegameswap [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:52 Hopeistayhealthy Mystic Beach

Never been to Mystic Beach. Wondering how low the tide should be to see the waterfall and caves?
submitted by Hopeistayhealthy to IslandHikers [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:51 saintnum5 [SIR] Should I splash for Sorin? Need help with cuts

[SIR] Should I splash for Sorin? Need help with cuts submitted by saintnum5 to lrcast [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:51 wilkuwdz12 now we know what are they :)

now we know what are they :) submitted by wilkuwdz12 to intotheradius [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:50 Anonymously_M3 I'm on day 2 of no kratom after almost 2 years of daily use. I'm extremely forgetful and it almost just cost me my job

Long story short I drive for Fedex. The route I run is right next to my apartment, so I like to stop by most mornings and grab a bite to eat and relax for second before I start my day. Well .... today I'm feeling like absolute garbage and I can't think straight, I lost my company truck keys while at my apartment and just spent the past hour looking for them. It was brutal, I was straight up about to have a panic attack.
If my boss finds out I've been stopping by my apartment everyday he would be very pissed off. He would have easily punished me or even fired me if he found out. Not to mention how pissed off he would have been if he had to drive all the way out to my apartment and give me a set of spare keys.
After nearly an hour of looking for the truck keys I almost called him to tell him I lost the keys. That would not have gone over well with him. I decided to hold off on calling him and spent some more time looking ... and as I'm walking around looking I step on the keys. They were on the ground the entire time! I fucking swear I fell to my knees in the most dramatic fashion and just felt so thankful I didn't have to call my boss. I really just dodged a bullet. Saved myself alot of drama.
This sucks. Kratom withdrawal is super shitty. My body aches and I'm extremely forgetful today. My brain just feels like it's on low battery. But I'm going to make it through to the other end. I can't let this plant control me anymore. I want to feel good again without any substance. Thanks for reading.
submitted by Anonymously_M3 to quittingkratom [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:45 atllauren [TOTK] Gameplay Demo: Over-Analyzing the Mini Map

While the demo focused on the crafting and mechanics of Link's magic arm, I couldn't help but look at the mini map for hints of the story gameplay.
Reference screenshots here and here.
Some key things I noticed:
Let me know if you noticed anything else!
submitted by atllauren to zelda [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:39 roundtriptraveler Euro White Oak vs. Birch Butcher Block - Help!

Don't have any woodworking experience, but wanting to get into it as a hobby. I'm planning to order an unfinished butcher block to be used as an office desktop. Considering Euro White Oak from Floor & Decor, or standard Birch Butcher Block from Lowe's/HD. My plan is to keep the wood on the lighter end / more natural (satin/matte finish). A lot of folks have recommended Rubio and I've also seen 50-50 oil based poly/mineral spirits mix.
Would either of these wood species be okay for what I'm trying to achieve? Any preferences between the two assuming price is equal?
submitted by roundtriptraveler to woodworking [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:38 technical-singer-552 What are the conditions today? Wrong answers only

What are the conditions today? Wrong answers only submitted by technical-singer-552 to surfing [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:37 Nieuman 31 [M4F] SF Bay Area, CA - A Call to Connect: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Good Wi-Fi

In this vast and ever-expanding universe, it's rare to find deep and meaningful conversations, to find people who yearn to explore the mysteries of existence and to contemplate the complexities of the human condition. And yet, it's precisely through such conversations that we're able to shed light on the shadowed corners of our souls, that we're able to find solace in the shared experiences of others, that we're able to glimpse the beauty that lies beyond our own lives.
I'm an introverted individual with a love for the arts, literature, philosophy, and all things profound. I'm childfree, marriagefree, petfree. I've always been driven by a thirst for understanding the world, like a kid in a candy store, except instead of candy, it's deep discussions that make my heart skip a beat. Lookswise, I have a slim physique but my mind is a behemoth of curiosity and wonder, churning with tides of questions that even Google can't answer, as I'm constantly seeking answers to everything. And standing at 6 feet tall, I'm pretty sure that makes me the perfect height for contemplating the infinitely vertical possibilities of the universe.
By trade, I'm a humble worker, toiling away at a low paying job, yet my heart remains steadfast in its pursuit of understanding everything. I find solace in books, losing myself in the stories and theories, and I'm seeking to expand my knowledge and to see things I've never imagined before. I may not make six figures or have a six pack, but my mind is rich and robust with ideas about life, the cosmos, and everything in between. Who needs moolah when you've got the timeless works of great thinkers throughout history to lose yourself in? Besides, I hear the pages of books taste delicious when you're really hungry.
I prefer DM over chat. I hope to connect with like-minded individuals who share a similar passion for the things that truly matter in life. Rather than curling up to watch some Netflix we can curl up to read some Nietzsche. Though I wouldn't mind doing both. Netflix and Nietzsche anyone? Whether we converse of the works of world-historic figures, or of our own personal experiences and struggles, it's my hope that together we'll find meaning, comfort, and wisdom in our shared endeavors. I prefer DM over chat.
So if you're a seeker of truth, a lover of knowledge, and a fan of the profound, I invite you to reach out to me, so we can embark on a journey of the mind and the soul, as we get to know each other inside and out in our search for meaning. Let's dive into the unknown and revel in the richness of the human experience. Because the beauty of life lies not just on the surface, but in the depths of our hearts and minds, waiting to be uncovered and understood.
submitted by Nieuman to cf4cf [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:37 Bpdpunk When doing reactive tracking, should I not fire when I'm off target?

Right now I just hold down fire even when I miss. I figured that it probably wouldn't hurt me besides possibly boosting my accuracy and maybe give me a false sense of my aim. The reason I'm asking about this is because I play a lot of tracer in overwatch and trigger discipline is really important given her high dps and low clip size. I struggle with trigger discipline with her and I thought practicing that with reactive tracking will help make it second nature.
submitted by Bpdpunk to FPSAimTrainer [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:34 Illustrious-War-6501 [A4A] Who Let The Final Girl Chug A Molotov Cocktail?! [Reverse-Yandere] [Yandere(?)] [WARNING: THIS IS A CHONKER] [READ DESCRIPTION: V IMPORTANT] [Part 1 (I Had to Split it)]

Hi, I just want to include a disclaimer here: this script is NOT for the faint of heart. This shit gets dark, as both the speaker and listener characters are real sick, sadistic pieces of shit. Please proceed with caution or click off if you’re uncomfortable with any of the themes mentioned.
I’ve included a full list of tags here: [AFA] [M4A] [F4A] [Reverse-Yandere] [Yandere(?)] [Sadistic Speaker] [Not in the 'Fun' Way] [Private Eye] [Mystery] [Horror] [Thriller] [Stalking] [Betrayal] [Listener's Plan Backfiring] [Drugging and Mentions of Drugging] [Lots of Swearing] [Bad Jokes] [Coffee Shop AU Gone Wrong] [Being Tied Up and Gagged] [Speaker Character: So, Anyway, I Started Monologuing; As a Treat :)))] [Bad Policing] [Possible Nepotism] [Breaking and Entering] [Mentions of Murder] [Mentions of Torture] [Some Psychological Torture Elements] [Threats of Bodily Harm] [Death Threats] [Stress Positions at the End]
I am a keen fan of horror and it definitely shows. If you’re not a fan of the horror and/or thriller genres, this probably isn’t for you.
This is not and should not be interpreted as a kink/fetish thing. I am Ace and, consequently, I am very uncomfortable with my work being sexualised. That being said, while I do not approve of any of the genders in the script being changed (especially that of the listener, as I want to keep this open to everyone), I am more understanding towards rewording and/or leaving some of the more uncomfortable parts or trigger words out.
None of what’s mentioned here is meant to, in anyway, mock or glorify their real world equivalents. I just like writing evil characters who deserve everything that’s coming to them. They’re fun to hate and rip apart :)
Personally, I would be reluctant to classify this as ASMR. I feel that Audio Roleplay would a better title, simply because this is anything but relaxing.
If you want to monetise this mess, by all means feel free, aside from places with paywalls like Patreon, and give me credit. Please just send a link in the comments, so I can see it :)
Also, please don’t use stolen art in your thumbnails. Credit the artists. Thanks :)
(Wow, I have spent way too long on this lol; the brain worms demanded a sacrifice and they are finally satiated)
(For Speaker)
This past year had easily been the most terrifying in your life. It had taken an honestly embarrassingly long time to put the pieces together but you finally had the full picture. And it was a hideous, monstrous thing.
No-one was coming to save you. You’d learnt that lesson the hard way. You were alone, forced to placate and humour a monster that was drawing closer and closer, toying with its food. It wanted to hurt you. It would hurt you if you didn’t do anything.
So, how to you hurt a monster? You become one yourself.
And if you happen to get a little carried away? Oh, well. You’ve always been a strong believer in karma anyway…
(For Listener)
Finally, after years of waiting, this was it. It had taken so long and so much effort but it was finally going to pay off. That cute little barista (with a certainly interesting side-gig) was inviting you over to their house. It would just be the two of you. No friends. No family. No distractions or witnesses. You’d made sure of that.
They were finally within your grasp. They were finally going to be yours. To have. To love. To ruin.
It’s going to be exhilarating finally being able to watch their sweet face morph in pain, knowing you were the only thing on their mind.
Finally, you’ll be alone with them. Nothing can go wrong…
(Use general sound effects and background music to make scenes more immersive)
(Sound of knocking, followed by front door opening)
Heyyyyyyy! Good see you!
(Sound of hugging. Speaker then pulls back and claps listener on the back)
Come in, come in! Welcome to my humble abode!
(Sound of door shutting)
Shoe rack is over here and coat hooks are at the end of the hall.
Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?
(Customer service voice) And do you want any milk or sugar with that? I have soya or oat milk, if you’d prefer (a laugh).
Cool. I’ll be back in a moment. Make yourself at home.
(Sound of two pairs of footsteps and then listener sitting down on the sofa)
(Distant sound of kettle boiling and speaker humming)
(A few moments later the sound of footsteps and a couple of mugs being set on a table)
Theeeere we go. The green mug is yours.
It‘s not as nice as the stuff I make back at the shop. But I’m sure you can forgive me for the ‘egregious sin’ of not having an industrial coffee grinder.
Do you want to listen to some music?
(Sound of footsteps)
(Sound of radio switching various stations and loud static)
(Annoyed tone) Ah, it’s acting up again, stupid thing. Damnit.
(Sound of radio being turned off)
(Voice apologetic) Never mind. Sorry.
(Footsteps, followed by sound of speaker sitting down on sofa)
(Sound of listener picking up the mug and taking a swig)
Damn, already? That must be scalding!
Whatever you say. Weirdo. So, how have you been?
Yeah, I’ve been good, thanks. Working costumer service has been as much of a blessing as ever! (Short laugh)
[.] (Sound of listener taking a sip)
(Joking tone/banter) Oh, don’t you dare give me that ‘tHe CuStoMeR iS aLwiSe rIgHt’ crap! Do you have any idea how many lectures I get from my boss? All I do is reflect particularly rude customers’ energy back at them. With the way she goes on, you’d think I murdered babies for a living and drank their parents’ tears. Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t fired me already. It would be a blessing by this point. But I’m pretty sure she can’t afford to.
Oh, yeah. That reminds me. Get this, right? I swear to God, just the other day, there was a lady who came in and demanded so many shots of espresso I was worried her heart was going to give out there and then. I asked if she was sure and she just looked me dead in the eye, eye bags plain as day, and said: ‘Straight caffeine powder isn’t legal anymore; so, this’ll have to do.’ Honestly, main character energy.
Exactly. It’s her world. We’re just living in it.
She’s come in a few times but I wouldn’t call her a regular. I think I saw her wearing a lanyard with the name of the local secondary school on it. So, I’m pretty sure she works there. ‘Can’t really blame her if that’s the case, can I? (A laugh).
[.] (Sound of listener taking a sip)
I’m mean, I probably should’ve refused to serve her. But I couldn’t bring myself to. She looked so dead inside and I’m not that cruel.
Besides, it’s not my responsibility if something happened, you know? It was her decision.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Especially if you get caught out being an idiot.
No, I don’t think anything happened. I didn’t hear anything, at least.
Admittedly, I haven’t seen her at the shop since. But I also haven’t seen any new job listings at said school. So, you never know… (A laugh).
Maybe I’m being haunted by her eternally-caffeinated spirit for my coffee-related crimes against humanity (speaker makes sillyOoOoOoOo’ sound).
(Sound of mug falling over and tea spilling)
Oh, fuck!
(Sound of both speaker and listener getting up)
(Voice sound exasperated) Fucking Hell!
(Voice gentler) Did any spill on you?
Good. You wait here. I’ll go grab some paper towels.
(Sound of speaker walking away and coming back a few moments later)
(Sound of speaker wiping up the spill)
Hey, don’t apologise. I was the one who knocked it over because I was being a dumbarse.
Maybe that was Espresso Lady’s revenge! Forever dooming me to spill hot drinks to protect future victims from my wrath.
(Sound of heart beat suddenly thundering in the listener’s ears)
Shit are you okay? You look faint.
I’ll go grab you some water, hold on.
(Sounds of hurried footsteps, as speaker walks away)
(Sound of hurried footsteps approaching a few moments later)
Bloody Hell, my life is turning into a fetch quest. Okay, maybe not the time for jokes.
(Sound of water being drunk from a plastic cup)(Continuous throughout section)
(Placating tone) Thaaaaaat’s it. Small sips. Don’t want you vomiting.
Thaaaaaat’s it. Don’t fight it. You’ll only give yourself a headache. Shshshshsh…
Thaaaaaaaaat’s it. You’re doing so well.
A little more to fully wash it down and… theeeere we go…
(Sound fades out)
(Sound fades back in and speaker is humming ‘Final Girl’ by Graveyardguy)(Ignore if not safe for copyright. Replace with general sounds of busywork)
Ah, back with me? Well, at the risk of sounding like a Skyrim NPC, you’re finally awake. You took your sweet time.
Too bad for you Espresso Lady spilled the wrong one, huh? … Nevermind, that was terrible anyway.
Don’t struggle, don’t struggle. Well, I mean, you can if you want. I doubt the circulation to your hands and feet would appreciate it though. Just take a second to get your bearings.
Also, don’t mind the gag. I’m just not in the mood for your screaming.
I know it must be torture, not being able to run your mouth for once in your life. But, honestly… seeing you like this is (tone slightly breathless) so cathartic. Look at you.
To be honest, I was worried that seeing you like this would make me chicken out. It’s one thing to fantasise about something; it’s another thing entirely to see it in front of you.
That wide-eyed expression. ‘Surprisingly cute and innocuous for a creature so vile. You should make it more often. And I’m more than willing to help.
(A laugh) It’s funny: before all this, the last thing I would’ve regarded myself as was a sadist. A strong believer in karma, yes, but not a sadist. But, then again, I’d never despised anyone so entirely before either. I’ve never wanted hurt someone so badly before. You really do bring out the worst in me.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Sooo, let’s address the elephant in the room: I know you’ve been stalking me. It’s why I brought you here, actually. I’ve been investigating you for a while.
I know! The resident private eye decided to do a background check. Shocker(!)
Turns out I can do a little more than just latte art, huh?
(Tone mocking) Awww, poor thing. How does it feel to be outplayed, for once?
Does it hurt? Does it scare you? Not knowing what was happening just under your nose? Thinking that you could trust someone, only to find out they had their own ulterior motives?
It scared me. More than you know. But I’m sure you’re going to become very familiar with that feeling. Very soon. Just like I did.
But I’m sure if you could talk, besides the screaming for help, you’d be asking a lot of questions. Like why I’m doing this? Or how I found you out?
I owe you nothing. I really don’t. But because I’m nice, I’ll tell you a little story. A truly ‘captivating’ tale. I know, I know, bad joke.
I have a lot I want to say. Self-indulgent, sure, but I think I more than deserve it, given all the shit I’ve been through. Consider this my ‘villain’ speech. Doomsday weapon not included.
It all started when I was realised I was being followed home. I won’t lie, I was embarrassingly slow on the uptake. Ironic, given my job but what can you do?
It had been late at night, having just closed up, and I was headed to the bus station. The streets were almost entirely deserted, aside from the occasional night owl or drunk. It was peaceful.
And then I saw a figure, with their hood drawn up, out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t think anything of it. Why would I? So, together we walked down to the bus stop, not saying a word, and got on a bus. So far, so normal.
When we got to my stop, I got off. And I noticed that that same person had gotten off with me. Again nothing really unusual. Except we were taking the exact same route. Both at the same even pace, except that the mystery figure followed from just further down the road. Just far down enough that, if I hadn’t seen them get off at the same stop, I honestly wouldn’t have thought anything of it. We matched each other perfectly, road for road, turn for turn.
I’ve always been mildly paranoid. Kinda need to be, for the type of work I do. So, as we got closer and closer to my neighbourhood, I started to get anxious. We’d been taking the same route for a good half hour and I still hadn’t seen their face.
So, I decided to test my hypothesis. I took a left. They took a left. I took another left. They took another left. I took yet another left. They look that same left. I went straight. They went straight. I took a right. They took a right. I took another right. They did too.
By that point I was certain, so I crossed as many random roads as I could, provided they were well lit, until I was satisfied that I’d lost my pursuer. And then I headed home.
I would’ve forgotten about it, written it off as just a random mugger. But I couldn’t. Not given the then-recent disappearance. Disappearances happen all the time. It’s a big city, with plenty of shady alleys and shadier people. The world isn’t going to stop turning just because one poor soul vanished off the face of it. But this one stood out. It was an old classmate of mine, I believe, back in college. The guy was an arsehole; nobody liked him. Least of all myself, given how he used to torment me. But, still, the effect was the same. It just… stuck with me.
I wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of travelling via public transport. But I didn’t have a choice. My car had failed its MOT spectacularly. So, I was in the middle of the long, painful process of finding another.
It set me on edge and I started to feel like I was being watched every time I headed home. Did you know there’s a word for that? The sensation of being watched. Scopaesthesia. For some reason, I’ve never thought that sounded right.
But regardless of whatever it’s called or should be called, it started to freak me out, the longer it went on. I kept seeing that same hooded figure, out the corner of my eye.
I stuck to the lit streets, even if it took me a good 15 minutes longer. None of my co-workers could walk me home, as they lived on the other side of town.
Maybe that’s why I noticed the pattern. Because I was already on-guard.
I enjoyed your company. I’d even argue that I looked forward to it. I started working at that café when I was strapped for cash and it was the only place that would take me. ‘Not exactly my first choice and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to get a second job, in the first place. But you made it bearable.
You were nice. Maybe a little overly flirty but nice. You were the type of person to chat at the counter, while I made your drink, and just ask how I was doing. Who I told which drinks to try and which tasted foul. Who I gave occasional discounts to, just for the sake of it.
You treated me like an actual person. Not dirt under your shoes or a convenience to be tolerated. (Voice sounding mildly hurt) Perhaps I would’ve even gone as far as to call us friends.
I kept seeing you outside of work, from time to time. At first I thought nothing of it. Given how frequently you visited the shop, it wasn’t hard to imagine that you lived or worked locally. But then I kept seeing you. And kept seeing you. And kept seeing you.
I saw the way you side-eyed me. The way you often had your phone angled at me, like you were taking a photo.
It didn’t take long to guess that I was being tailed. Given my line of work, it’s not rare for PIs to be followed by other PIs. Das ist the beauty of counter-surveillance. And it’s not like you were being very subtle. That’s what I thought at first. So, I did some digging.
It would take way too long to describe everything that I did. So, I’ll give you the cliff notes version.
During one of your visits, I said that there was an issue regarding your membership and that I’d need your details, including your full name and email. That’s how I got hold of your surname.
Using that, I looked on various public databases and found your address. And, sure enough, you lived maybe 5, 10 minutes away from my place of work.
Moreover, your license plate matched that of a car that had been parking outside my house for weeks.
Googling your name, I found your LinkedIn. No mention of any affiliation with any kind of PI agency, law firm or police department. Nothing that seemed to suggest any training either. You were in a completely different field. That set off immediate red flags.
If you weren’t a PI then why were you following me?
At that point, I tried to report my findings to the police. Multiple times. Even if you lacked a criminal record, beyond a couple of speeding tickets, it was obvious I was being stalked. But everything that I had gathered was circumstantial. Even the photographic evidence of you following me was apparently questionable, as it could’ve been just a bad case of wrong place, wrong time. So they did nothing.
They just… brushed me off.
(Sarcasm) Which was extremely helpful.
Can you imagine that for a moment? Assuming you’re even capable of empathy. The very people who had hired you in the past, who understood your capabilities and trusted you because of them, suddenly dismissing you? Despite how many times they’d relied on you gathering evidence? …Despite how much time you’d spent with them?
If I’m being honest, it stung. But fine.
If they weren’t going to do anything because of a lack of poof, then I would find proof.
So I kept digging.
I looked at your social media and searched for who was most frequently tagged or mentioned. From there, I approached those that I could and struck up casual conversation. Most of it was superficial fluff. Nothing of substance, even when I mentioned being a loose friend of yours. After the sixth attempt that had gone absolutely fucking nowhere, I was tempted to call it a dead end. But I decided to head down to the local pub and try again anyway.
Admittedly, it was probably because he already had a few drinks in him, but your friend Jake was most forthcoming. Very friendly bloke. When I mentioned you, he was more than happy to talk about your relationship. Ranging from what the pair of you did at work. To the fact you didn’t like inviting others over. To your little ‘thing’ for a quote unquote ‘cute local barista’.
As you can imagine, that latter part peaked my interest.
Apparently, you’d been meaning to ask for their number, for who knows how long. That’s what you told him, at least.
So, you were so very lucky when that same barista offered you a wink and their number a few days later! The look on your little face… honestly, precious…
(Tone sour) It was a little less ‘precious’ when I started to notice my possessions going ‘missing’.
It was mostly small things, at first. Things that, if I hadn’t been looking for them, I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
But as the months went by and we talked more and more, you got bolder.
It was becoming increasingly impossible to ignore and I knew if I didn’t say anything it would start to look suspicious. Who wouldn’t start getting pissed off and ranting at not being able to find whatever they were looking for? Especially to their friends?
So, I complained to you about it. Ranting on and on about how I’d put something down and it’d ‘magically disappear’. It’s not like I wasn’t frustrated. And every time I mentioned it, all you did was laugh and say that I was ‘scatter-brained’ and ‘it would probably turn up eventually’.
You were toying with me. I could see it in the way you looked at me, that glimmer of possessiveness in your eye. I could feel it in the way you stalked me, like a predator circling prey, drawing ever closer but not willing to end the chase just yet. I wasn’t a person to you. I was a prize, a thing to be won.
Hell, at one point, you even had the audacity to mention that one of your hobbies was lock-picking.
You were so sure you were pulling one over on me. (Voice full of vitriol) It was disgusting.
(A pause for a few seconds)
I got a home alarm soon after that little chat. I’d been meaning to for months. But you mentioning that particular little detail made it apparent that I couldn’t put it off any longer. It was only a small thing. ‘All I could afford at the time. (Voice sounding defeated) It never worked.
Hell, I don’t think it even worked as a deterrent.
(Half-muttered to self) Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure my radio started acting on the fritz around the same time. ‘Thought that was probably only coincidence. I can’t blame you for everything that’s gone wrong in my life. Only most of it.
Knowing that started making me even more paranoid. Sometimes, I’d swear that I saw movement in the corner of my eye. Or heard footsteps down the hall. I would look around but never found anything. I wasn’t sleeping well, as you can imagine, so my first impulse was to blame that. Surely you wouldn’t be so brazen or stupid as to break in when you knew I would be home… would you?
That didn’t stop me from keeping 999 on speed dial though.
Sometimes, I’d even call you, just to keep account of where you were or what you were doing. Sometimes you picked up. Sometimes you didn’t. The times you didn’t scared me.
You loved it. I could hear the smug smile in your voice whenever I called you. Knowing that you got off to it, that you though I was weak and just that desperate for your company… It was humiliating.
If I couldn’t get through to you, I called my friends. I always made sure that I had at least one person on the line, at any point that I felt eyes burning into the back of my head. So that if anything ever happened to me, someone would know.
Even as some of them grew increasingly distant or stopped responding all together, I kept calling. If my old friends refused to pick up, I made new ones at work or online. Co-workers, patrons. Anyone that was practically chatty, really. It wasn’t the best solution and I’m pretty sure that my calls at three in the morning weren’t best appreciated but it was the best I could do.
I’ve always been good at saying what people want to hear.
As time went on, things started to slow until they just kinda… plateaued. I couldn’t find anything else. Sure you had a life online but nothing that I could use to incriminate you. Using open-source intelligence was proving painfully fruitless. Brute-forcing your credentials wasn’t working. At least you weren’t enough of a ‘lovesick’ fool to use my name as a password.
I even managed to find out your Wi-Fi password. Only for my moment of triumph to be crushed by finding out you used a VPN on all your devices. There was nothing Wireshark could do about that. I considered slamming my head into a wall, after that little discovery.
But beyond that, the constant dread became almost routine. When I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend it was like before. That I was just laughing and joking with my friend, rather than teasing a bear trap, hoping to God that it wouldn’t spring on me.
(Deep breath)
Of course, after I’d been talking, hanging out in public and following you for a while, I had a pretty good idea of your general schedule.
So, I decided to pay your home a visit while you were out.
Now, normally, I wouldn’t do anything so blatantly illegal. It’s a major risk to my credibility. But I was getting desperate… and off the clock, sooo…
(More serious tone) Despite everything, I wanted to be proven wrong, you know. That I was just being paranoid. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Maybe you were just someone with a crush, who was visiting a friend or family member in my neighbourhood. Even though I knew none of them lived nearby.
Maybe I really was just an idiot losing their shit and you just had poor timing and some unfortunate hobbies.
Maybe you were just socially awkward and I was seeing things that weren’t there.
I got inside and the first thing that struck me was the smell. The place reeked of rot and cleaner, sharp and acrid, making my stomach churn.
I crept through the darkness, despite myself. I knew you weren’t home. I had watched you leave and had meticulously checked your schedule for hours beforehand. I know I should’ve turned on my torch sooner. But I couldn’t help it. It felt wrong, even when I was trampling paper underfoot. I strayed deeper and deeper into the darkness, until I found what I assumed would be your bedroom, if the single lit window at night was anything to go by.
Finally, I turned on my torch and…
(Horrified tone) The walls were covered in hundreds, upon hundreds of pictures of me. Some at my places of work, some while I was asleep, some from inside my own home.
I barely suppressed a wave of bile and a horse cry died in my suddenly-too-dry throat, giving way to a low moan of terror.
All I could do was stare, unable to tear my eyes away. Scanning over row after row after row of photographs.
(Incredulous laugh) I still don’t know how you took some of them. I pretty much always keep my curtains and blinds shut.
All those private little moments. Rereading an old favourite. Singing along to a shitty pop song on Heart with a little too much enthusiasm. Just taking a nice hot shower for a little longer than strictly necessary. Violated.
There was even a fucking shrine.
You had stolen so much. Including stuff that I hadn’t even noticed, despite actively being on-guard. Clothes, the contents of my bins, post that had never arrived… (Tone of revulsion) underwear… And that’s just stuff off the top of my head.
There were pieces of paper and notebooks everywhere. Some were filled with nothing but my name, over and over and over again. Others were filled with declarations of ‘love’. And some were filled with fantasies about what you’d do to me. Many of which were… violent.
I rifled through your drawers and found everything, ranging from ropes to what looked like possible roofies to copies of my work diary
I kept looking around. I couldn’t stop myself.
I thought this had been going on for a few months, outside. But I was wrong. This had been going on for years. I’d been watched for years and had never realised.
Eventually it reached a point that there were so many pictures and pages and papers that they almost became mundane. Almost.
I don’t know how long I wandered there. Minutes? Hours? It was like time itself understood the horror of what I’d found and stood still in shock. For such a moderately-sized home, the corridors were strangely endless. Like they wanted to entomb me. That’s obviously what their owner wanted.
Finally, on the ground floor, I saw the door to your cellar. It was white. Simple. Non-descript. And, yet, it felt… off. It was weirdly compelling. Like I needed to go down there. Like I needed to know what was down there.
The closer I drew, the more magnetic it became, emanating this strange ‘aura’, for lack of a better term.
Of course, I realised how stupid it was. Everyone knows that the idiot who wanders down into the murder basement in a horror movie doesn’t make it out alive.
But you were gone and I was already snooping, so what was a little more?
It was locked but only with a simple padlock. Nothing too difficult.
I picked it with little resistance and started to walk down the stairs. They were unlit. And kept going down and down and down, deeper and deeper. It felt far too deep for a normal basement. Like the earth itself was trying to swallow me whole.
When I reached the bottom, it was pitch-black, with only the torchlight to illuminate my surroundings, barely piercing the darkness.
The air was thick with dust and bleach. So much bleach it made my eyes water and my head spin.
Eventually, I managed to find the light switch. I pawed at it and a single, naked bulb spluttered into life, momentarily blinding me. When my sight finally cleared, I peered around the room now cast in a sickly-yellow hue.
It was… small. No, not small. Small is the wrong word. Cramped. Suffocating. The walls felt close and oppressive. The wall closest to me was covered in shelving, littered with various boxes, tools and general DIY stuff, like paints and solvents.
But that wasn’t what drew my eye.
No, what filled me with abject horror was on the other side of the room.
It was a cell, made up of floor to ceiling bars. Each black pillar easily as thick as my forearm. With just enough room to fit an arm through but nothing more. The door was open.
In front of it was an old, wooden table. It was worn but clearly still sturdy, with various objects scattered across it.
I drew closer. I wish I hadn’t.
On the table was a box and a few small black things. At first I thought they were wing nuts. But as I got closer and my eyes adjusted to the low light, I realised they were part of larger mechanisms. I picked up one of the strange objects to get a better look and something black flaked off in my hand. It was too course and gritty to be paint.
It took me a few moments to recognise it but as soon as I did I felt my stomach drop.
It was a thumbscrew. A fucking thumbscrew that had been used.
I put it back on the table and immediately tried to rub off the sensation of brittle rust. I rubbed and rubbed until my skin felt raw, a dull sting drowning it out.
I turned my attention back to the table. The box sat there, innocently.
I had to open it. I knew I did. I was in too deep now.
So, I watched, numb, as my hands reached towards it. As they unhooked the simple latch, the only thing keeping it closed. As they took out piece after piece of paper.
It felt like my mind was underwater and, for a moment, the only coherent thought that filtered through was that the paper felt weirdly tacky against my glove. Like photo paper.
I looked and, sure enough, that’s what they were. Each picture perfectly glossy without a single finger print in sight. Each A5 piece depicted a close up of single person looking straight at the camera, expression blank.
Something about them struck me as odd and, as I peered closer, I realised their hair was wrong. Instead of fully falling down, like hair normally does, it instead seemed to slightly splay out to the sides. Like the people being photographed were lying down at the time.
I looked closer and felt my blood turn to ice.
These weren’t normal pictures or selfies.
No, these were different.
The subjects’ eyes were cold and glassy. Unseeing.
They were the eyes of corpses.
The photos were… trophies. Each commemorating a different person.
And I realised I recognised some of them. Each having harassed me at some point in my life. At school, at my work… I wasn’t exactly ‘normal’ growing up. I attracted bullies like moths to flame. And you knew it.
I don’t know how long I stared at them before having the common-sense to flip one over.
There was writing on the back, something in red pen. It was completely illegible.
I flipped over another. The same. I flipped over a couple more until I found one that had something actually readable on the back: ‘They’re mine to ruin’.
I didn’t understand at the time, still don’t, but if I had to hazard a guess as to why, I’d say that this wasn’t some attempt to protect me or my honour. This wasn’t you ‘eliminating any possible competition’. It was because you were jealous. You were jealous that they got to hurt me first, instead of you. You wanted and still want to ‘ruin’ me. To tear me down, bit by bit.
I counted 8 total. Only 5 were official missing persons’ cases.
Once my hands stopped shaking, I put the photos back in the box and redirected my attention to the cell, the door still open, as if beckoning me. The shadows were thicker inside.
I turned on my torch and entered. The stench of bleach and ammonia was almost unbearable. And for a moment, I was inexplicably convinced that the door would swing shut, trapping me inside. It didn’t.
Instead, I was stuck by how cold it was and, looking up, I could see a small vent directly above me. I was so distracted that I didn’t look where I was going until – clunk.
My foot hit something thick and heavy, like metal.
I looked down and saw a long cast iron chain, snaking across the floor. What the fuck?
I followed it, torchlight tracing it back to its source at the wall. It connected just shy of head height, doing nothing but leading me to further puzzlement.
I traced it back to the other end.
And then I saw it. At the other end was a large hoop of wrought black metal, with a piece that seemed to swing on a hinge. I couldn’t be…
I picked it up. I had to be sure.
I examined it closer. It was.
It was a fucking collar.
I ran. I barely remembered to turn off the light and lock the door behind me, before I was running out of that house like a bat out of Hell.
I ran all the way home, buses or taxis be damned.
I won’t lie, the first thing I did when I got home was have a panic attack. I didn’t fully calm down for another two and a half hours.
I know because every tick of my watch grated against my ears, causing fresh waves of hysteria to wash over me. Eventually, I ended up lobbing the damn thing across the room. It didn’t break. It was damaged, sure, but it still worked. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to cope if it had.
I didn’t sleep that night.
The next day, I called in to give an anonymous tip that you were potentially in possession of narcotics. It’s not like I could say: ‘Hey! I broke into this creep’s home and the walls were plastered with pictures of my face! I wasn’t trying to steal anything! Promise!’
I just had been so… dumbstruck… that I had forgotten to record, to take photos, to steal proof. To do anything. I’d found a goldmine of evidence. And yet, I’d squandered it completely.
I beat myself up for weeks, afterwards.
I couldn’t bring myself to go back though… not for a good few months.
You were never charged. To be honest, I don’t think they even searched your house. And I’m sure that had nothing to do with your finances. Or the fact that one of your close friends from university was on the local police force.
It didn’t matter anyway.
When I eventually did manage to force myself to go back, I took hundreds of photos, hours of video footage, documenting everything and sent them to the police via an anonymous email account.
I kept my ear to the ground for weeks and there was nothing. Just… dead silence. It was like I had never bothered in the first place.
I would say more on the matter but there’s really nothing else to say.
I sent more emails, all including detailed accounts of my experiences, photos, videos, everything that could be used to detain you. And nothing.
Not even a scolding for breaking and entering.
I didn’t know how you did it. Didn’t care, frankly. But I knew that it was your fault.
With every email, with nothing to show for it, I felt myself losing more and more hope.
Eventually, I just… stopped sending them. I felt entirely hopeless and alone. No-one was coming to save me. I wanted to give up.
You hadn’t hurt me. Maybe you wouldn’t. That’s what I tried to tell myself, at least. I knew I was lying. That cell was more than enough proof.
(Thoughtful tone) But then I had a thought… If no-one was coming to help then I was going to have to resolve things myself. My own way.
(Determined tone) And I’d make you pay when I did.
(A pause)
I don’t think I’d ever felt rage like that, before that day. Such visceral hatred. It felt so strange and horrible and weirdly violating. I felt dirty. And I hated it. But it wouldn’t stop. No amount of guilt would drown it out.
And I started to wonder what it would feel like to wrap my hands around your neck… and just squeeze.
(A pause)
Something changed in me that day. Permanently.
(Deep inhale and exhale)
So, I started to plan. I went back to that wretched house and took everything I needed. Called in a few favours with a couple old friends. Pulled more shifts at the café. Covered more cases. Cheating spouses, mostly. Not exactly the most riveting stuff. There are only so many telenovelas you can watch before they all blend together. But the important thing is that I saved like Hell. And I watched. And I waited. And I listened.
Drawing you in, closer and closer. But not like before. That was like trying to lure a stray mutt into a kennel. This was like luring a wolf into a slaughterhouse.
And after months of preparation and casual hangouts, I finally decided to bite the bullet and invite you over.
And here we are. With you right where I want you.
It wasn’t fun using myself as live bait. But, hey! You can’t deny it worked.
Besides, it’s not like you were thinking any differently. You thought this was your chance, didn’t you? You though ‘Finally, I’m alone with them. Nothing can go wrong.’
I knew full well what you were planning on doing to me. Do you really think I spilled my tea by accident? That I would be stupid enough to invite you into my home, without some kind of plan?
We both had the same idea. After all, great minds think alike. But this is a monster eat monster world. And I was the hungrier monster.
Because this isn’t what good people do or even just what normal people do. This is what monsters do. You made me a monster.
(Introspective tone) … And I’m not as repulsed by that idea as I should be.
After all, it takes a monster to hurt a monster.
I wouldn’t say I’m worse, though. You know, considering (whispered in listener’s ear) I’m not a sick fuck like you.
I’m pretty sure anything I’ve done pales in comparison to the shit you’ve pulled.
Had things gone your way, you had some real twisted shit in store for me. The kind of shit that, once you know, you can’t unknow.
… I can’t even bring myself to say half of it.
And that’s exactly why I’m keeping you here. I follow the personal philosophy of: an eye for an eye. You fuck over me, I fuck over you. I think that’s fair.
Karma’s a bitch, huh?
(To be continued in Part 2 because Reddit was being a bitch)
submitted by Illustrious-War-6501 to ASMRScriptHaven [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:33 Bleepblorp44 Ink test - De Atramentis Document White, in pen for three months

Ink test - De Atramentis Document White, in pen for three months
Inked my TWSBI Eco with De Atramentis Document White three months ago, to see how the pen coped with this ink over time.
It was a little dry on uncapping, but a dunk in water and wipe on a cloth had it writing without problem - see photo.
Here’s my original post:
submitted by Bleepblorp44 to fountainpens [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:32 xiemglu Off my chest/advice?

I (27 m) made a friend (21 m) through a dating app almost a year ago. I noticed he seemed lonely, shy, but we connected through our shared love of art, rap music & creativity. One day i didn’t hear from him & later he messaged me I learned he went to the hospital for a su*cide attempt. Having recovered relatively well from my own incidents about 2 years earlier & knowing how difficult that was, i felt that it was only the right thing to do to step in as a friend, he didn’t have many. I learned more about him in that time, he grew up in an incredibly abusive household, was taken into the foster care system, was treated to more abuse, father was very sick, mother lived three states away & wanted nothing to do with him, older sister was in & out of rehab & younger brother wanted nothing to do with the family. When he turned 18, he became homeless for about a year until a transitional housing program that helps former foster youth reached out to him. They helped w/ everything: housing, therapy, job applications, doing your taxes, reminding you for appts, etc. He has no car & got around by bike. He was working at a gas station, which wasn’t great money but it was money & was some form of stability in his life. The only real support he had was from me, one other friend of his & a former counselor from this transitional housing program that kept in touch with him.
As i continued to try to be a friend through the next coming months, i began to notice something very different. I have supported depressed & su*cidal friends before, there is patience required & irrationality that comes with the mindset of a severely depressed person but he began to display these at an alarming level. I learned on top of the depression, he had been diagnosed w/ anxiety, ADHD, OCD, PTSD, Bipolar Disorder. I’m no medical professional, but i didn’t think he had most of these mental illness, in my concern, i started doing research & believe that he actually displayed traits of Autism. (he later talked to his psychiatrist about it but they refused to even acknowledge it. I also know how hard it is to advocate for yourself in these situations, i’d imagine much harder as someone with a literal communication disorder.) Because of this, i had to start setting some boundaries. I knew i wouldn’t be able to handle something/someone like this, (especially because i was about to embark on some huge personal career goals of mine). Still, i genuinely did grow to love & care for him, but knew i had to take care of myself.
Told him we were still going to be friends but i was going to be taking more time for myself & career. He became absolutely enraged. He just couldn’t understand & saw it as me abandoning him. This would be the beginning of the avalanche that is now our lives. Very soon after his dad dies. He was devastated. How am I not going to try to comfort someone after a loved one passes? His hygiene worsened. His depression got worse. To top it off at the end of the year when he turned 21, he would age out of the transitional housing program. Soon after he gets a toothache, has multiple cavities removed, the surgeries were botched & the area became infected & began to lose a lot of blood & he started fainting. Without the ability to transport himself i was the one who took him to the multiple visits. He tried to bike to work but was too weak. He missed worked for too long & they fired him. The transitional housing program threatened to kick him out because one of the requirements was to be employed or go to school. So he was going to be a homeless autistic black man living on the streets with no job in a city with one of the highest police murder rates in the country. If anything this has become my biggest regret but also what other options where there? He started staying with me & my 2 roomates. Rule was as long as he was still going to therapy & would start looking for a job, he could stay. rent free. In that time, i essentially became his caregiver & did not even realize it. He can’t take care of himself he doesn’t want help but doesn’t do anything either. Sometimes his health would improve other times it would plummet incredibly low. But i also got to introduce him to a bigger network of friends & family that came to also love & support him, just not like me obviously. Sadly, before i knew it, i had once again put another 4 months of my life away to care for him. I was tired. I was frustrated & was starting to become more irritable. Less compassionate. Less patient. But i was soon going to be up on my lease & was going to be moving in with my parents to save money. I had him sign up for assisted housing, a former foster youth programs that give you apartments for going to school, got him in touch with other programs that offered free social services to people his age, free therapy, help with goal setting, the actual process of filling out applications etc, hell he even got a job. I tried to make sure he had everything. It feels like he just threw it all away. He quit the job 2 days in. Didn’t want to/try to apply to anything & would actively fight against any help or social services. My grandma then offered to house him for a month & this month is almost over. Last week he went to the hospital for another su*cide attempt where i had to break a door at my grandmas house & basically traumatized her. I talked to people on the hotline & they said i have caregiver fatigue. I was appalled. why had i never seen this? but it’s because IM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HIS CAREGIVER. (at least it led me to this subreddit ?) I literally have nothing left to give. NOTHING. im literally living at my parents house cause i myself can’t afford to pay rent in this economy. When i drive him cause he refuses to take the bus, i can’t stand to be around him sometimes because i start to get angry to the point of yelling at him and his unwillingness to do anything. But he doesn’t deserve that. I know it’s not his fault. But i don’t deserve this either.
He is worse now than before he went to the hospital last week. He needs literal care, he doesn’t even bathe. He needs someone that can take care of him or he will be dead. Point blank. This morning he called me to tell me he felt sick. I told him to get a ride from my grandmas or someone living at my grandmas (all people that are willing to help & support him) & he refuses & i just can’t take this. I love him & care for him but I can no longer take this burden upon me.
As former foster youth i think he has medicaid? Does medicaid offer the option to have people like that cared for? Do i need to speak to a mental health lawyer? His sister or brother would be next of kin to determine that but once again, she is in & out of rehab & brother wants nothing to do with him. What do i do?
submitted by xiemglu to CaregiverSupport [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:32 LonelyisaStranger Curious what you think.

I have had very little experience writing. All my imaginings have tended to spin in my head for a for hours and then be forgotten the next day like an hour-old dream. But despite this habit, I wrote this one afternoon and want to continue down it's path. I would love some advice and criticism.

Somewhere along a dusty path, standing alone among an endless sight of dryer grasses and even sparser flowers. far from any signs of humanity save itself, was an even dustier and dryer looking house. Sparse it was not, for of flowers, there were an abundance and of charm, grace, and peace it had plenty. More of a cottage it was, with brown eyebrows hunched low over the windows, the dark roof edges turning in on itself, it's beige face of a rather mottled and wind- blown stucco, and the door of a very stoic, solid appearance, quite picky about who it allowed entry. But in being of three stories, with a length and width just as long, dotted all over with many porches and balconies, it seemed a bit demeaning to call this place a cottage, so a house it shall be.
A home it was too. To a very small, alone personage. Not alone as in lonely, more alone as in, just one person, of course. Willow Alcove was her name. A botanist, herbalist, and chemist. Oh, and a cloud caller too, but for shame, no one speaks of that. Most people were gifted with normal abilities like extra strength or intelligence, telepathy, super speed, the ability to speak to all creatures, make plants grow, or heal any living thing. Not too rarely were some gifted with several of these or the occasional, unique oddity and sometimes, very rarely, there were some who could control the very world itself. Control the water, earth, air, and fire. Create mountains and creeks and hills, craft a new piece of land up out of the ocean's depth, or drown, burn or bury another with a thought.
Willow could ride the clouds. That was it and not much else besides having just a slightly sharper sense of smell than others. Her family had fretted endlessly about her seemingly useless powers all throughout childhood, taking her to many doctors and wise men secretly to see if something could be done to dig out anything greater possibly lurking within, but to no avail. So her family gave up hope and took up shame and embarrassment instead. For what possible purpose could having your head among the clouds serve.
There was another reason for her being an outcast. A reason abhorred and yet resentfully appreciated by the town. The people here had not had a healer among them for many years, so when anyone fell ill, a great journey must be made to Osseren, the nearest city, often to the detriment of the stricken. The lonely town was simply too far away from any other clusters of civilization , the land of poor fertility and paltry yields, full of rocks, clay and sand. People often cursed their ancestors for having settled there, though why they simply didn't leave was beyond all and occurred to none. So it was to Willow that people turned when death seemed to inch just a little closer, for she was a healer, but not in the natural way, not in a gifted way, but in what was seen as crude and blasphemous.
With her love for every growing thing since a young child, a slightly more sensitive nose, and a dislike for the company of people who imagined her presence away, she grew up learning and discovering all that could be about what grew in the forests on the town's edge. Through some innate instinct, she found out the different ways the plants could affect the body and then began changing the plants themselves through means of cooking, steeping, fermenting or extracting. Many happy, solitary days of child and young adulthood were spent this way, creating and discovering, reading high above in the clouds, and hunting for new plants.
So there is where we might find this person now, well, excepting the clouds, for it's better to keep your feet on the ground and wait if she's there, being as if you did possess a way up, the village would likely banish anyone using a maelstrom for a house call and cause the odd disappearance of a person taking a walk to the skies with the little water left in the wells. But never mind that, it seems impatience won't bring about starvation today, because a little bird says she's in the wood and heading back home now. Actually, it was quite a large bird, a Loon, it seems, all sleek and secretive on the shoulder of an old, old witch, waiting by the touchy door.
She's not a witch, because everyone is a "witch", and what use is there having a special name for the mundane and everyday wonder. So the old woman sat and muttered and creaked, perching on the disproportionate steps of the porch, where some were too tall and then some too short to be a step at all. Here's were a story starts and how a tale will tell, but I guess it could have started at another time too, like when her potion ran out yesterday, or she had to walk to town twice in one day last week when she forgot corn for the chickens, or when she decided to be Willow's first customer last fall and the untimely rain wouldn't stop, or just even an hour ago, when limping down the lonely lane along the Neverwood, and something was there, just not quite out of sight, then gone, and the old woman was at the house well before she thought to be, or when ...well, you know what I mean, enough prattle, just listen.
"These gardens won't water themselves when I'm gone, that's certain, I don't know what she's thinking, putting down roots in this fashion, like a fool, that's certain, a young, naive fool, thinking things will never change and I'll be here forever, aching joints and water and all. What say you, Phiz? Do you think your beak can carry water from the pond across the greenwood for each and every bud and leaf? " Stretching a withered hand out to the ground, she placed her palm on the dust and stones entombing a dying dewdrop, " I think not. She should have stayed at home and carried out her business there, could have done her family some good finally, that's certain, and I wouldn't need walk so far or have to pass the Neverwood. Strange that wood, if I wasn't so old, or if I was young again , with the mind I have now, I'd go in there and see what all the fuss is about, but if I was young again, I'd just want to live again, and as I'm old , I just want somewhere to sit, so I think no one will ever know what's in the Neverwood, or why it's to never be known. Do you know, Phiz?", She asked this question rather suddenly of the bird, as his eyes were shuttering shut in the lazy afternoon heat, to then widen in the usual loon alarm and fly off in righteous indignation at the query.
"Coward! " She punctuated at the retreating tail of the bird, " You'll tell someone someday, Phiz, might as well be me, as I'm the only one you can have a grand talking with ." Reaching down, she picked the white flower from the grateful plant and tucked it away in her basket.
"Has he decided to say anything yet Rosie?" the question came from the quirking lips of Willow, who had silently made her way up to the house.
Rosie, straightening up as much as her old bones would let her and adjusting the cloth on her basket, answered a bit huffily, "Not in words, he hasn't , but I know what he's thinking, and that's Mrs. Lang for you missy. When you're as old as I am, and I'm a tulip, then you can call me Rosie."
"Of course, Mrs. Lang, and please pick as many dewdrops as you like , I only grow them cause their so pretty but they don't seem to possess any beneficial qualities. Or at least none that I can find." Willow tripped up the steps lightly and knocked on the door which made a sharp click and swung open smoothly. "Do you want to come in, Mrs. Lang? It's much cooler in the cellar and I can make some tea while preparing your tincture?"
Mrs. Lang peered warily past Willow into the house's strange looking depths and retorted, "I'll water your garden first , cause it can hardly be called one at the moment, and you're using the word 'grow' rather freely. This is a near graveyard as of right now" And saying so she stomped off , kneeling down occasionally to call water up from the reluctant bowels of the earth.
Willow turned away with a small smile and entered the house's mouth.
The inside was as different from out as sand is to soil. It was very dark and rather strange, and you can't blame Mrs. Lang for being wary of it's possible treachery. Behind the great door was a round, windowless foyer, so you had to light the lamps to see the four other doors staring at you. But it was a warm cozy foyer once they were, walled with reddish wood boards that bent over your head and met the others in a point from which hung a revolving coat hanger full of an odd assortment of dozens of hooks on which to throw everything you carried in with you. The ceiling was actually pulled down a little lower from it original height due to the weight of countless trips. No doubt many things given up as lost were buried under the heaps of bundles, baskets, coats, hats, the occasional muddy boot, buckets with strange roots in, and old bunches of flowers gone to seed and covering everything with decaying dust.
Willow placed her bundles on the floor near this monument and disappeared behind the second door from the left, which was the kitchen , and occupied the whole of the first floor. The far left door went to the cellar, where strange smells, steam and smoke streamed out from under it's crack. The third from the left went to the second story, which was just a plain old house, with bedrooms, living rooms, a library, not the plain kind, and a bathroom with no running water. And finally the right door went , as you can guess, to the third story, where there grew every type of plant you could find , and had a ceiling of glass . It's sounds grander than it looks , since the roof was a patchwork of old, discarded windows and doors, many cracked and threatening to shatter murder on your head. But it was a blessed refuge to every plant and bush there, growing in old buckets, shoes, barrels, pots, an old cauldron trying to break into the second story, and strangely, a wagon. How that got up there no one knows. Every day Willow lugged two buckets of water from the pond across the greenwood, and up three stories, where they sat on the floor and evaporated in the heat of the room and made for a relatively humid atmosphere. It also made the wood of the attic rather spongy and the beams bow.
But lets go back outside and see if Mrs. Lang has gathered the courage to enter this anomaly. Humming to herself as she worked, bringing moisture into the dusty soil with her dry hands, she stopped every now and then to gather a few of the white flowers as they started to pick up their lowered brows. Soon every leaf and petal around the house was lifted up with the weight of water and the darkened ground gave underfoot, smelling of decayed wood and rotting leaves. Standing up finally, she placed her hands on her hips, and gave everything a scrutinizing gaze, daring anyone to complain. Deciding everyone seemed grateful enough, the glare was turned on the door.

And that's as far as I got.
submitted by LonelyisaStranger to KeepWriting [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:30 ScaryShakeCz Newbie questions

I have been looking to play an MMO again for a long time. I took some interest in WoW though I am still a bit unsure about the game. And I have a couple questions. I for last 4 years mostly play GSGs like EU4, Stellaris, CK3, Total war etc.... as well a bit of Foxhole, LOL, Path of Exile and Albion. I want to try something different it has been getting samey. So I am looking at WoW, GW2 and FFXIV as potential games that I might give a proper try.
How do you choose realm? I don't have friends playing WoW and I am from EU. I can choose whatever realm technically. I already read that choosing new player realm is a bad idea. I am also absolutely unsure whether I want to join full/high realms and risk not being able to get to a realm being stuck in queen. Are medium realms worth it? What is your experience?
Is this game "solo" friendly. Like Can I do everything the game has to offer without having to use voice chat or join a guild and make "every sunday" time from 16-20 or else I get kicked. I like to play with other people I just don't like to have to make somewhere time commitment "for rest of my life" so that I can kill big virtual dragon so to speak. This isn't meant as insult in any way.
Previous expansions / leveling
I played somewhat on Turtle WoW already and enjoyed my time there. Getting skill, level or new equip feels meaningful. I leveled up to lvl 15 there and it was good fun.
In retail I tried tutorial island that was very boring and then I tried Death knight start and that was a bit better though still I felt like I am "one hitting" everything. There is a quest to dual these death knight apprentices and they fall in like 3 hits whilst they do 5 % damage to me. It just feels more like that I am there the "boss" in the world and where is then the journey, the struggle, the reason to actually level up, get gear and get stronger.
If your character is the strongest guy already then the journey to get stronger is like watching Dwayne Johnson on his way to win local weight lifting amateur league.
Also is it actually worth it to play all the expansions in order for the story? Like does shadowlands follow events of battle for Azeroth etc.... Is it actually fun experience?
Difficulty of open world going forward
Is it just low level thing or does the open world stay this easy even as you level up or is it there some struggle idk at some point. Sort of the struggle of oh we are are weak and there is something we need to overcome and it is also presented this way gameplay wise.
My time in retail
So far the time I spent in retail around levels 1-20 felt more like getting either a lot of things that I am not even sure how to use properly. The amount of skills the game pushes onto you in the first 30 minutes can be overwhelming as rather then naturally figuring out how to make the best use of them I have to stop read how to what do my new 8 spells do and then move on. Or the game has me do some stupid hand holding tutorial that I cannot skip. Classic has better pacing and less handholding which is a plus in IMO.
I was getting a lot of gear that didn't feel impactful or different at all. I get like armor 1 chestplate with 2-3 extra strength etc.... In classic getting armor that has 70 instead of 20 armor felt like much more greater deal and it had me more invested. Leveling up one handed mace skill from 1 to 20 felt like such a achievement where I could see the character truly grow.
The whole feeling that I am getting now I can sum up as : why should I be invested if I am strongest guy around the block anyway? Also the experience as F2P has been mediocre at best so far so that is why I ask for advice from more experienced people.
What is your experience with the game? Where is the fun for you? How does one play this? Maybe I am doing something completely wrong.
submitted by ScaryShakeCz to wownoob [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:26 sabbysabsabx I feel stuck.

Hi everyone, 25f here. I was rear ended on January 30th and have been struggling with neck and back pain since. I’ve been out of work since that date, not doing much just sleeping and going to physical therapy most days. On March 10th my sister and I were on the way to our friends house in queens (we live in Long Island) & it was during a rainy traffic time. We were rear ended and the POS did a hit and run. I hit my head and was pretty dizzy and my injuries from the first accident were re-aggravated. My doctor says I can go back to work but physically and mentally I am not ready. I feel like my life is falling apart. My sleeping schedule is shit. I have horrible anxiety everyday. I am barely hanging by a thread. I’m lucky if I even leave my bed most days. I feel so lost. I hate my job so I felt low key relieved when I was/am out of work. But I just don’t have the effort to do anything these days. My anxiety eats at me daily and it seems to only be getting worse. I eat on and off but I gain weight because lack of movement. I don’t know how to get better or be there for myself or love myself to take care of myself. Does that make sense? I just feel helpless and I’m scared for my future. What if it doesn’t get better? I need something positive in my life. I need a change and I just want to feel better but I just feel so lost in this hole of my life. I get easily agitated and I get emotional very quickly. I feel like a burden to everyone in my life. I’m in so much physical and mental pain I just want this all to disappear.
submitted by sabbysabsabx to depression [link] [comments]

2023.03.28 18:25 datavased Thoughts on "Navigation" and Sailing

Note: I typed this up before the 28th Q&A, they did not mention Navigation much (outside of that being a piece needing heavy refinement), but just wanted to say I think Jagex can do a great job with any of the skills and I am stoked for the development of all of them. A lot of what they mentioned still fits into my thoughts below, my focus was Navigation as a mechanic.
I am a maxed main, excited by the idea of a new skill and enjoying all of the community/content creator input and feedback. Currently, Shamanism and Sailing both have my attention and I would be happy to see either make it to beta but......
"Navigation" as the core of the Sailing skill has me concerned (and what this post focuses on), this could easily push me to either side of the fence. Just a refresher on this from the blog post:
We’d like to focus on navigating as a core mechanic. This will be a huge part of the skill, so it’s important that it feels natural – the current click-to-move system might feel weird on the open sea! We’ve been toying with a few options, like a unique pathfinding algorithm, keyboard entry controls, or a special navigating interface. This is one of many things we’d like to focus on during refinement, and you can bet you’ll get lots of opportunities to try this mechanic in the Beta.
The three items they listed to solve navigation is what has me worried and hopeful because they clearly want feedback so...
1. Keyboard entry controls
That was my first thought when I saw this as a possibility. It is just so distinctly not "old school" that it seems abhorrent. I can't tell you why I feel so strongly about needing to only use a mouse to play this game, when every other game I play uses WASD, but I know this would really disappoint me. I am open to a beta changing my mind tho
2. Special navigating interface
There are reasonable options for this one I think, and some sort of interface to either chart a route or set speed might be needed, but if it has you staring at or interacting with an interface for 70% of your sailing journey that won't be fun. There were some screenshots of an interface that replaced your inventory that did not seem terrible to me.
3. Unique pathfinding algorithm
This one left me the most confused as they don't elaborate on it at all. If you are unaware, a pathfinding algorithm is just a set of instructions to find a route through a maze of obstacles. So I imagine the maze starts at the port and ends at some island/event, the obstacles presumably vary from annoying to deadly (storms, rocks, sea monsters etc.) add in a variable called "wind" that effects your speed. Sounds unique and all.....
But, a "pathfinding algorithm" is not gameplay. its something the computer handles on its own - it sounds like a piece of the mechanic, but I am not sure how a player interacts with it. Could be just an extremely amped up version of the current pathfinding (click a tile and your character runs there while avoiding objects) which sounds like its lacking as a fundamental part of the skill. The other option I see is that when you get on a ship and set a destination you are presented with "options" for the route that this new algorithm would use to chart a course. "danger level", "resource abundance", or "journey time" could all be sliders on the right side with a map on the left showing you known/unknown events or conditions that the route would take you on. I think that idea still leaves a gap on what is happening while you're on the boat going from point A to point B if the route is set.
Q&A Note They added some info on this that I really like, basically it adjust how the 'click to move' pathing works and makes it more "ship like". obvious scenario is turning around 180, as a person you just turn around, as a ship you would have to do a loop left/right

My (Rough) Thoughts on Navigation

"Oh boy, some nerd who plays this game too much thinks he is a game designer" <- pretty true, but I keep thinking these thoughts and won't stop till someone on the internet tells me its a bad idea. Something that I think is crucial for the sailing skill more than the others is to brace yourself for some heavy ludonarrative dissonance or just the fact that this does not have to be anything like "real" sailing. I hope these ideas satisfy concerns that "this is just a minigame" because I think Sailing could give some of the best experiences out of all the skills in my opinion.

How it looks

This is tough, I think there are 2 combating visuals here. First "I am the ship" and second "I am a player on the ship". Lean too heavily towards the former and the game is gonna be some Age of Empires looking monstrosity that does not fit in OSRS. Going the other way has your player stuck in a house surrounded by water textures instead of grass, definitely more OSRS but not worth adding a new skill over.
The problem is, I still want to see both things. I want to see my ship sailing on the water and I want to see other player's ships near me. At the same time, I want to sail with friends and interact with them and the boat itself. So how do you solve the visuals in an "old school" way? My only acceptable conclusion after wracking my brain is something like a Captain's Wheel and Crow's Nest.
You board your ship as your normal player character, you can interact with all the things on the ship and see your friends (if your ship is big enough to hold them!) and even sail around in this view, you can see everything around your ship but most of your screen is taken up by your ship deck. However, when you interact with the Captain's Wheel there is a camera shift that makes the ship your main focus, clicking around no longer moves your character but the ship. I feel like "click to move" is going to be the best feeling IF they add a slightly different pathing algorithm that makes the moving feel more ship-like. However it could also act as an actual "wheel", click on the left side of the screen (or an icon) and you veer left. The Crow's nest is just the Captain's wheel without any controls (1 person controls the ship, but anyone can go into ship view). This means 1 person can always navigate the ship in safer waters, but the winds and currents greatly effect the speed of the ship (allowing your friends or crew to adjust things to increase speed) and the path you take also changes speed.
In my mind, this bridges the gap quite nicely and I would imagine if you are sailing solo, you spend a majority of your time in the "Captain's View" enjoying the open sea and occasionally leaving the wheel to interact with the ship. When sailing with a crew of friends it would be inverted, most of your time is spent on the ship manually adjusting the ship controls - one person would be at the Captain's Wheel, with an expanded view of the sea but more limited controls on the ship. I think some sort of "Ship chat" would be helpful here too
That's fine, but what about when I actually get to where I want to go? That's not really navigation anymore, but I can't stop thinking about this either so.... This is where a 3rd camera view comes in, that is available to anyone on the ship. When docked at sea, the Captain's Wheel is unusable but interacting with the edges of the ship gives a new view that puts a focus on the side of the ship and whatever is in the water near you (fishing, hunting, combat). The camera would have limited mobility and your player could only interact with the resource. So you toss your anchor at a fishing spot with several ships already around it, and click the side of the ship to drop a line. You fill up your inventory and can decide to either click back to your boat, go to normal camera and toss your haul in the ship cargo OR you toss your fish back in the ocean for some kind of reward (maybe its a new 3 tick fishing method and you can drop the 'offcuts' to chum the water, attracting a higher percentage of high level fish??)

Two Types of Sailing

  • Free Sailing: I think the Sailing skill needs something like this, and is probably the easiest to accomplish. The social aspect and low effort game rewards are the enjoyable part of this type of sailing.
    1. "It's walking around but you're on the ocean" I think navigation is a lot less important for this type of sailing, I like the idea of going to a port, hopping in a ship and cruising around the shallower parts of the ocean. I think a general rule of OSRS is 'you can do it AFK or you can do it tick perfect' either is valid and both have uses, MLM you can do while at work and 3t granite gets you through the mining grind in half the time. In Free Sailing I think this translates too 'you can be lazy and go slow OR you can micromanage and go fast' Just socially sailing around shouldn't take much effort at all, but if a new "deap sea fishing spot" just spawned you and your boys might kick it into focus mode and speed over by optimizing sails and pathing. Perhaps more ship management is required if you "Free Sail" to deeper waters, you could become stationary until you adjust some sails. This would require some effort and adjustments by the player to navigate through deeper waters for higher level "shooting star" type events. This could also be tied to sailing level, at level 10 you can't Free Sail through anything but the shallows, at 90 you can get further out with only reductions to speed.
    2. "It's shooting stars but ocean themed" Random timed "sea events" that occur in a non-instanced ocean. Deep Sea fishing and hunting fit in really nicely here, maybe even ship battles. This isn't Navigation exactly, but it is the reason the Free Sailing would be done as a social activity and a place where people gather. Higher level Sea Events should be more difficult to navigate to and require some ship interaction.
    3. Ship Interaction So you can go to the "Captain's View" and easily navigate, but what about on the ship? I think keeping it somewhat simple is best. Adjust sail height/direction and change rudder direction (feel free to add other ideas, larger ships have more sails too maybe), and then ship weapons for naval combat. This gives your ship mates something to do if you are at the captain's wheel and likewise a trade-off to solo Free Sailing as you lose access to either steering the ship or using your weapons.
    4. XP and Rewards Not really navigation but I think Jagex got it right that just sailing around doesnt give you xp. Some xp for finding a Sea Event or completing one is good, scaling off the "depth"/difficulty. Maybe small amount for adjusting sails but Free Sailing is not where the bulk of sailing XP would come from.
  • Charted Sailing: Name could use work, but in essence, this is sailing with an objective. All of the items Jagex listed could be included here rather than free sailing (and also where 90% of your xp and rewards would come from).
    1. Commissions Whatever type of "Charted" Sailing you are doing (delivery, exploration, even fishing and hunting spots) you will have point A (the port) and Point B (Goal location). these "Commissions" or goals would NOT be accessible by Free Sailing, rather you would have to plot a course to get there. The course you take would determine Sailing XP, difficulty, and speed. Take a safe route and its going to take longer, be more relaxed, and reward less XP when you get to destination. More dangerous or longer trips to hit more events along the way increase XP and Difficulty
    2. How is this different than Free Sailing The mechanics of Free Sailing still exist the same way, but now interacting with the ship is required to advance rather than optional to go faster. In addition, things will break on your ship and require repair (fix railings and bail). If not done, the expedition can fail. (hiring an NPC crew of varying skills depending on ship and level to help solo runs sounds good too). I imagine, the journey to the event is instanced, but the final location is not an instance. The other difference is how you "plot" a course from point A to point B
    3. Charting a Course What really sets you apart from Free Sailing is plotting a course to your destination, unlike Free Sailing you cannot hop in your ship and start crusing towards a destination. When you receive a "Commission" you get a map in your inventory, clicking it allows you to "chart a course" and you are presented with an interface similar to Slay The Spire path selection from the Port to your destination. If you have played a card building rogue-lite that image should hopefully give you an idea of how this works. There are several paths to get to your destination, they can intersect or branch out, but key events will shape your path and XP - some of these events could fail your expedition or increase the rewards (not really navigation related so I won't go in detail here).
    4. "I Charted a Course, What Now?" You have decided your route, so time to get on your boat. When getting on a boat with a Chart Map in your inventory you are prompted to start the Route or just Free Sail. Selecting the "Route" locks you into the expedition and you start your journey (maybe even start in Free Sail, but hitting a certain point prompts you to start the chosen Route). Now you are on your route, and you have a navigation indicator towards the next "event" that you set. Straying too far off course in either direction and you could end up on a different event then you chose or even fail the expedition, so you're first priority is making sure the ship is still headed the right way. Second priority is the repair state of your ship - choosing a tougher event isn't the only option, sometimes a tougher route to a good event will leave you patching up and bailing half the ride.
    5. "I Completed the Route! Now what?" Rewards and XP aren't really navigation, but imo this is where you get a fat "farming" like XP drop depending on the difficulty of the route and the commission chosen. As for routing back to a port, I think you have 2 options - A leisurely cut scene that basically transports you back to a port OR select a new commission based on what you just finished and take a new route back to a port for even more XP
A lot of this can have "Level Rewards" added in pretty naturally, but I am no balancing expert. The boat you can use, what that boat has for navigation options, how far you can charter, a bunch of different things can be used to "gate" low levels from completing high end commissions, and likewise make low end commissions much easier to complete for high levels. In Free Sailing, these levels translate to speed and "Maximum Free Sailing Depth" so that some shooting star events are only available if you have say 60+ sailing to reach deeper waters.
If you actually read this wall of text, ty. Very interested in what others think the "best" sailing navigation look and feel would be
finally, please let there be some super cool way for players to know that I am Maxed when they see my ship on the water ^(no ship capes tho)
submitted by datavased to 2007scape [link] [comments]