All chest locations wickery cliffs 2022
To help with the Sunday Scaries, Marcus Pike sexy A-Z. I wrote this during quarantine in NYC. Please feel free to judge me.
2023.05.29 03:08 Lolasglasses To help with the Sunday Scaries, Marcus Pike sexy A-Z. I wrote this during quarantine in NYC. Please feel free to judge me.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Marcus is content to stay inside you after you both orgasm, but when he finally slips out of you, he grabs a warm washcloth to sweetly clean you up so you don’t have to do the awkward walk to the bathroom. When you do get up to pee, he’ll find your panties for you in the sheets at the bottom of the bed, just in case you want to wear them while you sleep. If he’s planning a special evening, he’ll fill up the bath with steaming hot water in advance, and lead you to the tub afterwards for soothing warmth and soft kisses and caresses. He knows he’s big, so he’s always concerned about whether you’re in discomfort after sex, and he’ll offer extra cuddles and soft strokes over your entrance if you’re feeling sore. If you’re at his house, he keeps an extra blanket in his bedroom to throw over you before you fall asleep, because he sleeps warm but knows you get chilly. And of course, he sleep-cuddles with you all night long, making you feel safe and secure.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) First, your hands. He loves holding your hand, playing with it, feeling that connection with you. He is fascinated with how tiny your hands are compared to his, and you love how he holds your hand during mundane everyday moments, like walking to dinner, riding the metro, or simply sitting together on the couch while you read or watch TV. He loves your skin in general, how soft you are, how good you smell. He softly rubs his fingers over you when you cuddle together on his couch, like you are his source of comfort. But he is also a boob man, and nothing gets him going like seeing a glimpse of your cleavage or a taut nipple through thin fabric. The first time he took your bra off, he couldn’t stop holding you in his big hands, thumbing your nipples, suckling your soft skin. If you are going on a special date, you’ll purposefully wear a shirt or dress that shows off your chest, then tease him when he flushes stealing glances at you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Marcus is all about intimacy, so he loves finishing inside you. At first you used condoms, but after getting tested, you both agreed to go without, and the first time he was able to cum in you without any barrier, he was so turned on by the feeling of filling you with his cum, he got hard again before even pulling out. You love giving him an intimate lingam massage, and at the last moment, when you see him start to pulse, take him into your mouth and swallow as he cums down your throat. He almost passed out the first time he experienced this with you, and now it’s your favorite way to make him feel special. But, for everyday intimacy, he still loves finishing in you and staying inside to savor your tight warmth, gently stroking and kissing all the soft parts of you he can reach.
D = Drunk (what they’re like when they’ve been drinking) Believe it or not, Marcus gets even MORE affectionate when he’s been drinking. If you’re home, he’s pulling you onto his lap and whispering sweet adorations in your ear while his hands stroke your arms and legs and ass. If you’re in public, his hand is running up your leg under the table, and in the backseat of the taxi, he’s slowly making his way up your thigh and teasing you over your panties until you are holding back whimpers, gripping his wrists and closing your eyes in pleasure. He never gets so sloppy drunk he needs help, but he’ll have a few extra drinks if he knows he gets to take you home and make sweet, tipsy love to you for the rest of the night.
E = Emergency Situations (what they’re like in an emergency) I mean, he’s an FBI agent. You’ve never felt safer than when you’re sleeping in his arms. He hates having to bring his gun on dates, but you assure him you understand, and you secretly feel a little better knowing he’s prepared if anything goes south. And he looks hot wearing it. The first time he came to your apartment, he checked your locks and alarms (with your permission) to make sure you were safe. He has some quirks, like never sitting with his back to a doorway, or silently checking out every person who walks in the room, but you understand it’s a part of his training. You feel safe walking with him through the streets of D.C. at night, and you often suggest walking back to either your or his apartment instead of taking the metro or a taxi. You both love these moments together walking hand in hand through the city, sometimes in silence, just enjoying each others’ presence.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) This man loves missionary because it allows him to be close to your sweet face, but there is nothing boring about it. He thinks like both an artist and a cop, so he's going to pay close attention to your moans of pleasure and how your body responds to his touches. He'll take his time stroking and building your desire with his hands and mouth, and then when you are absolutely aching for him, he’ll cage you in his strong biceps and slowly, sweetly, inch by inch, fill you completely, your hands gripping his muscular arms and back as he stretches you. And when he finally starts moving, his big hands stroking your hair and face, he’ll use his tongue to do to your mouth what his cock is doing to you elsewhere, until you lose yourself in pleasure in his arms.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Marcus is definitely more sweet than goofy, but he does like tickling you out of nowhere on the couch or in bed in the mornings, because he knows it leads to more touching and soft kisses and sex. During sex, he is usually too worried about making sure you feel good and safe to joke around too much, but he can laugh when things go wrong, like accidentally leaning on your hair or an awkward position change. Or that time you got a little excited and spilled the red wine sitting on the side table all over the bed. (Oops!)
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Judging by his well-groomed head and facial hair, you guessed he would also be well-groomed below, and you were right. Not bare, but closely trimmed. It made his dick look even bigger. As if he needed it.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Marcus believes intimacy starts long before sex. He’ll cook for you, give you massages, and tell you all the things he loves about your body as he notices them. At first, it’s a little hard for you to accept, because you’re not used to hearing what someone loves about you, but you soon realize he wears his heart on his sleeve, and you learn to appreciate how openly he adores you. You give him compliments, soft touches, head scritches, and splurge on his favorite bakery treats as a way to make him feel loved, too. And by the time you are in bed, the world-shattering orgasms you share are the natural progression of your intimacy.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Marcus would prefer to cum in you, not kleenex, so he doesn’t jack-off very often any more. If its been a while since he’s been able to see you, he’ll gladly engage in mutual Facetime sex with you. It’s especially hot if you’re both in hotel rooms. Oh, and that one time you texted him that picture, and he had to shut his office door and quickly stroke himself to completion so he didn’t walk into his next meeting with an erection.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) You suggested once that Marcus stay in his suit, complete with badge and gun, and slowly undress you, until you were fully nude. You sat on his lap, and being able to hold you naked against him while he remained fully clothed uncovered a slight domination kink he never knew he had. It was still important to him he didn’t hurt you, but you encouraged him to touch and explore you, and by the time he finally took out his cock, you were both on the verge of cumming as soon as he slid into you. He also loves cockwarming, because it satisfies his need for intimacy and closeness. He’ll cuddle in behind you in bed and slide himself inside you, and you love feeling full and warm and safe. Or, sometimes he’ll stay on his back while you sleep on his body, chest to chest, and he’ll put his arms around you while you sleep with his cock buried deep inside you. You especially love when you wake up in the middle of the night to his sleepy moans and the feel of him growing hard inside you.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Definitely his bedroom. He takes pride in having created a bed worth fucking in: high thread count sheets, down pillows, soft, gray-toned bedding, flattering lighting, candles, and a very sturdy headboard. He loves seducing you on the sofa or in the kitchen, then leading you by the hand to his bedroom, and falling into the luxurious bed with you. His side table always has lube, and other sweet, sensual enhancements. And of course, his master bathroom is elegant and warm, with a tray for washcloths next to the sink, and thick, fluffy towels outside the bathtub and glass shower. It’s his favorite place to spend hours and hours with you, and some Sundays, he only gets up to answer the food delivery driver at the front door, or to grab more wine.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Marcus is motivated by love and how much he adores you. He expresses himself through touch and sex, so just spending time with you puts him in the mood. He loves your hair, your eyes, the way you lean into his soft caresses and use his belly or biceps as a warm pillow. When you lovingly scratch his back and stroke his scalp? Forget about it. Instant erection. And whether you are dressed for comfort or for going out, he loves your style and is turned on by the thought of being lucky enough to be with the most beautiful woman in the room. But, don’t even get him started on lingerie. His first erection was seeing a Victoria’s Secret catalog on the kitchen table as a boy, and he’s never gotten over the titillating thrill of lace, satin, and shyly exposed curves. He has a degree in Art History, and definitely has an eye for beauty and sensual experiences. He buys you panties and chemises to keep at his place, and on special occasions, spends all evening fantasizing about what you’re wearing underneath, and just how you’ll disrobe for him later. (You love surprising him with a merry widow, garters, and thigh highs in his favorite color.) In fact, given the chance, he’ll try to convince you to let him undress you before you even have a chance to go out for the night, and just stay in.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Degradation is off the table, as well as anything that hurts you. He’s nervous to leave a mark. And you’ve asked him to explore light choking, but he’s just not there yet.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Marcus is a pleaser, and his love language is ‘touch’, so he prefers to give, and his oral game is off the charts. He starts by kissing and caressing your whole body, so you’re completely warmed up and tingling before he even reaches your center. He loves focusing on you and hearing your moans and sighs of pleasure, and the way you say his name over and over, like a prayer, when you’re close to cumming. You’ve felt like you nearly passed out a few times, just from the intensity of the orgasms he gives you. (And as a bonus, it’s a little easier for his large member to slide in afterwards.) As far as receiving, you’ve finally convinced him you also get turned on when he finishes in your mouth, but what he really loves is the attention you pay to his body: the feel of your hands on his thick thighs, kissing your way down his neck and chest and belly trail, using your hands and mouth together to massage and suck his cock and sensitive head. And if he does come in your mouth, he enjoys the intimacy of you swallowing, if you’re up for it. He especially loves when you slide your thumb firmly up his cock after he finishes, emptying the last bits of cum from him, licking the head to get every last drop. And then gently cleaning him with a washcloth in the warm candlelight. He looks at you with such love in his eyes, and reaches for you, pulling you tightly against him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) In the dictionary next to ‘slow and sensuous’, there is a picture of Marcus. His preference is to spend hours and hours in bed with you, incorporating soft music, candles, wine, oils, and adoration of your body, bringing you to the edge with his tongue and hands, then plunging you over the edge when he thrusts into you. In fact, sometimes you just want it hard and fast, but it’s foreign to him. Why take 20 minutes when you can take 2 hours? You know to keep your Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings open for Marcus and his love of sensuality.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Marcus likes to make a fuss, so quickies go against everything in his heart. He’ll do it to please you, such as if you only have a little while before dinner, or if you are feeling stressed or in pain and need a release. But he doesn’t really initiate them.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Listen. Marcus is all about risk. It’s why he became an FBI Agent, and why he enjoys the cat-and-mouse game that comes with chasing art thieves. He has never had an idea he didn’t act on, no matter how inappropriate or impetuous. So when it comes to sex, he’s more than willing to introduce some risk, as long as you are not going to be hurt. Sex in the evidence room? Fuck yeah. He’ll teach you about the art while he fingers you next to a priceless statue. Role playing FBI Agent and sexy art thief? Oh yeah, he’s down for that, and knows exactly what to do with you once he catches you. You plan to give him fur-lined handcuffs for his birthday, just so he feels more secure about not hurting you. And you can’t wait.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) The great thing about Marcus Pike is he knows sex is more than just penetration. He usually is good for two rounds before he needs time to recover, but that doesn’t mean you are only going to experience a round or two. When it comes to giving you pleasure and making you feel adored, his stamina is endless. He’s always ready to caress and kiss and stroke you, massage you, feed you sensuous bites of the special meal he’s made for you, and stay awake until you are satiated.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) His side drawer has a few little goodies you never expected, like nipple tingle cream (he loves applying it!), oils for massaging your back, thighs, and ass when you have stressful days, and a heavy feather pillow to put under your hips, raising you into the perfect position to take him as deeply as possible. You recently stashed a silk scarf in the drawer, and he’s open to you trying it on him, this time. Perfect for heightening the lingam massage experience. He’s not opposed to battery toys, but he’ll wait for you to suggest it, because he’s not sure what you’d like, and he wants you to enjoy it.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Marcus wears his heart on his sleeve a little too openly to be a tease, but the exception is when he incorporates his love for art into foreplay by painting your semi-nude portrait. You’ll never forget the first time he showed you his home studio; you had no idea he was an artist, but his talent inspired his art history degree and career, and he softly asks you, while stroking your bare arm with the back of his fingers, if you’d be willing to pose for him. You nod in agreement, swallowing nervously. He chooses what you’re (barely) wearing, and keeps you warm with a heater while he sketches and paints. Every now and then, he’ll stop to just admire you, and when you self-consciously ask him, “What??” he smiles and says, “Just making some decisions, sweetheart.” Or, “Just admiring the most beautiful art I’ve ever seen.” But he won’t let you see the painting until he’s finished, and it takes several sessions. No matter what, he won’t budge. You didn’t know he had it in him to say “No” to you! But when he finally unveils your portrait, it was worth the wait.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Marcus isn’t very loud, but what he lacks in volume, he makes up for with expressive words of adoration and sensuality. He’s usually whispering to you, rather than loudly moaning, but you love his voice in your ear, urging you to orgasm with his words, tongue, and cock. And when he stops talking and uses his mouth to kiss and lick your ear? Instant cum button.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Marcus has been married 3 times. No kids, though.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He stays in shape running, and is proud of his muscular legs. As he’s gotten older, he has a soft little tummy you love, and both his belly and his broad shoulders are perfect for your head when you’re cuddling on the couch. As far as his cock, he’s above average in both length and girth, so he takes extra care to make sure you are wet and soft before sliding inside you. In fact, after the first time you had sex with him multiple times in one night, you were bleeding a little bit the next morning, just due to how stretched you were inside by his huge erect cock. He felt terrible, but you assured him it didn’t hurt, due to not having many nerve endings up there. But, he is now mindful to ask if you’re okay before starting another round, and you have to assure him it’s always worth it.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) High. Sky high. International Space Station high. He can’t get enough of you. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in a fancy gown, comfy yoga pants and t-shirt, or sexy lingerie: he wants you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Marcus never falls asleep first, if he can help it. Sometimes when you’ve given him a lingam massage and warm washcloth cleanup, he struggles, and you are quick to whisper in his ear it’s okay to fall asleep, his arms around you, using your breasts he loves so much as his favorite pillow. But usually he stays awake to make sure you’re not shivering from cold or uncomfortable in any way, and only falls asleep when he hears your breathing soften and slow down, and your body relax into his cuddling embrace. Usually the last thing you remember is his soft kiss against your temple. But first to wake up? Always you. Sometimes you wake him up by stroking his hardening cock, sometimes with gentle kisses on his face, and sometimes with soft fingers stroking the fair away from his peacefully sleeping face. He’ll gladly stay awake after you if it means he gets to wake up to your gentle ministrations.
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B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) First, your hands. He loves holding your hand, playing with it, feeling that connection with you. He is fascinated with how tiny your hands are compared to his, and you love how he holds your hand during mundane everyday moments, like walking to dinner, riding the metro, or simply sitting together on the couch while you read or watch TV. He loves your skin in general, how soft you are, how good you smell. He softly rubs his fingers over you when you cuddle together on his couch, like you are his source of comfort. But he is also a boob man, and nothing gets him going like seeing a glimpse of your cleavage or a taut nipple through thin fabric. The first time he took your bra off, he couldn’t stop holding you in his big hands, thumbing your nipples, suckling your soft skin. If you are going on a special date, you’ll purposefully wear a shirt or dress that shows off your chest, then tease him when he flushes stealing glances at you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Marcus is all about intimacy, so he loves finishing inside you. At first you used condoms, but after getting tested, you both agreed to go without, and the first time he was able to cum in you without any barrier, he was so turned on by the feeling of filling you with his cum, he got hard again before even pulling out. You love giving him an intimate lingam massage, and at the last moment, when you see him start to pulse, take him into your mouth and swallow as he cums down your throat. He almost passed out the first time he experienced this with you, and now it’s your favorite way to make him feel special. But, for everyday intimacy, he still loves finishing in you and staying inside to savor your tight warmth, gently stroking and kissing all the soft parts of you he can reach.
D = Drunk (what they’re like when they’ve been drinking) Believe it or not, Marcus gets even MORE affectionate when he’s been drinking. If you’re home, he’s pulling you onto his lap and whispering sweet adorations in your ear while his hands stroke your arms and legs and ass. If you’re in public, his hand is running up your leg under the table, and in the backseat of the taxi, he’s slowly making his way up your thigh and teasing you over your panties until you are holding back whimpers, gripping his wrists and closing your eyes in pleasure. He never gets so sloppy drunk he needs help, but he’ll have a few extra drinks if he knows he gets to take you home and make sweet, tipsy love to you for the rest of the night.
E = Emergency Situations (what they’re like in an emergency) I mean, he’s an FBI agent. You’ve never felt safer than when you’re sleeping in his arms. He hates having to bring his gun on dates, but you assure him you understand, and you secretly feel a little better knowing he’s prepared if anything goes south. And he looks hot wearing it. The first time he came to your apartment, he checked your locks and alarms (with your permission) to make sure you were safe. He has some quirks, like never sitting with his back to a doorway, or silently checking out every person who walks in the room, but you understand it’s a part of his training. You feel safe walking with him through the streets of D.C. at night, and you often suggest walking back to either your or his apartment instead of taking the metro or a taxi. You both love these moments together walking hand in hand through the city, sometimes in silence, just enjoying each others’ presence.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) This man loves missionary because it allows him to be close to your sweet face, but there is nothing boring about it. He thinks like both an artist and a cop, so he's going to pay close attention to your moans of pleasure and how your body responds to his touches. He'll take his time stroking and building your desire with his hands and mouth, and then when you are absolutely aching for him, he’ll cage you in his strong biceps and slowly, sweetly, inch by inch, fill you completely, your hands gripping his muscular arms and back as he stretches you. And when he finally starts moving, his big hands stroking your hair and face, he’ll use his tongue to do to your mouth what his cock is doing to you elsewhere, until you lose yourself in pleasure in his arms.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Marcus is definitely more sweet than goofy, but he does like tickling you out of nowhere on the couch or in bed in the mornings, because he knows it leads to more touching and soft kisses and sex. During sex, he is usually too worried about making sure you feel good and safe to joke around too much, but he can laugh when things go wrong, like accidentally leaning on your hair or an awkward position change. Or that time you got a little excited and spilled the red wine sitting on the side table all over the bed. (Oops!)
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Judging by his well-groomed head and facial hair, you guessed he would also be well-groomed below, and you were right. Not bare, but closely trimmed. It made his dick look even bigger. As if he needed it.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Marcus believes intimacy starts long before sex. He’ll cook for you, give you massages, and tell you all the things he loves about your body as he notices them. At first, it’s a little hard for you to accept, because you’re not used to hearing what someone loves about you, but you soon realize he wears his heart on his sleeve, and you learn to appreciate how openly he adores you. You give him compliments, soft touches, head scritches, and splurge on his favorite bakery treats as a way to make him feel loved, too. And by the time you are in bed, the world-shattering orgasms you share are the natural progression of your intimacy.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Marcus would prefer to cum in you, not kleenex, so he doesn’t jack-off very often any more. If its been a while since he’s been able to see you, he’ll gladly engage in mutual Facetime sex with you. It’s especially hot if you’re both in hotel rooms. Oh, and that one time you texted him that picture, and he had to shut his office door and quickly stroke himself to completion so he didn’t walk into his next meeting with an erection.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) You suggested once that Marcus stay in his suit, complete with badge and gun, and slowly undress you, until you were fully nude. You sat on his lap, and being able to hold you naked against him while he remained fully clothed uncovered a slight domination kink he never knew he had. It was still important to him he didn’t hurt you, but you encouraged him to touch and explore you, and by the time he finally took out his cock, you were both on the verge of cumming as soon as he slid into you. He also loves cockwarming, because it satisfies his need for intimacy and closeness. He’ll cuddle in behind you in bed and slide himself inside you, and you love feeling full and warm and safe. Or, sometimes he’ll stay on his back while you sleep on his body, chest to chest, and he’ll put his arms around you while you sleep with his cock buried deep inside you. You especially love when you wake up in the middle of the night to his sleepy moans and the feel of him growing hard inside you.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Definitely his bedroom. He takes pride in having created a bed worth fucking in: high thread count sheets, down pillows, soft, gray-toned bedding, flattering lighting, candles, and a very sturdy headboard. He loves seducing you on the sofa or in the kitchen, then leading you by the hand to his bedroom, and falling into the luxurious bed with you. His side table always has lube, and other sweet, sensual enhancements. And of course, his master bathroom is elegant and warm, with a tray for washcloths next to the sink, and thick, fluffy towels outside the bathtub and glass shower. It’s his favorite place to spend hours and hours with you, and some Sundays, he only gets up to answer the food delivery driver at the front door, or to grab more wine.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Marcus is motivated by love and how much he adores you. He expresses himself through touch and sex, so just spending time with you puts him in the mood. He loves your hair, your eyes, the way you lean into his soft caresses and use his belly or biceps as a warm pillow. When you lovingly scratch his back and stroke his scalp? Forget about it. Instant erection. And whether you are dressed for comfort or for going out, he loves your style and is turned on by the thought of being lucky enough to be with the most beautiful woman in the room. But, don’t even get him started on lingerie. His first erection was seeing a Victoria’s Secret catalog on the kitchen table as a boy, and he’s never gotten over the titillating thrill of lace, satin, and shyly exposed curves. He has a degree in Art History, and definitely has an eye for beauty and sensual experiences. He buys you panties and chemises to keep at his place, and on special occasions, spends all evening fantasizing about what you’re wearing underneath, and just how you’ll disrobe for him later. (You love surprising him with a merry widow, garters, and thigh highs in his favorite color.) In fact, given the chance, he’ll try to convince you to let him undress you before you even have a chance to go out for the night, and just stay in.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Degradation is off the table, as well as anything that hurts you. He’s nervous to leave a mark. And you’ve asked him to explore light choking, but he’s just not there yet.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Marcus is a pleaser, and his love language is ‘touch’, so he prefers to give, and his oral game is off the charts. He starts by kissing and caressing your whole body, so you’re completely warmed up and tingling before he even reaches your center. He loves focusing on you and hearing your moans and sighs of pleasure, and the way you say his name over and over, like a prayer, when you’re close to cumming. You’ve felt like you nearly passed out a few times, just from the intensity of the orgasms he gives you. (And as a bonus, it’s a little easier for his large member to slide in afterwards.) As far as receiving, you’ve finally convinced him you also get turned on when he finishes in your mouth, but what he really loves is the attention you pay to his body: the feel of your hands on his thick thighs, kissing your way down his neck and chest and belly trail, using your hands and mouth together to massage and suck his cock and sensitive head. And if he does come in your mouth, he enjoys the intimacy of you swallowing, if you’re up for it. He especially loves when you slide your thumb firmly up his cock after he finishes, emptying the last bits of cum from him, licking the head to get every last drop. And then gently cleaning him with a washcloth in the warm candlelight. He looks at you with such love in his eyes, and reaches for you, pulling you tightly against him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) In the dictionary next to ‘slow and sensuous’, there is a picture of Marcus. His preference is to spend hours and hours in bed with you, incorporating soft music, candles, wine, oils, and adoration of your body, bringing you to the edge with his tongue and hands, then plunging you over the edge when he thrusts into you. In fact, sometimes you just want it hard and fast, but it’s foreign to him. Why take 20 minutes when you can take 2 hours? You know to keep your Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings open for Marcus and his love of sensuality.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Marcus likes to make a fuss, so quickies go against everything in his heart. He’ll do it to please you, such as if you only have a little while before dinner, or if you are feeling stressed or in pain and need a release. But he doesn’t really initiate them.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Listen. Marcus is all about risk. It’s why he became an FBI Agent, and why he enjoys the cat-and-mouse game that comes with chasing art thieves. He has never had an idea he didn’t act on, no matter how inappropriate or impetuous. So when it comes to sex, he’s more than willing to introduce some risk, as long as you are not going to be hurt. Sex in the evidence room? Fuck yeah. He’ll teach you about the art while he fingers you next to a priceless statue. Role playing FBI Agent and sexy art thief? Oh yeah, he’s down for that, and knows exactly what to do with you once he catches you. You plan to give him fur-lined handcuffs for his birthday, just so he feels more secure about not hurting you. And you can’t wait.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) The great thing about Marcus Pike is he knows sex is more than just penetration. He usually is good for two rounds before he needs time to recover, but that doesn’t mean you are only going to experience a round or two. When it comes to giving you pleasure and making you feel adored, his stamina is endless. He’s always ready to caress and kiss and stroke you, massage you, feed you sensuous bites of the special meal he’s made for you, and stay awake until you are satiated.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) His side drawer has a few little goodies you never expected, like nipple tingle cream (he loves applying it!), oils for massaging your back, thighs, and ass when you have stressful days, and a heavy feather pillow to put under your hips, raising you into the perfect position to take him as deeply as possible. You recently stashed a silk scarf in the drawer, and he’s open to you trying it on him, this time. Perfect for heightening the lingam massage experience. He’s not opposed to battery toys, but he’ll wait for you to suggest it, because he’s not sure what you’d like, and he wants you to enjoy it.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Marcus wears his heart on his sleeve a little too openly to be a tease, but the exception is when he incorporates his love for art into foreplay by painting your semi-nude portrait. You’ll never forget the first time he showed you his home studio; you had no idea he was an artist, but his talent inspired his art history degree and career, and he softly asks you, while stroking your bare arm with the back of his fingers, if you’d be willing to pose for him. You nod in agreement, swallowing nervously. He chooses what you’re (barely) wearing, and keeps you warm with a heater while he sketches and paints. Every now and then, he’ll stop to just admire you, and when you self-consciously ask him, “What??” he smiles and says, “Just making some decisions, sweetheart.” Or, “Just admiring the most beautiful art I’ve ever seen.” But he won’t let you see the painting until he’s finished, and it takes several sessions. No matter what, he won’t budge. You didn’t know he had it in him to say “No” to you! But when he finally unveils your portrait, it was worth the wait.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Marcus isn’t very loud, but what he lacks in volume, he makes up for with expressive words of adoration and sensuality. He’s usually whispering to you, rather than loudly moaning, but you love his voice in your ear, urging you to orgasm with his words, tongue, and cock. And when he stops talking and uses his mouth to kiss and lick your ear? Instant cum button.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Marcus has been married 3 times. No kids, though.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He stays in shape running, and is proud of his muscular legs. As he’s gotten older, he has a soft little tummy you love, and both his belly and his broad shoulders are perfect for your head when you’re cuddling on the couch. As far as his cock, he’s above average in both length and girth, so he takes extra care to make sure you are wet and soft before sliding inside you. In fact, after the first time you had sex with him multiple times in one night, you were bleeding a little bit the next morning, just due to how stretched you were inside by his huge erect cock. He felt terrible, but you assured him it didn’t hurt, due to not having many nerve endings up there. But, he is now mindful to ask if you’re okay before starting another round, and you have to assure him it’s always worth it.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) High. Sky high. International Space Station high. He can’t get enough of you. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in a fancy gown, comfy yoga pants and t-shirt, or sexy lingerie: he wants you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Marcus never falls asleep first, if he can help it. Sometimes when you’ve given him a lingam massage and warm washcloth cleanup, he struggles, and you are quick to whisper in his ear it’s okay to fall asleep, his arms around you, using your breasts he loves so much as his favorite pillow. But usually he stays awake to make sure you’re not shivering from cold or uncomfortable in any way, and only falls asleep when he hears your breathing soften and slow down, and your body relax into his cuddling embrace. Usually the last thing you remember is his soft kiss against your temple. But first to wake up? Always you. Sometimes you wake him up by stroking his hardening cock, sometimes with gentle kisses on his face, and sometimes with soft fingers stroking the fair away from his peacefully sleeping face. He’ll gladly stay awake after you if it means he gets to wake up to your gentle ministrations.
2023.05.29 02:26 Amurphy747 Redfin (RDFN) primed for a huge recovery, lots of fear around it, which is our gain. Details here.
Hello Autists,
Today I am presenting Redfin (RDFN) and why it can and will be a 200% play over the next two years. Yes, I did say 200%. Just on stock, not even counting options. Let's jump in.
Investment Thesis: Redfin a super cyclical stock will be rebounding with great strength due to Online Real Estate Market Growth, AI investments, diverse Revenue Streams, and most importantly shrinking interest rate environment to kick it all off. They also got rid of their Buying program and implemented for the first time now the Redfin Premier Nationwide service to homebuyers.
What is Redfin?
Redfin is a residential online real estate brokerage. The company uses technologies such as map search and virtual house showings to increase exposure, improve the quality of the customer experience, all while delivering efficiencies and saving the consumer costs. Redfin also provides the ability to do digital and online document management making it a one stop shop for one’s real estate needs.
They also use the same combination of technology and local service to originate mortgage loans and offer title and settlement services. They also offer digital platforms to connect consumers with available apartments and houses for rent.
Their mission is to redefine real estate in favor of the consumer. To change an industry that has had little disruption. Redfin's business model to undercut competition is based on sellers paying Redfin a discounted fee, either 1 or 1.5% to list the seller's home.
Real Estate agents have to be the biggest thieves taking 6% commission being a realtor. Every $1,000,000 home sold equals $60,000 in fees for a license that can be earned in 75 classroom hours. And requires no technical skills or degree. Nothing against real estate agents, but after watching Selling Sunset on Netflix and working in real estate investments myself, I am ready to see the real estate market adapt, and move past agents who don’t provide more than $20 of value and headaches saying “Location, location, location” so I can buy more FD and OTD’s in my brokerage.
Investment Thesis Catalysts:
Online Real Estate Market Growth and Market Share: There is ongoing shift towards online platforms in the real estate industry that present an opportunity for Redfin to capture a larger share of the market. As more homebuyers and sellers embrace digital solutions, Redfin's technology-driven approach and user-friendly platform could lead to increased adoption and market penetration.
If any of you autists have ever used RDFN then you know first hand that there is a smooth process with limited conflict of interest since their agents are not commission based. People are becoming tired of the fees posed by traditional agents. Even though there has been a slow down in revenues across the real estate brokerage industry, going forward in a digital world I expect this to continue to grow.
Redfin currently only has .78% of the entire market share in the US….there is room for growth for this billion dollar market cap company where they are actually not being thieves for 6%.
The company's growth initiatives, such as geographic expansion and strategic partnerships, will contribute to its market dominance and attract more customers. They just initiated Redfin Premier Nationwide.
Redfin Premier is a specialized service that caters to high-end and luxury properties. It is designed to provide enhanced marketing and representation for luxury homes in select markets.Redfin Premier offers a range of features and services to sellers and buyers of luxury properties. These may include professional photography and video tours, custom marketing materials, targeted online advertising, and exposure on high-traffic websites and publications. And you know what they say…luxury products bring luxury margins.
Redfin also launched in 2022 their acquisition from 2021 RentPath, because lets be honest owning a home for many people right now is a pipedream and now has a rental search. This creates a new pipeline of consumers in different phases of life and I don’t know how many of y’all have been apartment shopping recently but damn these rents just keep going up. While Redfin is known for home buying and selling services… apartment rentals is a new slice of the pie to grow into. And most of the time M&A is a waste of time but this I think added value to Redfin.
AI Investments: I knew by putting AI in this, some of yall would make your keyboard sticky. They are making continued investments in artificial intelligence, machine learning, and data analysis to make sure they provide personalized recommendations, improve user experience, and streamline the home buying and selling process to take consumer money and make us tendies.
Industry Trends:
Real Estate transactions have gotten wrecked. Interest rates affect this industry a fuck ton. Redfin’s share price has plummeted since 2022. Interest rates and recessionary environments have made homebuyers less of a rush to close deals.
Many experts in the mortgage industry see rates going down especially with the government preventing a US debt default. As the banking sector calms down. Economic data points towards a strong economy, and inflation eases, rates hopefully will go downward through the end of 2023. Fed tightening may put some upward pressure on mortgage rates in the near term, but ultimately more certainty about the Fed’s actions will help to smooth out some of the volatility we have seen with mortgage rates. It is likely that the Federal Reserve will hike interest rates for the tenth consecutive time in May, which may represent the peak for the current round of policy tightening. Also if inflation surprises to the downside or recession fears intensify, mortgage rates could fall.
Risks/The Dirty: Why this Stock has fallen 90% from its peak.
Real Estate market got fucked worse than an episode of Brazzers. Interest rates got hiked worse than Johnny Sins morning wood and a recession made people less likely to move. This combination wrecked REITs, brokerages, growth stocks, every autists portfolios, even those losers in dividends with their measly .69 cents quarterly payments.
Risks include
Future Outlook from Q1 2023 Earnings:
The stock has been hammered…look at the stock chart. A lot of worst case nightmare scenarios came true for RDFN. Now RDFN is not a real estate company or REIT, it is a brokerage but also a tech stock. One of the biggest surprises when analyzing RDFN is their price to sales ratio.
RDFN has a P/S ratio of .51 which is incredibly low and before covid traded anywhere from 1.25 to 1.8 regularly. Because the company is not currently profitable it is a great ratio to do a quick comp. Meanwhile stocks like PLTR have a 14.6x P/S ratio. I know they aren’t the same company or growth or macro factors. But as this stock continues to have a great 2023 and market cap grows, more and more institutional investors will enter this heavily cyclical stock that has the most to gain in a great economic cycle.
As revenues rebound and grow, hopefully becoming profitable, see no reason this stock cannot hit over $30 in 30 months.
Conclusion:
Good stock. Fucked from tough times past 2 years. Innovative product that actually provides value at much more of a discount then some 6% sucking vampire real estate agent. Buy for tendies. I like it as interest rates go down, house buying environment picks back up, continued expansion, and better margins. Hopefully the worst is behind us and as earnings grow and the stock derisks, stock price will spike.
Positions:
1600 Shares at $10.16, looking to add more. And looking to add leaps for 2024/2025.
submitted by Amurphy747 to wallstreetbets [link] [comments]
Today I am presenting Redfin (RDFN) and why it can and will be a 200% play over the next two years. Yes, I did say 200%. Just on stock, not even counting options. Let's jump in.
Investment Thesis: Redfin a super cyclical stock will be rebounding with great strength due to Online Real Estate Market Growth, AI investments, diverse Revenue Streams, and most importantly shrinking interest rate environment to kick it all off. They also got rid of their Buying program and implemented for the first time now the Redfin Premier Nationwide service to homebuyers.
What is Redfin?
Redfin is a residential online real estate brokerage. The company uses technologies such as map search and virtual house showings to increase exposure, improve the quality of the customer experience, all while delivering efficiencies and saving the consumer costs. Redfin also provides the ability to do digital and online document management making it a one stop shop for one’s real estate needs.
They also use the same combination of technology and local service to originate mortgage loans and offer title and settlement services. They also offer digital platforms to connect consumers with available apartments and houses for rent.
Their mission is to redefine real estate in favor of the consumer. To change an industry that has had little disruption. Redfin's business model to undercut competition is based on sellers paying Redfin a discounted fee, either 1 or 1.5% to list the seller's home.
Real Estate agents have to be the biggest thieves taking 6% commission being a realtor. Every $1,000,000 home sold equals $60,000 in fees for a license that can be earned in 75 classroom hours. And requires no technical skills or degree. Nothing against real estate agents, but after watching Selling Sunset on Netflix and working in real estate investments myself, I am ready to see the real estate market adapt, and move past agents who don’t provide more than $20 of value and headaches saying “Location, location, location” so I can buy more FD and OTD’s in my brokerage.
Investment Thesis Catalysts:
Online Real Estate Market Growth and Market Share: There is ongoing shift towards online platforms in the real estate industry that present an opportunity for Redfin to capture a larger share of the market. As more homebuyers and sellers embrace digital solutions, Redfin's technology-driven approach and user-friendly platform could lead to increased adoption and market penetration.
If any of you autists have ever used RDFN then you know first hand that there is a smooth process with limited conflict of interest since their agents are not commission based. People are becoming tired of the fees posed by traditional agents. Even though there has been a slow down in revenues across the real estate brokerage industry, going forward in a digital world I expect this to continue to grow.
Redfin currently only has .78% of the entire market share in the US….there is room for growth for this billion dollar market cap company where they are actually not being thieves for 6%.
The company's growth initiatives, such as geographic expansion and strategic partnerships, will contribute to its market dominance and attract more customers. They just initiated Redfin Premier Nationwide.
Redfin Premier is a specialized service that caters to high-end and luxury properties. It is designed to provide enhanced marketing and representation for luxury homes in select markets.Redfin Premier offers a range of features and services to sellers and buyers of luxury properties. These may include professional photography and video tours, custom marketing materials, targeted online advertising, and exposure on high-traffic websites and publications. And you know what they say…luxury products bring luxury margins.
Redfin also launched in 2022 their acquisition from 2021 RentPath, because lets be honest owning a home for many people right now is a pipedream and now has a rental search. This creates a new pipeline of consumers in different phases of life and I don’t know how many of y’all have been apartment shopping recently but damn these rents just keep going up. While Redfin is known for home buying and selling services… apartment rentals is a new slice of the pie to grow into. And most of the time M&A is a waste of time but this I think added value to Redfin.
AI Investments: I knew by putting AI in this, some of yall would make your keyboard sticky. They are making continued investments in artificial intelligence, machine learning, and data analysis to make sure they provide personalized recommendations, improve user experience, and streamline the home buying and selling process to take consumer money and make us tendies.
Industry Trends:
Real Estate transactions have gotten wrecked. Interest rates affect this industry a fuck ton. Redfin’s share price has plummeted since 2022. Interest rates and recessionary environments have made homebuyers less of a rush to close deals.
Many experts in the mortgage industry see rates going down especially with the government preventing a US debt default. As the banking sector calms down. Economic data points towards a strong economy, and inflation eases, rates hopefully will go downward through the end of 2023. Fed tightening may put some upward pressure on mortgage rates in the near term, but ultimately more certainty about the Fed’s actions will help to smooth out some of the volatility we have seen with mortgage rates. It is likely that the Federal Reserve will hike interest rates for the tenth consecutive time in May, which may represent the peak for the current round of policy tightening. Also if inflation surprises to the downside or recession fears intensify, mortgage rates could fall.
Risks/The Dirty: Why this Stock has fallen 90% from its peak.
Real Estate market got fucked worse than an episode of Brazzers. Interest rates got hiked worse than Johnny Sins morning wood and a recession made people less likely to move. This combination wrecked REITs, brokerages, growth stocks, every autists portfolios, even those losers in dividends with their measly .69 cents quarterly payments.
Risks include
- Interest Rates
- Financial Health (They need to crank out some earnings, they are using preferred stock, stock based comp, and senior notes to get through rough times)
- Housing Market (Back to interest rates, houses need to be being bought.)
Future Outlook from Q1 2023 Earnings:
- Reduced staff and made organizational changes, making support staff ratios to agents better
- Focused on mortgage cross selling business, concierge services, expanding Redfin Preimer Nationwide
- Exited the home buying business that again, fucked earnings like a scene out of brazzers.
- Aim to return to the traditional broker model, increasing monetization.
- Projected real Estate Service back to growth in Q2 2023 and strong double digit growth in rental and mortgage businesses.
- They expected adjusted EBITDA to be breakeven or better for 2023, $190 million better than 2022.
The stock has been hammered…look at the stock chart. A lot of worst case nightmare scenarios came true for RDFN. Now RDFN is not a real estate company or REIT, it is a brokerage but also a tech stock. One of the biggest surprises when analyzing RDFN is their price to sales ratio.
RDFN has a P/S ratio of .51 which is incredibly low and before covid traded anywhere from 1.25 to 1.8 regularly. Because the company is not currently profitable it is a great ratio to do a quick comp. Meanwhile stocks like PLTR have a 14.6x P/S ratio. I know they aren’t the same company or growth or macro factors. But as this stock continues to have a great 2023 and market cap grows, more and more institutional investors will enter this heavily cyclical stock that has the most to gain in a great economic cycle.
As revenues rebound and grow, hopefully becoming profitable, see no reason this stock cannot hit over $30 in 30 months.
Conclusion:
Good stock. Fucked from tough times past 2 years. Innovative product that actually provides value at much more of a discount then some 6% sucking vampire real estate agent. Buy for tendies. I like it as interest rates go down, house buying environment picks back up, continued expansion, and better margins. Hopefully the worst is behind us and as earnings grow and the stock derisks, stock price will spike.
Positions:
1600 Shares at $10.16, looking to add more. And looking to add leaps for 2024/2025.
2023.05.29 02:08 SeaofBloodRedRoses [TotK] I hated BotW, and TotK brings some much-needed fixes and improvements, BUT!
[Note: This was spoiler tagged automatically, but there aren't really any spoilers in here beyond extremely surface level stuff. I've tagged anything actually spoilery, and even then, it's a stretch.]
Some negatives still apply, and I really hope they fix it next time around. TotK is better, but it's still not great, and 99% of the time, it still doesn't feel like a Zelda game.
After BotW's DLC, and how similar TotK is, I have absolutely no confidence whatsoever that TotK's DLC will be at all a meaningful experience, not when TotK itself hasn't been. Maybe we'll get a new top-down view game, which would basically force them to return to a classical Zelda philosophy of game design, or a remake or remaster of a previous game, like the Oracle games, or a re-release of Twilight Princess or Wind Waker on the Switch or whatever the next console turns out to be. And yeah, rereleases would be great, because it's been so long since I've played them. Provided they don't remove good elements of the game or dumb-down engaging features like the OoT and MM remasters did, I'd be very happy with that. But I want new Zelda games. New experiences. New stories and new versions of Link, and I want them from a 3D perspective as well.
And it makes me sad that I'll probably never have that again.
submitted by SeaofBloodRedRoses to zelda [link] [comments]
Some negatives still apply, and I really hope they fix it next time around. TotK is better, but it's still not great, and 99% of the time, it still doesn't feel like a Zelda game.
- The dungeons still aren't real dungeons. They all follow the exact same, word-for-word format. The enemies are all identical. Sure, they are thematically distinct, but only really in visual elements and bosses - they don't bring much actual difference, and the literal exact same wording/pacing across each dungeon is far too repetitive, with the one exception being the Spirit Temple because it shatters that convention by you not even knowing you're in a dungeon until the boss battle, but in any other Zelda game, that would be a mini dungeon at most. Even if they were just substantially longer, it'd be great, but they're some of the shortest dungeons in the entire franchise. And there are so few of them, too.
- Items. Yeah, we get four abilities, but I want items back. It's extremely possible to have a total freedom open world co-exist with items, and frankly, more restrictive movement abilities through a larger selection of more narrow-focus items would force you to get a lot more creative with your movement. It would open up older areas for re-exploration once you got future items, instead of offering absolutely no replayability because you have access to everything from the get-go. You know, like Zelda games have always been, right from the beginning. Having a big world isn't enough if it's empty, hence why small maps are generally far better, because there's just a ton of stuff condensed into smaller areas, and a lot more secrets to discover. Here, any chest you find is either going to be a cosmetic armour piece, or a temporary weapon or item.
- The vast majority of this game is designed using the same theory as MMOs, mobile games, and other microtransaction games. It's a time waster. It's literally designed to throw a lot of similar, shallow content at you to keep you in the game longer. TotK does it far better than microtransaction games, but they've designed the entire game concept around BotW and Totk's mechanics. That's not inherently a bad thing - building is fun, contraptions are fun, but they're not why I play Zelda, and the focus on them has clearly taken away from things like story, situational puzzles (basically everything can be solved with rewind and ascend, seriously), and soul. It's good to have these elements, but these are sandbox elements, and you need something deeper too. What's more, the game promotes the concept of grinding, which is a major time waster - whether you're farming zonaite or hunting down weapons to dig through a particularly deep cave, you're spending that time doing a menial, time-consuming task intended to keep you playing the game at any cost, rather than giving you more meaningful experiences... and rather than doing both, TotK abandoned the meaningful and unique experiences.
- Enemy variety is MUCH better this time around, but even though the enemy variety has practically doubled, and even introduced one or two region-specific enemies, it's still an embarrassing joke compared to classical Zelda games. It doesn't really matter if you're fighting a moblin, a bokoblin, or a lizalfos, they're all pretty much identical with slightly varying attack patterns, and those three, along with constructs (which aren't really that different either, and certainly aren't different from each other), form the vast majority of all enemies you'll encounter, no matter where you are, making fighting an enemy on a mountain identical to fighting an enemy on a beach.
- There's no Vai armour.
- The story was either written by AI, someone who knows absolutely nothing about writing and just wanted to throw out literally anything that could justify the existence of a game, or someone who did know how to write, but didn't care, didn't have time, and wrote one thing and copy/pasted it four times over with minor changes.
- No heart pieces. Some of the most engaging puzzles in the Zelda franchise have been hunts for heart pieces (or other obscure items). Shrines are boring - we're given a basic puzzle that could be solved by a squirrel, a slightly less basic puzzle that may even require three academically gifted squirrels, and then one actual puzzle. This pattern is common in gaming, and has formed the backbone of almost every game ever made. You start off small, introducing concepts to players, then let them test those same mechanics in new ways, slowly building up to more complex designs. A great example of this is bombable walls in Minish Cap, where the first time you see a bombable wall with no cracked boulder, it's between two fences with a sign saying "beware of crumbling walls, blasting strictly prohibited." From that point on, the cues become less pronounced, like a space between two trees. But now, you know what to look for. This is why linear game design, at least to some degree, is very important, and why almost every game has some degree of linearity. This is also where TotK suffers, because there's a concept of a complete open world. They don't build on previous lessons because there are no previous lessons to build on, because they have to assume every puzzle will be your first one ever. There are some slight exceptions to this, but the vast majority of the game is conducted without this fundamental element of game design. Shrines are standalone, and the concepts introduced in one shrine never evolve outside of that shrine. Actual dungeons with unique puzzles, and items you can only get from dungeons, which unlock new areas through the items' mobility, are a great solution to this, but those items would require either more complex world design, which TotK and BotW have largely abandoned in favour of freedom, or they would require staggering out the abilities (instead of getting four right away, you'd get seven throughout the game, with the extra three bringing similar levels of freedom, like the BotW abilities, or something similar to the Dominion Rod or Gust Jar, giving you new ways to interact with objects). Personally, I would much rather return to more restrictive abilities, because they offer you far more creativity and possibility in world design and gameplay.
- The Imprisoning War is already a thing, and it's a different event from what's described here. So much of TotK's lore doesn't make any sense at all unless it fits into an entirely separate timeline. Secret stone? Really? Seriously? That's the best they could come up with? Not much of a secret when people can recognise them on sight, having never seen one before, now are they? Also, how in the stars did Zelda hear the name Ganondorf and only have a subconscious uncomfy feeling about him, and not make the immediate connection to Calamity GANON????
- Please let me turn off voices. Look, I speak French fluently, I can understand some Japanese, I know there are better voice actors, but I grew up with Zelda being English. I also grew up without any voice actors. Not only do they just not fit with the game, they're just awful to listen to. I don't care if you want them - you're weird for it, but by all means, keep them (with maybe better VAs), but PLEASE let me turn them off without muting the game entirely. Give me an option for silence.
- I miss companions. I really miss companions. They brought personality and a LOT of story to past Zelda games. I also miss a Link with some actual personality, and a deadpan small gasp or deadpan silence to literally every single situation imaginable is pretty horrible.
- I don't mind the concept of breakable weapons, but some weapons should be unbreakable. I don't think the Master Sword should ever run out of energy, especially after having its batteries charged for a continuous eon, but even if we keep that element of it, just extend that function to other unique weapons! And if the energy depletion is removed, give more functionality and unique usage to other items to compensate, like fire rods and anything that can break a boulder. Not puzzle solving items, but weapons that feel different and have different applications. Spears stab, but they don't really feel much like spears, they don't feel like they offer much extra range or function. Give them that, and you can have unbreakable regular and unique weapons that do different things. Instead of prioritising breakable weapons for survival (just grab a weapon), prioritise breakable weapons that have specific functions. I especially don't want my unique weapons that I need to spend 150 poe to rebuy, to shatter. Because you know what I do instead? I never end up using them. I collect the unique ones. And worse, there's absolutely no storage that I have yet to find, for any weapons. So your inventory will fill up with the ones you don't want to break.
- Beach, mountain, island, desert, who cares? It all feels the same. The music's the same, the enemies are the same, you don't need any unique abilities or items (except regional survival armours) or even different ways of thinking. There's no environmental hazards that you can't just solve by putting on a different armour, like the rocks falling from Death Mountain in Ocarina of Time, or gusts of wind that force you to use the Iron Boots in Wind Waker, or areas that require different perspectives to access every area by form shifting like Twilight Princess, Minish Cap, Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, and A Link Between Worlds. Or time/season shifting, like... too many Zelda games to name. The only exceptions to this are the Gerudo Desert during the sandstorm, which is actually one of the few areas that makes this feel like a Zelda game, and the Depths before you discover the area's lightroot (but only when you first dive in, because after that it really just gets tedious). There's no actual difference between these places in how you play the game, nor in the soul of the locations, and when you add a lack of meaningful discoveries in there, there's absolutely no reason to explore, which is the entire point of the game.
- There's no Zelda music. There might be the occasional note, but no classical Zelda music at all. No Hyrule theme. Nothing recognisable from any previous game (barring Botw). A good soundtrack is really important for a game, and prior to BotW, Zelda has always had incredible soundtracks that have elevated the game so, so much.
- I'm taking the lack of a Vai armour as a personal insult.
After BotW's DLC, and how similar TotK is, I have absolutely no confidence whatsoever that TotK's DLC will be at all a meaningful experience, not when TotK itself hasn't been. Maybe we'll get a new top-down view game, which would basically force them to return to a classical Zelda philosophy of game design, or a remake or remaster of a previous game, like the Oracle games, or a re-release of Twilight Princess or Wind Waker on the Switch or whatever the next console turns out to be. And yeah, rereleases would be great, because it's been so long since I've played them. Provided they don't remove good elements of the game or dumb-down engaging features like the OoT and MM remasters did, I'd be very happy with that. But I want new Zelda games. New experiences. New stories and new versions of Link, and I want them from a 3D perspective as well.
And it makes me sad that I'll probably never have that again.
2023.05.29 01:56 KnightBreeze What I've Become: Chapter X
First Previous
The first thing that Si’feri became aware of was the gentle rocking motions. She hadn’t been held like this since she was a chick, and while it was incredibly soothing, it was still somewhat demeaning. “I’m awake, you can set me down, now,” she said as she opened her eyes to look at whomever was carrying her.
She had to push down a wave of terror when she saw that it was Al’ecs. As much as she knew that the alien would never hurt her, his face was still something that had been dredged up from the deepest of nightmares, and really wasn’t something anyone wanted to wake up to. “I’m up… I’m up…” she said, gently tapping the alien on the shoulder, trying to make it clear that she didn’t want to be held any more.
Al’ecs stopped immediately before he set down the groggy hen. Sir Kev, who had apparently been walking next to Al’ecs, drew closer with a concerned look on his face. “Are you well, M’lady?” Kev asked, holding out a hand to help steady her.
“I’m fine, this has been known to happen from time to time,” she said, before taking stock of their surroundings. They were still in the forest, though they were nowhere near the clearing anymore. She also noticed that Al’ecs still carried her basket, though she had no idea why. “Were we on our way back?”
“I believe so, M’lady. You passed out not long after completing your vision, and Al’ecs picked you up and began taking you towards town. I have merely been following,” Sir Kev said, bowing respectfully. “I hope we did not disturb any after visions or effects you might have been experiencing.”
“You did not. In fact, thank you for doing just that, as we have very little time to waste, and staying where we were would have just delayed us. I need to speak with Tor and Ja’vail as soon as possible, preferable the second we get out, though I already know that that is not going to happen,” Si’feri said before she turned back towards Al’ecs. As she studied the expressionless alien, the warning from the vision seemed to echo in her ears, reminding her of the possible doom that she might have to place on him. With a chipperness she did not feel, her crest perked back up to its original bounciness as she placed a hand on the creature’s upper arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll work through this, okay?”
The creature clearly didn’t understand her, but he seemed to appreciate the sentiment all the same, as evidenced by the way the creature gently placed a hand on her head. Al’ecs tried to say something, but whatever came out of his maw was both far too garbled, and in a completely unrecognizable tongue. Si’feri really had no chance of understanding the creature, but somehow that didn’t matter to her. It was clear to her that Al’ecs was just happy to have someone to interact with, regardless of any actual understanding.
That realization alone was enough to bring the baker to tears. How long have you been alone like this? she thought as the creature slowly removed his hand. He turned around, clearly intent on making his way back to his cave, but stopped when Si’feri reached out and touched his back. He turned back to her, his face as expressionless as the first time she had seen him in her dreams, but that didn’t stop her from seeing past all of that, and into the being that lay underneath the monster.
The face looked far fuller, with an odd set of lips, like those on a dragon or a pig, though neither of those comparisons did them justice. Their corners were turned upwards somewhat, in an expression that, on anything else, would have made the creature more menacing as it bared its teeth. On Al’ecs, however, it was a warm expression, made even friendlier by how the corners of his eyes changed to match. On the top of his head was a shock of reddish orange fur, a small, button-like nose sat in the center of his face, and right above them was a pair of gray eyes that shone with intelligence.
The vision only lasted a second, but in that instance she truly understood just how much Al’ecs had lost. Without even thinking about it, she threw her arms around the alien’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug, though she was mindful not to stick herself on the spikes on the creature’s back. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you home, I promise.”
The creature seemed stunned at this, completely unsure of what to do with his hands. After a few seconds of this, and when nothing terrible happened, he finally seemed to realize that this was very real. He then gently wrapped his arms around the hen, before a shuddering sob racked his body as tears began to flow freely from his eyes again. It didn’t take Si’feri long to realize that the feathers on the top of her head were quickly becoming soaked, but she didn’t care. It was a small price to pay when she considered the fact that the promise she had made was most likely a lie.
After what felt like an eternity of this, the two finally separated, and Si’feri could only watch as Al’ecs awkwardly tried to dry his face with his hands. Not knowing what else to do, Si’feri reached out and took the blanket from the basket the creature was holding before she offered it to him. He took it, but not before letting out a grateful sort of sound. “We’ve got to get going. We’ll be back tomorrow, though, okay?” Si’feri told him as he began patting his face dry with the blanket in his hands.
Despite him not understanding a single word she said, Al’ecs nodded, then proceeded to return the blanket to the basket before he held it out to her. Si’feri gently pushed it back, shaking her head as her crest bobbed in a happy manner. “It’s yours, as well as everything in it.”
Al’ecs just looked down at it, before he turned it upside-down, revealing that he had already eaten everything she had brought him as only the blanket fell out of it.
“I’m thinking that he really enjoyed your cooking, M’lady! So much so, that I think he’s trying to ask for seconds!” Sir Kev said with a laugh.
Si’feri’s crest perked up even higher as she took back the basket, but she still pushed the blanket into his open hands. “Well, why don’t I bring this back to you tomorrow? Filled to the brim, of course. But this is still yours.”
Al’ecs didn’t try to say anything in his garbled tongue, choosing to instead give them one last nod in gratitude before he turned back towards the forest, putting the blanket over his shoulders like a mantle as he walked away.
Si’feri was briefly tempted to bring the alien back to town, but quickly dismissed the idea. Despite night quickly coming, the Town of Jov was still quite alive. Getting the alien anywhere comfortable would require more magic and drake power than they currently had available, not to mention that Al’ecs would most likely spook and run in the event that someone started screaming.
No, it’s better this way, she thought as she watched the alien disappear into the forest.
It wasn’t even ten seconds later when she started having second thoughts. This was further compounded when several knights fluttered from the trees above and landed in front of her, their heads bowed low in respect.
“How long were you up there watching?” she asked them curiously.
“For quite some time, Ma’am. Sir Kev instructed us to stay hidden while the creature was still around,” the knight in front said, not rising from his bow. “I must say, it is an honor to-”
“Leave the formalities for someone who cares,” Si’feri said as she reached out to raise the knight from his bow. “We do not have time for ceremony, nor will such things save us from what is to come.”
“M’lady Siv?”
“Si’feri will do fine, for the time being,” Si’feri said before she turned back to town. She stopped, however, as a thought occurred to her. “How many knights are stationed at the creature’s cave?”
“Four, M’lady.”
She thought about this for a few seconds, before shaking her head. “Better increase it. Two of you should head to the clearing, and provide additional protection. The creature is to survive the night, am I clear?”
“As the rising sun, M’lady,” the leading knight said, rising from his bow. He then turned to his subordinates and clapped his hands together. “Tilvan, Mor, you two provide additional protection. We’ll send more once we get back to town, but in the meantime you and the others are to defend the creature with your lives, understood?”
The two soldiers quickly cut sharp salutes, then took off into the skies. The sight of the two valiant knights disappearing into the night sky did much to relieve the worry that had been building in Si’feri’s heart, but that relief was a fleeting thing. As Si’feri and her escorts traveled back towards town, she couldn’t help but feel her heart fall further and further, and she found herself wondering if it would be enough. * * * “Hey, Genpi, take a look at this, will you?”
Genpi released his magic, deactivating the heat wand in his hand that he had been using to cut through the alien ship. The vessel was made of some kind of metal the dakri had never seen before, and the team in charge of investigating the craft had found it extremely difficult to cut or pull apart the vessel through conventional methods, hence the reason why Genpi was painstakingly cutting into the metal siding of the ship with a heat wand. He had been making good progress, too, or rather, he would have been making progress, if it wasn’t for his colleague’s constant interruptions.
With a disgruntled sigh, Genpi pushed up his black tinted goggles and looked up at the excitable drake, his expression telling the whole world that this had better be worth his attention. “What is it now Penirl?”
Penirl stood about three meters away, in his hands an oddly shaped piece of metal. It was long and staff-like, but had what looked like a stock at one end.
It also looked like it had survived the crash reasonably intact.
“I’m thinking it’s some kind of weapon, but I already ran a detection spell to look for any enchantments, and I didn’t find anything,” Penirl said as he held up the thing for Genpi’s inspection. Penirl then grabbed the weapon by its grip, and held it in front of him like he would a Lightning Rod.
Thankfully, the drake had enough sense not to point it at anyone, otherwise Genpi would have smacked him upside the head right then and there. “Well, don’t just play with it, the higher ups will want to have a look at it,” Genpi said, waving the excitable young drake away.
“What do you think it does, though?” Penirl asked, ignoring Genpi’s instructions. “I’ve already tried the triggering mechanism, but nothing happened.” As if to demonstrate this, Penirl stuck his finger into the hole near the grip and squeezed the rather obvious trigger.
Nothing happened, but that did nothing to lighten Genpi’s mood about the drake playing around with something he didn’t understand. “Stop messing around and get that thing logged and put with the other artifacts,” Genpi said, shooing the drake away.
Penirl looked a little downcast at this, but quickly perked up. “Come on, Genpi! Aren’t you even the slightest bit excited?”
Genpi looked up at the drake before slowly returning his goggles to their old position. “I'll be ‘excited’ when I find out whether or not friends of these things are going to come looking for their lost ship. More importantly than that, though, is if they find the inhabitants of this planet in any way delicious.”
“Oh poo, you really need to lighten up,” Penirl said, sticking out his tongue at the older drake.
If Genpi saw this, he didn't show it, choosing to instead reignite his wand and get back to cutting.
Penirl shook his head in disapproval before he turned and carefully picked his way out of the wreckage of the ship. It didn't take him long to log and store the new discovery, during which he started having the oddest feeling that he was being watched. He looked up and around for a little bit, drawing a confused stare from the hen in charge of the recovered artifacts, but that didn’t matter to him as much. He would never admit it to Genpi, but what the older drake had said earlier had shaken him to the core.
“Are you okay?” the hen with the clipboard asked, her crest lowered ever so slightly in worry.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine…” Penirl said before he tried to shake off the feeling.
“Well, if you’re sure, then you probably should be getting back to work,” the hen reminded him.
Penirl nodded, but didn’t say anything as his eyes searched the edges of the crater for a few more seconds, before they moved to the skies above. After a few seconds of finding nothing, he turned and made his way back to the ship and into the depths below.
The hen’s eyes followed him until he disappeared, before she shrugged to herself and muttered about the strangeness of drakes, completely ignorant of the strange area of warped air that hovered just above the wreckage as it silently recorded the activity below. * * * Tor was in a bit of a panic. Lady Siv was one of his closest friends, but that relationship was somewhat marred by the fact that she never came to him with good news. When one coupled this with the fact that Siv had apparently had a vision specifically about the alien survivor, one could understandably see why the small king was distraught.
Nightmarish scenes began playing through his head; vastly superior forces invading his planet, insect-like creatures that could shape-shift infiltrating his forces, and his people rounded up like cattle, being used as weapons like the unfortunate survivor, or even as a source of food.
All of this and more danced through his mind and kept him at his desk as he desperately tried to think of some way out of this hellish scenario. Plan after plan was drawn up, considered, then ultimately thrown away, as he had no way to gauge the strength of his opponents with the information he currently had, but even with his limited understanding, he knew that he and his people would be conquered within a week should the aliens come. If they had the power to send a ship across the vast distance of space, what stopped them from hurling a meteor the size of Tor’s castle at his tiny Diarchy? What about several meteors? What about their own moon?
None of this sat well with the small king. If their enemy wanted, they could annihilate Tor’s little world before the planet’s inhabitants even knew what had hit them.
Unbidden, the king felt his eyes drawn to a particular book on his shelf. It was one he had read before, quite extensively for that matter, since it had been penned by one of his previous students. The concepts inside were just that, though: concepts. Nothing more than pipe dreams that the imaginative young drake had drawn up during his free time.
With a small grunt, the king held out his hand, while his beak glowed a brilliant golden color. Almost immediately, the book on the shelf took on a similar hue, and flew from its place on the shelf and into the king’s outstretched hand. He didn’t know why the book caught his eye, but something about the problems he faced reminded him of his long dead student. Maybe something about the way the curious drake saw the world would help me. At the very least, it would be a welcome diversion, the king thought to himself as he began to flip through the pages.
It wasn’t long before one of his student’s scrawls caught his eye, and he had to suppress a chuckle at the strange invention the drake had penned. “A wooden, flying golem. I remember that one,” Tor said fondly to himself. “Was supposed to be able to ferry weapons and equipment to soldiers in the field. If I remember correctly, Jovask even made a land-based version for transporting foodstuff. Pity, he never did get the instructions on his golems to work right…”
The king continued to idly flip through his apprentice’s notes and designs, stopping every so often to laugh fondly at what the drake had thought up, and the memories they conjured. There was an automatic arrow golem, a creation designed to do the washing up, and something that would gather flowers for some reason. Each and every creation brilliantly designed, but flawed by the creator’s inability to overcome the inherent weaknesses found in golemmancy.
With a shrug, Tor flipped through the remaining pages, fully intent on putting the book back once he reached the end, but stopped at the final page. On the page was a very strange device indeed. It looked like a random assortment of items, all tied to a central statue made to look like a Nightmare Falcon’s head. Tor remembered this particular invention: it was supposed to be the ultimate telescope, capable of not only gaining information on distant objects, but also able to track them for the benefit of the user. It could even locate invisible objects, if enough information for basic scrying was available.
The only problem was, again, the inherent problem with the school of golemmancy: The more complex the task, the more arcanite was required for the golem to perform said task. In order to get this thing to work, Jovask would have needed a hunk of arcanite the size of a large mountain.
Tor let out a weary sigh as he snapped the book shut. Shame, too. If we had Jovask’s Omniscope, we would at least be able to determine if there were any alien ships in orbit about to destroy us, maybe take a few with us using the sun and moon, but… golemmancy, of all things… he thought as his beak began to glow again. With no small amount of nostalgia, the King of the Dawn returned his former student’s work to its resting place.
“What’s wrong, Tory?”
Tor looked towards the open door of his study, his heart falling at the sight of the Lady Siv. Her crest was just as bouncy as he remembered it, though her dress and occupation seemed to have changed since the last time he saw her. “I see you’ve decided to take up baking,” Tor said as he stood to greet her.
“It was either that or basket weaving, and I felt that the people of Jov needed a baker more,” Siv said as she approached her old friend. “I see that Javy’s been rubbing off on you, as you seem to have grown mopey in your old age.”
Tor felt his crest perk up ever so slightly at that jab. “Hey, if I remember, wasn’t it you who told me that I should start acting my age?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips in mock anger.
“Yes, but I never expected you to take my advice!” Siv said as she rolled her eyes at the king. “It was just one of those things you say to a friend. ‘Act your age.’ ‘Don’t date your mortal enemy.’ ‘Don’t eat all the karro berry pockets.’ Never expected you to actually listen, though…”
They both stared at each other for some time until Tor couldn’t take it anymore and broke down in a fit of laughter. “Oh Siv, it’s been far too long…”
The Lady let out a few chuckles of her own, but the laughter never reached her eyes. Instead, there lurked a profound sadness there, one that made Tor’s laughter disappear as quickly as it had appeared.
“So, my friend, what doom have the spirits pronounced upon us?” Tor asked, his crest falling ever so slightly.
Siv let out a sigh, before slowly walking over to the king’s desk and taking a seat. “It’s bad. Really bad. Before, I’ve given you many ways to avoid fate’s decrees. Until this morning, I had never once seen a doom that had but one escape.”
Despite the hen’s gloomy demeanor, the king’s crest rose as he felt his heart leap in hope. “You mean there’s still a way out?”
Siv let out a weary sigh. “Yes, but it may involve the sacrifice of an innocent, and even then I cannot guarantee that your people will come out completely unscathed.” Siv fixed Tor with a stare that seemed to pierce straight through to his soul. “Are you prepared to hear the doom I would announce against you? Are you prepared for the doom that would swallow your people?”
“I am always prepared for this burden. You know that better than anyone, M’lady,” Tor said as he slowly circled his desk, then sat back down in his chair.
Siv reached into the pouch at her belt and pulled out a single memory crystal. “Then, O King of the Dawn, receive this doom, and turn it away for the sake of the living, and the sake of those yet to live,” she said as she placed the glowing red crystal on the desk.
Without hesitation, Tor reached out and took the crystal and gently prodded it with his power. His mind instantly became scorched with images of depravity and violence: Monsters and fire rained from the sky, and his people were turned into cold, unfeeling machines. Anguish washed over all of his senses, and it felt like he was being turned inside out.
Just as quickly as it had come, however, the feeling vanished. Tor now knew everything Siv had placed inside the crystal. Every torment she had experience now scarred his mind, including the way to annul the whole ghastly future.
“No… You cannot be serious…” Tor said, his voice shaking somewhat as he stared down at the crystal in disbelief.
“I am completely serious, King of the Dawn,” the Lady Siv said as she rose from her chair, stretched out her wings, and cast her gaze straight towards the heavens. “His fate is now in your hands. I pray for his sake and for ours that you will continue to be the wise king you have proven yourself to be.”
With those final words, the Lady Siv disappeared in a flash of fire, leaving behind a whiff of smoke, and a single, green feather.
Tor reached out and caught the feather in his magic before it had touched the ground, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the memento left behind. “Easy for you to say, old friend. You’re not the one who’s going to have to explain this to Ja’vail…” * * * Sir Viar looked up at the sound of flapping wings, his crest perking up ever so slightly as he recognized Tilvan and Mor. “Ho, what are you two doing back here?”
Tilvan, the superior of the two, cut a quick salute the moment he landed. “New orders, sir. We’re to reinforce you and protect the creature with our lives.”
Viar looked at the two, somewhat troubled. “Then shouldn’t you two have stayed with it? We only stayed here because The Lady wished it!”
“We did stay with it, sir,” Mor said, pointing to a particular patch of forest. A few seconds after he spoke, the bushes shook and parted to reveal the monster. It immediately spotted the group of dakri knights at the top of the cliff and gave them a short wave before approaching the ladder to its lair. “It seems to have incredibly accurate senses, and even slowed down for us once it knew that we were following it.”
Viar let out a sigh of relief before fixing the two with a searching stare. “Did either of you happen to hear Lady Siv’s vision?”
Both of them shook their heads, their crests lowering ever so slightly. “No sir. Whatever it was was pretty bad, though,” Tilvan said, watching carefully as the creature climbed its ladder to enter its cave. “I’m not an expert on the mood of The Lady, but I’d say that whatever she saw frightened her.”
Viar folded his wings as he thought about that. It wasn’t a good sign, and it made him wonder just what sort of doom was about to befall their planet. As he pondered the future, one of his drakes, Sir Isal, looked over the edge at the ladder below. “Anybody else wonder why this thing is completely okay with the fact that it’s basically under armed guard? I mean, we tried to stay hidden at first, and you remember how quickly it spotted us.”
“I do,” Viar said with a nod, but seemed to be completely unconcerned about this. “I also know that this thing is extremely intelligent, and we left plenty of clues that we were the ones that pulled it out of the river, including a note.”
Isal looked a little confused. “But if this thing isn’t even from this planet, how would it read it? I don’t think it speaks Midlander.”
Viar shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Which was why the note was only pictures, not Midlander, Sunrise, or Nightmare. We’re trying to talk with it, not confuse it.”
“But how can we be certain that it understands pictures the same way we do? How can you be sure that it can even see in the same spectrum of light?” Isal asked, his skepticism clear on his face. “For all we know, this thing can’t see the charcoal marks on the paper, or even at all. I mean, it doesn’t exactly have irises.”
Mor looked a little confused. “If it can’t see, then how is it able to navigate so easily? I mean, it never got hit once by the undergrowth of the forest.”
“I’m thinking it probably uses echolocation, like how the Nightmare tribe would conduct their ceremonial hunts!” Isal said, his crest rising with excitement. “I’ve been reading up on them, and apparently-”
Before the excited knight could build up any steam, however, Viar cut him off with a single, light thwap to the back of Isal’s head. “Stow it, Isal. It can see, the queen was quite certain of that. In fact, from what I’ve heard from Her Majesty, it’s actually quite remarkable how similar we are on the inside.”
Isal and the other drakes that had been sent to relieve Dorn and his team all perked up at this. “The queen told you that?” they asked in unison.
“Of course she told him that,” Tilvan said, folding his wings. “She also told Dorn the same thing. We’re supposed to be guarding this thing, and how can we do that without a basic knowledge of how its mind works?”
Viar nodded in agreement. “That’s the first thing you need to know when guarding someone. The next one is their habits, but since this thing is still pretty new to all of us, we’re kind of in the dark on that one.”
The other knights all looked to him, as if expecting him to go on, though Viar didn’t look like he wanted to continue this conversation at all. He instead chose to walk back to the fire pit to inspect his gear. Finally, after a few moments of Sir Viar being completely closed-beaked, Isal’s curiosity got the better of him. “Well? How is it like us?”
Viar looked surprised at that. “It what?”
“The creature! We were just talking about it, and you suddenly started doing your best Solar Slave impression!” Isal snapped at him.
Viar shook his head before he drew his sword and began to carefully inspect the edge for any nicks. “It’s not my place to gossip,” he said, as if that ended that.
It didn’t, naturally. If anything, it made the other drakes all the more curious. “You can’t honestly just leave it at that,” Isal said, tapping his claw on the ground.
Viar took a look around at the assembled drakes, before he sighed in defeat. With one quick motion, he sheathed his blade, then reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a folded square of paper. The others all moved behind the senior knight and watched him unfold it to reveal an old-fashioned, black and white photo of a group of dakri, all gathered around the carcass of a dead boar. Isal quickly recognized a much younger Viar in the photo, and by extension, guessed at who the others were. “Your family, I gather? Was that taken during your first boar hunt?”
Viar just looked at it for a while before he folded it and took out his blade and whetstone again. “Yeah, but that’s not important. What’s important is that this thing had its own family and its own life. The queen made it clear that she didn’t understand half of what she saw in the creature’s head, but she did gather this much: It’s incredibly homesick.” The others were quiet as Viar slowly began running the whetstone over the edge of his blade, his hands as steady as a mountain, even as his voice began to crack. “She didn’t tell me much, but from what I’ve heard, I can easily guess why it doesn’t care that it’s under armed guard. It most likely only cares about one thing at this point, seeing as how everything it loves and cares about is forever out of reach.”
Sir Mor looked towards the cliff’s edge, before giving his superior officer a questioning look. “And what’s that, Sir?”
Viar looked up, before he looked back down at his blade, his stare boring into his reflection as he thought about what he had guessed. “It’s an alien, so it’s entirely possible it thinks in a completely different way than us, but I know what I would want, if our places were reversed,” he said, his eyes finally leaving his reflection as he went back to sharpening. “If I were the creature, I would want revenge.”
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Hey, sorry about missing yesterday. My babies kept me up all night, and I turned off my alarms to get some sleep during the day, including the one that told me to post a new chapter. What's worse is that I woke up sick, so that's me with egg on my face!
Anyway, here's the links for my books, in case you want to skip the drip-feed and just get right into the meat and potatoes of my story. Thanks for reading, and any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated! I love to hear how I can improve!
Amazon:
What I've Become
Nightmare of the Past
Google:
What I've Become
Nightmare of the Past
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The first thing that Si’feri became aware of was the gentle rocking motions. She hadn’t been held like this since she was a chick, and while it was incredibly soothing, it was still somewhat demeaning. “I’m awake, you can set me down, now,” she said as she opened her eyes to look at whomever was carrying her.
She had to push down a wave of terror when she saw that it was Al’ecs. As much as she knew that the alien would never hurt her, his face was still something that had been dredged up from the deepest of nightmares, and really wasn’t something anyone wanted to wake up to. “I’m up… I’m up…” she said, gently tapping the alien on the shoulder, trying to make it clear that she didn’t want to be held any more.
Al’ecs stopped immediately before he set down the groggy hen. Sir Kev, who had apparently been walking next to Al’ecs, drew closer with a concerned look on his face. “Are you well, M’lady?” Kev asked, holding out a hand to help steady her.
“I’m fine, this has been known to happen from time to time,” she said, before taking stock of their surroundings. They were still in the forest, though they were nowhere near the clearing anymore. She also noticed that Al’ecs still carried her basket, though she had no idea why. “Were we on our way back?”
“I believe so, M’lady. You passed out not long after completing your vision, and Al’ecs picked you up and began taking you towards town. I have merely been following,” Sir Kev said, bowing respectfully. “I hope we did not disturb any after visions or effects you might have been experiencing.”
“You did not. In fact, thank you for doing just that, as we have very little time to waste, and staying where we were would have just delayed us. I need to speak with Tor and Ja’vail as soon as possible, preferable the second we get out, though I already know that that is not going to happen,” Si’feri said before she turned back towards Al’ecs. As she studied the expressionless alien, the warning from the vision seemed to echo in her ears, reminding her of the possible doom that she might have to place on him. With a chipperness she did not feel, her crest perked back up to its original bounciness as she placed a hand on the creature’s upper arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll work through this, okay?”
The creature clearly didn’t understand her, but he seemed to appreciate the sentiment all the same, as evidenced by the way the creature gently placed a hand on her head. Al’ecs tried to say something, but whatever came out of his maw was both far too garbled, and in a completely unrecognizable tongue. Si’feri really had no chance of understanding the creature, but somehow that didn’t matter to her. It was clear to her that Al’ecs was just happy to have someone to interact with, regardless of any actual understanding.
That realization alone was enough to bring the baker to tears. How long have you been alone like this? she thought as the creature slowly removed his hand. He turned around, clearly intent on making his way back to his cave, but stopped when Si’feri reached out and touched his back. He turned back to her, his face as expressionless as the first time she had seen him in her dreams, but that didn’t stop her from seeing past all of that, and into the being that lay underneath the monster.
The face looked far fuller, with an odd set of lips, like those on a dragon or a pig, though neither of those comparisons did them justice. Their corners were turned upwards somewhat, in an expression that, on anything else, would have made the creature more menacing as it bared its teeth. On Al’ecs, however, it was a warm expression, made even friendlier by how the corners of his eyes changed to match. On the top of his head was a shock of reddish orange fur, a small, button-like nose sat in the center of his face, and right above them was a pair of gray eyes that shone with intelligence.
The vision only lasted a second, but in that instance she truly understood just how much Al’ecs had lost. Without even thinking about it, she threw her arms around the alien’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug, though she was mindful not to stick herself on the spikes on the creature’s back. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you home, I promise.”
The creature seemed stunned at this, completely unsure of what to do with his hands. After a few seconds of this, and when nothing terrible happened, he finally seemed to realize that this was very real. He then gently wrapped his arms around the hen, before a shuddering sob racked his body as tears began to flow freely from his eyes again. It didn’t take Si’feri long to realize that the feathers on the top of her head were quickly becoming soaked, but she didn’t care. It was a small price to pay when she considered the fact that the promise she had made was most likely a lie.
After what felt like an eternity of this, the two finally separated, and Si’feri could only watch as Al’ecs awkwardly tried to dry his face with his hands. Not knowing what else to do, Si’feri reached out and took the blanket from the basket the creature was holding before she offered it to him. He took it, but not before letting out a grateful sort of sound. “We’ve got to get going. We’ll be back tomorrow, though, okay?” Si’feri told him as he began patting his face dry with the blanket in his hands.
Despite him not understanding a single word she said, Al’ecs nodded, then proceeded to return the blanket to the basket before he held it out to her. Si’feri gently pushed it back, shaking her head as her crest bobbed in a happy manner. “It’s yours, as well as everything in it.”
Al’ecs just looked down at it, before he turned it upside-down, revealing that he had already eaten everything she had brought him as only the blanket fell out of it.
“I’m thinking that he really enjoyed your cooking, M’lady! So much so, that I think he’s trying to ask for seconds!” Sir Kev said with a laugh.
Si’feri’s crest perked up even higher as she took back the basket, but she still pushed the blanket into his open hands. “Well, why don’t I bring this back to you tomorrow? Filled to the brim, of course. But this is still yours.”
Al’ecs didn’t try to say anything in his garbled tongue, choosing to instead give them one last nod in gratitude before he turned back towards the forest, putting the blanket over his shoulders like a mantle as he walked away.
Si’feri was briefly tempted to bring the alien back to town, but quickly dismissed the idea. Despite night quickly coming, the Town of Jov was still quite alive. Getting the alien anywhere comfortable would require more magic and drake power than they currently had available, not to mention that Al’ecs would most likely spook and run in the event that someone started screaming.
No, it’s better this way, she thought as she watched the alien disappear into the forest.
It wasn’t even ten seconds later when she started having second thoughts. This was further compounded when several knights fluttered from the trees above and landed in front of her, their heads bowed low in respect.
“How long were you up there watching?” she asked them curiously.
“For quite some time, Ma’am. Sir Kev instructed us to stay hidden while the creature was still around,” the knight in front said, not rising from his bow. “I must say, it is an honor to-”
“Leave the formalities for someone who cares,” Si’feri said as she reached out to raise the knight from his bow. “We do not have time for ceremony, nor will such things save us from what is to come.”
“M’lady Siv?”
“Si’feri will do fine, for the time being,” Si’feri said before she turned back to town. She stopped, however, as a thought occurred to her. “How many knights are stationed at the creature’s cave?”
“Four, M’lady.”
She thought about this for a few seconds, before shaking her head. “Better increase it. Two of you should head to the clearing, and provide additional protection. The creature is to survive the night, am I clear?”
“As the rising sun, M’lady,” the leading knight said, rising from his bow. He then turned to his subordinates and clapped his hands together. “Tilvan, Mor, you two provide additional protection. We’ll send more once we get back to town, but in the meantime you and the others are to defend the creature with your lives, understood?”
The two soldiers quickly cut sharp salutes, then took off into the skies. The sight of the two valiant knights disappearing into the night sky did much to relieve the worry that had been building in Si’feri’s heart, but that relief was a fleeting thing. As Si’feri and her escorts traveled back towards town, she couldn’t help but feel her heart fall further and further, and she found herself wondering if it would be enough. * * * “Hey, Genpi, take a look at this, will you?”
Genpi released his magic, deactivating the heat wand in his hand that he had been using to cut through the alien ship. The vessel was made of some kind of metal the dakri had never seen before, and the team in charge of investigating the craft had found it extremely difficult to cut or pull apart the vessel through conventional methods, hence the reason why Genpi was painstakingly cutting into the metal siding of the ship with a heat wand. He had been making good progress, too, or rather, he would have been making progress, if it wasn’t for his colleague’s constant interruptions.
With a disgruntled sigh, Genpi pushed up his black tinted goggles and looked up at the excitable drake, his expression telling the whole world that this had better be worth his attention. “What is it now Penirl?”
Penirl stood about three meters away, in his hands an oddly shaped piece of metal. It was long and staff-like, but had what looked like a stock at one end.
It also looked like it had survived the crash reasonably intact.
“I’m thinking it’s some kind of weapon, but I already ran a detection spell to look for any enchantments, and I didn’t find anything,” Penirl said as he held up the thing for Genpi’s inspection. Penirl then grabbed the weapon by its grip, and held it in front of him like he would a Lightning Rod.
Thankfully, the drake had enough sense not to point it at anyone, otherwise Genpi would have smacked him upside the head right then and there. “Well, don’t just play with it, the higher ups will want to have a look at it,” Genpi said, waving the excitable young drake away.
“What do you think it does, though?” Penirl asked, ignoring Genpi’s instructions. “I’ve already tried the triggering mechanism, but nothing happened.” As if to demonstrate this, Penirl stuck his finger into the hole near the grip and squeezed the rather obvious trigger.
Nothing happened, but that did nothing to lighten Genpi’s mood about the drake playing around with something he didn’t understand. “Stop messing around and get that thing logged and put with the other artifacts,” Genpi said, shooing the drake away.
Penirl looked a little downcast at this, but quickly perked up. “Come on, Genpi! Aren’t you even the slightest bit excited?”
Genpi looked up at the drake before slowly returning his goggles to their old position. “I'll be ‘excited’ when I find out whether or not friends of these things are going to come looking for their lost ship. More importantly than that, though, is if they find the inhabitants of this planet in any way delicious.”
“Oh poo, you really need to lighten up,” Penirl said, sticking out his tongue at the older drake.
If Genpi saw this, he didn't show it, choosing to instead reignite his wand and get back to cutting.
Penirl shook his head in disapproval before he turned and carefully picked his way out of the wreckage of the ship. It didn't take him long to log and store the new discovery, during which he started having the oddest feeling that he was being watched. He looked up and around for a little bit, drawing a confused stare from the hen in charge of the recovered artifacts, but that didn’t matter to him as much. He would never admit it to Genpi, but what the older drake had said earlier had shaken him to the core.
“Are you okay?” the hen with the clipboard asked, her crest lowered ever so slightly in worry.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine…” Penirl said before he tried to shake off the feeling.
“Well, if you’re sure, then you probably should be getting back to work,” the hen reminded him.
Penirl nodded, but didn’t say anything as his eyes searched the edges of the crater for a few more seconds, before they moved to the skies above. After a few seconds of finding nothing, he turned and made his way back to the ship and into the depths below.
The hen’s eyes followed him until he disappeared, before she shrugged to herself and muttered about the strangeness of drakes, completely ignorant of the strange area of warped air that hovered just above the wreckage as it silently recorded the activity below. * * * Tor was in a bit of a panic. Lady Siv was one of his closest friends, but that relationship was somewhat marred by the fact that she never came to him with good news. When one coupled this with the fact that Siv had apparently had a vision specifically about the alien survivor, one could understandably see why the small king was distraught.
Nightmarish scenes began playing through his head; vastly superior forces invading his planet, insect-like creatures that could shape-shift infiltrating his forces, and his people rounded up like cattle, being used as weapons like the unfortunate survivor, or even as a source of food.
All of this and more danced through his mind and kept him at his desk as he desperately tried to think of some way out of this hellish scenario. Plan after plan was drawn up, considered, then ultimately thrown away, as he had no way to gauge the strength of his opponents with the information he currently had, but even with his limited understanding, he knew that he and his people would be conquered within a week should the aliens come. If they had the power to send a ship across the vast distance of space, what stopped them from hurling a meteor the size of Tor’s castle at his tiny Diarchy? What about several meteors? What about their own moon?
None of this sat well with the small king. If their enemy wanted, they could annihilate Tor’s little world before the planet’s inhabitants even knew what had hit them.
Unbidden, the king felt his eyes drawn to a particular book on his shelf. It was one he had read before, quite extensively for that matter, since it had been penned by one of his previous students. The concepts inside were just that, though: concepts. Nothing more than pipe dreams that the imaginative young drake had drawn up during his free time.
With a small grunt, the king held out his hand, while his beak glowed a brilliant golden color. Almost immediately, the book on the shelf took on a similar hue, and flew from its place on the shelf and into the king’s outstretched hand. He didn’t know why the book caught his eye, but something about the problems he faced reminded him of his long dead student. Maybe something about the way the curious drake saw the world would help me. At the very least, it would be a welcome diversion, the king thought to himself as he began to flip through the pages.
It wasn’t long before one of his student’s scrawls caught his eye, and he had to suppress a chuckle at the strange invention the drake had penned. “A wooden, flying golem. I remember that one,” Tor said fondly to himself. “Was supposed to be able to ferry weapons and equipment to soldiers in the field. If I remember correctly, Jovask even made a land-based version for transporting foodstuff. Pity, he never did get the instructions on his golems to work right…”
The king continued to idly flip through his apprentice’s notes and designs, stopping every so often to laugh fondly at what the drake had thought up, and the memories they conjured. There was an automatic arrow golem, a creation designed to do the washing up, and something that would gather flowers for some reason. Each and every creation brilliantly designed, but flawed by the creator’s inability to overcome the inherent weaknesses found in golemmancy.
With a shrug, Tor flipped through the remaining pages, fully intent on putting the book back once he reached the end, but stopped at the final page. On the page was a very strange device indeed. It looked like a random assortment of items, all tied to a central statue made to look like a Nightmare Falcon’s head. Tor remembered this particular invention: it was supposed to be the ultimate telescope, capable of not only gaining information on distant objects, but also able to track them for the benefit of the user. It could even locate invisible objects, if enough information for basic scrying was available.
The only problem was, again, the inherent problem with the school of golemmancy: The more complex the task, the more arcanite was required for the golem to perform said task. In order to get this thing to work, Jovask would have needed a hunk of arcanite the size of a large mountain.
Tor let out a weary sigh as he snapped the book shut. Shame, too. If we had Jovask’s Omniscope, we would at least be able to determine if there were any alien ships in orbit about to destroy us, maybe take a few with us using the sun and moon, but… golemmancy, of all things… he thought as his beak began to glow again. With no small amount of nostalgia, the King of the Dawn returned his former student’s work to its resting place.
“What’s wrong, Tory?”
Tor looked towards the open door of his study, his heart falling at the sight of the Lady Siv. Her crest was just as bouncy as he remembered it, though her dress and occupation seemed to have changed since the last time he saw her. “I see you’ve decided to take up baking,” Tor said as he stood to greet her.
“It was either that or basket weaving, and I felt that the people of Jov needed a baker more,” Siv said as she approached her old friend. “I see that Javy’s been rubbing off on you, as you seem to have grown mopey in your old age.”
Tor felt his crest perk up ever so slightly at that jab. “Hey, if I remember, wasn’t it you who told me that I should start acting my age?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips in mock anger.
“Yes, but I never expected you to take my advice!” Siv said as she rolled her eyes at the king. “It was just one of those things you say to a friend. ‘Act your age.’ ‘Don’t date your mortal enemy.’ ‘Don’t eat all the karro berry pockets.’ Never expected you to actually listen, though…”
They both stared at each other for some time until Tor couldn’t take it anymore and broke down in a fit of laughter. “Oh Siv, it’s been far too long…”
The Lady let out a few chuckles of her own, but the laughter never reached her eyes. Instead, there lurked a profound sadness there, one that made Tor’s laughter disappear as quickly as it had appeared.
“So, my friend, what doom have the spirits pronounced upon us?” Tor asked, his crest falling ever so slightly.
Siv let out a sigh, before slowly walking over to the king’s desk and taking a seat. “It’s bad. Really bad. Before, I’ve given you many ways to avoid fate’s decrees. Until this morning, I had never once seen a doom that had but one escape.”
Despite the hen’s gloomy demeanor, the king’s crest rose as he felt his heart leap in hope. “You mean there’s still a way out?”
Siv let out a weary sigh. “Yes, but it may involve the sacrifice of an innocent, and even then I cannot guarantee that your people will come out completely unscathed.” Siv fixed Tor with a stare that seemed to pierce straight through to his soul. “Are you prepared to hear the doom I would announce against you? Are you prepared for the doom that would swallow your people?”
“I am always prepared for this burden. You know that better than anyone, M’lady,” Tor said as he slowly circled his desk, then sat back down in his chair.
Siv reached into the pouch at her belt and pulled out a single memory crystal. “Then, O King of the Dawn, receive this doom, and turn it away for the sake of the living, and the sake of those yet to live,” she said as she placed the glowing red crystal on the desk.
Without hesitation, Tor reached out and took the crystal and gently prodded it with his power. His mind instantly became scorched with images of depravity and violence: Monsters and fire rained from the sky, and his people were turned into cold, unfeeling machines. Anguish washed over all of his senses, and it felt like he was being turned inside out.
Just as quickly as it had come, however, the feeling vanished. Tor now knew everything Siv had placed inside the crystal. Every torment she had experience now scarred his mind, including the way to annul the whole ghastly future.
“No… You cannot be serious…” Tor said, his voice shaking somewhat as he stared down at the crystal in disbelief.
“I am completely serious, King of the Dawn,” the Lady Siv said as she rose from her chair, stretched out her wings, and cast her gaze straight towards the heavens. “His fate is now in your hands. I pray for his sake and for ours that you will continue to be the wise king you have proven yourself to be.”
With those final words, the Lady Siv disappeared in a flash of fire, leaving behind a whiff of smoke, and a single, green feather.
Tor reached out and caught the feather in his magic before it had touched the ground, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the memento left behind. “Easy for you to say, old friend. You’re not the one who’s going to have to explain this to Ja’vail…” * * * Sir Viar looked up at the sound of flapping wings, his crest perking up ever so slightly as he recognized Tilvan and Mor. “Ho, what are you two doing back here?”
Tilvan, the superior of the two, cut a quick salute the moment he landed. “New orders, sir. We’re to reinforce you and protect the creature with our lives.”
Viar looked at the two, somewhat troubled. “Then shouldn’t you two have stayed with it? We only stayed here because The Lady wished it!”
“We did stay with it, sir,” Mor said, pointing to a particular patch of forest. A few seconds after he spoke, the bushes shook and parted to reveal the monster. It immediately spotted the group of dakri knights at the top of the cliff and gave them a short wave before approaching the ladder to its lair. “It seems to have incredibly accurate senses, and even slowed down for us once it knew that we were following it.”
Viar let out a sigh of relief before fixing the two with a searching stare. “Did either of you happen to hear Lady Siv’s vision?”
Both of them shook their heads, their crests lowering ever so slightly. “No sir. Whatever it was was pretty bad, though,” Tilvan said, watching carefully as the creature climbed its ladder to enter its cave. “I’m not an expert on the mood of The Lady, but I’d say that whatever she saw frightened her.”
Viar folded his wings as he thought about that. It wasn’t a good sign, and it made him wonder just what sort of doom was about to befall their planet. As he pondered the future, one of his drakes, Sir Isal, looked over the edge at the ladder below. “Anybody else wonder why this thing is completely okay with the fact that it’s basically under armed guard? I mean, we tried to stay hidden at first, and you remember how quickly it spotted us.”
“I do,” Viar said with a nod, but seemed to be completely unconcerned about this. “I also know that this thing is extremely intelligent, and we left plenty of clues that we were the ones that pulled it out of the river, including a note.”
Isal looked a little confused. “But if this thing isn’t even from this planet, how would it read it? I don’t think it speaks Midlander.”
Viar shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Which was why the note was only pictures, not Midlander, Sunrise, or Nightmare. We’re trying to talk with it, not confuse it.”
“But how can we be certain that it understands pictures the same way we do? How can you be sure that it can even see in the same spectrum of light?” Isal asked, his skepticism clear on his face. “For all we know, this thing can’t see the charcoal marks on the paper, or even at all. I mean, it doesn’t exactly have irises.”
Mor looked a little confused. “If it can’t see, then how is it able to navigate so easily? I mean, it never got hit once by the undergrowth of the forest.”
“I’m thinking it probably uses echolocation, like how the Nightmare tribe would conduct their ceremonial hunts!” Isal said, his crest rising with excitement. “I’ve been reading up on them, and apparently-”
Before the excited knight could build up any steam, however, Viar cut him off with a single, light thwap to the back of Isal’s head. “Stow it, Isal. It can see, the queen was quite certain of that. In fact, from what I’ve heard from Her Majesty, it’s actually quite remarkable how similar we are on the inside.”
Isal and the other drakes that had been sent to relieve Dorn and his team all perked up at this. “The queen told you that?” they asked in unison.
“Of course she told him that,” Tilvan said, folding his wings. “She also told Dorn the same thing. We’re supposed to be guarding this thing, and how can we do that without a basic knowledge of how its mind works?”
Viar nodded in agreement. “That’s the first thing you need to know when guarding someone. The next one is their habits, but since this thing is still pretty new to all of us, we’re kind of in the dark on that one.”
The other knights all looked to him, as if expecting him to go on, though Viar didn’t look like he wanted to continue this conversation at all. He instead chose to walk back to the fire pit to inspect his gear. Finally, after a few moments of Sir Viar being completely closed-beaked, Isal’s curiosity got the better of him. “Well? How is it like us?”
Viar looked surprised at that. “It what?”
“The creature! We were just talking about it, and you suddenly started doing your best Solar Slave impression!” Isal snapped at him.
Viar shook his head before he drew his sword and began to carefully inspect the edge for any nicks. “It’s not my place to gossip,” he said, as if that ended that.
It didn’t, naturally. If anything, it made the other drakes all the more curious. “You can’t honestly just leave it at that,” Isal said, tapping his claw on the ground.
Viar took a look around at the assembled drakes, before he sighed in defeat. With one quick motion, he sheathed his blade, then reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a folded square of paper. The others all moved behind the senior knight and watched him unfold it to reveal an old-fashioned, black and white photo of a group of dakri, all gathered around the carcass of a dead boar. Isal quickly recognized a much younger Viar in the photo, and by extension, guessed at who the others were. “Your family, I gather? Was that taken during your first boar hunt?”
Viar just looked at it for a while before he folded it and took out his blade and whetstone again. “Yeah, but that’s not important. What’s important is that this thing had its own family and its own life. The queen made it clear that she didn’t understand half of what she saw in the creature’s head, but she did gather this much: It’s incredibly homesick.” The others were quiet as Viar slowly began running the whetstone over the edge of his blade, his hands as steady as a mountain, even as his voice began to crack. “She didn’t tell me much, but from what I’ve heard, I can easily guess why it doesn’t care that it’s under armed guard. It most likely only cares about one thing at this point, seeing as how everything it loves and cares about is forever out of reach.”
Sir Mor looked towards the cliff’s edge, before giving his superior officer a questioning look. “And what’s that, Sir?”
Viar looked up, before he looked back down at his blade, his stare boring into his reflection as he thought about what he had guessed. “It’s an alien, so it’s entirely possible it thinks in a completely different way than us, but I know what I would want, if our places were reversed,” he said, his eyes finally leaving his reflection as he went back to sharpening. “If I were the creature, I would want revenge.”
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Hey, sorry about missing yesterday. My babies kept me up all night, and I turned off my alarms to get some sleep during the day, including the one that told me to post a new chapter. What's worse is that I woke up sick, so that's me with egg on my face!
Anyway, here's the links for my books, in case you want to skip the drip-feed and just get right into the meat and potatoes of my story. Thanks for reading, and any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated! I love to hear how I can improve!
Amazon:
What I've Become
Nightmare of the Past
Google:
What I've Become
Nightmare of the Past
2023.05.29 01:19 Olbaidon [Race Report] Coeur d'Alene Marathon - My First 26.2
Race Information
- Name: Coeur d'Alene Marathon
- Date: May 28th 2023
- Distance: 26.2 miles
- Location: Coeur d'Alene Idaho
- Website: https://runsignup.com/Race/ID/CoeurDAlene/nsplit
- Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9158648279/overview
- Time: 3:58:17 (chip time)
Goals
| Goal | Description | Completed? |
|---|---|---|
| A | Sub 4:00:00 | Yes |
| B | Finish | Yes |
Splits
| Mile | Time |
|---|---|
| 1 | 9:01 |
| 2 | 8:58 |
| 3 | 9:00 |
| 4 | 8:40 |
| 5 | 8:47 |
| 6 | 9:05 |
| 7 | 8:38 |
| 8 | 8:52 |
| 9 | 8:51 |
| 10 | 9:16 |
| 11 | 8:38 |
| 12 | 9:39 |
| 13 | 8:35 |
| 14 | 8:53 |
| 15 | 9:00 |
| 16 | 9:11 |
| 17 | 9:10 |
| 18 | 9:14 |
| 19 | 9:13 |
| 20 | 9:06 |
| 21 | 9:28 |
| 22 | 9:10 |
| 23 | 9:28 |
| 24 | 9:34 |
| 25 | 9:15 |
| 26 | 9:15 |
| 27 | 9:36 (pace) |
Background
Feel free to skip this section if you don't want to read my sappy stuff.I began running in March of 2022. In December of 2021 I was in the ER for what I thought was quite possibly a heart attack, luckily that was not the case! It did open my eyes to my health though and my wife and I began seeing a personal trainer, and a few short months later I fell in love with running. I really began this journey because I have two young daughters (7 and 2 currently) and the thought of continuing to ignore my own health seemed extremely selfish as it could lead them down a similar lifestyle path, or without a dad earlier than they deserve, ultimately I want to be on this earth as long as I can for my kids.
I live in Spokane Washington which hosts Bloomsday, one of the biggest races in the world (4th in the US and 12th in the world I believe), so running Bloomsday became my goal. Since I started in March I didn't have much time to train so just finishing the virtual was my main goal, once I completed that I was hooked. I signed up for my first 10k (The Coeur d'Alene Marathon 10k nonetheless) and set my goal to finish in 1 hour. I missed that goal by 1 minute and 1 second! After that I kept training working further and faster through reading tons of posts here and following mostly LSD training methods. I made my goal to qualify for a Bloomsday "yellow bib" by 2023 in any race I could (essentially a 9:40 pace or better in any race 5 miles or more).
I ran many 5k races in the subsequent months while deciding to begin training for my first half marathon in October of that year. I followed Hal Higdon's beginner half marathon training plan, and low and behold I finished my first half in October of 2022, and under 2 hours which qualified me for my Bloomsday "yellow bib" for 2023 which I ran with a pace of 7:45/min last month! (a lot better than my 9:40 goal from the previous years, I thank my marathon training for that really).
During all of this I have lost 50lbs, and am resting solidly in a "normal" BMI range.
Training
Due to my success with Hal Higdon before I opted for the Intermediate Marathon plan. I followed it pretty dang closely with a few moved or missed runs due to vacation and other races.I knew CDA was hilly at around 1,300 ft of total gain and fall so I trained on lots of hills, luckily leaving my house in any direction is immediately met by hills, it just depends on how severe you want them to be. I also genuinely enjoy running hills, call me weird. Ther is a 800ft total elevation gain 8 mile route I take quite often near my house.
That was until 3 weeks ago Saturday. The day before Bloomsday I was getting my daughters some food and stubbed my toe on a bag of dog food...lol. I immediately knew I had broken and/or dislocated it because it didn't feel correct. If you have ever broken or dislocated a bone you know what I mean. I looked down and sure enough 4 of my toes we facing south like the rest of my body, and my left pinky toe was facing south-east. I put it back in it's place and headed to urgent care where xrays showed it was indeed broken. The doctor I saw advised me to skip Bloomsday and maybe even the marathon but he said "my wife is a marathon runner, 3x Boston runner, so I know you wont listen to me...just please listen to your body."
I decided to do Bloomsday the next day and use that for my basis on whether or not I would do the marathon. Luckily I had next to no pain during Bloomsday so I decided to do an extra extra hard and long taper and go for the marathon as well.
The last three weeks of my training consisted of no running for a week, 7 miles the next week, and 9 miles the week of the marathon. The goal being to just let my toe heal as best I could.
Pre-race
The week leading up to the race I began eating more carbs and attempting to drink more water (which I am notoriously bad at still), I did one medium length run, and two super short pace runs just to get my legs feeling right since it had been few weeks since I did any serious running.The night before we ate a pasta dinner and I attempted to go to bed early.
As life would have it my oldest daughter was coughing all through the night, which would wake my younger daughter up causing her to cry, my wife tried to do the best she could to quickly calm them, but this was an all-night ordeal and unfortunately I only ended up with about 5.5 hours of decent sleep total.
I woke up at 4:30, had a shot of coffee with a glass of water, and a couple of honey stinger waffles with some peanut butter before getting ready and making the 40 min drive to CDA.
Once arriving I used the restrooms one last time, checked my bag, and headed to the starting gate to find the 4:00 pacer.
Race
My goal was to stay near the 4:00 pace runner for the first half, then negative split my way to just under 4:00 hours. This didn't work at all for me, although in retrospect it probably still would have worked about the same given my finish time. I stayed somewhat close for the first 3 miles, but once we started hitting hills I was able to keep my pace fairly consistent with little rise in HR or effort, like I said I love hills.I honestly felt freaking fantastic for the first 15 miles, and don't have much to say, I was fairly consistent with my pace given the constant ups and downs, around mile 12 though I did cost myself 1 minute by stopping to pee, but you gotta do what you gotta do right. With the first half behind me it meant the three steepest climbs were too, and it was mostly jut rolling hills until mile 21ish.
Around mile 16 is when I started to really notice it getting tougher to keep a steady pace and I had to actually "work harder" to stay at a desired pace instead of running comfortably. The sun popped out for a couple of miles around this time too, but luckily dipped back behind the clouds. Again not really a whole lot to say from mile 16 to 22 either, I could definite tell I had to try harder, but I was still going strong, just a little slower.
Around mile 21/22 is when the last decent rise in elevation came and that's when I really had to start pushing, my mind started telling me "hey man, based on your pace you could slow it down to 10min/mile and happily finish right at 4:00:00." I tried to argue with myself "good call, after this mile we'll slow it down then." But I would tell myself this after each mile to try to keep going.
I remember a reading about dedicating the last handful of miles to people in your life to keep yourself pushing so I decided to do this, mile 23 I dedicated to my dogs, mile 24 my wife (yes it was slower than my dogs, but there was a bit more hilliness okay!! And mile 23 was mostly down hill). Mile 25 was for my older daughter, and 26 was for my younger daughter (notice how they had the exact same pace, no favorites here). Once I hit mile 26 I was back in the park where the finish line was, I passed my boss who was cheering me on (she ran the half), and a short distance later I saw my wife and girls which elated me greatly and helped with the last push through the gate. My oldest daughter ran along the grass with me til the finish, and my youngest tried which was a great feeling to finish with.
Post-race
After I crossed the line I snagged my medal and immediate went to get a banana, Gatorade, and a slice of pizza. Over the course of the last year of running, I have found I need to eat immediately after finishing or I get terrible GI issues and the wrong kind of runs. I found my wife and kids we took pictures, I snagged a second slice of pizza and got my bag so we could go. Little did I know my wife wanted lunch, so we went to a little restaurant on the lake and got fish and chips, then walked to get icecream for the mall near by. Ultimately I was okay with this because walking felt better than sitting or standing still anyway. I made the drive back home (we took separate cars), took my socks and KT tape off for the first time to see an angry angry blood blister on the inside edge of my right foot (luckily not under my foot so not an issue, I am used to blisters on my right foot though...never get them on my left) I did some foam rolling and took a super hot shower, and here I am now writing this and deciding what I want for dinner.I told my wife before this started if I hit my 4 hour goal I would take a 2 year break from marathons and focus on halves...but I mean...I am already looking into fun ones in 2024...I gotta shoot for 3:45 or better now right?
Made with a new race report generator created by herumph.
2023.05.29 01:18 Olbaidon Race Report - First Marathon (Coeur d'Alene)
Race Information
- Name: Coeur d'Alene Marathon
- Date: May 28th 2023
- Distance: 26.2 miles
- Location: Coeur d'Alene Idaho
- Website: https://runsignup.com/Race/ID/CoeurDAlene/nsplit
- Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9158648279/overview
- Time: 3:58:17 (chip time)
Goals
| Goal | Description | Completed? |
|---|---|---|
| A | Sub 4:00:00 | Yes |
| B | Finish | Yes |
Splits
| Mile | Time |
|---|---|
| 1 | 9:01 |
| 2 | 8:58 |
| 3 | 9:00 |
| 4 | 8:40 |
| 5 | 8:47 |
| 6 | 9:05 |
| 7 | 8:38 |
| 8 | 8:52 |
| 9 | 8:51 |
| 10 | 9:16 |
| 11 | 8:38 |
| 12 | 9:39 |
| 13 | 8:35 |
| 14 | 8:53 |
| 15 | 9:00 |
| 16 | 9:11 |
| 17 | 9:10 |
| 18 | 9:14 |
| 19 | 9:13 |
| 20 | 9:06 |
| 21 | 9:28 |
| 22 | 9:10 |
| 23 | 9:28 |
| 24 | 9:34 |
| 25 | 9:15 |
| 26 | 9:15 |
| 27 | 9:36 (pace) |
Background
Feel free to skip this section if you don't want to read my sappy stuff.I began running in March of 2022. In December of 2021 I was in the ER for what I thought was quite possibly a heart attack, luckily that was not the case! It did open my eyes to my health though and my wife and I began seeing a personal trainer, and a few short months later I fell in love with running. I really began this journey because I have two young daughters (7 and 2 currently) and the thought of continuing to ignore my own health seemed extremely selfish as it could lead them down a similar lifestyle path, or without a dad earlier than they deserve, ultimately I want to be on this earth as long as I can for my kids.
I live in Spokane Washington which hosts Bloomsday, one of the biggest races in the world (4th in the US and 12th in the world I believe), so running Bloomsday became my goal. Since I started in March I didn't have much time to train so just finishing the virtual was my main goal, once I completed that I was hooked. I signed up for my first 10k (The Coeur d'Alene Marathon 10k nonetheless) and set my goal to finish in 1 hour. I missed that goal by 1 minute and 1 second! After that I kept training working further and faster through reading tons of posts here and following mostly LSD training methods. I made my goal to qualify for a Bloomsday "yellow bib" by 2023 in any race I could (essentially a 9:40 pace or better in any race 5 miles or more).
I ran many 5k races in the subsequent months while deciding to begin training for my first half marathon in October of that year. I followed Hal Higdon's beginner half marathon training plan, and low and behold I finished my first half in October of 2022, and under 2 hours which qualified me for my Bloomsday "yellow bib" for 2023 which I ran with a pace of 7:45/min last month! (a lot better than my 9:40 goal from the previous years, I thank my marathon training for that really).
During all of this I have lost 50lbs, and am resting solidly in a "normal" BMI range.
Training
Due to my success with Hal Higdon before I opted for the Intermediate Marathon plan. I followed it pretty dang closely with a few moved or missed runs due to vacation and other races.I knew CDA was hilly at around 1,300 ft of total gain and fall so I trained on lots of hills, luckily leaving my house in any direction is immediately met by hills, it just depends on how severe you want them to be. I also genuinely enjoy running hills, call me weird. Ther is a 800ft total elevation gain 8 mile route I take quite often near my house.
That was until 3 weeks ago Saturday. The day before Bloomsday I was getting my daughters some food and stubbed my toe on a bag of dog food...lol. I immediately knew I had broken and/or dislocated it because it didn't feel correct. If you have ever broken or dislocated a bone you know what I mean. I looked down and sure enough 4 of my toes we facing south like the rest of my body, and my left pinky toe was facing south-east. I put it back in it's place and headed to urgent care where xrays showed it was indeed broken. The doctor I saw advised me to skip Bloomsday and maybe even the marathon but he said "my wife is a marathon runner, 3x Boston runner, so I know you wont listen to me...just please listen to your body."
I decided to do Bloomsday the next day and use that for my basis on whether or not I would do the marathon. Luckily I had next to no pain during Bloomsday so I decided to do an extra extra hard and long taper and go for the marathon as well.
The last three weeks of my training consisted of no running for a week, 7 miles the next week, and 9 miles the week of the marathon. The goal being to just let my toe heal as best I could.
Pre-race
The week leading up to the race I began eating more carbs and attempting to drink more water (which I am notoriously bad at still), I did one medium length run, and two super short pace runs just to get my legs feeling right since it had been few weeks since I did any serious running.The night before we ate a pasta dinner and I attempted to go to bed early.
As life would have it my oldest daughter was coughing all through the night, which would wake my younger daughter up causing her to cry, my wife tried to do the best she could to quickly calm them, but this was an all-night ordeal and unfortunately I only ended up with about 5.5 hours of decent sleep total.
I woke up at 4:30, had a shot of coffee with a glass of water, and a couple of honey stinger waffles with some peanut butter before getting ready and making the 40 min drive to CDA.
Once arriving I used the restrooms one last time, checked my bag, and headed to the starting gate to find the 4:00 pacer.
Race
My goal was to stay near the 4:00 pace runner for the first half, then negative split my way to just under 4:00 hours. This didn't work at all for me, although in retrospect it probably still would have worked about the same given my finish time. I stayed somewhat close for the first 3 miles, but once we started hitting hills I was able to keep my pace fairly consistent with little rise in HR or effort, like I said I love hills.I honestly felt freaking fantastic for the first 15 miles, and don't have much to say, I was fairly consistent with my pace given the constant ups and downs, around mile 12 though I did cost myself 1 minute by stopping to pee, but you gotta do what you gotta do right. With the first half behind me it meant the three steepest climbs were too, and it was mostly jut rolling hills until mile 21ish.
Around mile 16 is when I started to really notice it getting tougher to keep a steady pace and I had to actually "work harder" to stay at a desired pace instead of running comfortably. The sun popped out for a couple of miles around this time too, but luckily dipped back behind the clouds. Again not really a whole lot to say from mile 16 to 22 either, I could definite tell I had to try harder, but I was still going strong, just a little slower.
Around mile 21/22 is when the last decent rise in elevation came and that's when I really had to start pushing, my mind started telling me "hey man, based on your pace you could slow it down to 10min/mile and happily finish right at 4:00:00." I tried to argue with myself "good call, after this mile we'll slow it down then." But I would tell myself this after each mile to try to keep going.
I remember a reading about dedicating the last handful of miles to people in your life to keep yourself pushing so I decided to do this, mile 23 I dedicated to my dogs, mile 24 my wife (yes it was slower than my dogs, but there was a bit more hilliness okay!! And mile 23 was mostly down hill). Mile 25 was for my older daughter, and 26 was for my younger daughter (notice how they had the exact same pace, no favorites here). Once I hit mile 26 I was back in the park where the finish line was, I passed my boss who was cheering me on (she ran the half), and a short distance later I saw my wife and girls which elated me greatly and helped with the last push through the gate. My oldest daughter ran along the grass with me til the finish, and my youngest tried which was a great feeling to finish with.
Post-race
After I crossed the line I snagged my medal and immediate went to get a banana, Gatorade, and a slice of pizza. Over the course of the last year of running, I have found I need to eat immediately after finishing or I get terrible GI issues and the wrong kind of runs. I found my wife and kids we took pictures, I snagged a second slice of pizza and got my bag so we could go. Little did I know my wife wanted lunch, so we went to a little restaurant on the lake and got fish and chips, then walked to get icecream for the mall near by. Ultimately I was okay with this because walking felt better than sitting or standing still anyway. I made the drive back home (we took separate cars), took my socks and KT tape off for the first time to see an angry angry blood blister on the inside edge of my right foot (luckily not under my foot so not an issue, I am used to blisters on my right foot though...never get them on my left) I did some foam rolling and took a super hot shower, and here I am now writing this and deciding what I want for dinner.I told my wife before this started if I hit my 4 hour goal I would take a 2 year break from marathons and focus on halves...but I mean...I am already looking into fun ones in 2024...I gotta shoot for 3:45 or better now right?
Made with a new race report generator created by herumph.
2023.05.29 01:18 RandallPoink64 AirTag problem I hope
AirTag bought back in September of 2022 iPhone 14 pro
For the record this isn’t a horror story, I’m asking an actual question please bear with me, also I am kinda superstitious but only as much as the Hellenistic culture goes.
Okay so for context I go to Ball State University, and I got an AirTag for my cat Artemis, and in early March, she was murdered by my roommate (no need to go into detail there). Well I didn’t want to get rid of all of her stuff incase we got a new cat so I wouldn’t have to waste precious food money on new cat stuff. Well anyways, I deactivated her AirTag when we got a new cat, which was in April, named Percy and got him his own aAirTag anyways cause it was too hard to use hers with him, with his own name and everything. Here’s where the problem lies: Move out day was May 5th. Me and my girlfriend packed up and moved out that day and I was on the other end of the state by 7pm and she was on the other side by 4pm. Well um, how do you exactly explain this picture?? This isn’t even on the highway or route to either of our houses!!! Anyways the reason I posted this here is because I was wondering if this is an often occurrence of AirTags updating when they don’t really exist anymore? (For more context the AirTag that has apparently updated its location was with me and Percy all the way down south by 7pm the day before) Im posting this here because if anyone would know if this is a glitch it would be you guys. I really hope it’s a glitch cause if not then I really just don’t know what to think. Also if you noticed this posted twice, I didn’t know how to edit (or if I could edit) a Reddit post so I just deleted it and put this one up.
submitted by RandallPoink64 to applehelp [link] [comments]
For the record this isn’t a horror story, I’m asking an actual question please bear with me, also I am kinda superstitious but only as much as the Hellenistic culture goes.
Okay so for context I go to Ball State University, and I got an AirTag for my cat Artemis, and in early March, she was murdered by my roommate (no need to go into detail there). Well I didn’t want to get rid of all of her stuff incase we got a new cat so I wouldn’t have to waste precious food money on new cat stuff. Well anyways, I deactivated her AirTag when we got a new cat, which was in April, named Percy and got him his own aAirTag anyways cause it was too hard to use hers with him, with his own name and everything. Here’s where the problem lies: Move out day was May 5th. Me and my girlfriend packed up and moved out that day and I was on the other end of the state by 7pm and she was on the other side by 4pm. Well um, how do you exactly explain this picture?? This isn’t even on the highway or route to either of our houses!!! Anyways the reason I posted this here is because I was wondering if this is an often occurrence of AirTags updating when they don’t really exist anymore? (For more context the AirTag that has apparently updated its location was with me and Percy all the way down south by 7pm the day before) Im posting this here because if anyone would know if this is a glitch it would be you guys. I really hope it’s a glitch cause if not then I really just don’t know what to think. Also if you noticed this posted twice, I didn’t know how to edit (or if I could edit) a Reddit post so I just deleted it and put this one up.
2023.05.29 01:00 juststartnow Horse Dad Reflects on Pony Sale. Lesson Learned. I Didn't Get It, Until Too Late
My 13 year old (14 in August) has been riding since she was 5/6. You might say this is all my fault. I brought her to her first lead line lesson - in pajama pants, t-shirt, and tennis shoes - looking for a good summer camp option. She was smitten immediately (which I already guessed might happen - she had been way too into the farmer's market pony rides since the earliest time she could sit up by herself), and so we kept at it. Within a few weeks she had the right gear, etc., and was doing multiple riding lessons at a really good local barn.
In case context is helpful, I'm not a "horse" person and we're definitely suburban types. So I didn't bring tons of personal experience to my daughter's riding. I loved that it was so positive for her. She was taking care of the horses, loved being in the tack rooms, wanted to do everything she could to help care for and maintain all of the ponies and horses and their gear that she could. She became, and remains, a real barn rat.
There's also the backdrop of our personal situation. I've been a single dad since she was 2, and riding quickly became an oasis of stability for my daughter as she dealt with the idea from her first real awareness that her parents were divorced. No real drama with her mom beyond the fact that as divorced co-parents its not always easy on us, but still for my daughter our 50/50 split has meant that she's moving around quite a bit and of course being a child of divorce is hard.
But riding? It was, and is, hers. Regardless of her circumstances, riding was hers. Which becomes a kicker part of our story.
We've had some of the classic, unfortunate riding moments. My daughter's first barn moved, so we tried a pony lesson with the barn where they co-located - literally using the same arenas and trainers, just a different program with different horses - and she was thrown and broke her wrist during her first lesson. We spent a year away and then I tried another barn, where she got stepped on the first time she was there. Not awful - bloodied toe and a nail that came off, but another delay in riding.
Riding has also been expensive for me. We're not loaded, and it's been a stretch - and a mighty stretch at times - to maintain it for my daughter. But it's been such a positive for her, I've made the commitment. So after her wrist and toe, I found another barn option for her that she tentatively agreed to try out.
One thing as a parent and, even worse I think, as a horse dad with almost no prior experience in the horse world, folks don't really prepare you for what's ahead on the horse journey. Maybe it's already out there, but someone should start a horse blog for non-horse experienced parents as they start their children on their riding journey. There's so much to know in terms of how barns work, what different programs prioritize, how to be in touch with trainers, what costs will look like...everything!
We got to my daughter's new barn just as the early days of COVID were hitting. The new facility was mostly outdoors and was located on a property with over 100 acres, which meant that riding was not just in arenas and there were no COVID concerns since everything was outdoors anyway. There were essentially protected trail rides the girls could take, and getting your horse required a 20 minute walk up to the pastures because all of the horses were kept in pastured herds full time. After getting over her initial hesitations from her earlier injuries, my daughter was all in.
We were lucky to avoid the health and other disastrous effects of the pandemic, which I sadly recognize really affected so many others. Because of that, COVID actually became this very beautiful time for us. My daughter was home during the school days and then we would drive an hour each way to this new barn. My daughter could easily spend 4-6 hours there, so I would spend that time walking the property (trying to get into better shape. It only kinda worked) and doing work calls. My daughter immersed herself into this new barn life, riding/taking care of horses, being with other new riding friends, trying out their pony club. And we had all of this great car time going to and from. This is probably ages 8/9 - 10 for her.
While there, my daughter started riding a lesson pony that had been bred on property. She was a young mare with lots of personality and a little off-putting temperament. She was definitely not a push button pony. But she became a good match for my daughter. My daughter had to become a better rider to get her pony to do what she needed to do, and her pony had all the go that my daughter required. Arena lessons, a couple of schooling shows, jumping, dressage work, trail and beach rides, that sweet pony was up for anything with my daughter even though she never lost her essential mareness, if that makes sense. But my daughter was up for it, and having to work with a pony that definitely had her own personality made her a better rider. So, dad buys his daughter a pony for Christmas 2020. I've never had a happier moment as a parent than my daughter realizing that her lesson pony had become her own.
In late 2020 I also had the chance to buy a house that is literally across the street from another barn. It didn't occur to me as we were buying the house, but as soon as I realized my daughter could walk to her horse rather than drive an hour it became really attractive to think about bringing her pony to the new barn. So we did it, and I got another huge lesson as a horse dad. Moving barns is very emotional. But my daughter supported it, and suddenly was literally 2 minutes from her bedroom door to her pony stall. New trainer, new folks to ride with, and she was there every day. She would leave and come back 6 hours later.
Things were great all of 2021 and into the first half of 2022, but nobody tells you this other key thing about your daughter. They keep growing. So by mid-2022, a year and a half after buying her pony, two years after she started riding her, my daughter's trainer (this trainer at the barn across the street) said that it really would make sense to think about getting a horse. My daughter's pony was 13.2 and her legs were simply too long.
We started searching and pretty soon found a beautiful palomino gelding, 16.3, 14 years old, dutch warmblood. The perfect change for my daughter - physically more challenging to ride, but what a wonderful guy. He's been around a bit and needs maintenance for arthritis, but he's really versatile, incredibly sweet, and immediately became a member of the family. Since my daughter isn't doing hardcore training, her new horse can become horse for life, I hope. A wonderful match.
So now I had a horse and a pony in the barn across the street from our house. Our sweet pony was immediately left out since my daughter had to focus her work and effort on learning her new horse. She would ride her, but it wasn't the same training regime any longer. So, consulting with my daughter and her trainer, we decided to return her to the barn we got her from, the place where she was initially bred. She could be reunited with her former trainer, be in pasture, participate in their lesson programs and, ultimately, likely be sold to another owner if we couldn't find anybody to lease her.
My daughter supported that shift and we had the pony at the new (old) barn for the next 9 months. She was in lesson programs, was on a short term lease for a bit, but no takers for purchase. Interestingly, and importantly, over that nine months we never made it over to visit. The pony was in good hands and my daughter was immersed in her training program with her new horse. Moreover, we had moved barns with the horse, too, to find a traineprogram that was a better fit for the new horse's capabilities. So my daughter was learning a new horse, trainer, program and barn while her pony was happily in another stable/barn environment. My daughter is still at her new barn.
Last week I got the big news from the trainer with our pony - someone was coming out with a serious interest in buying her. I was really happy. It has been way more expensive maintaining two horses than I anticipated, and with my daughter not getting to see her pony for 9 months I also felt like maybe the connection had waned a bit. By the end of the week it was done - the new owner had come with payment for the pony and signed paperwork. We had succeeded in selling my daughter's pony to a sweet new home.
So we just needed to go back up to the barn one last time to pick up the paperwork, thank the trainer, and say good-bye to our sweet pony. The barn where the pony is housed is 20 minutes from the barn where my daughter works with her new horse and trainer, so it made sense to visit her pony on the way to her horse lesson. We got up early - our plan was to meet the pony's trainer at 8:30 AM on a weekend and then head to her horse lesson.
When we got to the barn, it was a beautiful, misty morning. Kind of odd weather for May. And there was my daughter's pony, up on the hill above the barn and stables, in pasture with the other horses in her herd. She was probably 400 yards or so - maybe a bit more - from where we parked. Looking up at her, the pony was almost a tiny animal in a framed pastoral picture. A bit of a spec on a green pasture hillside.
We stopped to chat with the trainer and then my daughter went to go say good-bye to her pony. I watched with the trainer as she headed off, getting smaller and smaller, soon a spec herself set against a gorgeous pasture backdrop. I had seen her head up that hill so many times during COVID when we arrived and she had to go to the pastures to get her pony. This time she was headed up, alone, to say good-bye.
I couldn't believe the wave of emotion that hit me as I watched her go up. All of a sudden I mumbled to the trainer - I'll go see them, too - so I could walk up the hill alone, before I burst into tears. And I did. Watching my daughter approach her pony to say good-bye, standing so sweetly, so small, against the backdrop of these beautiful hills was the saddest experience of my horse dad life. It caught me completely by surprise.
I made it up to my daughter, and sure enough she was in tears and had been crying all the way up to visit her pony for the last time. She put her arms around her, hugged her, considered her from a pace or two away. Her pony simply hung out and stared back, not moving after approaching her. It was so heartbreaking. I have to say it was almost a three way street of sadness. My daughter saying good-bye to her pony. Me in my heart-break for her. And I wonder, too, if her pony was in some way saying - where have you been? And why are you leaving? It's almost more than I can bear to imagine even as I write this.
We had a few hour car ride after leaving, and spent most of it in tears. My daughter fell asleep and then I totally lost it. I have worked so hard for riding to be a stabilizing thing for my daughter, and it has been. But I failed to realize something. My daughter's pony, even if she couldn't make it to ride with her, was hers. Essentially, integrally, part of her. And selling her, creating that separation, was a break beyond imagining.
Our backdrop of divorce and my daughter's journey through it certainly adds to the emotion, but I also feel like, as the dad that's tried my best to make all of this happen, I didn't realize how I was severing a fundamental connection for my daughter when I agreed to the sale. In retrospect, I really feel like our pony was a member of our family, that we were spiritually connected to her regardless of her location, and completing a sale severed that connection in a painful way that I was completely unprepared for.
Watching my daughter standing in front of her pony one last time, this tiny spec on the hillside above me, I felt like I was watching her childhood come to an end. It was profound, and so profoundly sad.
So I didn't get it. I didn't realize how connected we were and are to our pony, and I didn't realize that a sale could be so profoundly sad, even when on balance the entire circumstance is really positive all around. But the sense of loss is incredible. I feel like a member of our family has died, and I think my daughter feels the same.
Anyway, putting this all here to try to simply get it out and down on paper. If on the off chance another horse dad happens upon this and it's helpful, I'll be glad. This riding thing is major, in so many ways I couldn't anticipate or appreciate. Learning. But, today, this is really really hard.
All the best to all of you riders and your horses and ponies out there. You are awesome.
submitted by juststartnow to Equestrian [link] [comments]
In case context is helpful, I'm not a "horse" person and we're definitely suburban types. So I didn't bring tons of personal experience to my daughter's riding. I loved that it was so positive for her. She was taking care of the horses, loved being in the tack rooms, wanted to do everything she could to help care for and maintain all of the ponies and horses and their gear that she could. She became, and remains, a real barn rat.
There's also the backdrop of our personal situation. I've been a single dad since she was 2, and riding quickly became an oasis of stability for my daughter as she dealt with the idea from her first real awareness that her parents were divorced. No real drama with her mom beyond the fact that as divorced co-parents its not always easy on us, but still for my daughter our 50/50 split has meant that she's moving around quite a bit and of course being a child of divorce is hard.
But riding? It was, and is, hers. Regardless of her circumstances, riding was hers. Which becomes a kicker part of our story.
We've had some of the classic, unfortunate riding moments. My daughter's first barn moved, so we tried a pony lesson with the barn where they co-located - literally using the same arenas and trainers, just a different program with different horses - and she was thrown and broke her wrist during her first lesson. We spent a year away and then I tried another barn, where she got stepped on the first time she was there. Not awful - bloodied toe and a nail that came off, but another delay in riding.
Riding has also been expensive for me. We're not loaded, and it's been a stretch - and a mighty stretch at times - to maintain it for my daughter. But it's been such a positive for her, I've made the commitment. So after her wrist and toe, I found another barn option for her that she tentatively agreed to try out.
One thing as a parent and, even worse I think, as a horse dad with almost no prior experience in the horse world, folks don't really prepare you for what's ahead on the horse journey. Maybe it's already out there, but someone should start a horse blog for non-horse experienced parents as they start their children on their riding journey. There's so much to know in terms of how barns work, what different programs prioritize, how to be in touch with trainers, what costs will look like...everything!
We got to my daughter's new barn just as the early days of COVID were hitting. The new facility was mostly outdoors and was located on a property with over 100 acres, which meant that riding was not just in arenas and there were no COVID concerns since everything was outdoors anyway. There were essentially protected trail rides the girls could take, and getting your horse required a 20 minute walk up to the pastures because all of the horses were kept in pastured herds full time. After getting over her initial hesitations from her earlier injuries, my daughter was all in.
We were lucky to avoid the health and other disastrous effects of the pandemic, which I sadly recognize really affected so many others. Because of that, COVID actually became this very beautiful time for us. My daughter was home during the school days and then we would drive an hour each way to this new barn. My daughter could easily spend 4-6 hours there, so I would spend that time walking the property (trying to get into better shape. It only kinda worked) and doing work calls. My daughter immersed herself into this new barn life, riding/taking care of horses, being with other new riding friends, trying out their pony club. And we had all of this great car time going to and from. This is probably ages 8/9 - 10 for her.
While there, my daughter started riding a lesson pony that had been bred on property. She was a young mare with lots of personality and a little off-putting temperament. She was definitely not a push button pony. But she became a good match for my daughter. My daughter had to become a better rider to get her pony to do what she needed to do, and her pony had all the go that my daughter required. Arena lessons, a couple of schooling shows, jumping, dressage work, trail and beach rides, that sweet pony was up for anything with my daughter even though she never lost her essential mareness, if that makes sense. But my daughter was up for it, and having to work with a pony that definitely had her own personality made her a better rider. So, dad buys his daughter a pony for Christmas 2020. I've never had a happier moment as a parent than my daughter realizing that her lesson pony had become her own.
In late 2020 I also had the chance to buy a house that is literally across the street from another barn. It didn't occur to me as we were buying the house, but as soon as I realized my daughter could walk to her horse rather than drive an hour it became really attractive to think about bringing her pony to the new barn. So we did it, and I got another huge lesson as a horse dad. Moving barns is very emotional. But my daughter supported it, and suddenly was literally 2 minutes from her bedroom door to her pony stall. New trainer, new folks to ride with, and she was there every day. She would leave and come back 6 hours later.
Things were great all of 2021 and into the first half of 2022, but nobody tells you this other key thing about your daughter. They keep growing. So by mid-2022, a year and a half after buying her pony, two years after she started riding her, my daughter's trainer (this trainer at the barn across the street) said that it really would make sense to think about getting a horse. My daughter's pony was 13.2 and her legs were simply too long.
We started searching and pretty soon found a beautiful palomino gelding, 16.3, 14 years old, dutch warmblood. The perfect change for my daughter - physically more challenging to ride, but what a wonderful guy. He's been around a bit and needs maintenance for arthritis, but he's really versatile, incredibly sweet, and immediately became a member of the family. Since my daughter isn't doing hardcore training, her new horse can become horse for life, I hope. A wonderful match.
So now I had a horse and a pony in the barn across the street from our house. Our sweet pony was immediately left out since my daughter had to focus her work and effort on learning her new horse. She would ride her, but it wasn't the same training regime any longer. So, consulting with my daughter and her trainer, we decided to return her to the barn we got her from, the place where she was initially bred. She could be reunited with her former trainer, be in pasture, participate in their lesson programs and, ultimately, likely be sold to another owner if we couldn't find anybody to lease her.
My daughter supported that shift and we had the pony at the new (old) barn for the next 9 months. She was in lesson programs, was on a short term lease for a bit, but no takers for purchase. Interestingly, and importantly, over that nine months we never made it over to visit. The pony was in good hands and my daughter was immersed in her training program with her new horse. Moreover, we had moved barns with the horse, too, to find a traineprogram that was a better fit for the new horse's capabilities. So my daughter was learning a new horse, trainer, program and barn while her pony was happily in another stable/barn environment. My daughter is still at her new barn.
Last week I got the big news from the trainer with our pony - someone was coming out with a serious interest in buying her. I was really happy. It has been way more expensive maintaining two horses than I anticipated, and with my daughter not getting to see her pony for 9 months I also felt like maybe the connection had waned a bit. By the end of the week it was done - the new owner had come with payment for the pony and signed paperwork. We had succeeded in selling my daughter's pony to a sweet new home.
So we just needed to go back up to the barn one last time to pick up the paperwork, thank the trainer, and say good-bye to our sweet pony. The barn where the pony is housed is 20 minutes from the barn where my daughter works with her new horse and trainer, so it made sense to visit her pony on the way to her horse lesson. We got up early - our plan was to meet the pony's trainer at 8:30 AM on a weekend and then head to her horse lesson.
When we got to the barn, it was a beautiful, misty morning. Kind of odd weather for May. And there was my daughter's pony, up on the hill above the barn and stables, in pasture with the other horses in her herd. She was probably 400 yards or so - maybe a bit more - from where we parked. Looking up at her, the pony was almost a tiny animal in a framed pastoral picture. A bit of a spec on a green pasture hillside.
We stopped to chat with the trainer and then my daughter went to go say good-bye to her pony. I watched with the trainer as she headed off, getting smaller and smaller, soon a spec herself set against a gorgeous pasture backdrop. I had seen her head up that hill so many times during COVID when we arrived and she had to go to the pastures to get her pony. This time she was headed up, alone, to say good-bye.
I couldn't believe the wave of emotion that hit me as I watched her go up. All of a sudden I mumbled to the trainer - I'll go see them, too - so I could walk up the hill alone, before I burst into tears. And I did. Watching my daughter approach her pony to say good-bye, standing so sweetly, so small, against the backdrop of these beautiful hills was the saddest experience of my horse dad life. It caught me completely by surprise.
I made it up to my daughter, and sure enough she was in tears and had been crying all the way up to visit her pony for the last time. She put her arms around her, hugged her, considered her from a pace or two away. Her pony simply hung out and stared back, not moving after approaching her. It was so heartbreaking. I have to say it was almost a three way street of sadness. My daughter saying good-bye to her pony. Me in my heart-break for her. And I wonder, too, if her pony was in some way saying - where have you been? And why are you leaving? It's almost more than I can bear to imagine even as I write this.
We had a few hour car ride after leaving, and spent most of it in tears. My daughter fell asleep and then I totally lost it. I have worked so hard for riding to be a stabilizing thing for my daughter, and it has been. But I failed to realize something. My daughter's pony, even if she couldn't make it to ride with her, was hers. Essentially, integrally, part of her. And selling her, creating that separation, was a break beyond imagining.
Our backdrop of divorce and my daughter's journey through it certainly adds to the emotion, but I also feel like, as the dad that's tried my best to make all of this happen, I didn't realize how I was severing a fundamental connection for my daughter when I agreed to the sale. In retrospect, I really feel like our pony was a member of our family, that we were spiritually connected to her regardless of her location, and completing a sale severed that connection in a painful way that I was completely unprepared for.
Watching my daughter standing in front of her pony one last time, this tiny spec on the hillside above me, I felt like I was watching her childhood come to an end. It was profound, and so profoundly sad.
So I didn't get it. I didn't realize how connected we were and are to our pony, and I didn't realize that a sale could be so profoundly sad, even when on balance the entire circumstance is really positive all around. But the sense of loss is incredible. I feel like a member of our family has died, and I think my daughter feels the same.
Anyway, putting this all here to try to simply get it out and down on paper. If on the off chance another horse dad happens upon this and it's helpful, I'll be glad. This riding thing is major, in so many ways I couldn't anticipate or appreciate. Learning. But, today, this is really really hard.
All the best to all of you riders and your horses and ponies out there. You are awesome.
2023.05.28 23:17 BonjourComeBack Emotions: worst enemies or best allies?
The body and mind are often regarded as separate. The same applies to emotions and reason. This dichotomy is regularly made and commonly accepted despite the fact that most of the time decisions are made on the spur of the moment and then rationalized.
Many advertisers and people working in the field of psychology can attest to this.
Emotions can be powerful but blind without reason. This is one of the reasons why we are often warned about our emotions. And more often than not, not knowing how to manage them, they are repressed. And yet they are necessary.
It's like driving a car. Without a steering wheel - reason - you go straight to the wall.
Without the engine, the emotions, you don't make any headway, just as you don't have the fuel that discipline can provide.
Discipline could be seen as the conscious act of pushing the car, whereas passion, the emotions, would be the unconscious act of moving forward because you're overflowing with energy.
We mainly see the negative aspect of emotions and so many people repress them, which prevents them from using them properly.
This makes it even more difficult to move forward because these emotions can even hinder conscious efforts when there is no correspondence between what someone wants to do consciously (reason) and unconsciously (emotions).
There is a tendency to force, using discipline to counterbalance this internal brake, particularly in personal development communities, while forgetting that there is a need behind the emotions and a function.
For example, anger, most of the time, serves to protect what belongs to us or ourselves. How would you react if, in the middle of a picnic, enjoying your sandwich, someone came and stole your meal?
Chances are that the blood would rush to your face, your body would tense up, your fists would clench and the decibels would rise sharply.
And that's normal. You're just trying to get back what you're owed.
On the other hand, if the same situation arose again, but the person was much more threatening or accompanied by a group, there's a good chance that your heart would race, that icy drops of sweat would be beading down your forehead and back, that your hair would stand on end and your limbs would start to tremble, with barely any blood circulating in your fingertips.
That's the body going into survival mode. This reaction is there to protect your integrity from immediate danger.
Disgust, that repulsion when you see something, with the irrepressible urge to look away, plug your nose and sometimes even gag, is there to turn us away from something toxic or to make us spit out a potential threat to our health.
Take a few moments to imagine yourself in the sewers. Dark, damp and, above all, with that filthy smell of decomposing organic matter that makes you nauseous. Or that feeling when you eat a piece of fruit and realize it's rotten.
Just by reading these lines and imagining the scene, you may have found yourself wincing, almost looking away or even plugging your nose as a reflex.
Sadness, that feeling that most of the time seems to descend on us like a leaden curtain, like an iron curtain or a ball and chain that we drag around draining us of all energy, teaches us the notion of loss where we can't really act (unlike anger). It teaches us the notion of loss, where we can't really act (unlike anger). So it encourages us to avoid the situation rather than to counter it like with anger.
It teaches us that it's not always possible to act on the situation and that sometimes we have to accept the loss and avoid the situation so as not to repeat it.
On the other hand, there is an emotion that makes us feel light and energetic. For some people, there seems to be a continuous flow of energy through their body. In others, the body seems light and supple. All this makes it even easier to pursue and find the source of the emotion that is joy.
In a sense, emotions are a useful driving force, and we can consider that
"Reason without strength is powerless and strength without reason is blind".
What's wrong with ignoring your emotions?
Repressing your emotions can have consequences for your health. Symptoms can appear as a result of stress that we ignore. These can range from difficulty sleeping to skin rashes. On the other hand, when emotions are already ignored, it can happen that, without understanding why, a situation makes us explode.
You don't necessarily feel it the previous time, but when you do, you get a very strong bodily sensation, sometimes the blood rushes to your face and your jaw clenches. Other times the body tenses up and the fists clench.
Tears may even roll down the cheeks without warning.
The body reacts spontaneously, sometimes violently. To the point of wondering why the situation unfolded the way it did, and why it all happened, why this uncontrolled explosion. Actions precede reason at that precise moment. Some may be beyond our control.
How can we trust someone if they can explode at any time?
As well as causing health problems and leading to a spontaneous and uncontrolled reaction that is not always viable, it is difficult to identify the emotions and needs behind them when we are used to ignoring signals.
New sensations can then arise without us understanding why. Sometimes it's a feeling of tightness in the chest, other times it's tiredness.
It's hard to know whether what you're doing is right for you or not. The body no longer seems to give any indication of whether something is pleasant or unpleasant. You can feel disconnected from yourself.
Food, activities that we used to love and sometimes even interactions with loved ones can become insipid. The body stops reacting. It loses its vitality and becomes something else entirely.
An empty shell.
Unable to feel anything.
Other times you feel that energy flowing through your veins, your body light, with the irresistible urge to take action, to act immediately, but you repress that urge.
We suppress that energy.
You extinguish that flame.
It's not the right time.
By the time you do take action, that flame has long been extinguished. We've missed the boat.
The energy is lacking.
So you draw on the last remaining reserves of energy through discipline and willpower. Sometimes you feel like you're pulling a whole train when just a few hours before you had the strength to move mountains.
It's hard to carry out long-term projects when that glow, that frail flame, is dwindled by being contained and suppressed, lacking oxygen rather than being fed and nourished when it shines and burns again.
How can we feel fulfilled when we put out the fire that burns within us?
How can we feel fulfilled when we undermine the foundations we need to move forward and carry out the projects we hold dear to our hearts?
What's the point of using your emotions?
Take a few moments to imagine how you will feel when you control and channel your emotions.
When an emotion arises, bodily sensations appear and are discernible. At that precise moment, you understand the emotion that is running through you. At this precise moment you are aware of the thoughts that are running through you.
When you ask yourself why this emotion is happening, you can finally act on it and bring the emotion back down so that you can act in a reasoned way without exploding. Notice how this changes your relationship with others and yourself.
You know what to do.
You can finally use your emotions as a driving force. Gone are the days when they got in the way and held you back, pulling you along.
Now you're water-skiing, pulled by your emotions in the direction you really want to go. No need to "push the car", no need for discipline or willpower.
There's a flow of energy through your body that can move freely through your limbs, your torso and even your head.
Everything seems clearer.
Sometimes it's a sensation of warmth that runs through the whole body, with the hands, arms, legs etc. gaining energy and actively contracting and relaxing. At other times, thoughts speed up and colors appear brighter, stronger and more vivid.
Ideas flow and multiply.
Become aware of what happens in your body when you carry out the projects that drive you. Where do the sensations begin? Do they move? What do they feel like?
When frustrated, you tap into that sensation to finally do what you have to do. When passionate, you surf on this emotion to land on your objectives.
What happens when you do it over and over again, for a multitude of projects?
What is your life like at this very moment?
Take the time to think about all this and become aware of how to use your emotions. Every time you think about it, you'll find an even simpler and more effective way of doing it. It's even possible that you'll do it without thinking about it, as the unconscious mind often automatically puts in place behaviors to best achieve its goals.
Some people may wonder how you're supposed to do this.
This is perfectly logical as we are rarely taught how to do it. It's normal not to know straight away when you've been used to repressing your emotions and you learn that it's never the right time. This will be covered in detail in the solutions below.
The fantastic thing about using your emotions is that as you do it, it becomes automatic. Just like when you learn to read and write.
The beginning is sometimes complicated, you have to make a real effort to write or read. But after a while it becomes second nature.
You don't even have to think about it.
Other people think it's weird, but what's not weird when it's your first time?
Sometimes you think it's not the right time. When will it be the right time? How do you know when it's the right time?
The "later" rarely happens.
Sometimes people think there's no point, as discipline is much more important. The question is not what is more important, but how to use the almost infinite energy that emotions provide.
What's more, when you have a specific vision of the world and a mission, it doesn't matter how you feel. There's something else out there that overwhelms us and provokes a much stronger emotion.
A story
Several weeks ago, I had an almost irrepressible urge to read. I don't really know why. I'd left a book on hold. Now it's right there in front of me.
Right in front of me. On my coffee table.
I'm about to pick it up when a little voice calls out to me.
Now's not the time to do that, you've got other things to do first.
My body was in a frenzy, impatient to start this stimulating and pleasant reading. But it wasn't the right time. A little disappointed, I pushed myself to my desk to get down to work.
All this is more than tedious.
After trying hard to stop myself from reading this brilliant book and getting down to work, I can finally devour it. I was about to grab it when a multitude of thoughts came to mind.
It reminds me of one of the times I went for a run.
At the time, I'd gone out to train my cardio and wanted to see how hard I could push myself. It's a tough start. I put on my helmet and shoes. After a few minutes, thoughts came to me. It was also to forget these kinds of things that I was going to let off steam that evening.
As these thoughts bombarded me, emotions came to the fore. My heart knots, my fists clench. Out of breath, I speed up again. A new energy flows through my body.
My legs move of their own accord, my body comes alive with a will of its own and the feeling of effort disappears.
Only one thing matters.
Run as fast as you can. To push my body to the limit.
Running away from these thoughts.
A few months earlier, sitting comfortably at home, an irresistible urge to draw came over me. One afternoon. It was a beautiful day outside. I had things to do and at the same time I still had some time on my hands.
So I grabbed a few blank sheets of paper and a pencil and started drawing. Draw and draw. The hand moves at its own pace and draws automatically.
It's only when my pile of sheets is completely used up that I come out of this state of concentration.
When I looked up, I realized it was getting dark. So I stopped.
In the course of the evening, I started to look again at the drawings I'd made. Just looking at them made my limbs twitch, as if a stream of energy was flowing through them. Drawing ideas were pouring in. These drawings are cool. I want to do more.
I can't stand the thought of doing them again.
During the run, months later, my body has this new energy. Rarely have I gone so fast for so long. After that running session, completely drained of energy, I lay down on my sofa.
The dark thoughts no longer pursued me.
I've been able to give it everything I've got.
A smile curls my lips.
Long after all that, when the thoughts flooded my mind after I finally had the book I dearly wanted to read, there was a change that was hard to describe.
The excitement I had a few hours ago is gone. The energy is completely gone.
The spark has dissipated.
I blew out the burning flame.
At the precise moment I wanted to use it, nothing happened.
It went out.
It's too late.
So understanding this, I put down the book.
Disappointed.
I'll do it another time.
So what am I supposed to do?
As all roads lead to Rome, here are a few non-exhaustive points that may help.
To begin with, it's important to be able to identify your emotions before using them. So it's necessary to recognise them.
What are the sensations? Where are they located? If I had to give them a shape, color and texture, what would they be?
What does what I'm feeling look like? What images can I use to describe them?
What makes me feel this way? What does it say about me? What is the need behind it? One method that can be useful is the five whys.
The principle is to first ask yourself why you feel the way you do. Then apply this questioning again, but this time to the cause you've found.
Then repeat the process three or four times.
Generally, when you can't answer any more questions, the original cause has been reached.
In short, you associate the stimulus of the smell with something else, such as an event or a person.
There are several ways of setting up an anchor.
The simplest is to make a specific gesture each time the emotion arises. This way, after enough times, you can simply bring the emotion to the surface by doing the gesture again.
Another method is to go into a state of hypnosis, a modified state of consciousness, think of a particular event that provokes the emotion and do the gesture.
It's best to do this several times, but the state of hypnosis means that the experience of the emotion can be very strong and therefore requires less repetition to 'anchor' the gesture and the emotion together.
A positive visualization is one in which you experience what you're aiming for, what you want to have, just to get a taste of it. The fact that it's very pleasant draws you towards this goal and helps to give you new energy and motivation.
Negative visualization consists of doing the opposite by imagining in precise detail exactly the situation you want to avoid at all costs. Unpleasant emotions often arise, prompting you to avoid the scenario as best you can.
The most effective way to do this is to use the two, one after the other, as this creates a contrasting effect.
All you have to do is take a moment. Imagine in detail the ideal situation that you would like to experience on a daily basis and then do the same with the opposite scenario.
The more specific and emotionally powerful this is, the better.
submitted by BonjourComeBack to selfimprovement [link] [comments]
Many advertisers and people working in the field of psychology can attest to this.
Emotions can be powerful but blind without reason. This is one of the reasons why we are often warned about our emotions. And more often than not, not knowing how to manage them, they are repressed. And yet they are necessary.
It's like driving a car. Without a steering wheel - reason - you go straight to the wall.
Without the engine, the emotions, you don't make any headway, just as you don't have the fuel that discipline can provide.
Discipline could be seen as the conscious act of pushing the car, whereas passion, the emotions, would be the unconscious act of moving forward because you're overflowing with energy.
We mainly see the negative aspect of emotions and so many people repress them, which prevents them from using them properly.
This makes it even more difficult to move forward because these emotions can even hinder conscious efforts when there is no correspondence between what someone wants to do consciously (reason) and unconsciously (emotions).
There is a tendency to force, using discipline to counterbalance this internal brake, particularly in personal development communities, while forgetting that there is a need behind the emotions and a function.
For example, anger, most of the time, serves to protect what belongs to us or ourselves. How would you react if, in the middle of a picnic, enjoying your sandwich, someone came and stole your meal?
Chances are that the blood would rush to your face, your body would tense up, your fists would clench and the decibels would rise sharply.
And that's normal. You're just trying to get back what you're owed.
On the other hand, if the same situation arose again, but the person was much more threatening or accompanied by a group, there's a good chance that your heart would race, that icy drops of sweat would be beading down your forehead and back, that your hair would stand on end and your limbs would start to tremble, with barely any blood circulating in your fingertips.
That's the body going into survival mode. This reaction is there to protect your integrity from immediate danger.
Disgust, that repulsion when you see something, with the irrepressible urge to look away, plug your nose and sometimes even gag, is there to turn us away from something toxic or to make us spit out a potential threat to our health.
Take a few moments to imagine yourself in the sewers. Dark, damp and, above all, with that filthy smell of decomposing organic matter that makes you nauseous. Or that feeling when you eat a piece of fruit and realize it's rotten.
Just by reading these lines and imagining the scene, you may have found yourself wincing, almost looking away or even plugging your nose as a reflex.
Sadness, that feeling that most of the time seems to descend on us like a leaden curtain, like an iron curtain or a ball and chain that we drag around draining us of all energy, teaches us the notion of loss where we can't really act (unlike anger). It teaches us the notion of loss, where we can't really act (unlike anger). So it encourages us to avoid the situation rather than to counter it like with anger.
It teaches us that it's not always possible to act on the situation and that sometimes we have to accept the loss and avoid the situation so as not to repeat it.
On the other hand, there is an emotion that makes us feel light and energetic. For some people, there seems to be a continuous flow of energy through their body. In others, the body seems light and supple. All this makes it even easier to pursue and find the source of the emotion that is joy.
In a sense, emotions are a useful driving force, and we can consider that
"Reason without strength is powerless and strength without reason is blind".
What's wrong with ignoring your emotions?
Repressing your emotions can have consequences for your health. Symptoms can appear as a result of stress that we ignore. These can range from difficulty sleeping to skin rashes. On the other hand, when emotions are already ignored, it can happen that, without understanding why, a situation makes us explode.
You don't necessarily feel it the previous time, but when you do, you get a very strong bodily sensation, sometimes the blood rushes to your face and your jaw clenches. Other times the body tenses up and the fists clench.
Tears may even roll down the cheeks without warning.
The body reacts spontaneously, sometimes violently. To the point of wondering why the situation unfolded the way it did, and why it all happened, why this uncontrolled explosion. Actions precede reason at that precise moment. Some may be beyond our control.
How can we trust someone if they can explode at any time?
As well as causing health problems and leading to a spontaneous and uncontrolled reaction that is not always viable, it is difficult to identify the emotions and needs behind them when we are used to ignoring signals.
New sensations can then arise without us understanding why. Sometimes it's a feeling of tightness in the chest, other times it's tiredness.
It's hard to know whether what you're doing is right for you or not. The body no longer seems to give any indication of whether something is pleasant or unpleasant. You can feel disconnected from yourself.
Food, activities that we used to love and sometimes even interactions with loved ones can become insipid. The body stops reacting. It loses its vitality and becomes something else entirely.
An empty shell.
Unable to feel anything.
Other times you feel that energy flowing through your veins, your body light, with the irresistible urge to take action, to act immediately, but you repress that urge.
We suppress that energy.
You extinguish that flame.
It's not the right time.
By the time you do take action, that flame has long been extinguished. We've missed the boat.
The energy is lacking.
So you draw on the last remaining reserves of energy through discipline and willpower. Sometimes you feel like you're pulling a whole train when just a few hours before you had the strength to move mountains.
It's hard to carry out long-term projects when that glow, that frail flame, is dwindled by being contained and suppressed, lacking oxygen rather than being fed and nourished when it shines and burns again.
How can we feel fulfilled when we put out the fire that burns within us?
How can we feel fulfilled when we undermine the foundations we need to move forward and carry out the projects we hold dear to our hearts?
What's the point of using your emotions?
Take a few moments to imagine how you will feel when you control and channel your emotions.
When an emotion arises, bodily sensations appear and are discernible. At that precise moment, you understand the emotion that is running through you. At this precise moment you are aware of the thoughts that are running through you.
When you ask yourself why this emotion is happening, you can finally act on it and bring the emotion back down so that you can act in a reasoned way without exploding. Notice how this changes your relationship with others and yourself.
You know what to do.
You can finally use your emotions as a driving force. Gone are the days when they got in the way and held you back, pulling you along.
Now you're water-skiing, pulled by your emotions in the direction you really want to go. No need to "push the car", no need for discipline or willpower.
There's a flow of energy through your body that can move freely through your limbs, your torso and even your head.
Everything seems clearer.
Sometimes it's a sensation of warmth that runs through the whole body, with the hands, arms, legs etc. gaining energy and actively contracting and relaxing. At other times, thoughts speed up and colors appear brighter, stronger and more vivid.
Ideas flow and multiply.
Become aware of what happens in your body when you carry out the projects that drive you. Where do the sensations begin? Do they move? What do they feel like?
When frustrated, you tap into that sensation to finally do what you have to do. When passionate, you surf on this emotion to land on your objectives.
What happens when you do it over and over again, for a multitude of projects?
What is your life like at this very moment?
Take the time to think about all this and become aware of how to use your emotions. Every time you think about it, you'll find an even simpler and more effective way of doing it. It's even possible that you'll do it without thinking about it, as the unconscious mind often automatically puts in place behaviors to best achieve its goals.
Some people may wonder how you're supposed to do this.
This is perfectly logical as we are rarely taught how to do it. It's normal not to know straight away when you've been used to repressing your emotions and you learn that it's never the right time. This will be covered in detail in the solutions below.
The fantastic thing about using your emotions is that as you do it, it becomes automatic. Just like when you learn to read and write.
The beginning is sometimes complicated, you have to make a real effort to write or read. But after a while it becomes second nature.
You don't even have to think about it.
Other people think it's weird, but what's not weird when it's your first time?
Sometimes you think it's not the right time. When will it be the right time? How do you know when it's the right time?
The "later" rarely happens.
Sometimes people think there's no point, as discipline is much more important. The question is not what is more important, but how to use the almost infinite energy that emotions provide.
What's more, when you have a specific vision of the world and a mission, it doesn't matter how you feel. There's something else out there that overwhelms us and provokes a much stronger emotion.
A story
Several weeks ago, I had an almost irrepressible urge to read. I don't really know why. I'd left a book on hold. Now it's right there in front of me.
Right in front of me. On my coffee table.
I'm about to pick it up when a little voice calls out to me.
Now's not the time to do that, you've got other things to do first.
My body was in a frenzy, impatient to start this stimulating and pleasant reading. But it wasn't the right time. A little disappointed, I pushed myself to my desk to get down to work.
All this is more than tedious.
After trying hard to stop myself from reading this brilliant book and getting down to work, I can finally devour it. I was about to grab it when a multitude of thoughts came to mind.
It reminds me of one of the times I went for a run.
At the time, I'd gone out to train my cardio and wanted to see how hard I could push myself. It's a tough start. I put on my helmet and shoes. After a few minutes, thoughts came to me. It was also to forget these kinds of things that I was going to let off steam that evening.
As these thoughts bombarded me, emotions came to the fore. My heart knots, my fists clench. Out of breath, I speed up again. A new energy flows through my body.
My legs move of their own accord, my body comes alive with a will of its own and the feeling of effort disappears.
Only one thing matters.
Run as fast as you can. To push my body to the limit.
Running away from these thoughts.
A few months earlier, sitting comfortably at home, an irresistible urge to draw came over me. One afternoon. It was a beautiful day outside. I had things to do and at the same time I still had some time on my hands.
So I grabbed a few blank sheets of paper and a pencil and started drawing. Draw and draw. The hand moves at its own pace and draws automatically.
It's only when my pile of sheets is completely used up that I come out of this state of concentration.
When I looked up, I realized it was getting dark. So I stopped.
In the course of the evening, I started to look again at the drawings I'd made. Just looking at them made my limbs twitch, as if a stream of energy was flowing through them. Drawing ideas were pouring in. These drawings are cool. I want to do more.
I can't stand the thought of doing them again.
During the run, months later, my body has this new energy. Rarely have I gone so fast for so long. After that running session, completely drained of energy, I lay down on my sofa.
The dark thoughts no longer pursued me.
I've been able to give it everything I've got.
A smile curls my lips.
Long after all that, when the thoughts flooded my mind after I finally had the book I dearly wanted to read, there was a change that was hard to describe.
The excitement I had a few hours ago is gone. The energy is completely gone.
The spark has dissipated.
I blew out the burning flame.
At the precise moment I wanted to use it, nothing happened.
It went out.
It's too late.
So understanding this, I put down the book.
Disappointed.
I'll do it another time.
So what am I supposed to do?
As all roads lead to Rome, here are a few non-exhaustive points that may help.
To begin with, it's important to be able to identify your emotions before using them. So it's necessary to recognise them.
- Identifying your emotions and how you represent it
What are the sensations? Where are they located? If I had to give them a shape, color and texture, what would they be?
What does what I'm feeling look like? What images can I use to describe them?
- The five whys method
What makes me feel this way? What does it say about me? What is the need behind it? One method that can be useful is the five whys.
The principle is to first ask yourself why you feel the way you do. Then apply this questioning again, but this time to the cause you've found.
Then repeat the process three or four times.
Generally, when you can't answer any more questions, the original cause has been reached.
- Creating anchors
In short, you associate the stimulus of the smell with something else, such as an event or a person.
There are several ways of setting up an anchor.
The simplest is to make a specific gesture each time the emotion arises. This way, after enough times, you can simply bring the emotion to the surface by doing the gesture again.
Another method is to go into a state of hypnosis, a modified state of consciousness, think of a particular event that provokes the emotion and do the gesture.
It's best to do this several times, but the state of hypnosis means that the experience of the emotion can be very strong and therefore requires less repetition to 'anchor' the gesture and the emotion together.
- Activating the anchors
- Positive and negative visualization
A positive visualization is one in which you experience what you're aiming for, what you want to have, just to get a taste of it. The fact that it's very pleasant draws you towards this goal and helps to give you new energy and motivation.
Negative visualization consists of doing the opposite by imagining in precise detail exactly the situation you want to avoid at all costs. Unpleasant emotions often arise, prompting you to avoid the scenario as best you can.
The most effective way to do this is to use the two, one after the other, as this creates a contrasting effect.
- Clear vision
All you have to do is take a moment. Imagine in detail the ideal situation that you would like to experience on a daily basis and then do the same with the opposite scenario.
The more specific and emotionally powerful this is, the better.
2023.05.28 22:30 Intelligent-Gaming What Are The Best Mods For Skyrim Special Edition In 2023 - Steam Version
In this video, I cover what I believe are the best mods that you can install for Skyrim Special Edition in 2023.
https://youtu.be/X1qSQ6waGho
All the mods covered can be downloaded from Nexus Mods, and managed using a Mod tool such as Vortex or Mod Organizer 2.
Although I am using the Steam version of Skyrim Special Edition with the Anniversary Edition DLC, installed on Windows 11, it is possible to run this game on Linux with all the mods if you use Steam Proton.
Mod List
The mods covered in this video, range from bug fixes, restored content, graphical upgrades, quality of life changes, new UI elements, new NPC behaviours and performance enhancements.
A Quality World Map
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/5804
The Quality World Map mod provides a new set of highly detailed 3D or paper world map textures, complete with roads for the Skyrim mainland as well as the island of Solsteim.
There are quite a few options available to download, although I tend to use the Classic with All Roads option.
The result is that you now have a map that can be used for navigation, as paths and roads are now clearly defined, which is helpful for more obscure off the beaten path locations, especially in the mountains.
Achievement Mods Enabler
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/245
The Achievement Mods Enabler mod restores the ability for you obtain Steam achievements when you have mods installed.
Strangely, with the release of official mod support in Skyrim, Bethesda stopped you from obtaining achievements if you installed any type of mod, which does not make sense, since Skyrim is a single player game, yet they allow you spawn in items using the console without any consequence.
In either case, installing this mod will once again allow you to obtain achievements regardless of how many mods you have installed.
Alternative Start – Live Another Life
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/272
If you have played Skyrim several times, the game always starts the same, you get captured, you choose your starting race, a dragon attacks Helgen and you escape in the mayhem, the entire process takes about 20 minutes.
The Alternative Start mod allows you to completely bypass the vanilla beginning of the game and forge your own path.
You might choose to start as the newest member of a local guild, a shopkeeper, a hunter in the woods, a patron in a local bar, someone who has just been attacked and lost everything, a member of the Imperial Legion, the survivor of a shipwreck, or an Orc who has lived his entire life in a stronghold.
But regardless of the starting origin you choose, it does not lock you out of any quest lines, instead allowing you to choose your own role-playing adventure and comes highly recommended.
Convenient Horses
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/9519
The horses in Skyrim are stupid.
They attack anything hostile on sight including dragons, and in most cases, especially with higher level enemies, end up getting killed, wasting 1000 gold.
The exception of course is Shadowmare, who is immortal, but regardless, still thinks it is a great idea to fight a fire breathing lizard in the middle of the countryside.
The Convenient Horses mod changes all that, as horses are now ignored by enemies and do not randomly attack things, and in addition, they now have skills that can be levelled up, which in most cases equates to extra stamina or health meaning that they can now sprint for longer distances.
The mod also allows horses can now carry things, be fitted with armour, recalled by a horse whistle or horn, and most importantly, your companions can now use horses as well, assuming of course that you cough up and give them 1000 gold.
I often found it silly that whilst I could ride a horse, my follower will run after me on foot, and in the vanilla game, aside from Shadowmare, I never bothered with horses, however with this mod installed, I now actually use them to travel Skyrim.
Cutting Room Floor
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/276
There is no doubt that Skyrim is a massive game, however the more you play it, you might start to think that some things are missing in certain parts of the world, and you are right.
The Cutting Room Floor mod adds quests that were not finished by Bethesda due to several reasons, additional items, new NPC interactions and extra dialogue, as well as other pieces of cut content back into the world.
A simple little mod, that does a lot.
Footprints
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/3808
The world of Skyrim has a lot of snow, as well as ash, however one thing that is strange is that no-one ever leaves any footprints in it.
The Footprint mod fixes that by allowing creatures, NPCs and your character to leave footprints with particle effects as they move through snow and ash.
Honestly, I am surprised they did not add this into the game when Skyrim Special Edition was released, but a fantastic mod to install all the same.
Immersive Citizens – AI Overhaul
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/173
The NPCs in Skyrim, much like horses have questionable intelligence, especially when it comes to dangerous situations.
Therefore the Immersive Citizens mod aims to improve the AI of friendly NPCs to make them react like true humans when it comes to danger, in most cases this means that guards will now defend an area, which makes sense, whilst a shopkeeper or an NPC with a non-combat role will avoid conflict.
The mod also adds routines to the NPCs, which means that at certain times of day, they might visit a tavern, have more interaction with the player character, or explore more of the city, and in most cases, a NPC will not simply stick to one area, which is far more realistic.
A great mod that adds something that should have been in the game to start with.
Immersive Patrols
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/718
Skyrim makes use of what are known as random encounters, in which at certain points on the map, you will experience a scripted event, this could be a bandit ambush, a dragon attack, a unique NPC, a group NPCs travelling from one location to another, or even an old Orc challenging you to a fight to the death.
The Immersive Patrols mod adds Stormcloak, Thalmor, Imperial and Dawnguard patrols to Skyrim, as well as a few roaming Skaal, Reaver and Rieklings to Solstheim, and sometimes, these patrols can cross paths with each other, and if they are on opposing factions, start fighting.
The mod also adds full scale battles between Stormcloak and Imperial soldiers whilst the Skyrim civil war quest line is still active, which can mean that, depending on your allegiance, you may be attacked on site.
In my opinion, mods like this that add additional content or expanding the variety that a player can experience is always a good thing.
Immersive Sounds – Compendium
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/523
After playing Skyrim for so long, and then playing other action-based RPGs, the sound effects in Skyrim leave a lot to be desired.
Whilst the dragon shouts are cool to hear, other mundane noises such as the sound of armour shuffling whilst moving, the sound of weapons hitting armour pieces, spell effects, or even the groans of the Draugr sound a bit flat.
The Immersive Sounds mod completely overhauls the sound in game, spells sound louder and more damaging, weapons make appropriate noises when they clash, arrows whiz through the air, armour feels heavy, and comical noises such as when a sneak attack is performed can now be silenced.
As there is nothing more immersive breaking than lining up the perfect shot, only to hear a comical donk noise when the arrow hits.
The mod also adds audio cues when you when you pick up items such as gems, gold or potions, and chests now creak when they are opened.
This is mod that I always have installed, as I cannot play with vanilla sounds anymore.
JK’s Skyrim – All in One
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/6289
Whilst Skyrim has several locations, towns, and cities to explore, some of the smaller settlements seem to be sparsely populated, in many cases, a village might contain just a couple of buildings, some crops and some NPCs.
The JK’s Skyrim mod fixes this by adding more content to the various settlements in the world, making them more memorable, for example, the Skyforge in Whiterun now looks a forge, complete with displayed armour pieces and a smelter.
Each town now has a theme, Riverwood for lumber, Rorikstead for farming, Falkreath has a graveyard, Dawnstar has a port, and Dragon Bridge is now a defensive outpost.
In fact, some locations now have new vendors, and the allegiance of the town will change depending on the progress of the Civil War quest line.
In short, this mod enhances the game, making locations more useful to the player character, and making the world more lived in.
No Spinning Death Animation
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/1432
The enemies in Skyrim are very flexible, and sometime when you kill them, they do this weird twist animation as they slump on the floor which is both hilarious and disturbing at the same time, of course, this completely breaks immersion as no-one would do this in real life.
The No Spinning Death Animation mod removes the spinning around dance animation that NPCs do before dying and instead they will now just ragdoll when killed.
The mod also removes certain creature’s death pause animations which cause them to lose all momentum, remove any physical push based on your attacks, so that hitting them no longer launches them into the air.
A great mod to install, and one I find essential, especially for melee combat.
Relationship Dialogue Overhaul
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/1187
One of the things you will notice as you play through the game is that followers will often repeat their dialogue, which can get annoying after a while, especially after hearing Lydia’s sarcastic responses to you when you ask her to carry something.
The Relationship Dialogue Overhaul mod adds over 5,000 lines of completely voiced dialogue for NPCs using their original voices, which now means that friends, followers, spouses, rivals, and others have much more to say.
The mod also fixes dialogue bugs and restores cut dialogue so you may hear your follower say something that you have never heard before, so as someone who likes using followers, it is nice to hear something different occasionally, whilst exploring Skyrim.
Run For Your Lives
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/2272
Much like horses, NPCs in Skyrim will blindly run into combat whenever dragons and vampires attack, especially at the Whiterun front gate, which normally ends up with several dead merchants.
The Run for Your Lives mod makes it so that citizens in a village or city will now run indoors during these attacks, although Guards, members of The Companions, Vigilants of Stendarr, and the player's followers will still stand and fight.
The mod author mentions that this mod was created out of frustration of every person trying to be a hero and not surviving, which is exactly the reason I recommend you install this mod in your game.
Skyland AIO
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/34179
When it comes to modding graphic mods in Skyrim, it quickly becomes a rabbit hole, as there are hundreds, if not thousands of graphic mods available for Skyrim, including texture and flora overhauls, landscapes and water replacers, snow mods, and it goes on.
Therefore, I will just be recommending one, Skyland AIO (All in One), which is a collection of all Skyland mods bundled together featuring high quality and resolution texture overhauls for architecture and landscapes.
Skyland is created using 4K 3D scans of real-world surfaces and offers the most realistic visual overhaul in Skyrim, covering cities, towns, and villages to forts, dungeons, and caves, as well as landscapes from the Rift to the Reach and beyond.
Out of all the graphic mods I have installed in Skyrim, this does appear to be one of the more consistent one, but just bear in mind that the mod itself does weight in at around 6GB.
Skyland LOD
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/87412
The Skyland LOD (Level of Detail) mod provides a preset LOD or level of detail for when you have the Skyland AIO mod installed, which in other words means that you will be able to the see the Skyland modded textures at greater distances.
I recommend that you install both Skyland AIO and the accompanying LOD for the best experience.
SkyUI
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/12604
The User Interface (UI) for Skyrim was designed with a controller in mind, so it can be a bit jarring if you are using mouse and keyboard.
The SkyUI mod describes itself as an elegant, PC-friendly interface mod with many advanced features, one of which is to add new HUD elements, and my favourite is visible duration for summons and flesh spells, as in the vanilla game, the only way you could check this was to open up the menu.
The mod also supports third party mod integration, which will allow you to configure a mod through the mod manager section in the game’s menu, instead of using an in game spell or power.
For someone who uses a mouse and keyboard for RPGs, this mod is a godsend, and I strongly recommend it.
SSE Display Tweaks
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/34705
The SSE Display Tweaks mod provides an all-in-one solution for smooth FPS-unlocked gameplay, including physics fixes, borderless full screen performance boosts, refresh rate control, highly configurable frame rate limiting, various bugfixes and more.
In other words, you can now play Skyrim at a frame rate higher than the standard 60FPS, and most importantly, without the game engine bugging out, which typically happens if you manually disable V-Sync through the game’s config files.
As someone who has a 165Hz refresh rate monitor, Skyrim running at 120FPS is fantastic experience, so I strongly recommend installing this mod if you have similar hardware.
Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition Patch
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/266
One of the running jokes about Bethesda games is that they tend to be buggy at release, which over time get patched, however years later, there are still several bugs left in Skyrim.
Most are minor, usually item placements, perks not working correctly, weapons that do not have crafting recipes, or exploits to do with training skills.
The Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition mod is a comprehensive bug fixing mod with the goal to eventually fix every bug in Skyrim Special Edition that was not officially resolved by the developers to the limits of the Creation Kit and community-developed tools.
Without a doubt, this is one of the most important mods you should install when playing Skyrim on PC.
Wet and Cold
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/644
The Wet and Cold mod adds weather-dependent visual effects and AI enhancements to the player and NPCs.
More specifically, in colder climates, the player character, NPCs and some creatures will now have a visible breath animation when breathing, rainfall and snow will now appear on the armour and clothing, and depending on their race, NPCs will actively seek shelter when it is raining or snowing.
The mod also adds new weather-related clothing to the game’s levelled lists, typically scarfs, gloves, or hats, which are often equipped once the weather turns, or alternatively found on bandits located at snowy locations.
Much like the Footprints mod from earlier, this functionality should have been implemented into the original game.
submitted by Intelligent-Gaming to IntelligentGaming2020 [link] [comments]
https://youtu.be/X1qSQ6waGho
All the mods covered can be downloaded from Nexus Mods, and managed using a Mod tool such as Vortex or Mod Organizer 2.
Although I am using the Steam version of Skyrim Special Edition with the Anniversary Edition DLC, installed on Windows 11, it is possible to run this game on Linux with all the mods if you use Steam Proton.
Mod List
The mods covered in this video, range from bug fixes, restored content, graphical upgrades, quality of life changes, new UI elements, new NPC behaviours and performance enhancements.
A Quality World Map
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/5804
The Quality World Map mod provides a new set of highly detailed 3D or paper world map textures, complete with roads for the Skyrim mainland as well as the island of Solsteim.
There are quite a few options available to download, although I tend to use the Classic with All Roads option.
The result is that you now have a map that can be used for navigation, as paths and roads are now clearly defined, which is helpful for more obscure off the beaten path locations, especially in the mountains.
Achievement Mods Enabler
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/245
The Achievement Mods Enabler mod restores the ability for you obtain Steam achievements when you have mods installed.
Strangely, with the release of official mod support in Skyrim, Bethesda stopped you from obtaining achievements if you installed any type of mod, which does not make sense, since Skyrim is a single player game, yet they allow you spawn in items using the console without any consequence.
In either case, installing this mod will once again allow you to obtain achievements regardless of how many mods you have installed.
Alternative Start – Live Another Life
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/272
If you have played Skyrim several times, the game always starts the same, you get captured, you choose your starting race, a dragon attacks Helgen and you escape in the mayhem, the entire process takes about 20 minutes.
The Alternative Start mod allows you to completely bypass the vanilla beginning of the game and forge your own path.
You might choose to start as the newest member of a local guild, a shopkeeper, a hunter in the woods, a patron in a local bar, someone who has just been attacked and lost everything, a member of the Imperial Legion, the survivor of a shipwreck, or an Orc who has lived his entire life in a stronghold.
But regardless of the starting origin you choose, it does not lock you out of any quest lines, instead allowing you to choose your own role-playing adventure and comes highly recommended.
Convenient Horses
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/9519
The horses in Skyrim are stupid.
They attack anything hostile on sight including dragons, and in most cases, especially with higher level enemies, end up getting killed, wasting 1000 gold.
The exception of course is Shadowmare, who is immortal, but regardless, still thinks it is a great idea to fight a fire breathing lizard in the middle of the countryside.
The Convenient Horses mod changes all that, as horses are now ignored by enemies and do not randomly attack things, and in addition, they now have skills that can be levelled up, which in most cases equates to extra stamina or health meaning that they can now sprint for longer distances.
The mod also allows horses can now carry things, be fitted with armour, recalled by a horse whistle or horn, and most importantly, your companions can now use horses as well, assuming of course that you cough up and give them 1000 gold.
I often found it silly that whilst I could ride a horse, my follower will run after me on foot, and in the vanilla game, aside from Shadowmare, I never bothered with horses, however with this mod installed, I now actually use them to travel Skyrim.
Cutting Room Floor
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/276
There is no doubt that Skyrim is a massive game, however the more you play it, you might start to think that some things are missing in certain parts of the world, and you are right.
The Cutting Room Floor mod adds quests that were not finished by Bethesda due to several reasons, additional items, new NPC interactions and extra dialogue, as well as other pieces of cut content back into the world.
A simple little mod, that does a lot.
Footprints
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/3808
The world of Skyrim has a lot of snow, as well as ash, however one thing that is strange is that no-one ever leaves any footprints in it.
The Footprint mod fixes that by allowing creatures, NPCs and your character to leave footprints with particle effects as they move through snow and ash.
Honestly, I am surprised they did not add this into the game when Skyrim Special Edition was released, but a fantastic mod to install all the same.
Immersive Citizens – AI Overhaul
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/173
The NPCs in Skyrim, much like horses have questionable intelligence, especially when it comes to dangerous situations.
Therefore the Immersive Citizens mod aims to improve the AI of friendly NPCs to make them react like true humans when it comes to danger, in most cases this means that guards will now defend an area, which makes sense, whilst a shopkeeper or an NPC with a non-combat role will avoid conflict.
The mod also adds routines to the NPCs, which means that at certain times of day, they might visit a tavern, have more interaction with the player character, or explore more of the city, and in most cases, a NPC will not simply stick to one area, which is far more realistic.
A great mod that adds something that should have been in the game to start with.
Immersive Patrols
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/718
Skyrim makes use of what are known as random encounters, in which at certain points on the map, you will experience a scripted event, this could be a bandit ambush, a dragon attack, a unique NPC, a group NPCs travelling from one location to another, or even an old Orc challenging you to a fight to the death.
The Immersive Patrols mod adds Stormcloak, Thalmor, Imperial and Dawnguard patrols to Skyrim, as well as a few roaming Skaal, Reaver and Rieklings to Solstheim, and sometimes, these patrols can cross paths with each other, and if they are on opposing factions, start fighting.
The mod also adds full scale battles between Stormcloak and Imperial soldiers whilst the Skyrim civil war quest line is still active, which can mean that, depending on your allegiance, you may be attacked on site.
In my opinion, mods like this that add additional content or expanding the variety that a player can experience is always a good thing.
Immersive Sounds – Compendium
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/523
After playing Skyrim for so long, and then playing other action-based RPGs, the sound effects in Skyrim leave a lot to be desired.
Whilst the dragon shouts are cool to hear, other mundane noises such as the sound of armour shuffling whilst moving, the sound of weapons hitting armour pieces, spell effects, or even the groans of the Draugr sound a bit flat.
The Immersive Sounds mod completely overhauls the sound in game, spells sound louder and more damaging, weapons make appropriate noises when they clash, arrows whiz through the air, armour feels heavy, and comical noises such as when a sneak attack is performed can now be silenced.
As there is nothing more immersive breaking than lining up the perfect shot, only to hear a comical donk noise when the arrow hits.
The mod also adds audio cues when you when you pick up items such as gems, gold or potions, and chests now creak when they are opened.
This is mod that I always have installed, as I cannot play with vanilla sounds anymore.
JK’s Skyrim – All in One
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/6289
Whilst Skyrim has several locations, towns, and cities to explore, some of the smaller settlements seem to be sparsely populated, in many cases, a village might contain just a couple of buildings, some crops and some NPCs.
The JK’s Skyrim mod fixes this by adding more content to the various settlements in the world, making them more memorable, for example, the Skyforge in Whiterun now looks a forge, complete with displayed armour pieces and a smelter.
Each town now has a theme, Riverwood for lumber, Rorikstead for farming, Falkreath has a graveyard, Dawnstar has a port, and Dragon Bridge is now a defensive outpost.
In fact, some locations now have new vendors, and the allegiance of the town will change depending on the progress of the Civil War quest line.
In short, this mod enhances the game, making locations more useful to the player character, and making the world more lived in.
No Spinning Death Animation
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/1432
The enemies in Skyrim are very flexible, and sometime when you kill them, they do this weird twist animation as they slump on the floor which is both hilarious and disturbing at the same time, of course, this completely breaks immersion as no-one would do this in real life.
The No Spinning Death Animation mod removes the spinning around dance animation that NPCs do before dying and instead they will now just ragdoll when killed.
The mod also removes certain creature’s death pause animations which cause them to lose all momentum, remove any physical push based on your attacks, so that hitting them no longer launches them into the air.
A great mod to install, and one I find essential, especially for melee combat.
Relationship Dialogue Overhaul
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/1187
One of the things you will notice as you play through the game is that followers will often repeat their dialogue, which can get annoying after a while, especially after hearing Lydia’s sarcastic responses to you when you ask her to carry something.
The Relationship Dialogue Overhaul mod adds over 5,000 lines of completely voiced dialogue for NPCs using their original voices, which now means that friends, followers, spouses, rivals, and others have much more to say.
The mod also fixes dialogue bugs and restores cut dialogue so you may hear your follower say something that you have never heard before, so as someone who likes using followers, it is nice to hear something different occasionally, whilst exploring Skyrim.
Run For Your Lives
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/2272
Much like horses, NPCs in Skyrim will blindly run into combat whenever dragons and vampires attack, especially at the Whiterun front gate, which normally ends up with several dead merchants.
The Run for Your Lives mod makes it so that citizens in a village or city will now run indoors during these attacks, although Guards, members of The Companions, Vigilants of Stendarr, and the player's followers will still stand and fight.
The mod author mentions that this mod was created out of frustration of every person trying to be a hero and not surviving, which is exactly the reason I recommend you install this mod in your game.
Skyland AIO
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/34179
When it comes to modding graphic mods in Skyrim, it quickly becomes a rabbit hole, as there are hundreds, if not thousands of graphic mods available for Skyrim, including texture and flora overhauls, landscapes and water replacers, snow mods, and it goes on.
Therefore, I will just be recommending one, Skyland AIO (All in One), which is a collection of all Skyland mods bundled together featuring high quality and resolution texture overhauls for architecture and landscapes.
Skyland is created using 4K 3D scans of real-world surfaces and offers the most realistic visual overhaul in Skyrim, covering cities, towns, and villages to forts, dungeons, and caves, as well as landscapes from the Rift to the Reach and beyond.
Out of all the graphic mods I have installed in Skyrim, this does appear to be one of the more consistent one, but just bear in mind that the mod itself does weight in at around 6GB.
Skyland LOD
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/87412
The Skyland LOD (Level of Detail) mod provides a preset LOD or level of detail for when you have the Skyland AIO mod installed, which in other words means that you will be able to the see the Skyland modded textures at greater distances.
I recommend that you install both Skyland AIO and the accompanying LOD for the best experience.
SkyUI
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/12604
The User Interface (UI) for Skyrim was designed with a controller in mind, so it can be a bit jarring if you are using mouse and keyboard.
The SkyUI mod describes itself as an elegant, PC-friendly interface mod with many advanced features, one of which is to add new HUD elements, and my favourite is visible duration for summons and flesh spells, as in the vanilla game, the only way you could check this was to open up the menu.
The mod also supports third party mod integration, which will allow you to configure a mod through the mod manager section in the game’s menu, instead of using an in game spell or power.
For someone who uses a mouse and keyboard for RPGs, this mod is a godsend, and I strongly recommend it.
SSE Display Tweaks
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/34705
The SSE Display Tweaks mod provides an all-in-one solution for smooth FPS-unlocked gameplay, including physics fixes, borderless full screen performance boosts, refresh rate control, highly configurable frame rate limiting, various bugfixes and more.
In other words, you can now play Skyrim at a frame rate higher than the standard 60FPS, and most importantly, without the game engine bugging out, which typically happens if you manually disable V-Sync through the game’s config files.
As someone who has a 165Hz refresh rate monitor, Skyrim running at 120FPS is fantastic experience, so I strongly recommend installing this mod if you have similar hardware.
Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition Patch
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/266
One of the running jokes about Bethesda games is that they tend to be buggy at release, which over time get patched, however years later, there are still several bugs left in Skyrim.
Most are minor, usually item placements, perks not working correctly, weapons that do not have crafting recipes, or exploits to do with training skills.
The Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition mod is a comprehensive bug fixing mod with the goal to eventually fix every bug in Skyrim Special Edition that was not officially resolved by the developers to the limits of the Creation Kit and community-developed tools.
Without a doubt, this is one of the most important mods you should install when playing Skyrim on PC.
Wet and Cold
https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/644
The Wet and Cold mod adds weather-dependent visual effects and AI enhancements to the player and NPCs.
More specifically, in colder climates, the player character, NPCs and some creatures will now have a visible breath animation when breathing, rainfall and snow will now appear on the armour and clothing, and depending on their race, NPCs will actively seek shelter when it is raining or snowing.
The mod also adds new weather-related clothing to the game’s levelled lists, typically scarfs, gloves, or hats, which are often equipped once the weather turns, or alternatively found on bandits located at snowy locations.
Much like the Footprints mod from earlier, this functionality should have been implemented into the original game.
2023.05.28 22:30 Sample-Boring i know my ex cheated on me but she doesnt think i know
in march 2022, me and my ex girlfriend, x, got together. i was super happy, and i think she was as well, we were 16 at the time so you know first relationship, i know she was my first love.
in december 2021, she had a thing for one of our mutual friends, who i shall be calling z (not her initial). i also dated z back in 2021, it ended badly but we were vague friends again. however, she told me she didn't have feelings for her anymore and i respected that and left them be.
then, me and my friends alongside z and x all went out on a group outing, and z and x spent a lot of time together. they would sit in between each other's legs, sit next to each other, and all in all i felt really left out.
i confronted x and asked her if she had feelings for z, because if she did i would much rather know and end our relationship now than be hurt in the future. she told me i was being silly, that they were just friends and i shouldn't worry.
then, in june x stops talking to me for a week and then dumps me over text whilst at a sleepover with z and another friend, which besides the sleepover part was exactly the same way z had broken up with me.
of course, i was upset, but as i've been moving on i've found more and more things about our relationship.
z and x are celebrating their one year anniversary in early june, whereas me and x broke up later than that. it hurts me that they are trying to keep this hidden from me, but the reasoning they gave my other friend was that 'they love me and don't want to lose my friendship'.
i don't know, but i just can't be their friend anymore. i'm practically over x now, but all i'm reminded of when i see her is how she betrayed me in our relationship and hasn't told me because she 'loves me', yet she is trying to make a massive effort.
but yeah, figured i would get that off my chest. thanks for reading :)
submitted by Sample-Boring to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
in december 2021, she had a thing for one of our mutual friends, who i shall be calling z (not her initial). i also dated z back in 2021, it ended badly but we were vague friends again. however, she told me she didn't have feelings for her anymore and i respected that and left them be.
then, me and my friends alongside z and x all went out on a group outing, and z and x spent a lot of time together. they would sit in between each other's legs, sit next to each other, and all in all i felt really left out.
i confronted x and asked her if she had feelings for z, because if she did i would much rather know and end our relationship now than be hurt in the future. she told me i was being silly, that they were just friends and i shouldn't worry.
then, in june x stops talking to me for a week and then dumps me over text whilst at a sleepover with z and another friend, which besides the sleepover part was exactly the same way z had broken up with me.
of course, i was upset, but as i've been moving on i've found more and more things about our relationship.
z and x are celebrating their one year anniversary in early june, whereas me and x broke up later than that. it hurts me that they are trying to keep this hidden from me, but the reasoning they gave my other friend was that 'they love me and don't want to lose my friendship'.
i don't know, but i just can't be their friend anymore. i'm practically over x now, but all i'm reminded of when i see her is how she betrayed me in our relationship and hasn't told me because she 'loves me', yet she is trying to make a massive effort.
but yeah, figured i would get that off my chest. thanks for reading :)
2023.05.28 22:28 NamelessNanashi [The Gods of Dragons: Beginning] Ch 9 - Shifting Futures
--- Table of Contents ---
Spring 4984, 9 Kuromoth, Spring Equinox
“Archmage, I thought you had already gone…” Brom’s voice, beyond Her door. She didn’t move, didn’t bother to look towards the closed portal. Had it been months or years since he'd last come to sit with Her?
“I will be leaving presently…” Archmage Morndancer’s cold voice answered. She squeezed tighter into Her little ball in the dark corner. It didn’t matter that he would be gone. He left the tower often, but it didn’t stop Her punishment. Even as the season turned from winter to spring, She'd stayed locked in Her room. With no books and no company. Occasionally being taken out to give samples in a lab completely separate from that of Her treasures. Only their yowls and barks from down the hall offering any comfort.
“It’s an important day, isn’t it, Archmage? Perhaps Sellon will pass the test.” Ran’s voice. Did he sound nervous? Her head tilted, just a little, towards the door. The half-circle of light from Her window did very little to banish the darkness of the room. She hadn’t bothered to light the candles. What was the point?
Morndancer scoffed, “Doubtful. Ronni didn’t manage it. And just as his sister before him, Sellon will join the Mages Guild whether he passes or not.” Sellon and Ronni, Archmage Morndancer’s children. She'd heard of them from Brom and Ran. So they were Mages as well. Perhaps they would be the ones to come take Her blood and cut Her hair in future. It didn’t matter. Nothing had ever mattered.
“But a Wizard-Cleric of Saint Bede might…”
“Enough.” Morndancer interrupted Brom, “Bede is no god, he wasn't even a decent Mage, he was and is a villain. We would not have this responsibility to save the world if he and his lot hadn’t doomed it.”
“Of course, Archmage, yes.” nervous feet shuffled outside Her door.
“Even now, Shaloon is trying to locate the next storm.” Morndancer continued his chastisement, “They come more frequently and destroy greater swaths of land. If we continue to be as useless as the other Talons, there will be no world left to save. So rather than waste your time on prayers to usurper gods, you had best refocus and redouble your efforts while we are away. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Archmage,” Brom and Ran said in unison.
“Good. And be sure to return those to the library when you have finished with them.” the hiss of fabric on stone accompanied the Archmage's exit.
Her door handle jingled, and Her head came up a fraction, but, “Wait…” Brom’s whisper. Silence followed, and She dropped Her head again, pressing her closed eyes into Her knees. Minutes passed, or was it hours? Did it matter? Maybe She would crawl into Her bed and try to sleep. Time passed faster that way. Or maybe She would just stay here in Her little ball in the corner.
“He should be gone by now…” Her lock clicked, and the door creaked open, but She didn’t bother to look up, “Goldy? Maybe She’s sleeping…” Brom whispered.
“Damn, it’s dark in here. Red, can we get a light?” She didn’t answer Ran’s request. What was the point? They would find Her and they would take Her for samples. She didn’t have to help them do it. “Grab the candle from the table, Brom. My hands are full.”
She could feel the life of a tiny flame beyond Her door. Felt it draw closer and enter Her room before it flickered and died. “Oh, Goldy… please don’t…” the shuffling of feet moving carefully in the darkness came closer. She tried to pull in tighter, tucking Her head against Her chest and letting Her now shoulder-length hair fall forward to further hide Her face.
They crouched at either side of Her, Brom setting the useless candle down to Her left with a soft ‘tink’ of brass on stone. Something much heavier was placed on Her right, the familiar scents of hardbound leather, paper, and ink… “We brought you some books, Red…”
She lifted Her head, looking through the tangled strands of golden hair and seeing a pair of worried faces looming in the dark. “If you light up the room a bit, we can read,” Brom slowly pushed Her hair back, careful not to touch Her skin. As though She would burn him. She might have. If She could find the energy.
“You’re not supposed to...” Her voice crackled from lack of use, making Her whisper even more inaudible.
“What?” Ran leaned closer, but She didn’t repeat Herself, “It’s been months, Red. You’re not in trouble anymore.”
She blinked silently at him.
“Look, Goldy,” Brom shuffled forward, still in his crouch, “things can go back to normal now. The Archmage will be out for a few days. We can take you to play with the animals tomorrow.” She shifted Her blank stare to him. Brom waited for a moment, searching Her face for a familiar flicker of excitement. She didn’t give it to him. He sighed, “We’ll leave these with you then. You can read them when you’re ready.”
Brom made to stand, but She grabbed the hem of his sleeve, “Stay with me…” On the candle, the smallest of lights began to flicker to life. Brom sat down with a groan, and on Her other side, Ran plopped down even less gracefully.
He leaned his back against Her bed and picked the top book off the small pile they'd brought Her, “We can stay until lunch, Goldy.”
“But we still have a lot of work to do…”
It was enough. The candle burned brighter, and She shifted Her legs down, taking the book Ran passed to Her. Things would finally be returning to normal. As they always had been, and as they always would be.
***
Shon woke long before the kitchen servant would come to fetch him. Everything was the same, and yet nothing would ever be as it was before. Sitting up, he ran his fingers through his hair, only to realize that everything wasn't the same. The other two boys who'd reached maturity were also awake. It looked like Gaven hadn’t slept at all, his sandy hair tousled and his dark eyes bloodshot.
“This is it then… the last morning in the dorms?” Gaven whispered the useless question. Nan, the oldest by a month, nodded in silence. Shon didn’t bother with even that much, swinging his legs off the bed and kicking something. Another difference. A final gift from the Church. A leather pack for him to carry everything he owned.
Shon dressed in silence only broken by the shuffle of the other two joining him. After tying his boots, he started packing the bag. It was large enough to fit all of his clothes and even his seven journals, though the eighth made it a very tight fit.
“Should we make the beds?” Nan whispered. Again, Shon didn’t answer. Instead, he stripped the blanket and sheets from the mattress, folding them neatly and placing them with the pillow at the foot of the bed.
“Yeah… they'll have to strip them to wash anyway…” Gaven said, following Shon’s example.
They'd just finished when the door creaked open. Normally woken by the morning bells, Gaven and Nan both jumped, looking from the dark window to the door then at each other.
The servant girl who usually woke Shon looked in on them with some confusion, then hummed in understanding before holding the door open for them, “Come on then. There may be some leftover dessert you can have while we make breakfast…”
Shon doubted he could eat anything at the moment. His stomach worked itself in knots that put an uncomfortable pressure on his heart that in turn seemed as though it wanted to beat its way into his throat. The entire sensation made him feel a strange sort of nauseous. Nan and Gaven looked no better than he felt, and they both swallowed before exiting the room. Gaven took a moment to look back over his shoulder before shaking himself and setting his eyes forward. Nan seemed to rush from the room, too afraid to look back. Shon took one last look around before following, the door clicking closed behind them.
He let the other boys walk ahead of him and wondered what they were thinking. Gaven would be taking the test with him today, but Nan had been selected to join the Masons Guild and had opted to accept the offer right away rather than try for one of the divine orders first. Perhaps Nan was the smartest of them.
“We'll miss you…” the servant girl whispered so only Shon could hear, “It isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work... if you want to join the Servants Guild…” the Servants Guild was a loose association of otherwise privately employed cleaners and cooks. It was the last choice for orphans, but also their most common destination. She'd meant the offer as a kindness, so Shon nodded in thanks, though nothing but the most desperate situation would ever see him join.
The head cook looked up as they entered the kitchen, nodding in understanding, “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked Nan and Gaven, who mumbled incoherently in response. To Shon, the cook smiled, offering only a silent nod.
The girl who'd reached maturity with them was already in the dining room, staring mournfully at a plate of hastily scrambled eggs and a few cookies from the night before.
“Hey Lara, couldn’t sleep anymore either?” Gaven asked with a strained smile. Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and tried to force down some of the breakfast. She'd been accepted into the Tailors Guild, but unlike Nan, had chosen to take the test with Shon and Gavin. Just in case.
The cook himself brought the boys their plates of eggs and cookies, and they ate in silence until the morning bells sounded. The three unused to being up early jumped at the sound, exchanging nervous looks. Their juniors and the priests would come flooding in soon, laughing and talking and enjoying another breakfast with friends and the closest thing they had to family. It would be the last time the four of them ate with the others in this room.
Shon didn’t know if he could take the bustle today, even if it was the last. Or maybe because it was. He stood, taking his mostly full plate and returning it to the kitchen. The cook looked from the untouched food to Shon and back again, then picked up a pair of cookies and held them out to him, “You might not be able to eat now, but you can save these for after.”
Shon took the gift, meeting the cook's eyes and nodding in silent thanks. The cook returned the nod and Shon left the kitchen without looking back. He slipped the cookies into one of the side pockets of his new pack as he made his way to the courtyard. He passed the bathroom, its wall lined with low-hanging sinks and a single long mirror. He'd practiced arching his eyebrows in that mirror...
Entering the courtyard, Shon hesitated, remembering his first early morning. When he couldn’t sleep for excitement at the mere possibility of training with a real adventurer. He'd wanted to learn to fight, but more than that, he'd wanted to learn how to train. After all, he would be doing a lot of that once he joined the Temple. It would be helpful to have a head start… Or, that's what he'd told himself back then.
Shon shut the door with a click of finality that rang in the still morning air. To his left were the classrooms where the city's children took lessons. Just thinking about his last lesson, with only those coming of age, still made him blush. To his right was the door to the chapel, where he'd sat with the other orphans through the weekly sermons. Shon respected the god of life and healing, but Soleil had never been his patron. Across from him was the clinic, where the Clerics of Soleil saw to the needs of the sick and injured. He'd only been sent there once, after breaking his arm trying to climb the tree in the courtyard.
Shon would have no need to pray to Soleil specifically, and the Temple kept their own clinic... if he passed. If he didn't... There was a chance he would see the clinic again, perhaps the chapel...
Shon stepped off the walkway surrounding the central tree, and a familiar voice sounded from its roots, “Feeling up to a few exercises?” Master Veon-Zih asked, rising from his cross-legged seat in one fluid motion. Shon stopped in their little clearing and nodded, letting his pack slide off his shoulder and flop heavily to the ground. “I take it there's nothing fragile in there then?” Veon-Zih asked with a chuckle.
The idea that a thirteen-year-old would have something valuable or fragile enough to break just by dropping the bag finally pulled Shon all the way out of his contemplations. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at his master.
“There, that’s more like it. You looked like a rather well-preserved zombie.” Veon-Zih took Shon by the shoulder, shaking him, “Not a thought in your head, or skip in your step.”
Shon shook his head, sinking into his horse stance to start his drills. He punched with his left fist first, and Veon-Zih took position just out of reach, so Shon’s knuckles barely brushed the fabric of his tunic. Shon held the position until Veon-Zih also threw his first punch. He aimed for Shon’s face, sending a wave of air and ki over his skin and nearly touching his nose. Shon didn’t flinch.
They worked through their punches in unison, nearly touching but never quite connecting. Shon worked in silence for a while then said, “Too many thoughts…”
“And none of them new, I’m sure,” Veon-Zih commented.
Shon nodded, “The same ones circle again and again. Even though I can’t do anything about them... yet.”
“Not until after the test.”
Shon had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat and nodded again, unable to speak even if he'd wanted to.
Veon-Zih moved on to the next strike, and Shon copied him. He'd lost count of the punches but followed his Master's lead. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Master Veon-Zih asked.
Shon shook his head but then sighed. Most people seemed to like thinking out loud, especially when troubled. He didn’t understand why, but his usual quiet contemplation wasn’t working, so maybe… “If I don’t pass…”
“I would think of all days, today would be the one to take a break!” Father Branston called from the chapel door. He began strolling towards them with a broad smile, “Do you think you’ll be done in time to join me?”
Was it time already? Shon glanced around, noticing Nan, Gaven, and Lara approaching from the living quarter, all looking pale, their lips drawn in tight unsmiling lines.
Veon-Zih hadn’t come up from his stance, so neither did Shon, but the Monk did laugh, “Keeping a routine can be soothing in times of great change.” he winked at Shon, “Even if it’s a positive change.”
Shon tried to smile at Veon-Zih’s apparent show of faith but wasn’t sure if he'd managed it. What if…?
“Well, I don’t want to rush you. Can I trust you to get Shon to the Chapel on time if I take the others now?” Father Branston laughed as though he'd said something particularly humourous, his great belly bouncing with mirth.
“We'll be there.” Master Veon-Zih assured Father Branston, and Shon nodded mutely, resuming his drills and trying not to watch the others leave. “We have plenty of time,” Veon-Zih whispered, “Take a few deep breaths. It's the end of your childhood, not your life.”
They moved from drills to kata. Master Veon-Zih stayed in front of Shon, moving with him and matching his routine strikes with the appropriate counters. “You were saying?” it had been awhile since Shon had tried to speak, though his head continued to spin with the half-formed thoughts.
“I don’t want to think about not passing,” Shon said, kicking high and hitting Veon-Zih’s waiting arm.
“Do you believe such thoughts will jinx you?”
Shon dropped his kick and punched as the kata dictated. Veon-Zih was right; working through their regular routines did seem to help calm his pounding heart. “I don’t know… Maybe? It’s stupid, though. Whether I pass or not was decided when I was born. It won’t change just because I think about it.”
“Emotions are rarely logical.” Veon-Zih smacked Shon’s punch aside at the last moment, and Shon moved smoothly from that strike to the next, “It’s normal to be nervous. One of your peers is just as nervous, and he already knows where he’s going.”
“They all do…” Shon mumbled, snap kicking straight in front of him, confident in his Master’s speed to dodge and counter.
Veon-Zih did indeed dodge, but instead of the usual counter he hooked Shon’s foot with his own and tried to pull him off balance. Shon only stumbled for a moment, shifting his form to a different kata and counter, his body moving before his mind could catch up. Veon-Zih spoke as they continued the different form without finishing the first, prompting, “Even those taking the test have other plans, just in case?”
“Lara was accepted by the Tailors, and Gaven is going to enlist in the guard…” They had sped up the pace, and Shon needed to concentrate, now on edge in case Master Veon-Zih decided to shift the practice again. A few more strikes in, the Monk dropped below Shon’s punch and swung at his ribs, forcing Shon to block. Shon switched the kata to his most recent on instinct, using the block to redirect the punch rather than stop it as the original kata would have dictated.
Veon-Zih smiled, his eyes twinkling at the move as he picked up the pace even further, “Both of those are honest jobs and noble callings.” Shon could only grunt in response, now moving too fast for him to think of anything but the exercise. Veon-Zih continued, “The enlisted make up the bulk of Hengist’s armies, and their loyalty is admirable. The Tailors Guild not only clothes the populace but often creates beautiful works of art that serve to enhance the natural beauty of the human form.”
The Master hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Shon had to gasp out, “But I don’t-” before he was interrupted by another unexpected punch. He countered but then disengaged, breathing deep and slow, “What will I do? If I don’t pass? I thought about joining the enlisted too but…” but the idea of being so close, and yet so impossibly far from his failed dream, pained him in a way he couldn’t put into words.
When Shon didn’t continue, Veon-Zih asked, “Will you reconsider joining me then?”
Shon blinked at the Monk, his eyes going wide. He'd thought he'd lost his chance with the Monastery when he'd denied Veon-Zih for the Temple three years ago, “You mean you'll still take me?” he stammered out.
Veon-Zih closed the distance between them and placed a firm hand on Shon’s shoulder, “So long as you are an obedient and willing student, remember?”
Shon’s eyes burned and another lump rose in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He nodded, and Veon-Zih smiled, turning away from him so Shon could rub his eyes without the Monk seeing. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of failing, but he felt a little more at ease, knowing he wouldn’t be alone even if he did.
“Shall we go then?” Veon-Zih scooped up Shon’s pack and held it out to him, “Destiny awaits no man.”
***
The Grand Chapel was dedicated to all the gods of the kingdom, and though today it was closed to the public, the doors were still crowded with families from every walk of life. Merchants and craftsmen mingled excitedly with one another while their children nervously awaited the start of the test that would determine the trajectory of the rest of their lives. A smaller group of only two families stood apart from the throng. Dressed in fine clothes and protected by private guards, the nobles surveyed the commoners with a detached air as though above the gods themselves. The boy Shon often saw at the Temple was among them.
Shon stopped just outside the crowd, arching his neck to try and see the doors. His quiet dread had turned to jitters of nervousness as he and Master Veon-Zih walked through the city. He wasn’t sure if he'd wanted to run or stop moving altogether. Now that they were here, he tried to distract himself by studying the faces and movements of those gathered. Though if he tried to draw them now, the shaking of his hands would probably make the pictures impossible to decipher.
The differences between the nobles and commoners, in particular, caught his eye. One of the nobles, a man of middling years, wore long robes with a high collar buttoned tight to his neck and looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. Shon had just finished scanning up the man’s robes when their eyes met. A shiver, entirely unrelated to the general anxiety of the test, ran down his spine.
The noble’s eyes went wide, and he started for Shon, the edge of the crowd giving way for him like the sea before a ship. “You…” his voice was breathy, and he reached out. Shon stepped back and ran into Master Veon-Zih, “They are back, truly?” the strange man asked, his eyes fixed on Shon who could only stare in bewilderment.
“My good lord Morndancer!” Father Branston’s joy-filled greeting sounded from the side, “So your youngest has come of age has he?” the Abbot seemed to snap the noble from his focus, and he turned away from Shon as Branston made his way through the crowd, Lara and Gaven close behind.
“Yes, Abbot.” Morndancer surveyed the Cleric with what Shon could only describe as contempt, though the look hardly wiped the wide smile from Branston’s face, “Will we be starting soon? Sellon and I have business with the Mages Guild.”
“Though if young Sellon should find himself capable…” Branston started, but the noble snorted. “Ah well, to each their own.” Branston finished, turning away from Morndancer to address his young charges.
From a pouch on his belt, Father Branston pulled forth three small books that shouldn’t have been able to fit in the little bag, “I present to you, your papers.” He fanned the books out before him, and each of them took the one closest to them. They were bound in leather with the seal of the Kingdom of Daanlin embossed on the cover. The knight on the kingdom seal rode a horse and held a shield with the seal of Clearhelm on it, three tall pine trees in front of a snow-capped mountain.
Their papers were proof of their citizenship and would serve as a record of their lives and accomplishments. Master Veon-Zih had shown Shon his own papers months before. It held a record of every border he had ever crossed and every teleport he had ever taken, as well as proof of all of his adventures and every job performed for any of the kingdom’s organizations. Veon-Zih’s papers were a veritable tome compared to Shon’s meager notebook. Opening it to the first page, Shon saw his name followed by his presumed place and date of birth. It detailed that he had been raised in the Church in Smildna and when he had come of age. At the bottom was a place labeled but left blank for the date and results of today’s test…
Branston was still speaking to them, but Shon only partly registered the words, “You should keep your papers on you whenever possible. You will need them to reenter the city any time you leave…”
Veon-Zih placed a hand on Shon’s shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise. Leaning down, the Monk whispered in his ear, “Soon this book will be full of your adventures and accomplishments. Regardless of what happens today.”
“Abbot,” Morndancer interjected as Father Branston finished his explanation, “the test? Some of us have places to be.”
“Yes, yes, patience is a virtue, my dear Lord Morndancer. The sun will rise no faster with you tapping your foot at its pace.” he lowered his voice and continued to address the anxious children, “I am so very proud of all of you. Know that no matter what is discovered today, the light of Soleil will always shine with joy at what you have and will accomplish in your lives.” Shon wondered if any of the adults realized that their constant efforts to comfort their nerves seemed to be having the opposite effect. Shon’s palms were sweating as he closed his papers, and he had to wipe them on his pants to try and distract himself from his pounding heart.
“Follow me,” Branston turned away, walking through the middle of the crowd that had suddenly grown hush at his movement towards the door. Veon-Zih gave Shon one last pat, then slipped Shon’s pack from his back and tossed it over his own shoulder. Letting his student know without words that he would be waiting for Shon to return, one way or another.
Shon could feel the eyes of the noble Morndancer boring into him as he followed Father Branston through the throng towards the Grand Chapel. What was that man's problem? Who was back? Shon was too distracted by the test to dwell on it, but the man had made his skin crawl, and having him at his back wasn’t helping his nerves.
Father Branston turned to address the crowd as the doors began to swing open, “The testers will enter alone and present their papers to the clerks by the door. Families and friends may wait outside until the test is complete.” Nervous adolescents made their way forward, careful not to jostle one another, many accepting last-minute hugs and well wishes from their families.
Shon thought he remembered the Grand Chapel well from his visit almost six years ago, but was struck again by the beauty of its art. The masterwork statues and carvings were outshone only by the stained glass dome that painted the round floor in bright light of every color he could imagine.
Of the ten gods, eight representatives stood opposite the doors, waiting quietly while the testers handed their papers to the clerks and shuffled nervously in the middle of the majestic holy site. Neither the Temples of Horsa nor Saint Giorgos were present. Their absence wasn’t surprising. The Temple of Saint Giorgos only took those of noble birth and would give their tests separately, and the Temple of Horsa was openly shunned in Clearhelm, its only branch located in the capital city of Tarorn.
Shon handed one of three clerks his papers. She took them with only a glance, hastily scribbling Shon’s name on a long list before handing the book to one of the others who wrote the date in the spot allocated. By the time all the testers had filtered in, there were about twenty young boys and girls huddled in the center of the room.
The Cleric of Hengist, in robes of white and blue, stepped forward to address them. “You are gathered here today in the hopes of being chosen to serve. To serve the province, the kingdom, and most importantly, the gods. But before the gods can choose you to act as their divine hands and voice, you must train and study hard their tenants and virtues. And before even that, your body must be able to hold and direct their power. For a feather that cannot hold ink will never be a quill. This is not a test of your worth but of your natural, innate ability.”
As he spoke, two other Clerics, Father Branston of Soleil and a female in the colors of Lune, stepped forward, each holding something round covered with a dark cloth. The Cleric of Hengist continued, “Very few are born with the capacity to touch the divine, there is no shame in failing.” the Clerics of Soleil and Lune removed the protective coverings and everyone had to shield their eyes from the brilliant light that flared in Father Branston’s hand.
Squinting as his eyes adjusted, Shon could just make out an orb glowing in a bowl in the Abbot’s hands. The Cleric of Lune held a similar sphere, though it appeared dead beside the brilliance of the other. “When we call your name, you will touch the empty vessel,” the Cleric of Hengist gestured towards the unlit stone, “and then you will touch the vessel filled with divine magic,” with his other hand, he gestured towards the light. “Do not hold the stone for longer than a moment. If your body is unable to channel the magic it could do serious harm,” he warned.
“Trase,” one of the clerks called from the door, reading off the list they'd compiled. A tall boy stepped forward on shaking feet. He approached the Clerics, who nodded solemnly, all encouraging smiles gone. Reaching out, he touched the unlit orb, then with a deep breath, reached for the glowing vessel.
Nothing happened. Trase pulled his hands back, and Branston whispered -though all could hear in the stillness of the room- “It’s alright lad, you may go…”
“Anhala,” the clerk called, and a girl jumped before rushing forward to try.
The first six failed before a girl named Gena reached shaking hands to the orbs. As her fingers brushed the light vessel, the dead sphere in her other hand began to glow. She gasped, holding tight to both globes, now both shining brightly.
“Congratulations, my dear, you may choose an order…” the Cleric of Hengist gestured to the altars around the Chapel. Gena pulled her hands back slowly, and the unlit stone died once again. Shon watched as she walked to the altar of Soleil to await the end of the test before beginning her life as an adept in training at the Church.
“Shaclin Ebonheart,” the noble boy Shon often saw at the Temple stepped forward, rubbing his hands on his pants before reaching for the orbs. Nothing. He held on, and Father Branston gently removed the boy’s fingers from the light orb. Shaclin pulled away sharply, clutching his hand to his chest and whimpering. His skin had grown red and blistered.
“I’m sorry…” the Cleric of Hengist whispered.
Shaclin turned away without a word and strode for the door, still clutching his burned hand, silent tears staining his cheeks.
I won’t cry… I won’t… “Shon,” Shon closed his eyes, imagining himself in the Temple chapel with its calm silence and soothing scent of incense. He could almost smell it when he opened his eyes and moved forward.
Time slowed down… it took hours to reach the Clerics. Days to raise his hand to touch the dark orb. Now that he was closer he saw that they were actually crystals, tumbled into perfectly smooth spheres. His palm covered the dead stone, and it felt cool, as though it had just been dug from the ground by adventurous children. He reached for the stone bathed in light, feeling the warmth radiate off it before he even made contact. It wasn’t nearly hot enough to burn, and yet Shaclin’s hand had shown blisters.
Shon touched the stone. The warmth filled his fingers and crawled up his arm. It flooded his body like a vessel being filled with water before flowing out his other arm and down his hand. The dead stone came to life, its coolness replaced by the warmth of the divine magic, using him as its conduit connecting the two.
“Congratulations, son, you may choose an order…”
Time sped back up, and Shon let his hands slide off the stones. “Congratulations,” Father Branston echoed, nodding towards the altar of Hengist, “The rest is up to you.”
Only two others passed the test. A girl with long auburn hair and green eyes had joined the Temple with Shon, and a boy had gone to the Church of Saint Bjarki. They stood by their respective altars as the last of the failed testers left the Chapel. Gaven and Lara managed strained smiles at Shon as they left. He attempted to return them but wasn't sure if he'd managed it. The eight Clerics all breathed sighs of relief as the last left, and Branston and the Cleric of Lune returned the covers over the stones. Though still lit by the light through the colored dome, the Chapel seemed so much darker without the divine light to fill it.
“Four this year! An entire fifth!” the Druid of Cathbad exclaimed, her brown and green robes rustling as she danced in place.
“Yes, quite remarkable. Twice the average.” the Cleric of Saint Bede agreed. Though he resisted dancing for joy.
The Cleric of Hengist was also smiling broadly, though when he spoke, it was to the kids, “You may spend the afternoon with your families. Report to your chosen order before sixth bell.”
The girl who also joined the Temple of Hengist, Daisy, gave Shon a warm smile and hurried with the others to retrieve her papers. Now marked with their status as divine conduits. Shon walked behind them, his nervousness replaced with excited anticipation. He felt somehow full and empty all at once. With one door open, another had closed...
Shon stepped into the morning light to find the crowd had cleared. Only the three families of his fellows remained, hugging and kissing their children in joy. “We shall have a feast fit for the King!” Daisy’s father exclaimed, lifting her into the air as if she were no more than five. Shon’s stomach growled.
“Hungry?” Veon-Zih asked, stepping out from beside the door and presenting Shon with his pack. Shon felt his cheeks go red, and Veon-Zih laughed, rubbing his own belly, “I could use some lunch myself.”
Hastily Shon dropped his pack and rifled through the outside pockets, finding the cookies in the last one left to check. They were cracked and crumbled in some places, but he held one out to Veon-Zih regardless.
The Monk took it with a bow, “I am trying to resist being disappointed.” he confessed as Shon eagerly shoved his own broken cookie in his mouth.
He nearly choked, and Veon-Zih patted his back hard, not helping. Shon managed to swallow, then stammered, “Master, I…”
Veon-Zih interrupted with a laugh loud enough to fill the empty entryway, “Just promise me you won’t let your new studies dull your old. I plan on testing you with each visit.”
"Visit?" Something Shon couldn’t name filled his chest with warmth reminiscent of the divine light, "Test? You..." He thought he might burst with barely contained hope. No one could be so blessed... "You'll still train me?" Shon asked.
“I happen to be good friends with one of your future teachers at Hamerfoss.” Veon-Zih stated for the first time, “I’m sure he'll welcome my visits. If you'll have me…”
Shon didn’t have words for an answer. Instead, he lunged forward, wrapping Veon-Zih in the first and only hug he could remember giving anyone.
--- Table of Contents ---
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Spring 4984, 9 Kuromoth, Spring Equinox
“Archmage, I thought you had already gone…” Brom’s voice, beyond Her door. She didn’t move, didn’t bother to look towards the closed portal. Had it been months or years since he'd last come to sit with Her?
“I will be leaving presently…” Archmage Morndancer’s cold voice answered. She squeezed tighter into Her little ball in the dark corner. It didn’t matter that he would be gone. He left the tower often, but it didn’t stop Her punishment. Even as the season turned from winter to spring, She'd stayed locked in Her room. With no books and no company. Occasionally being taken out to give samples in a lab completely separate from that of Her treasures. Only their yowls and barks from down the hall offering any comfort.
“It’s an important day, isn’t it, Archmage? Perhaps Sellon will pass the test.” Ran’s voice. Did he sound nervous? Her head tilted, just a little, towards the door. The half-circle of light from Her window did very little to banish the darkness of the room. She hadn’t bothered to light the candles. What was the point?
Morndancer scoffed, “Doubtful. Ronni didn’t manage it. And just as his sister before him, Sellon will join the Mages Guild whether he passes or not.” Sellon and Ronni, Archmage Morndancer’s children. She'd heard of them from Brom and Ran. So they were Mages as well. Perhaps they would be the ones to come take Her blood and cut Her hair in future. It didn’t matter. Nothing had ever mattered.
“But a Wizard-Cleric of Saint Bede might…”
“Enough.” Morndancer interrupted Brom, “Bede is no god, he wasn't even a decent Mage, he was and is a villain. We would not have this responsibility to save the world if he and his lot hadn’t doomed it.”
“Of course, Archmage, yes.” nervous feet shuffled outside Her door.
“Even now, Shaloon is trying to locate the next storm.” Morndancer continued his chastisement, “They come more frequently and destroy greater swaths of land. If we continue to be as useless as the other Talons, there will be no world left to save. So rather than waste your time on prayers to usurper gods, you had best refocus and redouble your efforts while we are away. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Archmage,” Brom and Ran said in unison.
“Good. And be sure to return those to the library when you have finished with them.” the hiss of fabric on stone accompanied the Archmage's exit.
Her door handle jingled, and Her head came up a fraction, but, “Wait…” Brom’s whisper. Silence followed, and She dropped Her head again, pressing her closed eyes into Her knees. Minutes passed, or was it hours? Did it matter? Maybe She would crawl into Her bed and try to sleep. Time passed faster that way. Or maybe She would just stay here in Her little ball in the corner.
“He should be gone by now…” Her lock clicked, and the door creaked open, but She didn’t bother to look up, “Goldy? Maybe She’s sleeping…” Brom whispered.
“Damn, it’s dark in here. Red, can we get a light?” She didn’t answer Ran’s request. What was the point? They would find Her and they would take Her for samples. She didn’t have to help them do it. “Grab the candle from the table, Brom. My hands are full.”
She could feel the life of a tiny flame beyond Her door. Felt it draw closer and enter Her room before it flickered and died. “Oh, Goldy… please don’t…” the shuffling of feet moving carefully in the darkness came closer. She tried to pull in tighter, tucking Her head against Her chest and letting Her now shoulder-length hair fall forward to further hide Her face.
They crouched at either side of Her, Brom setting the useless candle down to Her left with a soft ‘tink’ of brass on stone. Something much heavier was placed on Her right, the familiar scents of hardbound leather, paper, and ink… “We brought you some books, Red…”
She lifted Her head, looking through the tangled strands of golden hair and seeing a pair of worried faces looming in the dark. “If you light up the room a bit, we can read,” Brom slowly pushed Her hair back, careful not to touch Her skin. As though She would burn him. She might have. If She could find the energy.
“You’re not supposed to...” Her voice crackled from lack of use, making Her whisper even more inaudible.
“What?” Ran leaned closer, but She didn’t repeat Herself, “It’s been months, Red. You’re not in trouble anymore.”
She blinked silently at him.
“Look, Goldy,” Brom shuffled forward, still in his crouch, “things can go back to normal now. The Archmage will be out for a few days. We can take you to play with the animals tomorrow.” She shifted Her blank stare to him. Brom waited for a moment, searching Her face for a familiar flicker of excitement. She didn’t give it to him. He sighed, “We’ll leave these with you then. You can read them when you’re ready.”
Brom made to stand, but She grabbed the hem of his sleeve, “Stay with me…” On the candle, the smallest of lights began to flicker to life. Brom sat down with a groan, and on Her other side, Ran plopped down even less gracefully.
He leaned his back against Her bed and picked the top book off the small pile they'd brought Her, “We can stay until lunch, Goldy.”
“But we still have a lot of work to do…”
It was enough. The candle burned brighter, and She shifted Her legs down, taking the book Ran passed to Her. Things would finally be returning to normal. As they always had been, and as they always would be.
***
Shon woke long before the kitchen servant would come to fetch him. Everything was the same, and yet nothing would ever be as it was before. Sitting up, he ran his fingers through his hair, only to realize that everything wasn't the same. The other two boys who'd reached maturity were also awake. It looked like Gaven hadn’t slept at all, his sandy hair tousled and his dark eyes bloodshot.
“This is it then… the last morning in the dorms?” Gaven whispered the useless question. Nan, the oldest by a month, nodded in silence. Shon didn’t bother with even that much, swinging his legs off the bed and kicking something. Another difference. A final gift from the Church. A leather pack for him to carry everything he owned.
Shon dressed in silence only broken by the shuffle of the other two joining him. After tying his boots, he started packing the bag. It was large enough to fit all of his clothes and even his seven journals, though the eighth made it a very tight fit.
“Should we make the beds?” Nan whispered. Again, Shon didn’t answer. Instead, he stripped the blanket and sheets from the mattress, folding them neatly and placing them with the pillow at the foot of the bed.
“Yeah… they'll have to strip them to wash anyway…” Gaven said, following Shon’s example.
They'd just finished when the door creaked open. Normally woken by the morning bells, Gaven and Nan both jumped, looking from the dark window to the door then at each other.
The servant girl who usually woke Shon looked in on them with some confusion, then hummed in understanding before holding the door open for them, “Come on then. There may be some leftover dessert you can have while we make breakfast…”
Shon doubted he could eat anything at the moment. His stomach worked itself in knots that put an uncomfortable pressure on his heart that in turn seemed as though it wanted to beat its way into his throat. The entire sensation made him feel a strange sort of nauseous. Nan and Gaven looked no better than he felt, and they both swallowed before exiting the room. Gaven took a moment to look back over his shoulder before shaking himself and setting his eyes forward. Nan seemed to rush from the room, too afraid to look back. Shon took one last look around before following, the door clicking closed behind them.
He let the other boys walk ahead of him and wondered what they were thinking. Gaven would be taking the test with him today, but Nan had been selected to join the Masons Guild and had opted to accept the offer right away rather than try for one of the divine orders first. Perhaps Nan was the smartest of them.
“We'll miss you…” the servant girl whispered so only Shon could hear, “It isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work... if you want to join the Servants Guild…” the Servants Guild was a loose association of otherwise privately employed cleaners and cooks. It was the last choice for orphans, but also their most common destination. She'd meant the offer as a kindness, so Shon nodded in thanks, though nothing but the most desperate situation would ever see him join.
The head cook looked up as they entered the kitchen, nodding in understanding, “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked Nan and Gaven, who mumbled incoherently in response. To Shon, the cook smiled, offering only a silent nod.
The girl who'd reached maturity with them was already in the dining room, staring mournfully at a plate of hastily scrambled eggs and a few cookies from the night before.
“Hey Lara, couldn’t sleep anymore either?” Gaven asked with a strained smile. Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and tried to force down some of the breakfast. She'd been accepted into the Tailors Guild, but unlike Nan, had chosen to take the test with Shon and Gavin. Just in case.
The cook himself brought the boys their plates of eggs and cookies, and they ate in silence until the morning bells sounded. The three unused to being up early jumped at the sound, exchanging nervous looks. Their juniors and the priests would come flooding in soon, laughing and talking and enjoying another breakfast with friends and the closest thing they had to family. It would be the last time the four of them ate with the others in this room.
Shon didn’t know if he could take the bustle today, even if it was the last. Or maybe because it was. He stood, taking his mostly full plate and returning it to the kitchen. The cook looked from the untouched food to Shon and back again, then picked up a pair of cookies and held them out to him, “You might not be able to eat now, but you can save these for after.”
Shon took the gift, meeting the cook's eyes and nodding in silent thanks. The cook returned the nod and Shon left the kitchen without looking back. He slipped the cookies into one of the side pockets of his new pack as he made his way to the courtyard. He passed the bathroom, its wall lined with low-hanging sinks and a single long mirror. He'd practiced arching his eyebrows in that mirror...
Entering the courtyard, Shon hesitated, remembering his first early morning. When he couldn’t sleep for excitement at the mere possibility of training with a real adventurer. He'd wanted to learn to fight, but more than that, he'd wanted to learn how to train. After all, he would be doing a lot of that once he joined the Temple. It would be helpful to have a head start… Or, that's what he'd told himself back then.
Shon shut the door with a click of finality that rang in the still morning air. To his left were the classrooms where the city's children took lessons. Just thinking about his last lesson, with only those coming of age, still made him blush. To his right was the door to the chapel, where he'd sat with the other orphans through the weekly sermons. Shon respected the god of life and healing, but Soleil had never been his patron. Across from him was the clinic, where the Clerics of Soleil saw to the needs of the sick and injured. He'd only been sent there once, after breaking his arm trying to climb the tree in the courtyard.
Shon would have no need to pray to Soleil specifically, and the Temple kept their own clinic... if he passed. If he didn't... There was a chance he would see the clinic again, perhaps the chapel...
Shon stepped off the walkway surrounding the central tree, and a familiar voice sounded from its roots, “Feeling up to a few exercises?” Master Veon-Zih asked, rising from his cross-legged seat in one fluid motion. Shon stopped in their little clearing and nodded, letting his pack slide off his shoulder and flop heavily to the ground. “I take it there's nothing fragile in there then?” Veon-Zih asked with a chuckle.
The idea that a thirteen-year-old would have something valuable or fragile enough to break just by dropping the bag finally pulled Shon all the way out of his contemplations. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at his master.
“There, that’s more like it. You looked like a rather well-preserved zombie.” Veon-Zih took Shon by the shoulder, shaking him, “Not a thought in your head, or skip in your step.”
Shon shook his head, sinking into his horse stance to start his drills. He punched with his left fist first, and Veon-Zih took position just out of reach, so Shon’s knuckles barely brushed the fabric of his tunic. Shon held the position until Veon-Zih also threw his first punch. He aimed for Shon’s face, sending a wave of air and ki over his skin and nearly touching his nose. Shon didn’t flinch.
They worked through their punches in unison, nearly touching but never quite connecting. Shon worked in silence for a while then said, “Too many thoughts…”
“And none of them new, I’m sure,” Veon-Zih commented.
Shon nodded, “The same ones circle again and again. Even though I can’t do anything about them... yet.”
“Not until after the test.”
Shon had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat and nodded again, unable to speak even if he'd wanted to.
Veon-Zih moved on to the next strike, and Shon copied him. He'd lost count of the punches but followed his Master's lead. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Master Veon-Zih asked.
Shon shook his head but then sighed. Most people seemed to like thinking out loud, especially when troubled. He didn’t understand why, but his usual quiet contemplation wasn’t working, so maybe… “If I don’t pass…”
“I would think of all days, today would be the one to take a break!” Father Branston called from the chapel door. He began strolling towards them with a broad smile, “Do you think you’ll be done in time to join me?”
Was it time already? Shon glanced around, noticing Nan, Gaven, and Lara approaching from the living quarter, all looking pale, their lips drawn in tight unsmiling lines.
Veon-Zih hadn’t come up from his stance, so neither did Shon, but the Monk did laugh, “Keeping a routine can be soothing in times of great change.” he winked at Shon, “Even if it’s a positive change.”
Shon tried to smile at Veon-Zih’s apparent show of faith but wasn’t sure if he'd managed it. What if…?
“Well, I don’t want to rush you. Can I trust you to get Shon to the Chapel on time if I take the others now?” Father Branston laughed as though he'd said something particularly humourous, his great belly bouncing with mirth.
“We'll be there.” Master Veon-Zih assured Father Branston, and Shon nodded mutely, resuming his drills and trying not to watch the others leave. “We have plenty of time,” Veon-Zih whispered, “Take a few deep breaths. It's the end of your childhood, not your life.”
They moved from drills to kata. Master Veon-Zih stayed in front of Shon, moving with him and matching his routine strikes with the appropriate counters. “You were saying?” it had been awhile since Shon had tried to speak, though his head continued to spin with the half-formed thoughts.
“I don’t want to think about not passing,” Shon said, kicking high and hitting Veon-Zih’s waiting arm.
“Do you believe such thoughts will jinx you?”
Shon dropped his kick and punched as the kata dictated. Veon-Zih was right; working through their regular routines did seem to help calm his pounding heart. “I don’t know… Maybe? It’s stupid, though. Whether I pass or not was decided when I was born. It won’t change just because I think about it.”
“Emotions are rarely logical.” Veon-Zih smacked Shon’s punch aside at the last moment, and Shon moved smoothly from that strike to the next, “It’s normal to be nervous. One of your peers is just as nervous, and he already knows where he’s going.”
“They all do…” Shon mumbled, snap kicking straight in front of him, confident in his Master’s speed to dodge and counter.
Veon-Zih did indeed dodge, but instead of the usual counter he hooked Shon’s foot with his own and tried to pull him off balance. Shon only stumbled for a moment, shifting his form to a different kata and counter, his body moving before his mind could catch up. Veon-Zih spoke as they continued the different form without finishing the first, prompting, “Even those taking the test have other plans, just in case?”
“Lara was accepted by the Tailors, and Gaven is going to enlist in the guard…” They had sped up the pace, and Shon needed to concentrate, now on edge in case Master Veon-Zih decided to shift the practice again. A few more strikes in, the Monk dropped below Shon’s punch and swung at his ribs, forcing Shon to block. Shon switched the kata to his most recent on instinct, using the block to redirect the punch rather than stop it as the original kata would have dictated.
Veon-Zih smiled, his eyes twinkling at the move as he picked up the pace even further, “Both of those are honest jobs and noble callings.” Shon could only grunt in response, now moving too fast for him to think of anything but the exercise. Veon-Zih continued, “The enlisted make up the bulk of Hengist’s armies, and their loyalty is admirable. The Tailors Guild not only clothes the populace but often creates beautiful works of art that serve to enhance the natural beauty of the human form.”
The Master hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Shon had to gasp out, “But I don’t-” before he was interrupted by another unexpected punch. He countered but then disengaged, breathing deep and slow, “What will I do? If I don’t pass? I thought about joining the enlisted too but…” but the idea of being so close, and yet so impossibly far from his failed dream, pained him in a way he couldn’t put into words.
When Shon didn’t continue, Veon-Zih asked, “Will you reconsider joining me then?”
Shon blinked at the Monk, his eyes going wide. He'd thought he'd lost his chance with the Monastery when he'd denied Veon-Zih for the Temple three years ago, “You mean you'll still take me?” he stammered out.
Veon-Zih closed the distance between them and placed a firm hand on Shon’s shoulder, “So long as you are an obedient and willing student, remember?”
Shon’s eyes burned and another lump rose in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He nodded, and Veon-Zih smiled, turning away from him so Shon could rub his eyes without the Monk seeing. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of failing, but he felt a little more at ease, knowing he wouldn’t be alone even if he did.
“Shall we go then?” Veon-Zih scooped up Shon’s pack and held it out to him, “Destiny awaits no man.”
***
The Grand Chapel was dedicated to all the gods of the kingdom, and though today it was closed to the public, the doors were still crowded with families from every walk of life. Merchants and craftsmen mingled excitedly with one another while their children nervously awaited the start of the test that would determine the trajectory of the rest of their lives. A smaller group of only two families stood apart from the throng. Dressed in fine clothes and protected by private guards, the nobles surveyed the commoners with a detached air as though above the gods themselves. The boy Shon often saw at the Temple was among them.
Shon stopped just outside the crowd, arching his neck to try and see the doors. His quiet dread had turned to jitters of nervousness as he and Master Veon-Zih walked through the city. He wasn’t sure if he'd wanted to run or stop moving altogether. Now that they were here, he tried to distract himself by studying the faces and movements of those gathered. Though if he tried to draw them now, the shaking of his hands would probably make the pictures impossible to decipher.
The differences between the nobles and commoners, in particular, caught his eye. One of the nobles, a man of middling years, wore long robes with a high collar buttoned tight to his neck and looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. Shon had just finished scanning up the man’s robes when their eyes met. A shiver, entirely unrelated to the general anxiety of the test, ran down his spine.
The noble’s eyes went wide, and he started for Shon, the edge of the crowd giving way for him like the sea before a ship. “You…” his voice was breathy, and he reached out. Shon stepped back and ran into Master Veon-Zih, “They are back, truly?” the strange man asked, his eyes fixed on Shon who could only stare in bewilderment.
“My good lord Morndancer!” Father Branston’s joy-filled greeting sounded from the side, “So your youngest has come of age has he?” the Abbot seemed to snap the noble from his focus, and he turned away from Shon as Branston made his way through the crowd, Lara and Gaven close behind.
“Yes, Abbot.” Morndancer surveyed the Cleric with what Shon could only describe as contempt, though the look hardly wiped the wide smile from Branston’s face, “Will we be starting soon? Sellon and I have business with the Mages Guild.”
“Though if young Sellon should find himself capable…” Branston started, but the noble snorted. “Ah well, to each their own.” Branston finished, turning away from Morndancer to address his young charges.
From a pouch on his belt, Father Branston pulled forth three small books that shouldn’t have been able to fit in the little bag, “I present to you, your papers.” He fanned the books out before him, and each of them took the one closest to them. They were bound in leather with the seal of the Kingdom of Daanlin embossed on the cover. The knight on the kingdom seal rode a horse and held a shield with the seal of Clearhelm on it, three tall pine trees in front of a snow-capped mountain.
Their papers were proof of their citizenship and would serve as a record of their lives and accomplishments. Master Veon-Zih had shown Shon his own papers months before. It held a record of every border he had ever crossed and every teleport he had ever taken, as well as proof of all of his adventures and every job performed for any of the kingdom’s organizations. Veon-Zih’s papers were a veritable tome compared to Shon’s meager notebook. Opening it to the first page, Shon saw his name followed by his presumed place and date of birth. It detailed that he had been raised in the Church in Smildna and when he had come of age. At the bottom was a place labeled but left blank for the date and results of today’s test…
Branston was still speaking to them, but Shon only partly registered the words, “You should keep your papers on you whenever possible. You will need them to reenter the city any time you leave…”
Veon-Zih placed a hand on Shon’s shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise. Leaning down, the Monk whispered in his ear, “Soon this book will be full of your adventures and accomplishments. Regardless of what happens today.”
“Abbot,” Morndancer interjected as Father Branston finished his explanation, “the test? Some of us have places to be.”
“Yes, yes, patience is a virtue, my dear Lord Morndancer. The sun will rise no faster with you tapping your foot at its pace.” he lowered his voice and continued to address the anxious children, “I am so very proud of all of you. Know that no matter what is discovered today, the light of Soleil will always shine with joy at what you have and will accomplish in your lives.” Shon wondered if any of the adults realized that their constant efforts to comfort their nerves seemed to be having the opposite effect. Shon’s palms were sweating as he closed his papers, and he had to wipe them on his pants to try and distract himself from his pounding heart.
“Follow me,” Branston turned away, walking through the middle of the crowd that had suddenly grown hush at his movement towards the door. Veon-Zih gave Shon one last pat, then slipped Shon’s pack from his back and tossed it over his own shoulder. Letting his student know without words that he would be waiting for Shon to return, one way or another.
Shon could feel the eyes of the noble Morndancer boring into him as he followed Father Branston through the throng towards the Grand Chapel. What was that man's problem? Who was back? Shon was too distracted by the test to dwell on it, but the man had made his skin crawl, and having him at his back wasn’t helping his nerves.
Father Branston turned to address the crowd as the doors began to swing open, “The testers will enter alone and present their papers to the clerks by the door. Families and friends may wait outside until the test is complete.” Nervous adolescents made their way forward, careful not to jostle one another, many accepting last-minute hugs and well wishes from their families.
Shon thought he remembered the Grand Chapel well from his visit almost six years ago, but was struck again by the beauty of its art. The masterwork statues and carvings were outshone only by the stained glass dome that painted the round floor in bright light of every color he could imagine.
Of the ten gods, eight representatives stood opposite the doors, waiting quietly while the testers handed their papers to the clerks and shuffled nervously in the middle of the majestic holy site. Neither the Temples of Horsa nor Saint Giorgos were present. Their absence wasn’t surprising. The Temple of Saint Giorgos only took those of noble birth and would give their tests separately, and the Temple of Horsa was openly shunned in Clearhelm, its only branch located in the capital city of Tarorn.
Shon handed one of three clerks his papers. She took them with only a glance, hastily scribbling Shon’s name on a long list before handing the book to one of the others who wrote the date in the spot allocated. By the time all the testers had filtered in, there were about twenty young boys and girls huddled in the center of the room.
The Cleric of Hengist, in robes of white and blue, stepped forward to address them. “You are gathered here today in the hopes of being chosen to serve. To serve the province, the kingdom, and most importantly, the gods. But before the gods can choose you to act as their divine hands and voice, you must train and study hard their tenants and virtues. And before even that, your body must be able to hold and direct their power. For a feather that cannot hold ink will never be a quill. This is not a test of your worth but of your natural, innate ability.”
As he spoke, two other Clerics, Father Branston of Soleil and a female in the colors of Lune, stepped forward, each holding something round covered with a dark cloth. The Cleric of Hengist continued, “Very few are born with the capacity to touch the divine, there is no shame in failing.” the Clerics of Soleil and Lune removed the protective coverings and everyone had to shield their eyes from the brilliant light that flared in Father Branston’s hand.
Squinting as his eyes adjusted, Shon could just make out an orb glowing in a bowl in the Abbot’s hands. The Cleric of Lune held a similar sphere, though it appeared dead beside the brilliance of the other. “When we call your name, you will touch the empty vessel,” the Cleric of Hengist gestured towards the unlit stone, “and then you will touch the vessel filled with divine magic,” with his other hand, he gestured towards the light. “Do not hold the stone for longer than a moment. If your body is unable to channel the magic it could do serious harm,” he warned.
“Trase,” one of the clerks called from the door, reading off the list they'd compiled. A tall boy stepped forward on shaking feet. He approached the Clerics, who nodded solemnly, all encouraging smiles gone. Reaching out, he touched the unlit orb, then with a deep breath, reached for the glowing vessel.
Nothing happened. Trase pulled his hands back, and Branston whispered -though all could hear in the stillness of the room- “It’s alright lad, you may go…”
“Anhala,” the clerk called, and a girl jumped before rushing forward to try.
The first six failed before a girl named Gena reached shaking hands to the orbs. As her fingers brushed the light vessel, the dead sphere in her other hand began to glow. She gasped, holding tight to both globes, now both shining brightly.
“Congratulations, my dear, you may choose an order…” the Cleric of Hengist gestured to the altars around the Chapel. Gena pulled her hands back slowly, and the unlit stone died once again. Shon watched as she walked to the altar of Soleil to await the end of the test before beginning her life as an adept in training at the Church.
“Shaclin Ebonheart,” the noble boy Shon often saw at the Temple stepped forward, rubbing his hands on his pants before reaching for the orbs. Nothing. He held on, and Father Branston gently removed the boy’s fingers from the light orb. Shaclin pulled away sharply, clutching his hand to his chest and whimpering. His skin had grown red and blistered.
“I’m sorry…” the Cleric of Hengist whispered.
Shaclin turned away without a word and strode for the door, still clutching his burned hand, silent tears staining his cheeks.
I won’t cry… I won’t… “Shon,” Shon closed his eyes, imagining himself in the Temple chapel with its calm silence and soothing scent of incense. He could almost smell it when he opened his eyes and moved forward.
Time slowed down… it took hours to reach the Clerics. Days to raise his hand to touch the dark orb. Now that he was closer he saw that they were actually crystals, tumbled into perfectly smooth spheres. His palm covered the dead stone, and it felt cool, as though it had just been dug from the ground by adventurous children. He reached for the stone bathed in light, feeling the warmth radiate off it before he even made contact. It wasn’t nearly hot enough to burn, and yet Shaclin’s hand had shown blisters.
Shon touched the stone. The warmth filled his fingers and crawled up his arm. It flooded his body like a vessel being filled with water before flowing out his other arm and down his hand. The dead stone came to life, its coolness replaced by the warmth of the divine magic, using him as its conduit connecting the two.
“Congratulations, son, you may choose an order…”
Time sped back up, and Shon let his hands slide off the stones. “Congratulations,” Father Branston echoed, nodding towards the altar of Hengist, “The rest is up to you.”
Only two others passed the test. A girl with long auburn hair and green eyes had joined the Temple with Shon, and a boy had gone to the Church of Saint Bjarki. They stood by their respective altars as the last of the failed testers left the Chapel. Gaven and Lara managed strained smiles at Shon as they left. He attempted to return them but wasn't sure if he'd managed it. The eight Clerics all breathed sighs of relief as the last left, and Branston and the Cleric of Lune returned the covers over the stones. Though still lit by the light through the colored dome, the Chapel seemed so much darker without the divine light to fill it.
“Four this year! An entire fifth!” the Druid of Cathbad exclaimed, her brown and green robes rustling as she danced in place.
“Yes, quite remarkable. Twice the average.” the Cleric of Saint Bede agreed. Though he resisted dancing for joy.
The Cleric of Hengist was also smiling broadly, though when he spoke, it was to the kids, “You may spend the afternoon with your families. Report to your chosen order before sixth bell.”
The girl who also joined the Temple of Hengist, Daisy, gave Shon a warm smile and hurried with the others to retrieve her papers. Now marked with their status as divine conduits. Shon walked behind them, his nervousness replaced with excited anticipation. He felt somehow full and empty all at once. With one door open, another had closed...
Shon stepped into the morning light to find the crowd had cleared. Only the three families of his fellows remained, hugging and kissing their children in joy. “We shall have a feast fit for the King!” Daisy’s father exclaimed, lifting her into the air as if she were no more than five. Shon’s stomach growled.
“Hungry?” Veon-Zih asked, stepping out from beside the door and presenting Shon with his pack. Shon felt his cheeks go red, and Veon-Zih laughed, rubbing his own belly, “I could use some lunch myself.”
Hastily Shon dropped his pack and rifled through the outside pockets, finding the cookies in the last one left to check. They were cracked and crumbled in some places, but he held one out to Veon-Zih regardless.
The Monk took it with a bow, “I am trying to resist being disappointed.” he confessed as Shon eagerly shoved his own broken cookie in his mouth.
He nearly choked, and Veon-Zih patted his back hard, not helping. Shon managed to swallow, then stammered, “Master, I…”
Veon-Zih interrupted with a laugh loud enough to fill the empty entryway, “Just promise me you won’t let your new studies dull your old. I plan on testing you with each visit.”
"Visit?" Something Shon couldn’t name filled his chest with warmth reminiscent of the divine light, "Test? You..." He thought he might burst with barely contained hope. No one could be so blessed... "You'll still train me?" Shon asked.
“I happen to be good friends with one of your future teachers at Hamerfoss.” Veon-Zih stated for the first time, “I’m sure he'll welcome my visits. If you'll have me…”
Shon didn’t have words for an answer. Instead, he lunged forward, wrapping Veon-Zih in the first and only hug he could remember giving anyone.
--- Table of Contents ---
All comments and communication are welcome and wanted.
2023.05.28 21:48 SpaceSeal1 Is Hello Kitty really declining in popularity in Japan and if so, how and why?
Yeah apologies I don't mean to come off as a jerk with this incoming rant, but this is my first post in this sub. Was gonna post this on HelloKitty and sanrio, but my karma is too low for the former and the mods on the latter keep deleting my posts whenever I send them.
For starters, I'm a huge Hello Kitty fan and she's my most favorite pop icon in the world of all time currently (aside from maybe Mickey Mouse at the very least).
My friends and I had a rather spirited debate on Discord about Hello Kitty's popularity vs the other characters from anime or japanese media and this is something I need to seriously let off my chest.
And I also couldn't understand or know how to explain why and how such a globally iconic figure like Hello Kitty dropped out of fifth place in the CharaBank ratings as of 2021 and I don't know the rankings for 2022 due to lack of accessibility to data and I can't understand why Anpanman and Pokemon (or even foreign characters like Mickey and Snoopy to an extent) are currently rated above her in Japan of all places. I don't even get why even Doraemon is ranked above her as well (assuming if he is, since Doraemon is actually my other most favorite character in the world besides Hello Kitty, like the closest to her compared to practically all my other favorite characters at the very least, but that's neither here nor there).
==== MAIN QUESTION =====
Okay let's get the obvious out of the way, we can all agree that Hello Kitty and other Sanrio characters in general are increasing in popularity worldwide right now due to platforms like TikTok and Instagram.But for such a long-running global powerhouse of a franchise and one of the largest and most internationally iconic, successful, and prolific pop icons in the world (with a laundry list of collabs and crossovers to her name no less), I don't get why and how Hello Kitty dropped out of the top five of Japan's Character DataBank since two years ago. Is she really completely declining in popularity in Japan or is most of what my friends claimed wrong?
So I wanted to hear from this subreddit and understand and clarify everything here. All feedback would be appreciated. Thanks.
submitted by SpaceSeal1 to sanriofans [link] [comments]
For starters, I'm a huge Hello Kitty fan and she's my most favorite pop icon in the world of all time currently (aside from maybe Mickey Mouse at the very least).
My friends and I had a rather spirited debate on Discord about Hello Kitty's popularity vs the other characters from anime or japanese media and this is something I need to seriously let off my chest.
- Most of my male friends on Discord (at least many of whom are American mind you) are all biased against Hello Kitty and seem to write her off as just a mere marketing icon or a just retro brand that are only liked by younger girls and nostalgic older women and is nothing deep and that most Japanese people somehow don't care about her.
- One of my friends (who's American) thinks that shonen jump series like Demon Slayer is universally more popular (if not practically more iconic by implication) in Japan than Hello Kitty and other iconic "kiddy" stuff like Anpanman, Doraemon, Pokemon, and even American stuff like Mickey Mouse and Snoopy (whom they are also all biased against) based on mainly some 2020 poll from CharaBank: https://www.charabiz.com/book_detail.php?article_id=12007
- That same friend of mine unironically insisted in his belief that most Japanese people of all ages would favor more mature and edgy characters like Goku, Ichigo, Tanjiro, and Kenshiro over soft cute ones and that most people in Japan would mock older men like me for liking cute stuff. Not joking about the last part btw. It's as if the concept of "kawaii culture" in Japan is a foreign concept to him and my other friends on the server.
And I also couldn't understand or know how to explain why and how such a globally iconic figure like Hello Kitty dropped out of fifth place in the CharaBank ratings as of 2021 and I don't know the rankings for 2022 due to lack of accessibility to data and I can't understand why Anpanman and Pokemon (or even foreign characters like Mickey and Snoopy to an extent) are currently rated above her in Japan of all places. I don't even get why even Doraemon is ranked above her as well (assuming if he is, since Doraemon is actually my other most favorite character in the world besides Hello Kitty, like the closest to her compared to practically all my other favorite characters at the very least, but that's neither here nor there).
==== MAIN QUESTION =====
Okay let's get the obvious out of the way, we can all agree that Hello Kitty and other Sanrio characters in general are increasing in popularity worldwide right now due to platforms like TikTok and Instagram.But for such a long-running global powerhouse of a franchise and one of the largest and most internationally iconic, successful, and prolific pop icons in the world (with a laundry list of collabs and crossovers to her name no less), I don't get why and how Hello Kitty dropped out of the top five of Japan's Character DataBank since two years ago. Is she really completely declining in popularity in Japan or is most of what my friends claimed wrong?
So I wanted to hear from this subreddit and understand and clarify everything here. All feedback would be appreciated. Thanks.
2023.05.28 21:04 ZPinkie0314 Serious question: am I freaking out?
It's been since Nov 2022 (just over 6 months) that I had sex, and since Jan 14 2023 (4 months) that I've been clean. When I see attractive women on TV or Facebook or whatever, my mouth waters like crazy. I feel like an animal, but there is almost no chance of me getting a date or getting laid anytime soon. Is this normal?
Second thing that just popped up today and inspired this post, is that I'm sick as a dog today. I was up all night coming out both ends. I passed out on my couch and had this crazy fever-dream about my ex. Like it was in the beginning with her: in love, joyful, making love, in one location after another. I woke up covered in sweat and immediately started sobbing. For context, we were together 8 years. She is a Narcissist and a selfish, entitled, lazy, piece of something. She cheated on me several times, and contrary to our vows, bailed on me when I needed her most. Twice.
I wasn't perfect and my addiction got in the way in some massive ways a few times. But I always loved her until it became unbearable to be with her anymore. Is this normal too? I swear to Bob I do not want her back. I am rationalizing it in my mind as just being super lonely and "backed up".
Can anyone relate to these roller-coaster emotions and whatnot after being clean for a while?
submitted by ZPinkie0314 to pornfree [link] [comments]
Second thing that just popped up today and inspired this post, is that I'm sick as a dog today. I was up all night coming out both ends. I passed out on my couch and had this crazy fever-dream about my ex. Like it was in the beginning with her: in love, joyful, making love, in one location after another. I woke up covered in sweat and immediately started sobbing. For context, we were together 8 years. She is a Narcissist and a selfish, entitled, lazy, piece of something. She cheated on me several times, and contrary to our vows, bailed on me when I needed her most. Twice.
I wasn't perfect and my addiction got in the way in some massive ways a few times. But I always loved her until it became unbearable to be with her anymore. Is this normal too? I swear to Bob I do not want her back. I am rationalizing it in my mind as just being super lonely and "backed up".
Can anyone relate to these roller-coaster emotions and whatnot after being clean for a while?
2023.05.28 21:03 Drakolf The Secret:
We promised never to keep secrets from one another, a promise I broke every day since we started dating.
It wasn't malice, no, it was for my own protection, because I had been hurt before, being open and honest, sharing openly and freely. Left with nothing, as I learned they only cared for what I could give, rather than what I had.
Tristan was open and honest with me, and I was for the most part. I spoke of how I had been used and betrayed in the past, how I had grown bitter and resentful as a result.
How it had taken me time to heal and rebuild.
Tristan hated being kept in the dark about something. Asking him if you could ask him a question was just as likely to get a sharp reprimand as insulting his divine cooking, and people hiding things out of a sense of mercy only served to further incense him.
I cooked eggs, bacon, and had put a fruit muffin in the toaster oven for long enough to toast, as he preferred. I had sworn to myself that if my secret was such I would be rejected, that I would at least leave having given him one last good memory.
"Wow, breakfast in bed?" He asked.
"I wanted your morning to be as pleasant as possible." I replied, placing the tray in front of him. He eagerly dug in.
He liked his eggs pre-mixed so that the whites and the yolks were even, the bacon to be crispy, not chewy, and of course, I had his favorite tea ready for drinking, steeped and cooled down to his preference.
I watched him eat with love and trepidation, so when he had eaten enough to not be ravenous, I spoke.
"Was it to your liking?"
"Yeah. Thank you, Erin. it means a lot to me."
It was now or never, else I'd never work up the resolve.
"There is something I wish to share with you." I said. "Rather, a confession."
He looked at me. He knew I knew he hated waiting to explain something, so he knew it was something serious.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"When we started dating, we both swore to keep no secrets between us. I have broken that promise since day one, I have kept one fact about myself hidden, because I was afraid."
"Just tell me." He said.
"It would be better if I showed you." I spoke as I extended my hand over toward him. He took it, and I pulled him onto my back, and carried him through the house to the yard, past our property line, and onto mine.
"Wait, you're taking me to that old bunker, the one nobody can get inside?" He gasped. "Wait, did you find a way in!?"
"You are perceptive. I do know how to enter."
We approached the bunker, I took out a well-worn key and unlocked it.
"Wait, you had the key this whole time. That's the big secret?"
"It is one facet of the truth." I said. "I own this bunker."
I led him inside, the interior was still clean, organized. I took a short cut, and we stepped into a large room, with a giant pile of glittering metal coins and personal valuables.
I let go of his hand, walked over to the pile, and assumed my true form.
"My real name is Verengar, I am a Dragon."
I settled onto my hoard, and beckoned for him to approach. He stared at me with wide, disbelieving eyes as he stepped forward.
"You're a Dragon." He said.
"From another world, no less." I replied. "I came to this world to avoid being killed by greedy Humans." I lowered my head, which was as large as he was tall, I fixed him with a single eye. "I chose now to break my silence."
"Why?" He asked.
I dipped my foreleg into my treasure, and pulled out a plain gold ring. "Tristan Cubbins, will you prove my trust in you is correct by becoming my husband?" I asked.
"Of course." He said. "I was waiting for you to say it, but... I never expected this."
I took Human form again and placed the ring upon his finger. "Then by Draconic tradition, we are wed. I will ensure we have a Human wedding soon. for now, my love, my shining treasure, I wish to spend as much time with you as I can."
He smiled, and I kissed him.
It was a process and a half, living with a Human.
Perfectly reasonable instincts and urges are considered possessive and rude to them, and accommodating them simply because you wish to have companionship can be a struggle.
Especially once you tell them what you are.
Tristan had accepted my marriage proposal, and by Dragon Law that made him my husband, and a part of my hoard. This meant that I did know where he was at all times, mostly because of the ring I had given him, I could only get a vague sense as to his location or state of being without it.
I explained this was because I was actively holding back on outright claiming him, I wanted to gauge his reaction, get a sense for if he was okay with it. He was understandably perturbed by the notion, and I reminded him, if he wanted privacy, he was more than welcome to take the ring off.
We were married, the ring is largely only a symbol.
I let him choose the wedding band he wanted me to wear from the myriad I had collected over the centuries, he chose much the same as I had for him, a plain band, nothing ostentatious.
I explained that, the reason we never had many financial issues was that the 'commissions' I earned were actually me just selling small bits of my hoard, something I stressed was a sign of great love among my kind, and that I would continue to do so, to ensure our comfort.
As he acclimated, I opened myself up to him more, showing him magic, forming a pact with him so he could use it as well, being open and transparent about the gulf in our ages, and how we could prevent this from being a mere blip in the eye as far as I was concerned.
There is no proper translation for it, the closest I'd come across being from a game my husband and I enjoyed. The concept was easy to tell in that regard, and while he was a little squeamish at the idea, he eventually told me he was willing to take that next step.
I still remember the look in his eyes as I pricked my finger and filled the goblet with but a single drop, the way his hands shook as he held my bubbling lifeblood in his hands, the expression of disgust as he choked it down, and the way he writhed as Dragonfire filled his body.
I laid at his side, easing the pain with my magic, soothing him as I spoke of how proud I was of him for making this step, that the path of a Dragon was difficult, that it would likely take him thousands of years to reach the same magnificence as me.
As he now had the heart of a Dragon beating in his chest, mighty and powerful, I made a bond with him, one that he could refuse for now, or accept. It was a taste of what could be, him knowing me, where I was, how I was, as much as I would him. It is a deep and powerful connection, one not to be taken lightly.
It filled me with joy to have him accept.
Every year, I gave him the choice to proceed with his slow and gradual transformation, and each year, he drank, more of his body changing, something that he could hide just as easily as I could hide myself.
I awoke, thirty-five years into our marriage, reflecting that so little time had passed, yet so many memories filled my mind. My husband sleeping beside me, unhidden, the patches of scales, the small horns, the slightly sharper teeth that peeked out of his open and snoring mouth.
I gently kissed him, waking him up, and he looked at me with love and said, "Good morning, my treasure."
I was touched, of course. It was his first time, calling me that. It meant he would begin hoarding soon, and it was my duty as his husband to show him how to do it healthily, starting small with the gifts I had given him, showing him how to acquire more without endangering himself.
He loved books, so I made for him a library, dug with care and waterproofed. It utterly dwarfed him in size, empty, save for the few books he had.
"Is all of this space necessary?" He asked.
"This space is not even enough." I answered wisely. "But it is a start."
He went about building his hoard intelligently, spending only the money that was reasonable to have. He wasn't yet ready for outright taking what he wanted, that would come in time, and I would ensure he chose his targets ethically. Maybe the Vatican, if we visit Rome, they have enough old books, certainly they can spare us a few.
It was on our ninetieth year, him just as young and handsome as he had been on that day, that we had to fake our deaths and inherit our own estate, which I handled without issue, the inheritance tax was just a means to an end and there was nothing too grandiose about our home to warrant more than a glance from the IRS.
"The IRS is managed by Dragons." He said.
"The Federal Reserve as well." I remarked.
"And billionaires?"
"Vermin who waste their lives in vain trying to match our glory." I replied. "Which reminds me, I should put into action that plan to have someone marry into such wealth, it won't even be a second to us, and the 'poor financial management' should make it easier to disseminate the money elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
"To where it would be best suited." I replied. "It's only fair that we utterly destroy them in the only means that matters. Keeping the money would just make us as bad as them."
He laughed, he was still getting used to the way our kind thought. We hoarded gold for its beauty, and because it helped dissipate our body heat. They hoarded wealth out of a false sense of superiority.
Nonetheless, that was a plan that would come into its own when one of us had the time. Surely, ridding the world of billionaires would make the Humans more amenable to our existence.
submitted by Drakolf to DrakolfsWritings [link] [comments]
It wasn't malice, no, it was for my own protection, because I had been hurt before, being open and honest, sharing openly and freely. Left with nothing, as I learned they only cared for what I could give, rather than what I had.
Tristan was open and honest with me, and I was for the most part. I spoke of how I had been used and betrayed in the past, how I had grown bitter and resentful as a result.
How it had taken me time to heal and rebuild.
Tristan hated being kept in the dark about something. Asking him if you could ask him a question was just as likely to get a sharp reprimand as insulting his divine cooking, and people hiding things out of a sense of mercy only served to further incense him.
I cooked eggs, bacon, and had put a fruit muffin in the toaster oven for long enough to toast, as he preferred. I had sworn to myself that if my secret was such I would be rejected, that I would at least leave having given him one last good memory.
"Wow, breakfast in bed?" He asked.
"I wanted your morning to be as pleasant as possible." I replied, placing the tray in front of him. He eagerly dug in.
He liked his eggs pre-mixed so that the whites and the yolks were even, the bacon to be crispy, not chewy, and of course, I had his favorite tea ready for drinking, steeped and cooled down to his preference.
I watched him eat with love and trepidation, so when he had eaten enough to not be ravenous, I spoke.
"Was it to your liking?"
"Yeah. Thank you, Erin. it means a lot to me."
It was now or never, else I'd never work up the resolve.
"There is something I wish to share with you." I said. "Rather, a confession."
He looked at me. He knew I knew he hated waiting to explain something, so he knew it was something serious.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"When we started dating, we both swore to keep no secrets between us. I have broken that promise since day one, I have kept one fact about myself hidden, because I was afraid."
"Just tell me." He said.
"It would be better if I showed you." I spoke as I extended my hand over toward him. He took it, and I pulled him onto my back, and carried him through the house to the yard, past our property line, and onto mine.
"Wait, you're taking me to that old bunker, the one nobody can get inside?" He gasped. "Wait, did you find a way in!?"
"You are perceptive. I do know how to enter."
We approached the bunker, I took out a well-worn key and unlocked it.
"Wait, you had the key this whole time. That's the big secret?"
"It is one facet of the truth." I said. "I own this bunker."
I led him inside, the interior was still clean, organized. I took a short cut, and we stepped into a large room, with a giant pile of glittering metal coins and personal valuables.
I let go of his hand, walked over to the pile, and assumed my true form.
"My real name is Verengar, I am a Dragon."
I settled onto my hoard, and beckoned for him to approach. He stared at me with wide, disbelieving eyes as he stepped forward.
"You're a Dragon." He said.
"From another world, no less." I replied. "I came to this world to avoid being killed by greedy Humans." I lowered my head, which was as large as he was tall, I fixed him with a single eye. "I chose now to break my silence."
"Why?" He asked.
I dipped my foreleg into my treasure, and pulled out a plain gold ring. "Tristan Cubbins, will you prove my trust in you is correct by becoming my husband?" I asked.
"Of course." He said. "I was waiting for you to say it, but... I never expected this."
I took Human form again and placed the ring upon his finger. "Then by Draconic tradition, we are wed. I will ensure we have a Human wedding soon. for now, my love, my shining treasure, I wish to spend as much time with you as I can."
He smiled, and I kissed him.
It was a process and a half, living with a Human.
Perfectly reasonable instincts and urges are considered possessive and rude to them, and accommodating them simply because you wish to have companionship can be a struggle.
Especially once you tell them what you are.
Tristan had accepted my marriage proposal, and by Dragon Law that made him my husband, and a part of my hoard. This meant that I did know where he was at all times, mostly because of the ring I had given him, I could only get a vague sense as to his location or state of being without it.
I explained this was because I was actively holding back on outright claiming him, I wanted to gauge his reaction, get a sense for if he was okay with it. He was understandably perturbed by the notion, and I reminded him, if he wanted privacy, he was more than welcome to take the ring off.
We were married, the ring is largely only a symbol.
I let him choose the wedding band he wanted me to wear from the myriad I had collected over the centuries, he chose much the same as I had for him, a plain band, nothing ostentatious.
I explained that, the reason we never had many financial issues was that the 'commissions' I earned were actually me just selling small bits of my hoard, something I stressed was a sign of great love among my kind, and that I would continue to do so, to ensure our comfort.
As he acclimated, I opened myself up to him more, showing him magic, forming a pact with him so he could use it as well, being open and transparent about the gulf in our ages, and how we could prevent this from being a mere blip in the eye as far as I was concerned.
There is no proper translation for it, the closest I'd come across being from a game my husband and I enjoyed. The concept was easy to tell in that regard, and while he was a little squeamish at the idea, he eventually told me he was willing to take that next step.
I still remember the look in his eyes as I pricked my finger and filled the goblet with but a single drop, the way his hands shook as he held my bubbling lifeblood in his hands, the expression of disgust as he choked it down, and the way he writhed as Dragonfire filled his body.
I laid at his side, easing the pain with my magic, soothing him as I spoke of how proud I was of him for making this step, that the path of a Dragon was difficult, that it would likely take him thousands of years to reach the same magnificence as me.
As he now had the heart of a Dragon beating in his chest, mighty and powerful, I made a bond with him, one that he could refuse for now, or accept. It was a taste of what could be, him knowing me, where I was, how I was, as much as I would him. It is a deep and powerful connection, one not to be taken lightly.
It filled me with joy to have him accept.
Every year, I gave him the choice to proceed with his slow and gradual transformation, and each year, he drank, more of his body changing, something that he could hide just as easily as I could hide myself.
I awoke, thirty-five years into our marriage, reflecting that so little time had passed, yet so many memories filled my mind. My husband sleeping beside me, unhidden, the patches of scales, the small horns, the slightly sharper teeth that peeked out of his open and snoring mouth.
I gently kissed him, waking him up, and he looked at me with love and said, "Good morning, my treasure."
I was touched, of course. It was his first time, calling me that. It meant he would begin hoarding soon, and it was my duty as his husband to show him how to do it healthily, starting small with the gifts I had given him, showing him how to acquire more without endangering himself.
He loved books, so I made for him a library, dug with care and waterproofed. It utterly dwarfed him in size, empty, save for the few books he had.
"Is all of this space necessary?" He asked.
"This space is not even enough." I answered wisely. "But it is a start."
He went about building his hoard intelligently, spending only the money that was reasonable to have. He wasn't yet ready for outright taking what he wanted, that would come in time, and I would ensure he chose his targets ethically. Maybe the Vatican, if we visit Rome, they have enough old books, certainly they can spare us a few.
It was on our ninetieth year, him just as young and handsome as he had been on that day, that we had to fake our deaths and inherit our own estate, which I handled without issue, the inheritance tax was just a means to an end and there was nothing too grandiose about our home to warrant more than a glance from the IRS.
"The IRS is managed by Dragons." He said.
"The Federal Reserve as well." I remarked.
"And billionaires?"
"Vermin who waste their lives in vain trying to match our glory." I replied. "Which reminds me, I should put into action that plan to have someone marry into such wealth, it won't even be a second to us, and the 'poor financial management' should make it easier to disseminate the money elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
"To where it would be best suited." I replied. "It's only fair that we utterly destroy them in the only means that matters. Keeping the money would just make us as bad as them."
He laughed, he was still getting used to the way our kind thought. We hoarded gold for its beauty, and because it helped dissipate our body heat. They hoarded wealth out of a false sense of superiority.
Nonetheless, that was a plan that would come into its own when one of us had the time. Surely, ridding the world of billionaires would make the Humans more amenable to our existence.
2023.05.28 20:56 The_Alloquist [A Lord of Death] - Chapter 47 (Efrain)
[←Chapter 46] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 48→]
Efrain was left, more or less, with two things left to teach. First was the more complex magical motion, how to draw flows and glide things along them. The second was how that applied to the wondrous black metal, and then to shape it into whatever she had seen.
Efrain, not for the first time, wished that he’d seen the knife, that way he wouldn’t have to rely on the girl’s amateur talents. There was a good chance that she would not be able to construct it soundly or missed crucial details that were essential. It was a risk, giving her this greatly expedited tutelage, then making her build a magic tool with nothing but educated guesswork. Practically like explaining pulleys and counterweights, and then asking a student to design an elevator.
He didn’t let his mind rest on it for too long - he had enough horrors today without contemplating what lay beyond the stone. Still, it weighed on him, as even moving the water around was noticeably more difficult than it would’ve been in the free air. He set out another filled bucket and an empty one, provided gratis by the workers.
“Are you having fun yet?” he said aloud, drawing the attention and a few nervous chuckles.
“It might be good for you to listen in,” he continued, “magic is here, has been here, and will continue to be here long after any of us are gone. One of these principles might save your life one day?”
After a few moments, a younger member hesitantly spoke.
“Are there any schools? To teach magic,” he said, before immediately trying to shrink back into the crowd.
Efrain regarded him as he considered the question.
“Why? Do you have an interest?”
The men around him laughed, and the boy’s face flushed as he locked eyes with what must’ve been a very attractive bench.
“Yes. There are, and were, schools. The greatest was the Angorrah Academy in the capital, but it has long been ransacked and converted to other uses. Centuries ago, now.”
The men were listening with interest now. Efrain wasn’t surprised, given the way the church stepped on the toes of history when writing its edicts.
“Yes. Angorrah used to be a heart of learning of all kinds,” he said, gesturing off to the western mountains, “magic, science, the arts, craftsmanship. The academy was beautiful, in its way. Still… what happened happened.”
“The night of the burning tree?” one of the older men ventured.
“Indeed,” Efrain said, “the night of the burning tree. A bunch of hotblooded youths getting involved in open rebellion. Anyone care to take a guess at what the seniors were doing?”
No one responded, all were looking on with bated breath.
“Nothing. Sitting in their towers, sipping their wine. All the while a bunch of idiots painted a target on all of our backs, and they did nothing to stop them.”
He was conscious of the potential hypocrisy he was engaged in. It was only a couple of years after the night of the burning tree when he had awoken in his new body. For all he knew, he could’ve been one of the idiots involved. He would like to think that he was not so stupid as to burn the most holy symbol of the church. But there was no way to know for certain.
“Then the purges began,” he said, “I had left the city before. I saw the writing on the wall.”
“But that would mean you’re hundreds of years old,” protested one of the men.
Efrain looked at him, the other men looked at him, and the man faded back with a quiet ‘oh’.
“Yes, I’ve lived for a very, very long time,” he said, stretching as he did, “there’s several different ways you can go about it, but… well, the results speak for themselves.”
Now that caught their attention, as tales of immortality often did.
“Before you ask, there’s a steep price for extended life, regardless of which way you do it. Not to mention, it’ll most likely take decades upon decades of study, and help from others besides. Even with all that, it’s still a very risky business. One mistake, and you’ll be greeting death early.”
That seemed to quell most of the curiosity, though not extinguish it completely.
“Well,” he said, “back to the original question. As for the remaining schools of magic, you’re not likely to find anything west of the mountains. The church’s hold is too strong for any sort of formal study to flourish there. The best one would be…”
Efrain tapped his mask as he ran through the locations, hoping that two centuries hadn’t wiped them away.
“Karkos, to the south east,” he said, “though I haven’t been there for many years. I recall… well, there was the idea of a school once. If you’re really interested, that would be the place to try.”
Some of the men nodded thoughtfully, though Efrain doubted any of them were actually vying to go.
“What can magic do?” said one of the younger ones again, “can it make swords sharp, or on fire or…”
He stuttered out as he reached the limits of his creativity. Efrain didn’t mind - it was nice to have queries to take his minds off of recent events.
“Magic weapons?” he said, mentally thumbing through his collection of knowledge on the topic, “yes, you could. Most ordinary weapons can be infused with magic, with appropriate skill. As for things custom made for the purposes of handling magic, well…”
He thought back to his vault in his holdfast, missing home, as cold and isolated as it might’ve been. There were a handful of weapons in his collections, usually cursed, but little that he would actually use. They were mostly there for preservation and study, rather than actual warfare. His armoury on the other hand had enchanted items, but they tended to be more along alchemical lines rather than physical ones.
“They are rare, quite rare. Some of you are steel workers, I would think?” he said, witnessing a few nods, “well then, how many years would it take to become a good one, usually?”
There was a smattering of guesses, until a big, keg-chested man offered “five or tener’ years, depends.”
“Then I’m sure you can imagine, my friend,” Efrain said nodding, “combine learning magic and smithing, then learning how to weave the latter into the former. Many, many years. True master enchanters and magesmiths are not something seen since Angorrah’s golden years, and that was centuries ago.”
He remembered the site of the great forge works under the academy, situated near the cistern so that they had a constant supply of water to fuel engines and quenching pools. The smell of hot metal and burning wood barely eclipse the stench of sewage. There had been several doddering craftsmen by the time he’d left, though the days of their magnum opuses were long past.
“Even in my time, they were dying out, and when the Academy was ‘decommissioned’, well, most of their works and knowledge was destroyed. I only knew barely beyond the basics. In any case, most magic weapons are too expensive to be practical. However you could ‘enhance’ in the way you’re thinking’ - holding edges for longer and so on.”
He paused, trying to recall the few examples he’d witnessed first-hand.
“Why, they even used to pre-enchant metal at the academy, so you could temper them faster at higher temperatures, without risking warping or weakening.”
The men began to nod more fervently - this was a subject they were more familiar with.
“But nothing dramatic. To be sure, there are tales. Weapons of light, tools to replant forests and cure illness,” he said, reaching over for the cube.
Watching the streams and rivers of metal form and reform in his hands, he began to recite.
“Long lost, long lost, across the waves,
Past brothers’ tombs and fathers’ graves.
Long lost, long lost, across the sea.
Lands old and rich and everfree.
The first lands where we long to be,
Long lost, long lost, across the sea.
Where all are found, where all is saved.
Long lost, long lost, across the waves.”
“I know that!” one of the men said, “it’s in one of the church books the priest used to sing.”
“Aieadda. It’s an old poem, one of the oldest. It’s one of the few surviving writings from the times of Eblem.”
The name of Angorrah’s founding king turned the last of the bowed heads.
“You’ve been?” said a number of astonished labourers, drawing a mental grin from Efrain. The ‘first lands’ must’ve been a legend to them, something spoken about in terms of gods and myths.
“No, no I’ve not,” he said, “they do exist, far to the south west. Several weeks by ship, if the wind is in your favour. It’s a hazardous crossing. But, if the verses are to be believed, ‘anything’ can be found there. Magic runs strong in that country.”
He lifted up the now solid cube as an example.
“For instance,” he said, “and if this is the metalwork they could do, who knows what else they could create?”
The men were enchanted now, transfixed by stories they’d never heard. But it’d have to wait for later, he thought, as he saw Sorore led by Lillian cut around the corner.
“Right then, back to work. Though you are welcome to listen in as you wish,” he said, as Sorore sat down in front of him, frowning at the two buckets.
“You ready?” he said, and she nodded, “very well, let’s begin.”
“The second lesson of magical motion is as follows…”
For the next half-hour he taught her about the process of drawing flows. How to imagine an invisible line, like carving a channel for the water to follow. How to start from before the mass, and move magic through it, simultaneously pushing the magic through it, and pushing the mass on the magic.
“And to practise that, I’ve brought back your favourite teaching aid,” he said, gesturing to the pair of buckets in front of them.
He thought he detected the hint of a scowl on the girl’s face.
“Quite simple, really, just draw an arc between the two points. We’ll stop when you’ve filled the empty bucket to the best of your ability.”
The hour after that was relatively simple, Sorore imagined a line, drew magic across it, then drew the water across that. A few false starts and water explosions later, she had a steady stream falling into the bucket.
“That’d be useful,” said one of the men, “wouldn’t have to move around the smithy too much.”
“Solid objects get a little more tricky,” said Efrain, “if I taught you how, you’d spend just as much time learning how to dodge wayward tools.”
There was genuine, not nervous laughter this time. Sorore was sitting there, quite focused on the stream, though not particularly tense, watching as the water slowly filtered from one to the other.
“A fun minor lesson,” he said, “try to make a flow with right angles only.”
The girl’s concentration lapsed, spilling water on the cobbles to her annoyance. But regardless, she tried, and largely succeeded in the first part. When she attempted to push water up, it sprayed off past one of the men, leading to it being quickly dropped.
“Any object has mass, and thus momentum. Think of running and rapidly turning around. Takes a lot more effort, doesn’t it? Curves are almost always more efficient. Now, back to it.”
Within another twenty minutes or so, she had filled up the second bucket. The last of the drops were drawn over the arc, and vanished under the surface.
“Well done,” he said, “you now know the basics of moving liquids like water, and even gas like the air around us. Solids get a little more tricky, so there’s really no time to teach you that. When we get to forging the knife, let me handle that part.”
She nodded, beaming at the bucket that was empty less than an hour ago.
“You’re ready,” he said, “now for one little note about this material. This has no resistance to magic. You’ll have to create your own, for reasons that we can discuss later. Two forces, equal, pushing against one another. Are you ready?”
She nodded, fingers twitching in excitement as he handed her the cube.
“Merely make them equal as you can,” he said, “don’t try and-”
The partially liquid cube shot out to the left, which Efrain caught and circled around into the main mass. The girl’s magic was still quite chaotic, and it was potent.
“Try again, two opposite forces at the same time. Like pressing your finger tips against each other. You’re holding it under tension.”
She did so, and a couple of tries later, the cube collapsed into fluid.
“Well done,” he said, despite the gasp she made as she attempted to grab at the fluid, “now comes the hard part. You need to maintain that tension as you guide it along the flow.”
He demonstrated, letting the material pool and coalesce into a streamer that floated into the air.
“This will be tricky. We’ll work at it,” he said, letting it spatter back onto the pavement.
The girl tried, and tried, and tried, and tried. For hours and hours as her face grew pale and sweat once more dripped from her chin. They were well past midday before she managed to get a decent grip on the technique, even though it still vibrated violently.
Efrain was completely unsurprised by the imperfection. Working with material like this was a challenge even for senior students. She had managed it in an afternoon. On its own, she would be considered exceptional, even if she had years worth of theory to catch up on. Efrain seized control and moulded it back into a cube, letting it solidify once more.
“Well,” he said, “you’ve gotten the gist of it. Not so easy, hm?”
She nodded, brushing her hair back and rubbing at her eyes.
“Now comes the really hard part,” he said, with less sadistic, teacherly mirth than he might want to, “You need to create a flow that is the shape of the blade.”
Sorore’s eyes widened at the proposition, and she audibly gulped.
“How?” she said.
“Imagine the shape of the blade in space, and divide it up into flows that you can guide the metal to. Simple in theory. But far, far from easy. This is the challenge we’ve been leading up to. You need not worry about making it solid, just let me handle that. You need only to work on the shape.”
Sorore was eager to try, if a little daunted perhaps by the complexity of the task. First Efrain managed to make a concept wire piece of the blade with her. They discussed features, the chisel tip, the furled blades, the tang of the blade. The small rivulets and channels she’d seen in her ‘visions’ of it.
Then came the actual ‘forging’ of it, and by the Lost, was it difficult. Attempt after attempt after attempt fell apart, the girl growing grey by the exhaustion. As the light around them began to darken, they stopped, adjusted and retired. All to no avail.
“I just can’t…” she said, face red with effort after the latest attempt, “there’s too much to keep track of.”
Efrain had watched, with occasionally gentle prodding, as the girl attempted to fill in the gaps. The actual flow wasn’t particularly difficult, but forming the total structure of the blade, while maintaining cardinal paths for the metal to follow was clearly beyond her level. Efrain sighed - at least now, he had an idea of what the shape was and could make a good approximation of what was needed.
It was unfortunate that the young girl didn't manage to fully develop the skill over the afternoon’s course, but it was hardly unexpected. He had been pushing her far too hard, and at this point it was probably going to be more economical to just simply create the blade himself. It wouldn't be perfect, but he had to hope that it would be enough for the door.
"Well,” he said, “ it would appear that we’ve run out of time. Good progress despite. I think I'll try to finish the rest of it.”
As he’d expected, the dismissal made the young woman's shoulders slump further. He was almost tempted to reach out to her, but the ever-present glare of Lillian dissuaded him. She would get over it, assuming they all survived, and for that, he needed the knife. Soroe was led away into the afternoon, and Efrain was left to find a solution he wasn’t entirely sure existed.
Within a few minutes he had managed to get the basic shape, the details, however, were an entirely different story. Try after try after try, he spent what hours he had attempting to get every single detail he could. Night was oncoming before he had something he thought might work. The actual utilisation and technique he hoped weren’t as important as the structure. Efrain was not looking forward to the most likely outcome - the first usage of magic would immediately revert the solid metal to fluid.
Sighing, he finally rose, bizarre blade in his hand. With a nod to the rest of the labourers, well at work repairing blades and mending armour, he departed to the church. The remainder of the townsfolk were littered about, preparing for the siege. If they were lucky, they had a few more hours before the attacks began, but that did not still the fear obvious in their eyes.
Efrain crossed into the main hold of the church, and made his way to the stair door. Innie picked herself up off the stones and walked beside him.
“The child?” Efrain said, looking back towards the medic bay.
“Leave her,” said the cat, “she’s needed, and the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Did you have any luck?”
“She came close. Somewhat,” Efrain said, letting the black blade catch the light, “I finished it.”
“Oh that’s comforting,” said Innie, “using a tool you finished.”
“If you have a better suggestion,” Efrain responded with a snort, “we can’t get much more desperate than we are now. Is this or roof.”
“I'd rather fight them here on, at least that way I can burn the church down while I die,” she said.
The catacombs greeted them - dark, cold, and smothering. The duo came before the black stone wall, Efrain glancing over to check if there was nothing he’d missed. Finding that his powers of observation were sound, he raised the blade tip to the smooth black stone.
“Here we go,” he said.
[←Chapter 46] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 48→]
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Efrain was left, more or less, with two things left to teach. First was the more complex magical motion, how to draw flows and glide things along them. The second was how that applied to the wondrous black metal, and then to shape it into whatever she had seen.
Efrain, not for the first time, wished that he’d seen the knife, that way he wouldn’t have to rely on the girl’s amateur talents. There was a good chance that she would not be able to construct it soundly or missed crucial details that were essential. It was a risk, giving her this greatly expedited tutelage, then making her build a magic tool with nothing but educated guesswork. Practically like explaining pulleys and counterweights, and then asking a student to design an elevator.
He didn’t let his mind rest on it for too long - he had enough horrors today without contemplating what lay beyond the stone. Still, it weighed on him, as even moving the water around was noticeably more difficult than it would’ve been in the free air. He set out another filled bucket and an empty one, provided gratis by the workers.
“Are you having fun yet?” he said aloud, drawing the attention and a few nervous chuckles.
“It might be good for you to listen in,” he continued, “magic is here, has been here, and will continue to be here long after any of us are gone. One of these principles might save your life one day?”
After a few moments, a younger member hesitantly spoke.
“Are there any schools? To teach magic,” he said, before immediately trying to shrink back into the crowd.
Efrain regarded him as he considered the question.
“Why? Do you have an interest?”
The men around him laughed, and the boy’s face flushed as he locked eyes with what must’ve been a very attractive bench.
“Yes. There are, and were, schools. The greatest was the Angorrah Academy in the capital, but it has long been ransacked and converted to other uses. Centuries ago, now.”
The men were listening with interest now. Efrain wasn’t surprised, given the way the church stepped on the toes of history when writing its edicts.
“Yes. Angorrah used to be a heart of learning of all kinds,” he said, gesturing off to the western mountains, “magic, science, the arts, craftsmanship. The academy was beautiful, in its way. Still… what happened happened.”
“The night of the burning tree?” one of the older men ventured.
“Indeed,” Efrain said, “the night of the burning tree. A bunch of hotblooded youths getting involved in open rebellion. Anyone care to take a guess at what the seniors were doing?”
No one responded, all were looking on with bated breath.
“Nothing. Sitting in their towers, sipping their wine. All the while a bunch of idiots painted a target on all of our backs, and they did nothing to stop them.”
He was conscious of the potential hypocrisy he was engaged in. It was only a couple of years after the night of the burning tree when he had awoken in his new body. For all he knew, he could’ve been one of the idiots involved. He would like to think that he was not so stupid as to burn the most holy symbol of the church. But there was no way to know for certain.
“Then the purges began,” he said, “I had left the city before. I saw the writing on the wall.”
“But that would mean you’re hundreds of years old,” protested one of the men.
Efrain looked at him, the other men looked at him, and the man faded back with a quiet ‘oh’.
“Yes, I’ve lived for a very, very long time,” he said, stretching as he did, “there’s several different ways you can go about it, but… well, the results speak for themselves.”
Now that caught their attention, as tales of immortality often did.
“Before you ask, there’s a steep price for extended life, regardless of which way you do it. Not to mention, it’ll most likely take decades upon decades of study, and help from others besides. Even with all that, it’s still a very risky business. One mistake, and you’ll be greeting death early.”
That seemed to quell most of the curiosity, though not extinguish it completely.
“Well,” he said, “back to the original question. As for the remaining schools of magic, you’re not likely to find anything west of the mountains. The church’s hold is too strong for any sort of formal study to flourish there. The best one would be…”
Efrain tapped his mask as he ran through the locations, hoping that two centuries hadn’t wiped them away.
“Karkos, to the south east,” he said, “though I haven’t been there for many years. I recall… well, there was the idea of a school once. If you’re really interested, that would be the place to try.”
Some of the men nodded thoughtfully, though Efrain doubted any of them were actually vying to go.
“What can magic do?” said one of the younger ones again, “can it make swords sharp, or on fire or…”
He stuttered out as he reached the limits of his creativity. Efrain didn’t mind - it was nice to have queries to take his minds off of recent events.
“Magic weapons?” he said, mentally thumbing through his collection of knowledge on the topic, “yes, you could. Most ordinary weapons can be infused with magic, with appropriate skill. As for things custom made for the purposes of handling magic, well…”
He thought back to his vault in his holdfast, missing home, as cold and isolated as it might’ve been. There were a handful of weapons in his collections, usually cursed, but little that he would actually use. They were mostly there for preservation and study, rather than actual warfare. His armoury on the other hand had enchanted items, but they tended to be more along alchemical lines rather than physical ones.
“They are rare, quite rare. Some of you are steel workers, I would think?” he said, witnessing a few nods, “well then, how many years would it take to become a good one, usually?”
There was a smattering of guesses, until a big, keg-chested man offered “five or tener’ years, depends.”
“Then I’m sure you can imagine, my friend,” Efrain said nodding, “combine learning magic and smithing, then learning how to weave the latter into the former. Many, many years. True master enchanters and magesmiths are not something seen since Angorrah’s golden years, and that was centuries ago.”
He remembered the site of the great forge works under the academy, situated near the cistern so that they had a constant supply of water to fuel engines and quenching pools. The smell of hot metal and burning wood barely eclipse the stench of sewage. There had been several doddering craftsmen by the time he’d left, though the days of their magnum opuses were long past.
“Even in my time, they were dying out, and when the Academy was ‘decommissioned’, well, most of their works and knowledge was destroyed. I only knew barely beyond the basics. In any case, most magic weapons are too expensive to be practical. However you could ‘enhance’ in the way you’re thinking’ - holding edges for longer and so on.”
He paused, trying to recall the few examples he’d witnessed first-hand.
“Why, they even used to pre-enchant metal at the academy, so you could temper them faster at higher temperatures, without risking warping or weakening.”
The men began to nod more fervently - this was a subject they were more familiar with.
“But nothing dramatic. To be sure, there are tales. Weapons of light, tools to replant forests and cure illness,” he said, reaching over for the cube.
Watching the streams and rivers of metal form and reform in his hands, he began to recite.
“Long lost, long lost, across the waves,
Past brothers’ tombs and fathers’ graves.
Long lost, long lost, across the sea.
Lands old and rich and everfree.
The first lands where we long to be,
Long lost, long lost, across the sea.
Where all are found, where all is saved.
Long lost, long lost, across the waves.”
“I know that!” one of the men said, “it’s in one of the church books the priest used to sing.”
“Aieadda. It’s an old poem, one of the oldest. It’s one of the few surviving writings from the times of Eblem.”
The name of Angorrah’s founding king turned the last of the bowed heads.
“You’ve been?” said a number of astonished labourers, drawing a mental grin from Efrain. The ‘first lands’ must’ve been a legend to them, something spoken about in terms of gods and myths.
“No, no I’ve not,” he said, “they do exist, far to the south west. Several weeks by ship, if the wind is in your favour. It’s a hazardous crossing. But, if the verses are to be believed, ‘anything’ can be found there. Magic runs strong in that country.”
He lifted up the now solid cube as an example.
“For instance,” he said, “and if this is the metalwork they could do, who knows what else they could create?”
The men were enchanted now, transfixed by stories they’d never heard. But it’d have to wait for later, he thought, as he saw Sorore led by Lillian cut around the corner.
“Right then, back to work. Though you are welcome to listen in as you wish,” he said, as Sorore sat down in front of him, frowning at the two buckets.
“You ready?” he said, and she nodded, “very well, let’s begin.”
“The second lesson of magical motion is as follows…”
For the next half-hour he taught her about the process of drawing flows. How to imagine an invisible line, like carving a channel for the water to follow. How to start from before the mass, and move magic through it, simultaneously pushing the magic through it, and pushing the mass on the magic.
“And to practise that, I’ve brought back your favourite teaching aid,” he said, gesturing to the pair of buckets in front of them.
He thought he detected the hint of a scowl on the girl’s face.
“Quite simple, really, just draw an arc between the two points. We’ll stop when you’ve filled the empty bucket to the best of your ability.”
The hour after that was relatively simple, Sorore imagined a line, drew magic across it, then drew the water across that. A few false starts and water explosions later, she had a steady stream falling into the bucket.
“That’d be useful,” said one of the men, “wouldn’t have to move around the smithy too much.”
“Solid objects get a little more tricky,” said Efrain, “if I taught you how, you’d spend just as much time learning how to dodge wayward tools.”
There was genuine, not nervous laughter this time. Sorore was sitting there, quite focused on the stream, though not particularly tense, watching as the water slowly filtered from one to the other.
“A fun minor lesson,” he said, “try to make a flow with right angles only.”
The girl’s concentration lapsed, spilling water on the cobbles to her annoyance. But regardless, she tried, and largely succeeded in the first part. When she attempted to push water up, it sprayed off past one of the men, leading to it being quickly dropped.
“Any object has mass, and thus momentum. Think of running and rapidly turning around. Takes a lot more effort, doesn’t it? Curves are almost always more efficient. Now, back to it.”
Within another twenty minutes or so, she had filled up the second bucket. The last of the drops were drawn over the arc, and vanished under the surface.
“Well done,” he said, “you now know the basics of moving liquids like water, and even gas like the air around us. Solids get a little more tricky, so there’s really no time to teach you that. When we get to forging the knife, let me handle that part.”
She nodded, beaming at the bucket that was empty less than an hour ago.
“You’re ready,” he said, “now for one little note about this material. This has no resistance to magic. You’ll have to create your own, for reasons that we can discuss later. Two forces, equal, pushing against one another. Are you ready?”
She nodded, fingers twitching in excitement as he handed her the cube.
“Merely make them equal as you can,” he said, “don’t try and-”
The partially liquid cube shot out to the left, which Efrain caught and circled around into the main mass. The girl’s magic was still quite chaotic, and it was potent.
“Try again, two opposite forces at the same time. Like pressing your finger tips against each other. You’re holding it under tension.”
She did so, and a couple of tries later, the cube collapsed into fluid.
“Well done,” he said, despite the gasp she made as she attempted to grab at the fluid, “now comes the hard part. You need to maintain that tension as you guide it along the flow.”
He demonstrated, letting the material pool and coalesce into a streamer that floated into the air.
“This will be tricky. We’ll work at it,” he said, letting it spatter back onto the pavement.
The girl tried, and tried, and tried, and tried. For hours and hours as her face grew pale and sweat once more dripped from her chin. They were well past midday before she managed to get a decent grip on the technique, even though it still vibrated violently.
Efrain was completely unsurprised by the imperfection. Working with material like this was a challenge even for senior students. She had managed it in an afternoon. On its own, she would be considered exceptional, even if she had years worth of theory to catch up on. Efrain seized control and moulded it back into a cube, letting it solidify once more.
“Well,” he said, “you’ve gotten the gist of it. Not so easy, hm?”
She nodded, brushing her hair back and rubbing at her eyes.
“Now comes the really hard part,” he said, with less sadistic, teacherly mirth than he might want to, “You need to create a flow that is the shape of the blade.”
Sorore’s eyes widened at the proposition, and she audibly gulped.
“How?” she said.
“Imagine the shape of the blade in space, and divide it up into flows that you can guide the metal to. Simple in theory. But far, far from easy. This is the challenge we’ve been leading up to. You need not worry about making it solid, just let me handle that. You need only to work on the shape.”
Sorore was eager to try, if a little daunted perhaps by the complexity of the task. First Efrain managed to make a concept wire piece of the blade with her. They discussed features, the chisel tip, the furled blades, the tang of the blade. The small rivulets and channels she’d seen in her ‘visions’ of it.
Then came the actual ‘forging’ of it, and by the Lost, was it difficult. Attempt after attempt after attempt fell apart, the girl growing grey by the exhaustion. As the light around them began to darken, they stopped, adjusted and retired. All to no avail.
“I just can’t…” she said, face red with effort after the latest attempt, “there’s too much to keep track of.”
Efrain had watched, with occasionally gentle prodding, as the girl attempted to fill in the gaps. The actual flow wasn’t particularly difficult, but forming the total structure of the blade, while maintaining cardinal paths for the metal to follow was clearly beyond her level. Efrain sighed - at least now, he had an idea of what the shape was and could make a good approximation of what was needed.
It was unfortunate that the young girl didn't manage to fully develop the skill over the afternoon’s course, but it was hardly unexpected. He had been pushing her far too hard, and at this point it was probably going to be more economical to just simply create the blade himself. It wouldn't be perfect, but he had to hope that it would be enough for the door.
"Well,” he said, “ it would appear that we’ve run out of time. Good progress despite. I think I'll try to finish the rest of it.”
As he’d expected, the dismissal made the young woman's shoulders slump further. He was almost tempted to reach out to her, but the ever-present glare of Lillian dissuaded him. She would get over it, assuming they all survived, and for that, he needed the knife. Soroe was led away into the afternoon, and Efrain was left to find a solution he wasn’t entirely sure existed.
Within a few minutes he had managed to get the basic shape, the details, however, were an entirely different story. Try after try after try, he spent what hours he had attempting to get every single detail he could. Night was oncoming before he had something he thought might work. The actual utilisation and technique he hoped weren’t as important as the structure. Efrain was not looking forward to the most likely outcome - the first usage of magic would immediately revert the solid metal to fluid.
Sighing, he finally rose, bizarre blade in his hand. With a nod to the rest of the labourers, well at work repairing blades and mending armour, he departed to the church. The remainder of the townsfolk were littered about, preparing for the siege. If they were lucky, they had a few more hours before the attacks began, but that did not still the fear obvious in their eyes.
Efrain crossed into the main hold of the church, and made his way to the stair door. Innie picked herself up off the stones and walked beside him.
“The child?” Efrain said, looking back towards the medic bay.
“Leave her,” said the cat, “she’s needed, and the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Did you have any luck?”
“She came close. Somewhat,” Efrain said, letting the black blade catch the light, “I finished it.”
“Oh that’s comforting,” said Innie, “using a tool you finished.”
“If you have a better suggestion,” Efrain responded with a snort, “we can’t get much more desperate than we are now. Is this or roof.”
“I'd rather fight them here on, at least that way I can burn the church down while I die,” she said.
The catacombs greeted them - dark, cold, and smothering. The duo came before the black stone wall, Efrain glancing over to check if there was nothing he’d missed. Finding that his powers of observation were sound, he raised the blade tip to the smooth black stone.
“Here we go,” he said.
[←Chapter 46] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 48→]
2023.05.28 20:49 Mortimer_Whimsiwick World Hunger Games: 17th Hunger Games: Finale + Aftermath
Day 2 came to a close along with the betting circuits. As by law, the betting circuits closed the moment ten tributes remained which was brought about by Carnelia’s death. Artemis and Luther revealed the betting statistics. The top three tributes from top to bottom were Mortimer, Cat, and Wolvthorne. Artemis claimed to have taken a gamble and betted on Cat. Luther stuck with his Mortimer vote, uttering his signature catchphrase, “Always vote for the best story”. Their attention was diverted to the victor’s lounge where Candace Freeman (victor of the 4th Hunger Games) drunkenly accused Gill of cheating and then devolving into a rant about how unfair it was that District 1 hadn’t done well in recent years. Bacchus Johnson (victor of the 9th Hunger Games) blamed their district mayor Baron Moriarty for his materialistic viewpoints and encouragement for overindulgence spoiling the district youth rotten. Fabeline Granger (victor of the 15th Hunger Games) chalked it up to Candace being a privileged drama queen before making a snide remark towards her husband, Capital superstar Paris Dinkley. Candace broke a bottle over her head in retaliation. Silas MacIntyre (victor of the 7th Hunger Games) wrapped Candace in a bear hug and threw her out of the room. Fabeline was taken to the infirmary, where she was treated for a gash on her head, receiving four stitches. Back in the commentator’s booth, Artemis was so far deep in the juicy drama that she missed the arena’s great reveal.
After a light breakfast, Mortimer and Cat decided they were ready to push through the brush. They were still feeling woozy from the powerful smell but felt the need to persevere. Cat took the lead and used her sword to cut through the foliage. Mortimer kept the rear and scanned the lake, searching for any approaching tributes. After about ten minutes, Cat cut through the last bush and was mystified by what lay ahead. Mortimer caught up and turned to see the arena’s hidden surprise.
It was a derelict pirate ship nestled on a mound of sand. The ship appeared abandoned and worn down, the cameras spotting holes in the hull. It was also without sails, leaving naked wooden poles. Cat wondered why this would be such a big deal, saying the place looked unsafe. Mortimer agreed and guessed it wasn’t for floating, using the holes and lack of sails as proof. Cat suggested they check it out anyway, guessing this was where the final showdown will take place. He agreed and the two made their way up.
Now that the secret location was found, the gamemakers made preparations for the finale. The alligators were called back, but not soon enough for Peggy (8), who was ripped to shreds and cannon sounding as Mortimer and Cat climbed the ship’s ladder. Head Gamemaker Grimstone’s voice rang throughout the arena. He congratulated the remaining six tributes and instructed them to make their way across the lake for the final showdown. Suddenly, large stones rose from the lake’s depths, all lining up to create a path towards the ship. For those farthest away, a large blue light emanated above the ship. All the remaining tributes rushed towards the ship as fast as they could. Jassy (12) was the first to make it across the lake despite falling off the stone path three times. Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) were both minutes behind her and after grabbing their supplies proceeded onto the stone path. Wolvthorne was following behind a disoriented Andrei and took this opportunity to lodge his axe into his back, fracturing his spine. Andrei roared in pain and anger, but his cries were silenced when he was thrown into the lake. His injury prevented him from staying afloat and his cannon sounded three minutes later. Horace (10) was the last to make it across, feeling weak from the smell.
Mortimer and Cat were already on the poop deck when the announcement happened. They were elated to discover the sulphur smell to not be present anymore and tore off their masks. They hastily surveyed the deck, looking for a hiding place or any sort of useful tool. Cat realized that the entrances into the bowels of the ship were closed off, leaving them stranded out in the open on the deck. Mortimer considered their options and surrendered to their only option: making a stand. The two brandished their weapons and waited by the ladder, waiting for anyone to climb up.
Jassy noticed this and circled around to the other side and found another ladder. Wolvthorne followed suit. Jassy crept up onto the deck and spotted Mortimer and Cat staring down the ship. She notched her last arrow into her bow and aimed carefully. Her accuracy was slightly off when she released, and the arrow landed in Mortimer’s left bicep. He grunted in pain, causing him to drop his trident off the side of the ship. The surprised Cat turned to see Jassy standing there shell shocked over her failed assassination attempt. Cat chased after her around the deck, attempting to swipe at her with her sword. While the two were distracted, Wolvthorne pulled himself up and narrowed his sights on Mortimer. Weaponless, Mortimer nevertheless stood his ground and faced him. Wolvthorne told him he would pay for killing his partner, but he scoffed and reminded him there could only be one winner. An enraged Wolvthorne charged with axe in hand. Mortimer dodged his attack and began to run across the deck. Wolvthorne continued in hot pursuit, with Mortimer continuously evading his attacks. This became a hilarious game of cat and mouse, Artemis flinching every time Wolvthorne’s axe was within an inch of Mortimer’s head.
Meanwhile, Horace (10) finally emerged and noticed the separate fights going on. He decided to go after the girls, seeing the two men as a greater threat. Cat chased Jassy up to the steering wheel and managed to corner her. Jassy begged for her life, even offering to help defeat Wolvthorne. Cat remained unfazed and thrust her sword into her chest, sounding her cannon seconds later. Horace used the distraction to tackle Cat to the ground. He held her down with all his might and tried to wretch the sword out of her hand. She bit down on his hand so hard that blood began to pool. The crowds in Maximus Square were surprised by the power of her jaw. Cat ripped a flap of skin clean off Horace’s hand, drops of blood decorating her face. She regained possession of her sword and swung it back behind her. The blade lodged itself into the side of his head, sounding his cannon instantly. Out of breath, she limped to the railing and saw Mortimer was in trouble. She ran down the stairs to help her ally.
Despite the harrowing battle Cat was enduring, most of the attention was on the game of cat and mouse between Mortimer and Wolvthorne. At the same time Cat was struggling to escape Horace’s weight, one of Wolvthorne’s strikes demolished a wooden support beam that held a small above deck which would’ve led to the captain’s quarters. A particularly large cornerstone of the deck above fell onto Wolvthorne’s head, causing him to stumble back and collide with the ship’s edge. Mortimer used this opportunity to rush him and try pushing him off. Wolvthorne was much bigger than him and barely budged. However, Mortimer was successful in making him drop his axe. Wolvthorne headbutted Mortimer and shoved him to the ground. He attempted to choke him, but Mortimer twisted himself around and wrapped his legs around Wolvthorne’s torso. He used his elbows to push himself over his opponent’s back and pulled on his right arm all the while still keeping his leg grip. Wolvthorne struggled for a moment before wrestling himself free. He put him in a chokehold and slammed his face into the ground. He squeezed as hard as he could while Mortimer tried and failed to struggle. Many viewers in Maximus Square were cheering for Mortimer to fight back, mostly due to their betting money going towards him.
The prayers of the Buccaneers were answered when a sword entered Wolvthorne’s back and exited out his abdomen. Wolvthorne’s grip softened, enabling Mortimer to squeeze himself free. Wolvthorne turned to see Cat standing there with a determined look on her face. With the last bit of his strength, he lunged at Cat and pulled her into the blade protruding from his stomach. Cat let out a gasp as the blade entered her body. The Capital was shocked by the sudden turn of events but not as horrified as Mortimer. He grabbed the handle and looked at Cat. She looked upon him in sorrow and nodded her head. Mortimer unsheathed the sword from both bodies and thrust the blade into Wolvthorne’s brain, sounding his cannon instantly.
Mortimer thanked her for being his ally and a true friend. He quickly surveyed the skies. He leaned forward, brought his mouth to Cat’s ear, and began to whisper. The arena’s concealed microphones couldn’t decipher anything. Cat’s final words were, “Don’t worry. Patient confidentiality.” Her cannon sounded seconds later. Head Gamemaker Grimstone declared Mortimer Beckett of District 4 the victor of the 17th Hunger Games. Mortimer felt immense relief and let himself crumple onto the floor. The retrieval team arrived to pick him up and he came with them without a fight.
Mortimer was airlifted to the Maximus Hospital for medical examination. The arrow wound was stitched together and the cut over his eye received treatment, leaving two tic marks at the 2 o’clock and 8 o’clock positions. He was released two days later and was instructed to take it easy. Minerva escorted him back to the apartment, feeling happy he won. They reunited with Gill Henderson, who congratulated him for his win. While Mortimer admitted he felt grateful to have survived, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cat and how she was more deserving. Gill assured him that she sacrificed herself because she believed in him. He remained unconvinced, so Gill took him on a field trip to the Capital’s Oakley Museum of Art, recently erected by Silas MacIntyre (victor of the 7th Hunger Games) and Candace Freeman (victor of the 4th Hunger Games). It was there he met Phoebe Bentley and the two spent hours at the museum talking. Their intimate conversation helped Mortimer significantly, cheering him up enough to meet Gill at the Dipping Downer’s bar to drink with Bacchus Johnson (victor of the 9th Hunger Games) and Quarry Grounds (victor of the 12th Hunger Games).
The victor’s interview arrived and gathered a decent turnaround. Artemis and Luther wore matching outfits, reminiscent of the clothes swamp tour guides wore before the Dark Days. During the opening monologue, Luther expressed how pleased he was of the recent games giving them powerful personal journeys with the victors. Artemis said that while he was no Ashley Chen (victor of the 13th Hunger Games) or Sherpa Kapoor (victor of the 16th Hunger Games), she greatly enjoyed Mortimer’s performance. Mortimer entered the stage sporting something completely unexpected. His now famous tattoo was visible, but the suit he wore was intricately cut around it. The top half was sky blue while the bottom half was dark blue with wavy patterns making it look almost like the ocean. The funny part was him wearing a cap with a small cartoonish gator's head attached to the front.
Artemis and Luther started off by marveling at his outfit, calling it a revolution in fashion design. Mortimer attributed this to Minerva, the same person who polished the tattoo for the pre games interview. Artemis asked if he would get new tattoos, him saying he is planning on it. The first half of the interview was casual, covering topics of tattoo suggestions, his time at the bar with Bacchus and Quarry, and Minerva’s hard work on his outfit. The games eventually came up in conversation with Mortimer describing it “as if walking in a wet blanket that was also in the sewer”. Luther asked about the alligators and what motivated him to wrestle them. Mortimer tensed up but answered that he was trying to save Pearl. Artemis asked how much of a role she played in his victory. Mortimer credited her for getting the ball rolling in helping him realise to not give up on humanity. He saw her as the little sister he never had and wished he would have thanked her. Luther noted that since she got the ball rolling, it was someone else who broke through to him. Mortimer realised he was talking about Cat. He expressed how he felt she deserved to win more than him and how he chose to not let her sacrifice go to waste. Artemis admitted that while she betted on Cat, she was glad he made it, calling her Golden Victor material. Mortimer appreciated her sentiment. Luther reminded them that he was certainly a Golden Victor, citing his impressive chemistry skills and literally wrestling with an alligator. Him and Artemis dismissed Mortimer from the stage to rapturous applause, calling him “Captain Gator”, which became his victor’s nickname.
Mortimer was invited to some parties in the Capital. Gill accompanied him and stole the spotlight numerous times when requested to do shanties. Mortimer would dance along always with a drink in hand. He returned to District 4 and received a warm welcome from its citizens. He used the stage to openly apologise to those he turned away and for being a hoodlum. His reunion with his girlfriend Meridia was passionate and heartwarming, but not as much as the one with his father. Two weeks later, his request for Edward Beckett to undergo back surgery at the Capital was improved with a letter of recommendation personally penned by Gill. Edward’s damaged spinal disc was replaced with a flexible prosthetic. However, the surgery was a minimal success, removing some of the pain and enabling him to walk only small increments with assistance from a cane. Mortimer felt dejected over this but was humbled when several townsfolk pitched in to craft a wheelchair for him. Mortimer and his father partnered with Gill to start a rehabilitation center to help the injured and disabled workers of District 4 and the Island Bases. He further expanded his knowledge of chemistry and medicine, becoming District 4’s chief doctor. He crafted pain medication from the SHC compound delivered to him by Phoebe Bentley and prescribed them to various members of the district.
Mortimer made right by his promise and mended his relationships. He and Pearl’s father Alexander Riverstone crafted new nonalcoholic drinks, a certain cherry lime drink inspiring the Johnson’s Jazzy Juices future classic: the Beach Blanket. He also patched things up with Meridia’s father, the two often going on fishing trips together. His reputation only grew and grew until he was elected mayor of District 4 by the 31st Hunger Games. Mortimer grew closer to Gill and mentored alongside him until the next D4 victor was crowned. He became good friends with Phoebe Bentley as well, supplying him with chemistry textbooks and new batches of the warmweed’s SHC compound. In honor of Cat, he had Meridia etch a sea green ribbon tattoo, which represented mental health awareness, around the treasure chest. He was also friends with Corpse Beckford (victor of the 10th Hunger Games) who gifted him and Meridia tattoo inks for his birthday. Quarry Grounds (victor of the 12th Hunger Games) was also in Mortimer's good graces after he gifted Edward a special redwood cane with a beautiful marble topper.
Things were complicated when it came to his relationship with Meridia. Initially, they grew much closer, her giving him sea serpent tattoos on both his arms in addition to the ribbon. Unfortunately, five months before next year’s game, the two broke off the relationship. However, after the tumultuous 18th Hunger Games, the two reconciled and married a week before the reaping of the 19th Hunger Games. The two had five kids, naming his first daughter Katherine, after his deceased ally.
Mortimer was one of the four Golden Victors to disappear alongside Vixen Furtherson (victor of the 14th Hunger Games) after Savannah Pickett (victor of the 6th Hunger Games)’s death before the 41st Hunger Games. Days after the 47th Hunger Games, the underground terrorist group The Phoenix Fighters leaked two dossiers days apart. The first revealing reports of many accidents taking place on the military island bases. It also highlighted some cases of peacekeepers overworking and in some cases beating workers. The same dossier also revealed how Edward Beckett’s ‘accident’ was actually caused by the Faroe Island Base’s assistant supervisor Plutarch Manson. Manson was found dead in his Capital apartment three days later, his throat slit.
The second dossier revealed evidence of the reapings being tampered with over the years, whether it’d be names added, taken out, or scrubbed. The second dossier instigated some chaos in the districts, which was hastily subdued by the peacekeepers. Mortimer was never seen again, though there was heavy speculation regarding his possible membership in The Phoenix Fighters. On occasion, Capital navy ships and submarines would be attacked and looted under mysterious circumstances. One survivor named Lemuel Stanton blamed everything on a ‘ghost submarine’, one no one could see on the radar nor in person. A fair pocket of Capital analysts suspected Mortimer but lack of evidence kept his bounty from increasing.
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After a light breakfast, Mortimer and Cat decided they were ready to push through the brush. They were still feeling woozy from the powerful smell but felt the need to persevere. Cat took the lead and used her sword to cut through the foliage. Mortimer kept the rear and scanned the lake, searching for any approaching tributes. After about ten minutes, Cat cut through the last bush and was mystified by what lay ahead. Mortimer caught up and turned to see the arena’s hidden surprise.
It was a derelict pirate ship nestled on a mound of sand. The ship appeared abandoned and worn down, the cameras spotting holes in the hull. It was also without sails, leaving naked wooden poles. Cat wondered why this would be such a big deal, saying the place looked unsafe. Mortimer agreed and guessed it wasn’t for floating, using the holes and lack of sails as proof. Cat suggested they check it out anyway, guessing this was where the final showdown will take place. He agreed and the two made their way up.
Now that the secret location was found, the gamemakers made preparations for the finale. The alligators were called back, but not soon enough for Peggy (8), who was ripped to shreds and cannon sounding as Mortimer and Cat climbed the ship’s ladder. Head Gamemaker Grimstone’s voice rang throughout the arena. He congratulated the remaining six tributes and instructed them to make their way across the lake for the final showdown. Suddenly, large stones rose from the lake’s depths, all lining up to create a path towards the ship. For those farthest away, a large blue light emanated above the ship. All the remaining tributes rushed towards the ship as fast as they could. Jassy (12) was the first to make it across the lake despite falling off the stone path three times. Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) were both minutes behind her and after grabbing their supplies proceeded onto the stone path. Wolvthorne was following behind a disoriented Andrei and took this opportunity to lodge his axe into his back, fracturing his spine. Andrei roared in pain and anger, but his cries were silenced when he was thrown into the lake. His injury prevented him from staying afloat and his cannon sounded three minutes later. Horace (10) was the last to make it across, feeling weak from the smell.
Mortimer and Cat were already on the poop deck when the announcement happened. They were elated to discover the sulphur smell to not be present anymore and tore off their masks. They hastily surveyed the deck, looking for a hiding place or any sort of useful tool. Cat realized that the entrances into the bowels of the ship were closed off, leaving them stranded out in the open on the deck. Mortimer considered their options and surrendered to their only option: making a stand. The two brandished their weapons and waited by the ladder, waiting for anyone to climb up.
Jassy noticed this and circled around to the other side and found another ladder. Wolvthorne followed suit. Jassy crept up onto the deck and spotted Mortimer and Cat staring down the ship. She notched her last arrow into her bow and aimed carefully. Her accuracy was slightly off when she released, and the arrow landed in Mortimer’s left bicep. He grunted in pain, causing him to drop his trident off the side of the ship. The surprised Cat turned to see Jassy standing there shell shocked over her failed assassination attempt. Cat chased after her around the deck, attempting to swipe at her with her sword. While the two were distracted, Wolvthorne pulled himself up and narrowed his sights on Mortimer. Weaponless, Mortimer nevertheless stood his ground and faced him. Wolvthorne told him he would pay for killing his partner, but he scoffed and reminded him there could only be one winner. An enraged Wolvthorne charged with axe in hand. Mortimer dodged his attack and began to run across the deck. Wolvthorne continued in hot pursuit, with Mortimer continuously evading his attacks. This became a hilarious game of cat and mouse, Artemis flinching every time Wolvthorne’s axe was within an inch of Mortimer’s head.
Meanwhile, Horace (10) finally emerged and noticed the separate fights going on. He decided to go after the girls, seeing the two men as a greater threat. Cat chased Jassy up to the steering wheel and managed to corner her. Jassy begged for her life, even offering to help defeat Wolvthorne. Cat remained unfazed and thrust her sword into her chest, sounding her cannon seconds later. Horace used the distraction to tackle Cat to the ground. He held her down with all his might and tried to wretch the sword out of her hand. She bit down on his hand so hard that blood began to pool. The crowds in Maximus Square were surprised by the power of her jaw. Cat ripped a flap of skin clean off Horace’s hand, drops of blood decorating her face. She regained possession of her sword and swung it back behind her. The blade lodged itself into the side of his head, sounding his cannon instantly. Out of breath, she limped to the railing and saw Mortimer was in trouble. She ran down the stairs to help her ally.
Despite the harrowing battle Cat was enduring, most of the attention was on the game of cat and mouse between Mortimer and Wolvthorne. At the same time Cat was struggling to escape Horace’s weight, one of Wolvthorne’s strikes demolished a wooden support beam that held a small above deck which would’ve led to the captain’s quarters. A particularly large cornerstone of the deck above fell onto Wolvthorne’s head, causing him to stumble back and collide with the ship’s edge. Mortimer used this opportunity to rush him and try pushing him off. Wolvthorne was much bigger than him and barely budged. However, Mortimer was successful in making him drop his axe. Wolvthorne headbutted Mortimer and shoved him to the ground. He attempted to choke him, but Mortimer twisted himself around and wrapped his legs around Wolvthorne’s torso. He used his elbows to push himself over his opponent’s back and pulled on his right arm all the while still keeping his leg grip. Wolvthorne struggled for a moment before wrestling himself free. He put him in a chokehold and slammed his face into the ground. He squeezed as hard as he could while Mortimer tried and failed to struggle. Many viewers in Maximus Square were cheering for Mortimer to fight back, mostly due to their betting money going towards him.
The prayers of the Buccaneers were answered when a sword entered Wolvthorne’s back and exited out his abdomen. Wolvthorne’s grip softened, enabling Mortimer to squeeze himself free. Wolvthorne turned to see Cat standing there with a determined look on her face. With the last bit of his strength, he lunged at Cat and pulled her into the blade protruding from his stomach. Cat let out a gasp as the blade entered her body. The Capital was shocked by the sudden turn of events but not as horrified as Mortimer. He grabbed the handle and looked at Cat. She looked upon him in sorrow and nodded her head. Mortimer unsheathed the sword from both bodies and thrust the blade into Wolvthorne’s brain, sounding his cannon instantly.
Mortimer thanked her for being his ally and a true friend. He quickly surveyed the skies. He leaned forward, brought his mouth to Cat’s ear, and began to whisper. The arena’s concealed microphones couldn’t decipher anything. Cat’s final words were, “Don’t worry. Patient confidentiality.” Her cannon sounded seconds later. Head Gamemaker Grimstone declared Mortimer Beckett of District 4 the victor of the 17th Hunger Games. Mortimer felt immense relief and let himself crumple onto the floor. The retrieval team arrived to pick him up and he came with them without a fight.
Mortimer was airlifted to the Maximus Hospital for medical examination. The arrow wound was stitched together and the cut over his eye received treatment, leaving two tic marks at the 2 o’clock and 8 o’clock positions. He was released two days later and was instructed to take it easy. Minerva escorted him back to the apartment, feeling happy he won. They reunited with Gill Henderson, who congratulated him for his win. While Mortimer admitted he felt grateful to have survived, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cat and how she was more deserving. Gill assured him that she sacrificed herself because she believed in him. He remained unconvinced, so Gill took him on a field trip to the Capital’s Oakley Museum of Art, recently erected by Silas MacIntyre (victor of the 7th Hunger Games) and Candace Freeman (victor of the 4th Hunger Games). It was there he met Phoebe Bentley and the two spent hours at the museum talking. Their intimate conversation helped Mortimer significantly, cheering him up enough to meet Gill at the Dipping Downer’s bar to drink with Bacchus Johnson (victor of the 9th Hunger Games) and Quarry Grounds (victor of the 12th Hunger Games).
The victor’s interview arrived and gathered a decent turnaround. Artemis and Luther wore matching outfits, reminiscent of the clothes swamp tour guides wore before the Dark Days. During the opening monologue, Luther expressed how pleased he was of the recent games giving them powerful personal journeys with the victors. Artemis said that while he was no Ashley Chen (victor of the 13th Hunger Games) or Sherpa Kapoor (victor of the 16th Hunger Games), she greatly enjoyed Mortimer’s performance. Mortimer entered the stage sporting something completely unexpected. His now famous tattoo was visible, but the suit he wore was intricately cut around it. The top half was sky blue while the bottom half was dark blue with wavy patterns making it look almost like the ocean. The funny part was him wearing a cap with a small cartoonish gator's head attached to the front.
Artemis and Luther started off by marveling at his outfit, calling it a revolution in fashion design. Mortimer attributed this to Minerva, the same person who polished the tattoo for the pre games interview. Artemis asked if he would get new tattoos, him saying he is planning on it. The first half of the interview was casual, covering topics of tattoo suggestions, his time at the bar with Bacchus and Quarry, and Minerva’s hard work on his outfit. The games eventually came up in conversation with Mortimer describing it “as if walking in a wet blanket that was also in the sewer”. Luther asked about the alligators and what motivated him to wrestle them. Mortimer tensed up but answered that he was trying to save Pearl. Artemis asked how much of a role she played in his victory. Mortimer credited her for getting the ball rolling in helping him realise to not give up on humanity. He saw her as the little sister he never had and wished he would have thanked her. Luther noted that since she got the ball rolling, it was someone else who broke through to him. Mortimer realised he was talking about Cat. He expressed how he felt she deserved to win more than him and how he chose to not let her sacrifice go to waste. Artemis admitted that while she betted on Cat, she was glad he made it, calling her Golden Victor material. Mortimer appreciated her sentiment. Luther reminded them that he was certainly a Golden Victor, citing his impressive chemistry skills and literally wrestling with an alligator. Him and Artemis dismissed Mortimer from the stage to rapturous applause, calling him “Captain Gator”, which became his victor’s nickname.
Mortimer was invited to some parties in the Capital. Gill accompanied him and stole the spotlight numerous times when requested to do shanties. Mortimer would dance along always with a drink in hand. He returned to District 4 and received a warm welcome from its citizens. He used the stage to openly apologise to those he turned away and for being a hoodlum. His reunion with his girlfriend Meridia was passionate and heartwarming, but not as much as the one with his father. Two weeks later, his request for Edward Beckett to undergo back surgery at the Capital was improved with a letter of recommendation personally penned by Gill. Edward’s damaged spinal disc was replaced with a flexible prosthetic. However, the surgery was a minimal success, removing some of the pain and enabling him to walk only small increments with assistance from a cane. Mortimer felt dejected over this but was humbled when several townsfolk pitched in to craft a wheelchair for him. Mortimer and his father partnered with Gill to start a rehabilitation center to help the injured and disabled workers of District 4 and the Island Bases. He further expanded his knowledge of chemistry and medicine, becoming District 4’s chief doctor. He crafted pain medication from the SHC compound delivered to him by Phoebe Bentley and prescribed them to various members of the district.
Mortimer made right by his promise and mended his relationships. He and Pearl’s father Alexander Riverstone crafted new nonalcoholic drinks, a certain cherry lime drink inspiring the Johnson’s Jazzy Juices future classic: the Beach Blanket. He also patched things up with Meridia’s father, the two often going on fishing trips together. His reputation only grew and grew until he was elected mayor of District 4 by the 31st Hunger Games. Mortimer grew closer to Gill and mentored alongside him until the next D4 victor was crowned. He became good friends with Phoebe Bentley as well, supplying him with chemistry textbooks and new batches of the warmweed’s SHC compound. In honor of Cat, he had Meridia etch a sea green ribbon tattoo, which represented mental health awareness, around the treasure chest. He was also friends with Corpse Beckford (victor of the 10th Hunger Games) who gifted him and Meridia tattoo inks for his birthday. Quarry Grounds (victor of the 12th Hunger Games) was also in Mortimer's good graces after he gifted Edward a special redwood cane with a beautiful marble topper.
Things were complicated when it came to his relationship with Meridia. Initially, they grew much closer, her giving him sea serpent tattoos on both his arms in addition to the ribbon. Unfortunately, five months before next year’s game, the two broke off the relationship. However, after the tumultuous 18th Hunger Games, the two reconciled and married a week before the reaping of the 19th Hunger Games. The two had five kids, naming his first daughter Katherine, after his deceased ally.
Mortimer was one of the four Golden Victors to disappear alongside Vixen Furtherson (victor of the 14th Hunger Games) after Savannah Pickett (victor of the 6th Hunger Games)’s death before the 41st Hunger Games. Days after the 47th Hunger Games, the underground terrorist group The Phoenix Fighters leaked two dossiers days apart. The first revealing reports of many accidents taking place on the military island bases. It also highlighted some cases of peacekeepers overworking and in some cases beating workers. The same dossier also revealed how Edward Beckett’s ‘accident’ was actually caused by the Faroe Island Base’s assistant supervisor Plutarch Manson. Manson was found dead in his Capital apartment three days later, his throat slit.
The second dossier revealed evidence of the reapings being tampered with over the years, whether it’d be names added, taken out, or scrubbed. The second dossier instigated some chaos in the districts, which was hastily subdued by the peacekeepers. Mortimer was never seen again, though there was heavy speculation regarding his possible membership in The Phoenix Fighters. On occasion, Capital navy ships and submarines would be attacked and looted under mysterious circumstances. One survivor named Lemuel Stanton blamed everything on a ‘ghost submarine’, one no one could see on the radar nor in person. A fair pocket of Capital analysts suspected Mortimer but lack of evidence kept his bounty from increasing.
2023.05.28 20:41 Emerald_Aussie School of Beards Chapter 27: “BeardSchool is Out (for Summer)!”
We have done it. The end of another school year! Before we jump into this last set of stories, remember to subscribe to ReddX, home of the best cringe content on YouTube. Promise, swearsies, it’s just a fact and it’s totally science. Go ahead and look it up!
I miss that intro a lot so I figured I’d just write it in. I waited until after graduation to post this because, with ManiBeard at graduation, I figured anything could happen. And it did. And with that, let’s jump into this last set of beardy tales (for this school year). Let’s a-go.
Of course, that good mood was not to last…
On this day I had a meeting with all the other Graphic Design teachers at another campus. We will call it Clique High School (because ‘cult’ may or may not be YouTube-friendly).
The first thing you need to know is I have a history with CHS. Remember, all the way back in chapter 1 where I mention I was a substitute teacher at Standard High before they hired me as a teacher? Well, there was one part I left out because it was irrelevant to that story, but it becomes relevant here. It is true I did sub at SHS, but the part I left out was that for half of the 2020-2021 school year (Covid year), I was a long-term sub at another campus and that campus was Clique High School. To say it was a poor experience would be underselling it immensely. You could say that Elon Musk is well off but that doesn’t really express the massive mounds of money that malevolent menace truly had. Likewise, saying I had a poor experience at CHS doesn’t really express the absolutely traumatizing, terrible, troublesome experience that my life there. It got so bad that I would leave work, cry the entire 30-minute drive to SHS, pick up Beatle, and make him drive the rest of the way home because my eyes were sore from crying.
What did I do at CHS? Well, I was a long-term sub in ESL. That’s where I got my start with it. When I walked in at the start of that year I’d never had a high school classroom before, I had no lesson plans, limited access to the curriculum since I was a sub, and I was teaching virtually because Covid…and what did I do? I build a curriculum, bonded with my class, and wrote my own lesson plans (even though subs generally don’t write plans). Basically, I rebuilt their ESL program. I did apply for the job. After all, I was already doing all of the work for substitute pay. I may as well get teacher pay for being a teacher. Right? Wrong.
They did interview me for the job but then proceeded to yank me around for half a semester before finally saying they were going to hire someone else. Who? No idea. But not me. But they wanted me to continue to long-term sub and do what I was doing until they found someone. Honestly, when I didn’t get the job part of me was pissed because of all the work I put in, but part of me was relieved. You see, the culture at CHS isn’t like the culture at SHS. Their principal, whom we will call Mr. D (for reasons that will soon be clear), had been named the district’s principal of the year and his staff completely fawned over him…a staff mostly comprised of women. The male-to-female ratio at CHS was considerably more unbalanced than at SHS. What struck me as odd was that Mr. D did not seem to warrant such admiration. During my interactions with him, I got slimy car salesman vibes more than high school principal. I would come to find out that this went deeper than I knew.
Remember AVIDBeard? Yeah, to her credit she was the one that warned me. Mostly I think she saw a chance to gossip, but nonetheless. I was visiting SHS and telling the English dept. how much I missed subbing for them (they actually liked me at this time…this was long before EnglishBeard even worked there so certainly before that whole thing made me a pariah). They missed me too. Although honestly, they missed having a sub at their becken call. Let’s be real. Anyway, AVIDBeard was all too happy to jump in with gossip.
“Be careful over there Mandy,” AVIDBeard said.
“Why? What do you know?” I asked.
“I had a training over there once and this teacher that works there started freaking out because the instructor, who was also a teacher there, was late. She started to have an anxiety attack and when I asked her what was wrong she said ‘Daddy isn’t going to like this’,” AVIDBeard explained.
“What?!” everyone in the room asked at once.
AVIDBeard nodded, “I know! So I asked her, ‘you call your principal Daddy?’ and she said ‘of course.’.”
I raised an eyebrow. I was skeptical, to say the least. Even then I knew AVIDBeard was not a reliable source. But, on the off chance she was telling the truth I had to know. CHS wasn’t exactly full of friendly teachers. In fact, where everyone at SHS had been welcoming, it had been the very opposite at CHS. They treated me like an outsider they were skeptical of. I had managed to at least have somewhat of a dialogue with the librarian. She helped me to ensure that my ESL students had books in their native languages to read during the pandemic. I went to her one day to ask about scheduling some book pick-ups for the students (this was when teachers were on-campus but students were virtual).
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I asked after we had figured out scheduling.
“Sure, what’s up?” she asked.
“OK, so it’s dumb, but someone told me you guys call Mr. D ‘daddy’. Silly, right?” I said with a laugh.
She just blinked, “Who told you that?”
Her reaction caught me off guard. She wasn’t laughing. My eyes widened, “Um, I don’t remember, it just got mentioned in passing.”
“Don’t ask anyone else that question…just…don’t even mention it,” she said.
I blinked. I wanted out of this conversation, “OK, I won’t. I’ll just forget I ever heard about it.”
She nodded and turned away, “I have work to do. If you need more books let me know.”
I rushed back to my classroom. After that, the librarian was very cold toward me.
To this day I honestly believe that the reason Mr. D didn’t hire me was because I’m too strong-willed and I have a big mouth…neither fits well into a cult-like structure, which it is very obvious CHS is.
At the semester break, they hadn’t yet hired anyone and asked me to stay for the rest of the year as a long-term sub. Basically, they wanted to pay me sub pay for an entire year of teaching. I told them ‘no way’ and I begged the district and Mr. Principal to let me return to subbing at SHS. I didn’t even care that regular sub pay was less than long-term sub pay. I just wanted out…and it turns out it all worked in my favor because obviously Mr. Principal ended up hiring me for the very job that Mr. D rejected me from and I’m very happy where I am now. And I don’t even have to call Mr. Principal ‘daddy’. Gag! Say what you will about Standard High, but I’ll take it over CHS any day.
OK, I know that was a lot of backstory, but I truly need you to understand why I so vehemently loathe everything about CHS and moreover why even being there gives me a mild case of PTSD.
Alright then, where were we? Oh yeah. Meeting for Graphic Design teachers over at CHS. I was not happy about this because I hate being at CHS of course, but I also hated leaving my students with a sub this close to the end of the year. But, alas, there I was. I walked into the familiar, loathsome halls. Daddy was in the main hall greeting his subjects.
“Mandy? What are you doing here?” he asked as he looked me over. I was in full-school spirit mode. SHS staff shirt and matching school spirit Converse I had custom-made.
“Graphic Design meeting,” I said.
“Oh, you teach Graphic Design now?” he asked.
I nodded, “Yeah, I did so great at fixing their ESL program they gave me my true dream job and now I’m relaunching their graphic design program.” OK, so it was a bit of embellishment, but I wanted him to know that his loss was SHS’s gain.
“Shame…we have an ESL position open here at The Clique,” Mr. D said. That’s how he referred to his campus. Imagine if the school’s name was Blue Mountain High and he called it The Mountain. Yeah…cringey.
“Oh yeah? I heard Patty didn’t stay,” I said. Patty was who they hired instead of me. She ended up retiring after one year at ‘The Clique’.
“Yeah, well we hired Emmy to replace Patty and now she is leaving,” Mr. D said.
“Shame…yeah, I’m still at SHS and quite happy. I heard principals were turning to poaching from other high schools so I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not poachable,” I said, wanting to get away from him.
“You could have your old job in your old room,” Mr. D said in a tone that made me very uneasy.
“I have a perfectly lovely Cave. Besides, my husband works at SHS too and I like being on the same campus as the love of my life,” I said, pointedly.
“If you change your mind, let me know. Enjoy your meeting. Welcome back to The Clique,” Mr. D said as I quickly walked away to find the room Graphic Design was meeting in.
Now, this may come as a surprise to you all, but I am NOT a social creature. Truly. Beatle is my best friend and aside from Cali all my other friends are on the ReddX Discord (hence my desire to not get myself banned over there). And I am 150% ok with that. At that moment I wanted to be in my Cave more than anything. The pressure to be ‘on’ and social was beyond exhausting to me, especially this late in the year. But, always the professional, I mustered every bit of perky in me to be lovely to my other-campus counterparts.
This proved to be a challenge. One of them, more of a Karen than a Beard really, would not shut up about how amazing her campus was and how she never had issues with phones because her kids were so well-behaved. She also said she couldn’t post work early because they would have it done before they ever got to class. Oh, and of course she is teaching graphic design because she needed a break from her real job as an engineer. And oh, did she mention she is an engineer? Because she’s an engineer. She also went on and on about how she didn’t like the curriculum at another campus she was at so she complained and got 68 teachers from all over the country to back her up and they changed the whole curriculum to what she wanted. OK, whatever. I wanted to ask if everyone stood up and cheered too.
Another teacher was just insufferable. She kept asking for the same bloody stuff over and over even after being told it wasn’t in the budget. She didn’t know the cost of any of it, just that everything she wanted (think equipment and software licenses) was expensive and our budget is next to nothing right now. She didn’t even make arguments as to why we needed it. She just kept asking for the same stuff in the same way. All of it was stuff we didn’t need and most of us wouldn’t even use.
I contributed my thoughts on what I felt needed to be added to the curriculum, which was met with agreement. I really only had that one suggestion. The rest of the time I let them do their thing, which was woefully unorganized, disjointed, and overall a waste of time I could be grading papers. And so I decided that while they did their thing I would organize my Google Drive. As I was doing this I noticed something. I was still the owner on ALL the ESL files for SHS. Not just the ones I created…ALL OF THEM. If I were to hit delete SHS would literally have to start from scratch organizing their program with new teachers next year. But Ms. Dean did make clear I was to have nothing to do with ESL anymore. If I deleted the folders was that malicious compliance? Or just being a bitch for the sake of it? I still haven’t decided…I find the situation humorous, in not a bit morally ambiguous.
Ultimately, it was decided that 1 day wasn’t enough for our meeting so we would meet again one week later at the same place. I declined. I needed to be on my campus because I did have actual work to do. Grades would be due the day they wanted to meet. I wasn’t the only one. About half of the graphic design teachers agreed to meet again the following week and we would all be meeting again August 1st. So I get to start my school year back at ‘The Clique’. Lovely.
Yeah, this was a very real reminder that for all the beardery at Standard High, it could be SO much worse.
This happened the day after my meeting at CHS. Sonia wanted to end the school year with some team building so she asked Ms. Dean if they could have an off-campus team meeting at a nearby restaurant and grab some food. Ms. Dean told them no. Sonia then decided they would just order takeaway and do the same thing on campus. She reserved a conference room and everything.
So the day of the eat and meet came. Beatle had ordered some enchiladas and was looking forward to a hot meal during the workday. CovidBeard didn’t go because she said she wasn’t feeling well and needed to just go home early. I know that comes as a shock. Meanwhile, ManiBeard decided he would sit next to his bff, Beatle. ManiBeard hadn’t ordered any food because ‘the catering menu looked good, but nothing on the regular menu appealed to me’. What ManiBeard did have, however, was a bag of crackers. As Beatle tried to eat his food, ManiBeard both ate his crackers and talked at the same time. It didn’t take long for Beatle to realize that small bits of cracker crumbs were flying at him and his food. He shifted to the side to dodge the airborne particles that threatened to infect his space. It was here that ManiBeard declared he had signed his contract but still wasn’t sure if he would be back next year because he had until July 3rd to pull out of his contract and he really just didn’t want to make a commitment.
After the meeting, everyone went their own way, except ManiBeard, who cornered Beatle in the mudroom. I was in my Cave waiting for him when I got a text ‘SOS, I’ve been cornered! Mudroom!’
I sighed, “Come on Wee One. We have to go save Dad.”
Wee One chuckled, “Oh no.” She followed me faithfully as we headed downstairs.
“Oh, good, you’re here already. We gotta go Love. Wee One has that thing…see ya later ManiBeard!” I said as I grabbed Beatle’s arm as I passed and just kept walking.
The next day Beatle went into Sonia’s room for inclusion and she smiled at him, “Sure you got all the crumbs off?” she teased.
Beatle rolled his eyes, “Right?!”
Sonia nodded, “ManiBeard is why I don’t eat lunch in the workroom anymore. ManiBeard would walk over to me and just stand over me…like right over me…and talk while he ate which would just send food everywhere. One day he was eating some chicken salad and a piece of chicken flew out of his mouth and landed on my arm.”
“Oh bloody hell. That’s disgusting,” Beatle said before vowing not to be near ManiBeard eating ever again.
“What are you plans this weekend, Mandy?” PastorBeard asked as he leaned against the side of my car.
“Oh, nothing major. Weekend chores. Beatle has some school work to get done and he’s going to put some snake repellant in the yard…I’ll probably clean the house and spend some time with my mum,” I said, trying to be pleasant as I could be. What I really wanted to do was to tell him he was a bastard that should never teach, let alone lead a dept.
“You should come to watch me on Sunday. I’m preaching his weekend,” he said with a smile. His tone came off like he intended it to be a flex.
I forced a smiled, “No thanks. Not my thing.”
“God isn’t ‘your thing’?” he asked, leaning towards me a bit.
I took a step back, “Not the same one you believe in.” I started absentmindedly playing with the Flower of Aphrodite pendant I wore around my neck.
“Are you Catholic or something?” he asked.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. People presumed since Beatle was Irish that we were a Catholic family a lot. Instead, I shook my head, “No. Actually, if you must know, I’m Pagan.”
PastorBeard looked taken aback, “Oh…I see.”
“So, while I appreciate the invite…not my thing,” I said again.
“You should come anyway. I’d love to look out on Sunday and see you there. And who knows? If you hear what I have to say you may change your mind about being pagan,” PastorBeard said with a cocky smile.
I looked around hoping Beatle and Wee One were going to be there soon, “I doubt it…anyway…um…I hate to keep you on a Friday.”
“I’m not in a rush. You’re fine,” he said, “Did you hear I’m the new dept head?”
“Yeah. I know,” I said, “Beatle told me. He applied to you know.”
“I know. They need someone that is a strong leader for the job though, someone that can guide the dept the way I guide the church. They can’t pick someone with a weak personality. A man should be able to lead…his church, his work, and of course his wife,” PastorBeard said pointedly.
“Uh huh…a good leader knows when to defer to those wiser than he,” I said as I saw Beatle and Wee One, “Love! Hey!” I waved.
Beatle saw PastorBeard and looked unhappy, “Hi PastorBeard.”
“Have a good weekend you guys. See you later Mandy…think about my offer,” he said as he went and got into his truck that sat on tires far too big for it.
“What was that?” Beatle asked when we got in the car.
I shrugged, “He was either hitting on me or he was just being a pompous arse…or both. Hard to say.”
And we went on our way.
The next work day Beatle walked into the workroom and saw PastorBeard in there talking to Vera (the assistant mentioned in chapter 26.)
“Just do your best to set them up for success,” PastorBeard told Vera as he walked out of the workroom.
Vera sighed.
“Are you ok mate?” Beatle asked her.
Vera shook her head, “We’re almost done. Almost there.”
“What happened?” Beatle asked.
“Well, only 2 of the kids in that group in the hall workspace need my help,” Vera said pointing to a group outside PastorBeard’s room, “The others are kids missing work and PastorBeard kicked them out of the classroom. I’m supposed to watch them and make sure they behave but they already told me they aren’t going to do anything.”
Beatle’s expression went dark, “You’re a SPED assistant. Not a babysitter.”
“I know, but I’ve never seen him actually help anyone. He doesn’t go around the room to help. Just tells them to be quiet and pokes them. I don’t know why he feels the need to touch them. He tells them if they need help they can go to him and he just sits at his desk the whole time…but no one is gonna go to him for help because they don’t like him,” Vera vented.
Beatle sighed, “You know he’s dept head next year, right?”
“Oh, I know. He told me no one else wanted it,” Vera said sadly.
Beatle blinked, “No ma’am. I interviewed for it.”
“That’s just what I heard,” Vera said.
“He lied,” Beatle shook his head.
What PastorBeard didn’t know is that Beatle had something else in the works…we weren’t sure it would pan out at this point (as of this writing we still aren’t), but Beatle wasn’t going to take PastorBeard’s crap lying down…and for that, I was proud of him.
We reached the point in the year when all the teachers were just playing movies. For my part, I was letting them watch the Super Mario Movie. I had some happy students. I also wrote Wee One a pass to spend the day in my room. She was done with her work and wanted to help me with some Graphic Design work for next year’s launch (we are launching an on-campus design firm). She asked me which workstation she could work at and I did the worst thing a mum can do to her child. I sat her next to my baby neckbeard. She started working but within 10 minutes she came to my desk.
“Mom…” she started.
I looked at her. “Excuse me?”
She sighed, “I’m sorry…Ms. Mandy?”
“Yes ma’am?” I asked her.
“Can I sit on the other side of the room…it’s less claustrophobic and I have a friend over there…” she trailed off.
I chuckled and leaned in so only she could hear me, “You don’t appreciate sitting next to the baby neckbeard?”
She looked sheepish, “Not really.”
“Can you smell him?” I asked.
She made a disgusted face, “Sort of, yeah.”
“OK, yes, go ahead and move,” I nodded.
In the meantime, Beatle was texting me:
Beatle: Why does ManiBeard always start class with “How are we?” instead of “How are you?”?
Mandy: Because that’s what’s in his programming.
Beatle: LMAO! Point. I will not miss him this summer. You know he said he is only helping with graduation because he didn’t help with either dance. I thought it was mandatory that we do one of the 1 dances.
Mandy: Sigh. 1) yes it is and I bet they got on him and forced him to help with graduation and 2) why the hell would they let him help with graduation? That event is stressful enough without adding ManiBeard to the mix.
Beatle: He said he rather work graduation because it’s his favorite event because he gets to see the kids move on.
Mandy: But he’s a freshman teacher. He doesn’t know many if any, seniors.
Beatle: I know! Oh, CovidBeard is leaving.
Mandy: WHAT?! FOREVER?!
Beatle: I’m watching her class for the rest of the period.
Mandy: Oh, just for today.
Beatle: Yeah. Don’t get too excited.
Mandy: Damn. 3.5 days left. Heaven forbid she stick it out.
Beatle: Right?
And right about the time I was hoping my Beard encounters were over. At least until graduation…it happened. I had to email EnglishBeard. Why? Because I needed one of his students (who happened to be one of my most talented graphic design students) to come to my class the next day during his class. I cringed at having to interact with him. I asked Beatle if I should even bother. “We’re not doing anything, why would he say no?” Beatle asked. “He’s a beard.” I replied. “Fair.” Beatle conceded.
Finally, I took a breath and started to type: “EnglishBeard, if it is alright with you, can Sara come to my class during 5th period tomorrow to do some Graphic Design work? Thanks, Mandy”
2 hours later, he replied, “What work? Why should I send her to an elective? My class is core.”
I sighed, “It’s ok if you are doing something in class. I just thought it would be ok if you are just watching movies.” I replied.
“We are just watching movies, but my class is still a core class and yours is not,” EnglishBeard replied.
“You are correct. However, Sara is going to be in my Graphic 3 class next year and I want to get all my Graphic 3 students together for a meeting before the end of the year and the rest of them are in my 5th period. If you don’t want to send her that is fine,” I replied.
“Ok, that would be fine. I will allow it,” EnglishBeard finally said.
I sighed and wrote a pass to give to Sara.
Meanwhile, in the English 1 meeting, Beatle was dealing with his own Beard.
“And the Beard came back….CovidBeard came back for the meeting,” Beatle texted me.
“WHY?!” I texted back.
“IDK! I’m spraying Lysol when she leaves the room. She’s like ‘I’m sitting here sweating. I have no idea what I have.’ I guess she came back for attention,” Beatle replied.
I sighed as I typed, “Probably.”
Why did all these Beards have to come back? Why couldn’t this be last year when we had the mass exodus of Beards? That was nice. I liked that.
Maybe they would get less beardy over the summer?
Probably not.
Graduation isn’t just on that day either. The day before we have to participate in graduation practice, which is just as awful, if not worse. I did entertain myself by watching ManiBeard however.
We all gathered in the practice gym to line up and then once everyone was in place we processed into the main gym. The practice gym was so bloody hot that I was sweating. It was so bloody hot that ManiBeard actually took off his cardigan for the first time all year. I have now confirmed he does have arms under it. Bloke never takes off his cardigan/coat…even when the outside temp is 100+ in Fahrenheit. I further observed only to realize that they had, for some reason, put ManiBeard in the same row as 2 of the baby beards I’ve been observing over the course of the year. ManiBeard was as clueless as one might expect and had no idea how to manage the kids and telling them when to stand, when to sit, when to walk, etc. He made it through graduation practice, but I was seriously concerned about the next day. I was also concerned because I saw the gown they set aside for Mani. It was huge! He was going to look like a puppy wearing his owner’s sweater. Let the chaos commence!
And commence it did. Shortly after lunch Beatle texted me “OZZY ISN’T COMING BACK! WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN GOING ON AROUND HERE?!”
Remember Ozzy? The other Australian on campus? Yeah, evidently he said, “this really isn’t something I foresaw happening. It is something I needed to do. But please, I don’t want to make it seem like I’m excited to leave. I’m not. It’s actually been really hard packing up my things.” Ozzy had been around since the campus opened in 2016. It was a true shock to see him leave and Beatle was very distraught over it. Honestly, so was I.
After school Beatle barrelled into his classroom, “OK, mate, what the hell is going on?”
The conversation was private so I’m not going to detail it, but I will say that circumstances happened so that Ozzy had to go back to Australia. He was not happy about it. He said he thought he would retire from Standard High, but life happens. This was a blow, but we wish him the best.
I found out later that night that ManiBeard managed to out-beard himself. He did the beardiest thing he’d ever done.
“Did you guys meet today in E1?” I asked Beatle.
“Yeah, but it was more social than a meeting,” Beatle replied.
“ManiBeard? Social? How did that go?” I asked.
Beatle chuckled, “ManiBeard wasn’t there.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because he miscalculated all his grades and had to redo them,” Beatle said.
I froze as I tried to register what he said. Finally I spoke, “But our gradebook is automated. We don’t calculate anything. We put in the number and bam…grades. How the hell did Mani manage to ‘miscalculate’ grades?”
“No idea, but admin wasn’t happy. They sent in Lana to guide him through it,” Beatle said.
I laughed, “Oh my god! After everything he did to keep Lana out of his room she ended up fixing his gradebook? The irony is too delicious! This has got to be the beardiest thing he has ever done. How the fuck do you miscalculate grades in and automated gradebook?!”
Beatle shrugged, “Talent?”
The next morning (THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL) an email started circulating from teachers that were worried about getting left at the arena we were holding graduation in. They wanted to ensure the bus wouldn’t leave them behind. Beatle and I watched as the emails flooded our inboxes. ManiBeard: “I need a ride too.” EnglishBeard: “Don’t leave me behind!” HistoryBeard: “I look like too much of an escaped inmate to safely hitchhike. Don’t leave me either.” MathBeard:I need the bus to get back to school.”
It was at that point I texted my brother to see if he could pick Beatle and I up after graduation. To be clear, we have to ride the bus over with students so taking our own car wasn’t an option…but riding the BeardBus home did not appeal to either of us. I like getting fodder for stories, but I’m not a complete sadomasochist. My brother agreed and I felt relief wash over me.
Beatle and I ended up combining our classes in my Cave for the last day because we bought breakfast tacos and donuts for the kids and it was easier to combine classes than to try to split the food. So, most of the last day was the kids eating and playing Mario Kart on our Switch. It was pretty fun. I did leave the kids with Beatle at one point so I could go down to Cook’s kitchen and do my department check-out stuff. When I say Cook had a professional kitchen that is not hyperbole. The culinary kitchen at Standard High is anything but standard. We’re talking a state-of-the-art kitchen that any head chef would be in awe of. It’s truly a thing to behold and for high school students? Yeah, it is pretty bloody great. Oh, and the cutting boards…let me tell you about the numerous cutting boards!
…I’m kidding Red! Just kidding!
But yeah, the kitchen is pretty great. Anyway, when I went into said kitchen, MediaBeard was in there doing his check-out as well. When he saw me he smiled and turned to me.
“Mandy, thank you so much for everything you did for me this year. It was a rough year and you had my back. I truly appreciate you, thank you,” he said as he hugged me.
I hugged him back, “Aww, mate…I got ya. Anytime. Next year will be better.”
When I said back in Chapter 1 that MediaBeard was certainly a Beard, but one of the ‘good’ beards, this is what I meant. Yes, he can be a bit…well…beardly. But, the bloke has a good heart. And I am glad he will be back next year. I’m going to try to mentor him now that I’m settled in graphic design. I am also glad he will not be Wee One’s teacher next year. She’s decided to take graphic design 3 and animation 1 which means she will have me as her teacher for 3 out of 8 periods. Come to find out she likes me as her teacher. And I’m pretty hard on her. She said I made her better. I must be doing something right!
Cook has 100% become my work Mum and I adore her. She plans to have a department soiree before school starts and for the first time ever I’m actually looking forward to going to a department function, solely because of Cook. She is amazing.
Finally, as long last, the 2022-2023 school year ended. All the non-senior students left and the seniors arrived.
Beatle and I scarfed our lunch down and headed to the gym… this is where graduation truly begins.
I put my gown on over my work clothes as did Beatle. We sat together and chatted for a bit before he went to his row to help organize kids. I was left sitting alone in my row as the students filed in. And, as I usually do in these situations, I started to observe my surroundings and live a bit in my own head.
I saw some teachers grouped up talking and laughing near me. For a moment I felt that loneliness I felt all through school (until I met Beatle). I had a moment of feeling like that ‘weird blonde kid’ again. I guess it never really goes away. It was a reminder that from the day we met (see SquirrelBeard for that story) Beatle has always been where I fit. Does anyone else ever have a moment of reversion like that? Where even as an adult you remember how it was to be an outcast at 15 or whatever? Maybe it’s just me? Maybe it’s because I work in a high school?
In any case, I snapped out of it and looked around. What caught my eye was a pair of BRIGHT crimson skinny jeans. And the wearer? ManiBeard. OF COURSE! He also had on a plain white t-shirt with the district logo on it that we got free at the start of the year and Van trainers. What was the dress code for this event that admin had explicitly given us the day before? Dress pants and a Polo or button-up for men or a suit for men, a dress or nice pants and shirt for women, dress shoes, and absolutely no jeans, trainers, or t-shirts. Yeah. For J’s part he had on black pants and a black button-up shirt with a tie. He looked good. It was also the first time he got to wear his Master’s hood at a graduation, which was pretty frickin cool too! I had on black pants and a nice shirt. I was not wearing a dress at graduation. Just, no. Anyway…ManiBeard…right…so he wore EXACTLY what admin said don’t wear. Cause…ManiBeard. And I was right, his gown made him look like a puppy wearing his owner’s sweater. It would have been cute if it was anyone but Mani. Instead he just looked robotic and lost. And, exactly like I suspected, he didn’t talk to any of the kids. He didn’t even congratulate them. Probably because he teachers 9th graders and didn’t know any of these kids and had no connection to them. Beatle knew a lot of them. These were the kids that he taught his first year as freshmen so he had seen them through all 4 years. It was emotional for him.
It was around this time I turned around and noticed paramedics in the hall. I later found out a student (one of mine actually) had a seizure. I had seen them roll a kid out of the building on an office chair but I didn’t know who under Mr. Principal told me later. As all of this was happening APBeard said they put a sign up sheet on the stage for any teacher that needed to take the bus back to campus after the ceremony. A bunch of teachers headed to the stage. One that looked like a textbook beard said, as he walked past me, “that would be all of us. Like any of us can afford an Uber with what they pay us.” I raised an eyebrow and looked the man over. “That has GOT to be HistoryBeard” I thought to myself. Beatle ran up behind me.
“See that bloke up there…the one at the sign up sheet right now?” Beatle asked me quietly.
“Yeah,” I said.
“That’s HistoryBeard,” he confirmed.
“I knew it! I knew that had to be him. Damn, he is a beard and it’s not even just on the inside,” I said.
Beatle shook his head, “No, he’s one that is beard inside and out.”
I shuttered as Beatle returned to his seat.
About 45 minutes later we boarded the bus and headed to the arena. I hoped everything would be smooth sailing from there, but that would have been WAY too easy.
So, I need to paint a bit of a picture here…have you ever been backstage at an arena? It’s not a huge space…and when you put a couple hundred people back there…it’s a tight fit. We were lucky to have a 2 inch radius around us. Personal space does not exist when you cram everyone back there. And we had to line up in order. Each row had a letter. It seemed everything was fine. My row was in order…but something felt off. That’s when I realized whoever set the signs up doesn’t know the bloody alphabet because instead of A, B, C, D, E, F, G it went A, B, C, D, E, G, F. I was in row F. I realized the error but I also wasn’t about to move anything without telling an AP. So I found an AP that said he had to find another AP and 3 APs later I was told to swap Rows F and G. I helped correct the signed and then we had to shift the rows with VERY little space. It was…something.
It was hot, cramped, and miserable. Beatle told me later some of the kids in his row snuck back into a supply room and were stealing popcorn. It was in the moments of being back stage I remembered why last year I said to myself ‘never again, I’m never doing graduation again’. I’m really not next year cause of Wee One and I’ll probably forget the year after and volunteer again. Cause teacher brain. Anyway, it was finally go time and we walked out, sat down, and the ceremony started. All done? Not quite.
For the sake of wrapping this up I’ll quickly list the crap that happened during the ceremony:
And that concludes this year of School of Beards. If there is any demand I will be back in the fall because with all the beards returning I am sure to have a new batch of tales. I sincerely want to thank everyone that had come on this journey with me, Red for reading (and being a mate), and Beatle for supporting me and allowing me to share his stories. I mostly want to thank everyone that has listened to Red read these stories because that is the most amazing thing…hearing these stories read and getting his insight. I do appreciate it more than I can say. Keep an eye out for the rest of BowserBeard this summer and maybe a couple of one-offs.
Now, to end this year I decided to try my hand at my first parody song. Apologies if it’s not very good. Like I said, it’s my first one. I hope it doesn’t suck!
“BeardSchool’s Out” (Parody of “School’s Out” by Alice Cooper)
Well, we got no choice
But to hear the noise
Listenin to the beards’ voice
The poor girls and boys
Well, we can't escape ya
Can't find an out
And when they start to shout
Education’s in doubt
BeardSchool's out for summer
Beards go into slumber
Beardschool makes us shutter
No more Mani
No more English
No more preacher's judgment, yeah
Well, Mani can’t control his class
And Pastor’s got the Principal
And the students pay the price
We can't even think about next year
BeardSchool's out for summer
Beards go into slumber
Beardschool makes us shutter
No more Media
No more Math Emails
No more two-faced Dean
Out for summer
Out 'til fall
Do the beards have to come back at all
Beards go slumber
BeardSchool's out for summer
Watch the Beards lumber
BeardSchool’s out till August
submitted by Emerald_Aussie to ReddXReads [link] [comments]
I miss that intro a lot so I figured I’d just write it in. I waited until after graduation to post this because, with ManiBeard at graduation, I figured anything could happen. And it did. And with that, let’s jump into this last set of beardy tales (for this school year). Let’s a-go.
- “No Place Like Home (Campus)”
Of course, that good mood was not to last…
On this day I had a meeting with all the other Graphic Design teachers at another campus. We will call it Clique High School (because ‘cult’ may or may not be YouTube-friendly).
The first thing you need to know is I have a history with CHS. Remember, all the way back in chapter 1 where I mention I was a substitute teacher at Standard High before they hired me as a teacher? Well, there was one part I left out because it was irrelevant to that story, but it becomes relevant here. It is true I did sub at SHS, but the part I left out was that for half of the 2020-2021 school year (Covid year), I was a long-term sub at another campus and that campus was Clique High School. To say it was a poor experience would be underselling it immensely. You could say that Elon Musk is well off but that doesn’t really express the massive mounds of money that malevolent menace truly had. Likewise, saying I had a poor experience at CHS doesn’t really express the absolutely traumatizing, terrible, troublesome experience that my life there. It got so bad that I would leave work, cry the entire 30-minute drive to SHS, pick up Beatle, and make him drive the rest of the way home because my eyes were sore from crying.
What did I do at CHS? Well, I was a long-term sub in ESL. That’s where I got my start with it. When I walked in at the start of that year I’d never had a high school classroom before, I had no lesson plans, limited access to the curriculum since I was a sub, and I was teaching virtually because Covid…and what did I do? I build a curriculum, bonded with my class, and wrote my own lesson plans (even though subs generally don’t write plans). Basically, I rebuilt their ESL program. I did apply for the job. After all, I was already doing all of the work for substitute pay. I may as well get teacher pay for being a teacher. Right? Wrong.
They did interview me for the job but then proceeded to yank me around for half a semester before finally saying they were going to hire someone else. Who? No idea. But not me. But they wanted me to continue to long-term sub and do what I was doing until they found someone. Honestly, when I didn’t get the job part of me was pissed because of all the work I put in, but part of me was relieved. You see, the culture at CHS isn’t like the culture at SHS. Their principal, whom we will call Mr. D (for reasons that will soon be clear), had been named the district’s principal of the year and his staff completely fawned over him…a staff mostly comprised of women. The male-to-female ratio at CHS was considerably more unbalanced than at SHS. What struck me as odd was that Mr. D did not seem to warrant such admiration. During my interactions with him, I got slimy car salesman vibes more than high school principal. I would come to find out that this went deeper than I knew.
Remember AVIDBeard? Yeah, to her credit she was the one that warned me. Mostly I think she saw a chance to gossip, but nonetheless. I was visiting SHS and telling the English dept. how much I missed subbing for them (they actually liked me at this time…this was long before EnglishBeard even worked there so certainly before that whole thing made me a pariah). They missed me too. Although honestly, they missed having a sub at their becken call. Let’s be real. Anyway, AVIDBeard was all too happy to jump in with gossip.
“Be careful over there Mandy,” AVIDBeard said.
“Why? What do you know?” I asked.
“I had a training over there once and this teacher that works there started freaking out because the instructor, who was also a teacher there, was late. She started to have an anxiety attack and when I asked her what was wrong she said ‘Daddy isn’t going to like this’,” AVIDBeard explained.
“What?!” everyone in the room asked at once.
AVIDBeard nodded, “I know! So I asked her, ‘you call your principal Daddy?’ and she said ‘of course.’.”
I raised an eyebrow. I was skeptical, to say the least. Even then I knew AVIDBeard was not a reliable source. But, on the off chance she was telling the truth I had to know. CHS wasn’t exactly full of friendly teachers. In fact, where everyone at SHS had been welcoming, it had been the very opposite at CHS. They treated me like an outsider they were skeptical of. I had managed to at least have somewhat of a dialogue with the librarian. She helped me to ensure that my ESL students had books in their native languages to read during the pandemic. I went to her one day to ask about scheduling some book pick-ups for the students (this was when teachers were on-campus but students were virtual).
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I asked after we had figured out scheduling.
“Sure, what’s up?” she asked.
“OK, so it’s dumb, but someone told me you guys call Mr. D ‘daddy’. Silly, right?” I said with a laugh.
She just blinked, “Who told you that?”
Her reaction caught me off guard. She wasn’t laughing. My eyes widened, “Um, I don’t remember, it just got mentioned in passing.”
“Don’t ask anyone else that question…just…don’t even mention it,” she said.
I blinked. I wanted out of this conversation, “OK, I won’t. I’ll just forget I ever heard about it.”
She nodded and turned away, “I have work to do. If you need more books let me know.”
I rushed back to my classroom. After that, the librarian was very cold toward me.
To this day I honestly believe that the reason Mr. D didn’t hire me was because I’m too strong-willed and I have a big mouth…neither fits well into a cult-like structure, which it is very obvious CHS is.
At the semester break, they hadn’t yet hired anyone and asked me to stay for the rest of the year as a long-term sub. Basically, they wanted to pay me sub pay for an entire year of teaching. I told them ‘no way’ and I begged the district and Mr. Principal to let me return to subbing at SHS. I didn’t even care that regular sub pay was less than long-term sub pay. I just wanted out…and it turns out it all worked in my favor because obviously Mr. Principal ended up hiring me for the very job that Mr. D rejected me from and I’m very happy where I am now. And I don’t even have to call Mr. Principal ‘daddy’. Gag! Say what you will about Standard High, but I’ll take it over CHS any day.
OK, I know that was a lot of backstory, but I truly need you to understand why I so vehemently loathe everything about CHS and moreover why even being there gives me a mild case of PTSD.
Alright then, where were we? Oh yeah. Meeting for Graphic Design teachers over at CHS. I was not happy about this because I hate being at CHS of course, but I also hated leaving my students with a sub this close to the end of the year. But, alas, there I was. I walked into the familiar, loathsome halls. Daddy was in the main hall greeting his subjects.
“Mandy? What are you doing here?” he asked as he looked me over. I was in full-school spirit mode. SHS staff shirt and matching school spirit Converse I had custom-made.
“Graphic Design meeting,” I said.
“Oh, you teach Graphic Design now?” he asked.
I nodded, “Yeah, I did so great at fixing their ESL program they gave me my true dream job and now I’m relaunching their graphic design program.” OK, so it was a bit of embellishment, but I wanted him to know that his loss was SHS’s gain.
“Shame…we have an ESL position open here at The Clique,” Mr. D said. That’s how he referred to his campus. Imagine if the school’s name was Blue Mountain High and he called it The Mountain. Yeah…cringey.
“Oh yeah? I heard Patty didn’t stay,” I said. Patty was who they hired instead of me. She ended up retiring after one year at ‘The Clique’.
“Yeah, well we hired Emmy to replace Patty and now she is leaving,” Mr. D said.
“Shame…yeah, I’m still at SHS and quite happy. I heard principals were turning to poaching from other high schools so I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not poachable,” I said, wanting to get away from him.
“You could have your old job in your old room,” Mr. D said in a tone that made me very uneasy.
“I have a perfectly lovely Cave. Besides, my husband works at SHS too and I like being on the same campus as the love of my life,” I said, pointedly.
“If you change your mind, let me know. Enjoy your meeting. Welcome back to The Clique,” Mr. D said as I quickly walked away to find the room Graphic Design was meeting in.
Now, this may come as a surprise to you all, but I am NOT a social creature. Truly. Beatle is my best friend and aside from Cali all my other friends are on the ReddX Discord (hence my desire to not get myself banned over there). And I am 150% ok with that. At that moment I wanted to be in my Cave more than anything. The pressure to be ‘on’ and social was beyond exhausting to me, especially this late in the year. But, always the professional, I mustered every bit of perky in me to be lovely to my other-campus counterparts.
This proved to be a challenge. One of them, more of a Karen than a Beard really, would not shut up about how amazing her campus was and how she never had issues with phones because her kids were so well-behaved. She also said she couldn’t post work early because they would have it done before they ever got to class. Oh, and of course she is teaching graphic design because she needed a break from her real job as an engineer. And oh, did she mention she is an engineer? Because she’s an engineer. She also went on and on about how she didn’t like the curriculum at another campus she was at so she complained and got 68 teachers from all over the country to back her up and they changed the whole curriculum to what she wanted. OK, whatever. I wanted to ask if everyone stood up and cheered too.
Another teacher was just insufferable. She kept asking for the same bloody stuff over and over even after being told it wasn’t in the budget. She didn’t know the cost of any of it, just that everything she wanted (think equipment and software licenses) was expensive and our budget is next to nothing right now. She didn’t even make arguments as to why we needed it. She just kept asking for the same stuff in the same way. All of it was stuff we didn’t need and most of us wouldn’t even use.
I contributed my thoughts on what I felt needed to be added to the curriculum, which was met with agreement. I really only had that one suggestion. The rest of the time I let them do their thing, which was woefully unorganized, disjointed, and overall a waste of time I could be grading papers. And so I decided that while they did their thing I would organize my Google Drive. As I was doing this I noticed something. I was still the owner on ALL the ESL files for SHS. Not just the ones I created…ALL OF THEM. If I were to hit delete SHS would literally have to start from scratch organizing their program with new teachers next year. But Ms. Dean did make clear I was to have nothing to do with ESL anymore. If I deleted the folders was that malicious compliance? Or just being a bitch for the sake of it? I still haven’t decided…I find the situation humorous, in not a bit morally ambiguous.
Ultimately, it was decided that 1 day wasn’t enough for our meeting so we would meet again one week later at the same place. I declined. I needed to be on my campus because I did have actual work to do. Grades would be due the day they wanted to meet. I wasn’t the only one. About half of the graphic design teachers agreed to meet again the following week and we would all be meeting again August 1st. So I get to start my school year back at ‘The Clique’. Lovely.
Yeah, this was a very real reminder that for all the beardery at Standard High, it could be SO much worse.
- “Lunchtime!”
This happened the day after my meeting at CHS. Sonia wanted to end the school year with some team building so she asked Ms. Dean if they could have an off-campus team meeting at a nearby restaurant and grab some food. Ms. Dean told them no. Sonia then decided they would just order takeaway and do the same thing on campus. She reserved a conference room and everything.
So the day of the eat and meet came. Beatle had ordered some enchiladas and was looking forward to a hot meal during the workday. CovidBeard didn’t go because she said she wasn’t feeling well and needed to just go home early. I know that comes as a shock. Meanwhile, ManiBeard decided he would sit next to his bff, Beatle. ManiBeard hadn’t ordered any food because ‘the catering menu looked good, but nothing on the regular menu appealed to me’. What ManiBeard did have, however, was a bag of crackers. As Beatle tried to eat his food, ManiBeard both ate his crackers and talked at the same time. It didn’t take long for Beatle to realize that small bits of cracker crumbs were flying at him and his food. He shifted to the side to dodge the airborne particles that threatened to infect his space. It was here that ManiBeard declared he had signed his contract but still wasn’t sure if he would be back next year because he had until July 3rd to pull out of his contract and he really just didn’t want to make a commitment.
After the meeting, everyone went their own way, except ManiBeard, who cornered Beatle in the mudroom. I was in my Cave waiting for him when I got a text ‘SOS, I’ve been cornered! Mudroom!’
I sighed, “Come on Wee One. We have to go save Dad.”
Wee One chuckled, “Oh no.” She followed me faithfully as we headed downstairs.
“Oh, good, you’re here already. We gotta go Love. Wee One has that thing…see ya later ManiBeard!” I said as I grabbed Beatle’s arm as I passed and just kept walking.
The next day Beatle went into Sonia’s room for inclusion and she smiled at him, “Sure you got all the crumbs off?” she teased.
Beatle rolled his eyes, “Right?!”
Sonia nodded, “ManiBeard is why I don’t eat lunch in the workroom anymore. ManiBeard would walk over to me and just stand over me…like right over me…and talk while he ate which would just send food everywhere. One day he was eating some chicken salad and a piece of chicken flew out of his mouth and landed on my arm.”
“Oh bloody hell. That’s disgusting,” Beatle said before vowing not to be near ManiBeard eating ever again.
- “Little Lies”
“What are you plans this weekend, Mandy?” PastorBeard asked as he leaned against the side of my car.
“Oh, nothing major. Weekend chores. Beatle has some school work to get done and he’s going to put some snake repellant in the yard…I’ll probably clean the house and spend some time with my mum,” I said, trying to be pleasant as I could be. What I really wanted to do was to tell him he was a bastard that should never teach, let alone lead a dept.
“You should come to watch me on Sunday. I’m preaching his weekend,” he said with a smile. His tone came off like he intended it to be a flex.
I forced a smiled, “No thanks. Not my thing.”
“God isn’t ‘your thing’?” he asked, leaning towards me a bit.
I took a step back, “Not the same one you believe in.” I started absentmindedly playing with the Flower of Aphrodite pendant I wore around my neck.
“Are you Catholic or something?” he asked.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. People presumed since Beatle was Irish that we were a Catholic family a lot. Instead, I shook my head, “No. Actually, if you must know, I’m Pagan.”
PastorBeard looked taken aback, “Oh…I see.”
“So, while I appreciate the invite…not my thing,” I said again.
“You should come anyway. I’d love to look out on Sunday and see you there. And who knows? If you hear what I have to say you may change your mind about being pagan,” PastorBeard said with a cocky smile.
I looked around hoping Beatle and Wee One were going to be there soon, “I doubt it…anyway…um…I hate to keep you on a Friday.”
“I’m not in a rush. You’re fine,” he said, “Did you hear I’m the new dept head?”
“Yeah. I know,” I said, “Beatle told me. He applied to you know.”
“I know. They need someone that is a strong leader for the job though, someone that can guide the dept the way I guide the church. They can’t pick someone with a weak personality. A man should be able to lead…his church, his work, and of course his wife,” PastorBeard said pointedly.
“Uh huh…a good leader knows when to defer to those wiser than he,” I said as I saw Beatle and Wee One, “Love! Hey!” I waved.
Beatle saw PastorBeard and looked unhappy, “Hi PastorBeard.”
“Have a good weekend you guys. See you later Mandy…think about my offer,” he said as he went and got into his truck that sat on tires far too big for it.
“What was that?” Beatle asked when we got in the car.
I shrugged, “He was either hitting on me or he was just being a pompous arse…or both. Hard to say.”
And we went on our way.
The next work day Beatle walked into the workroom and saw PastorBeard in there talking to Vera (the assistant mentioned in chapter 26.)
“Just do your best to set them up for success,” PastorBeard told Vera as he walked out of the workroom.
Vera sighed.
“Are you ok mate?” Beatle asked her.
Vera shook her head, “We’re almost done. Almost there.”
“What happened?” Beatle asked.
“Well, only 2 of the kids in that group in the hall workspace need my help,” Vera said pointing to a group outside PastorBeard’s room, “The others are kids missing work and PastorBeard kicked them out of the classroom. I’m supposed to watch them and make sure they behave but they already told me they aren’t going to do anything.”
Beatle’s expression went dark, “You’re a SPED assistant. Not a babysitter.”
“I know, but I’ve never seen him actually help anyone. He doesn’t go around the room to help. Just tells them to be quiet and pokes them. I don’t know why he feels the need to touch them. He tells them if they need help they can go to him and he just sits at his desk the whole time…but no one is gonna go to him for help because they don’t like him,” Vera vented.
Beatle sighed, “You know he’s dept head next year, right?”
“Oh, I know. He told me no one else wanted it,” Vera said sadly.
Beatle blinked, “No ma’am. I interviewed for it.”
“That’s just what I heard,” Vera said.
“He lied,” Beatle shook his head.
What PastorBeard didn’t know is that Beatle had something else in the works…we weren’t sure it would pan out at this point (as of this writing we still aren’t), but Beatle wasn’t going to take PastorBeard’s crap lying down…and for that, I was proud of him.
- “Wrapping It Up”
We reached the point in the year when all the teachers were just playing movies. For my part, I was letting them watch the Super Mario Movie. I had some happy students. I also wrote Wee One a pass to spend the day in my room. She was done with her work and wanted to help me with some Graphic Design work for next year’s launch (we are launching an on-campus design firm). She asked me which workstation she could work at and I did the worst thing a mum can do to her child. I sat her next to my baby neckbeard. She started working but within 10 minutes she came to my desk.
“Mom…” she started.
I looked at her. “Excuse me?”
She sighed, “I’m sorry…Ms. Mandy?”
“Yes ma’am?” I asked her.
“Can I sit on the other side of the room…it’s less claustrophobic and I have a friend over there…” she trailed off.
I chuckled and leaned in so only she could hear me, “You don’t appreciate sitting next to the baby neckbeard?”
She looked sheepish, “Not really.”
“Can you smell him?” I asked.
She made a disgusted face, “Sort of, yeah.”
“OK, yes, go ahead and move,” I nodded.
In the meantime, Beatle was texting me:
Beatle: Why does ManiBeard always start class with “How are we?” instead of “How are you?”?
Mandy: Because that’s what’s in his programming.
Beatle: LMAO! Point. I will not miss him this summer. You know he said he is only helping with graduation because he didn’t help with either dance. I thought it was mandatory that we do one of the 1 dances.
Mandy: Sigh. 1) yes it is and I bet they got on him and forced him to help with graduation and 2) why the hell would they let him help with graduation? That event is stressful enough without adding ManiBeard to the mix.
Beatle: He said he rather work graduation because it’s his favorite event because he gets to see the kids move on.
Mandy: But he’s a freshman teacher. He doesn’t know many if any, seniors.
Beatle: I know! Oh, CovidBeard is leaving.
Mandy: WHAT?! FOREVER?!
Beatle: I’m watching her class for the rest of the period.
Mandy: Oh, just for today.
Beatle: Yeah. Don’t get too excited.
Mandy: Damn. 3.5 days left. Heaven forbid she stick it out.
Beatle: Right?
And right about the time I was hoping my Beard encounters were over. At least until graduation…it happened. I had to email EnglishBeard. Why? Because I needed one of his students (who happened to be one of my most talented graphic design students) to come to my class the next day during his class. I cringed at having to interact with him. I asked Beatle if I should even bother. “We’re not doing anything, why would he say no?” Beatle asked. “He’s a beard.” I replied. “Fair.” Beatle conceded.
Finally, I took a breath and started to type: “EnglishBeard, if it is alright with you, can Sara come to my class during 5th period tomorrow to do some Graphic Design work? Thanks, Mandy”
2 hours later, he replied, “What work? Why should I send her to an elective? My class is core.”
I sighed, “It’s ok if you are doing something in class. I just thought it would be ok if you are just watching movies.” I replied.
“We are just watching movies, but my class is still a core class and yours is not,” EnglishBeard replied.
“You are correct. However, Sara is going to be in my Graphic 3 class next year and I want to get all my Graphic 3 students together for a meeting before the end of the year and the rest of them are in my 5th period. If you don’t want to send her that is fine,” I replied.
“Ok, that would be fine. I will allow it,” EnglishBeard finally said.
I sighed and wrote a pass to give to Sara.
Meanwhile, in the English 1 meeting, Beatle was dealing with his own Beard.
“And the Beard came back….CovidBeard came back for the meeting,” Beatle texted me.
“WHY?!” I texted back.
“IDK! I’m spraying Lysol when she leaves the room. She’s like ‘I’m sitting here sweating. I have no idea what I have.’ I guess she came back for attention,” Beatle replied.
I sighed as I typed, “Probably.”
Why did all these Beards have to come back? Why couldn’t this be last year when we had the mass exodus of Beards? That was nice. I liked that.
Maybe they would get less beardy over the summer?
Probably not.
- “Graduation Day”
Graduation isn’t just on that day either. The day before we have to participate in graduation practice, which is just as awful, if not worse. I did entertain myself by watching ManiBeard however.
We all gathered in the practice gym to line up and then once everyone was in place we processed into the main gym. The practice gym was so bloody hot that I was sweating. It was so bloody hot that ManiBeard actually took off his cardigan for the first time all year. I have now confirmed he does have arms under it. Bloke never takes off his cardigan/coat…even when the outside temp is 100+ in Fahrenheit. I further observed only to realize that they had, for some reason, put ManiBeard in the same row as 2 of the baby beards I’ve been observing over the course of the year. ManiBeard was as clueless as one might expect and had no idea how to manage the kids and telling them when to stand, when to sit, when to walk, etc. He made it through graduation practice, but I was seriously concerned about the next day. I was also concerned because I saw the gown they set aside for Mani. It was huge! He was going to look like a puppy wearing his owner’s sweater. Let the chaos commence!
And commence it did. Shortly after lunch Beatle texted me “OZZY ISN’T COMING BACK! WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN GOING ON AROUND HERE?!”
Remember Ozzy? The other Australian on campus? Yeah, evidently he said, “this really isn’t something I foresaw happening. It is something I needed to do. But please, I don’t want to make it seem like I’m excited to leave. I’m not. It’s actually been really hard packing up my things.” Ozzy had been around since the campus opened in 2016. It was a true shock to see him leave and Beatle was very distraught over it. Honestly, so was I.
After school Beatle barrelled into his classroom, “OK, mate, what the hell is going on?”
The conversation was private so I’m not going to detail it, but I will say that circumstances happened so that Ozzy had to go back to Australia. He was not happy about it. He said he thought he would retire from Standard High, but life happens. This was a blow, but we wish him the best.
I found out later that night that ManiBeard managed to out-beard himself. He did the beardiest thing he’d ever done.
“Did you guys meet today in E1?” I asked Beatle.
“Yeah, but it was more social than a meeting,” Beatle replied.
“ManiBeard? Social? How did that go?” I asked.
Beatle chuckled, “ManiBeard wasn’t there.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because he miscalculated all his grades and had to redo them,” Beatle said.
I froze as I tried to register what he said. Finally I spoke, “But our gradebook is automated. We don’t calculate anything. We put in the number and bam…grades. How the hell did Mani manage to ‘miscalculate’ grades?”
“No idea, but admin wasn’t happy. They sent in Lana to guide him through it,” Beatle said.
I laughed, “Oh my god! After everything he did to keep Lana out of his room she ended up fixing his gradebook? The irony is too delicious! This has got to be the beardiest thing he has ever done. How the fuck do you miscalculate grades in and automated gradebook?!”
Beatle shrugged, “Talent?”
The next morning (THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL) an email started circulating from teachers that were worried about getting left at the arena we were holding graduation in. They wanted to ensure the bus wouldn’t leave them behind. Beatle and I watched as the emails flooded our inboxes. ManiBeard: “I need a ride too.” EnglishBeard: “Don’t leave me behind!” HistoryBeard: “I look like too much of an escaped inmate to safely hitchhike. Don’t leave me either.” MathBeard:I need the bus to get back to school.”
It was at that point I texted my brother to see if he could pick Beatle and I up after graduation. To be clear, we have to ride the bus over with students so taking our own car wasn’t an option…but riding the BeardBus home did not appeal to either of us. I like getting fodder for stories, but I’m not a complete sadomasochist. My brother agreed and I felt relief wash over me.
Beatle and I ended up combining our classes in my Cave for the last day because we bought breakfast tacos and donuts for the kids and it was easier to combine classes than to try to split the food. So, most of the last day was the kids eating and playing Mario Kart on our Switch. It was pretty fun. I did leave the kids with Beatle at one point so I could go down to Cook’s kitchen and do my department check-out stuff. When I say Cook had a professional kitchen that is not hyperbole. The culinary kitchen at Standard High is anything but standard. We’re talking a state-of-the-art kitchen that any head chef would be in awe of. It’s truly a thing to behold and for high school students? Yeah, it is pretty bloody great. Oh, and the cutting boards…let me tell you about the numerous cutting boards!
…I’m kidding Red! Just kidding!
But yeah, the kitchen is pretty great. Anyway, when I went into said kitchen, MediaBeard was in there doing his check-out as well. When he saw me he smiled and turned to me.
“Mandy, thank you so much for everything you did for me this year. It was a rough year and you had my back. I truly appreciate you, thank you,” he said as he hugged me.
I hugged him back, “Aww, mate…I got ya. Anytime. Next year will be better.”
When I said back in Chapter 1 that MediaBeard was certainly a Beard, but one of the ‘good’ beards, this is what I meant. Yes, he can be a bit…well…beardly. But, the bloke has a good heart. And I am glad he will be back next year. I’m going to try to mentor him now that I’m settled in graphic design. I am also glad he will not be Wee One’s teacher next year. She’s decided to take graphic design 3 and animation 1 which means she will have me as her teacher for 3 out of 8 periods. Come to find out she likes me as her teacher. And I’m pretty hard on her. She said I made her better. I must be doing something right!
Cook has 100% become my work Mum and I adore her. She plans to have a department soiree before school starts and for the first time ever I’m actually looking forward to going to a department function, solely because of Cook. She is amazing.
Finally, as long last, the 2022-2023 school year ended. All the non-senior students left and the seniors arrived.
Beatle and I scarfed our lunch down and headed to the gym… this is where graduation truly begins.
I put my gown on over my work clothes as did Beatle. We sat together and chatted for a bit before he went to his row to help organize kids. I was left sitting alone in my row as the students filed in. And, as I usually do in these situations, I started to observe my surroundings and live a bit in my own head.
I saw some teachers grouped up talking and laughing near me. For a moment I felt that loneliness I felt all through school (until I met Beatle). I had a moment of feeling like that ‘weird blonde kid’ again. I guess it never really goes away. It was a reminder that from the day we met (see SquirrelBeard for that story) Beatle has always been where I fit. Does anyone else ever have a moment of reversion like that? Where even as an adult you remember how it was to be an outcast at 15 or whatever? Maybe it’s just me? Maybe it’s because I work in a high school?
In any case, I snapped out of it and looked around. What caught my eye was a pair of BRIGHT crimson skinny jeans. And the wearer? ManiBeard. OF COURSE! He also had on a plain white t-shirt with the district logo on it that we got free at the start of the year and Van trainers. What was the dress code for this event that admin had explicitly given us the day before? Dress pants and a Polo or button-up for men or a suit for men, a dress or nice pants and shirt for women, dress shoes, and absolutely no jeans, trainers, or t-shirts. Yeah. For J’s part he had on black pants and a black button-up shirt with a tie. He looked good. It was also the first time he got to wear his Master’s hood at a graduation, which was pretty frickin cool too! I had on black pants and a nice shirt. I was not wearing a dress at graduation. Just, no. Anyway…ManiBeard…right…so he wore EXACTLY what admin said don’t wear. Cause…ManiBeard. And I was right, his gown made him look like a puppy wearing his owner’s sweater. It would have been cute if it was anyone but Mani. Instead he just looked robotic and lost. And, exactly like I suspected, he didn’t talk to any of the kids. He didn’t even congratulate them. Probably because he teachers 9th graders and didn’t know any of these kids and had no connection to them. Beatle knew a lot of them. These were the kids that he taught his first year as freshmen so he had seen them through all 4 years. It was emotional for him.
It was around this time I turned around and noticed paramedics in the hall. I later found out a student (one of mine actually) had a seizure. I had seen them roll a kid out of the building on an office chair but I didn’t know who under Mr. Principal told me later. As all of this was happening APBeard said they put a sign up sheet on the stage for any teacher that needed to take the bus back to campus after the ceremony. A bunch of teachers headed to the stage. One that looked like a textbook beard said, as he walked past me, “that would be all of us. Like any of us can afford an Uber with what they pay us.” I raised an eyebrow and looked the man over. “That has GOT to be HistoryBeard” I thought to myself. Beatle ran up behind me.
“See that bloke up there…the one at the sign up sheet right now?” Beatle asked me quietly.
“Yeah,” I said.
“That’s HistoryBeard,” he confirmed.
“I knew it! I knew that had to be him. Damn, he is a beard and it’s not even just on the inside,” I said.
Beatle shook his head, “No, he’s one that is beard inside and out.”
I shuttered as Beatle returned to his seat.
About 45 minutes later we boarded the bus and headed to the arena. I hoped everything would be smooth sailing from there, but that would have been WAY too easy.
So, I need to paint a bit of a picture here…have you ever been backstage at an arena? It’s not a huge space…and when you put a couple hundred people back there…it’s a tight fit. We were lucky to have a 2 inch radius around us. Personal space does not exist when you cram everyone back there. And we had to line up in order. Each row had a letter. It seemed everything was fine. My row was in order…but something felt off. That’s when I realized whoever set the signs up doesn’t know the bloody alphabet because instead of A, B, C, D, E, F, G it went A, B, C, D, E, G, F. I was in row F. I realized the error but I also wasn’t about to move anything without telling an AP. So I found an AP that said he had to find another AP and 3 APs later I was told to swap Rows F and G. I helped correct the signed and then we had to shift the rows with VERY little space. It was…something.
It was hot, cramped, and miserable. Beatle told me later some of the kids in his row snuck back into a supply room and were stealing popcorn. It was in the moments of being back stage I remembered why last year I said to myself ‘never again, I’m never doing graduation again’. I’m really not next year cause of Wee One and I’ll probably forget the year after and volunteer again. Cause teacher brain. Anyway, it was finally go time and we walked out, sat down, and the ceremony started. All done? Not quite.
For the sake of wrapping this up I’ll quickly list the crap that happened during the ceremony:
- Someone in the stands called to a kid ‘you look like ET but we love you anyway!’ to which a graduate yelled back ‘you’re an asshole’. Classy.
- ManiBeard was clueless and lost. He may as well have not even been there because he was mostly just in the way.
- The boys decided it was great fun to pretend to fall on stage just before the got to Mr. Principal. This happened 4 times. A 5th pretended he was about to fall then twerked instead. Again, classy. Ladies and gentleman, our future.
- A boy in the row in front of me turned around and was using his program to sword fight with a boy in my row. I gave them the ‘mom/teacher look’ and they both got a panicked look and said ‘sorry ma’am’ before sitting straight for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe Wee One is right. Maybe I am scary.
- MediaBeard made the senior video and it was awful. I have a hard time believing he worked ‘in the industry’. Next year I’m going to see if he will let me do some graphic design templates for him. It will be part of my proposal to mentor him.
And that concludes this year of School of Beards. If there is any demand I will be back in the fall because with all the beards returning I am sure to have a new batch of tales. I sincerely want to thank everyone that had come on this journey with me, Red for reading (and being a mate), and Beatle for supporting me and allowing me to share his stories. I mostly want to thank everyone that has listened to Red read these stories because that is the most amazing thing…hearing these stories read and getting his insight. I do appreciate it more than I can say. Keep an eye out for the rest of BowserBeard this summer and maybe a couple of one-offs.
Now, to end this year I decided to try my hand at my first parody song. Apologies if it’s not very good. Like I said, it’s my first one. I hope it doesn’t suck!
“BeardSchool’s Out” (Parody of “School’s Out” by Alice Cooper)
Well, we got no choice
But to hear the noise
Listenin to the beards’ voice
The poor girls and boys
Well, we can't escape ya
Can't find an out
And when they start to shout
Education’s in doubt
BeardSchool's out for summer
Beards go into slumber
Beardschool makes us shutter
No more Mani
No more English
No more preacher's judgment, yeah
Well, Mani can’t control his class
And Pastor’s got the Principal
And the students pay the price
We can't even think about next year
BeardSchool's out for summer
Beards go into slumber
Beardschool makes us shutter
No more Media
No more Math Emails
No more two-faced Dean
Out for summer
Out 'til fall
Do the beards have to come back at all
Beards go slumber
BeardSchool's out for summer
Watch the Beards lumber
BeardSchool’s out till August
2023.05.28 20:41 grierks Hedge Knight, Chapter 31
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The night air was brisk without his armor, and he could feel gooseflesh travel across his skin when a soft gale brushed through the empty street. There was a small thought at the back of Helbram’s mind that told him that removing his armor was a poor choice where he was going, but he did so anyway.
He was done fighting for today.
The Troll’s face flashed through his mind. His eyes in shock, brimmed with tears as its heart stopped beating from the spear that was embedded into his chest. Helbram shook his head to banish the image from his thoughts, but as he did the soreness to his body became all the more evident. Embers of pain rested in his arms, reminding him of how he pulled at the rope with all his strength.
Only for it all to amount to nothing.
Helbram closed his eyes and sighed before looking ahead, catching the sight of Sophia walking ahead of him.
“I thank you for your assistance,” Helbram said, “Elly may have been putting on a brave face but she took the hardest hit out of all of us.”
“It is the least I could do, healing is one of my duties,” The Maiden of the Sword glanced back, “Though from what I can tell, you require it more than she did.”
Helbram’s shoulder throbbed as she spoke, and he had to admit that she was correct. While the shield had absorbed most of the Troll’s blow, his shoulder took the rest, and he had the misfortune of landing on it when he hit the ground. The rush of battle and haze of his own anger had dulled the pain previously, but when all that had faded, he found himself hesitant to even move his arm for fear of the fire that would lance through him if he did so.
He clutched his shoulder with his uninjured hand, “Perhaps you are correct… though I will tolerate it for now. Let it serve as a reminder.”
Sophia nodded, and let silence fall over them again. They remained that way until they arrived at the Shrine. The water of the sea below reflected the blackness of the night above, but the restlessness of its waves allowed for no clear image of the starry night above to appear over its visage. When they crossed the bridge to the Shrine’s island, Sophia turned, avoiding the front doors and walking off to the building’s side. Helbram quirked an eyebrow and looked at her, and The Maiden only glanced at him before motioning for him to follow her.
He did, but he took in a small breath and focused his Ether into his ears. The sounds of the waves below grew more prominent along with Sophia’s own footsteps, but he could hear no other sounds. Helbram relaxed his posture when he did not detect anyone nearby and picked up his pace, walking right behind Sophia as she guided him to the back of the building. A cliff spiked from the isolated isle like a blade, pointing to the near full moon that glowed so brightly in the sky, casting its pale light across the cliff and the back of the building.
At the base of the cliff was, to Helbram’s surprise, a trapdoor. It was of the same wood of the Shrine’s own entrance and was surrounded by a border of the same pale stone. Its make was noticeably less elaborate, much more weathered than the building that loomed over it, evidenced by the rounded corners of the stone’s border.
Sophia pulled the trap door open, revealing a staircase. Rather than crafted, its stone steps appeared to be carved from the earth itself, and lead down far enough that he could only catch the hint of light at its bottom.
Helbram pressed his lips thin and looked at The Maiden, “Pardon my caution, but I am none too fond of going down mysterious doorways.”
Sophia frowned, “As understandable as your caution is, there are far less conspicuous locations for me to try and trap you.”
There was a bluntness to her voice that bled through her polite demeanor, revealing only a glimpse at the woman that sat behind the mantle of The Maiden.
Helbram snorted, “Fair enough, but ladies first.”
Her frown deepened, but she walked through the trap door first. Helbram waited a moment before following her, leaving the trap door open behind him as he made his way down the stairs. The air was still as he walked down the stairs, but the once distant sound of crashing waves grew closer,and clearer the further down that he went. The reason for this was made obvious when he reached the bottom of the stairs and was greeted by the cave that sat at its end.
It was not large, its size barely providing enough room for the small table and two chairs that sat at its center, rustic pieces crafted from lumber so worn it could be mistaken for driftwood. The far end of the cave opened out to the sea below, a simplistic railing of the same weathered wood serving as its border. Water crashed below, spraying the railing with a light mist. He could see the waves themselves reaching the lips of the cave on stormier days, but on this night he found the sight mesmerizing, its calmness a far cry from the chaos that occurred earlier in the night.
Sophia took a seat at the table and motioned towards the opposite chair, “Please, sit down.”
Helbram made his way to the table, noting that his height was enough that he felt the tip of his hair brush against the cave’s roof. Ducking instinctively, he took his seat as he looked out to the sea.
“I must admit, this is quite the unusual spot,” he said, “Never would I have guessed that such a hideaway existed.”
Sophia joined him in looking out towards the waves. When he looked out to her, the mask of the Maiden could no longer be seen. Gone was the serenity from her face, the stillness to her features, replaced by eyes cast downward, unable to look up as worry gradually furrowed her brow. Her upright posture was now slouched, hunched over as if the weight of the world sat upon her shoulders.
“It was made by those that built the Shrine,” she explained, a tiredness overhanging her voice, “It served as their place of respite, away from the town above.”
She looked at him, “Away from the voice of the Sword that whispered into their ears.”
Helbram nodded, understanding her point, “That is interesting… I wonder why that is.”
Sophia shrugged, “I have heard tales that those sailing the Black Sea will sometimes find their spells and magitek disrupted. Perhaps that is the reason.”
He rubbed his chin, “Would the Sword not notice your absence?”
The tired woman sat back in her chair, letting out a sigh, “If it has before, it has not made mention of it, and I am hardly the first Maiden to utilize this space for their own peace of mind,” she tapped her fingers against the table, “Besides, it has been preoccupied as of late, speaking to those it has chosen,” she looked him in the eye, “You among them.”
Helbram kept his expression blank, “I do not know what you speak of.”
“I am not a fool, Helbram,” she said, the spark of irritation in her voice fading to weariness, “Aside from the brief moment that you laid your hands on it, I am exposed to its voice at all times. It spoke to Marcus, to Marjorie… to you.”
He crossed his fingers and rested them against the table, “...yes, it did, but I spoke true when I told you it did not choose me.”
“It did not say it overtly to any of you three, yet it chooses to speak to you three among all others, and of all those that it spoke with, it is only with you that it appeared so earnest,” she said, “I could feel its desire as it reached out to you, speaking to you with visions of memories past.”
“How much did you see?” He asked.
“Glimpses,” she said, “the sight of a large, damaged rock, of a man splitting stone without an ounce of effort, but no more than that. I did not wish to glimpse too much. I saw even less of Marjorie’s.”
“And of Marcus?”
She closed her eyes, “Of that, I saw everything, felt everything. The hand that reached out to his father as he abandoned them, the tears that fell down his eyes as he cried with his mother. The anger, the sorrow, the burning flame of desire to surpass the man that left them behind… for the Sword that will grant that wish. It senses it, it calls to it, kindling the fire with trauma that should be long past, growing it with each passing moment.”
Sophia opened her eyes, the steel behind their gaze giving him pause, ‘Which is why he must never have it.”
Helbram regarded her words, resting his uninjured arm on the table, “And so you come to me.”
Sophia nodded, “Tell me, when you looked upon the murals within the Shrine, what was it that you saw?”
Helbram recalled the pictures that sat above the Sword, “The story of a hero, felling a great darkness that had befallen a land and making the ultimate sacrifice to finish it off for good,” he searched Sophia’s eyes as he spoke, noting that his recounting of the tale did nothing to bring a reaction to her expression, “But that is not what you see, is it?”
The tired woman sat back and sighed, “What you see is a vision of the past, what I see is prophecy.”
Helbram looked at her with questioning eyes.
“Not in the literal sense,” she said, brushing her silver hair aside, “all who look upon the mural praise the glory of the hero and his actions. None have ever considered the perspective of the hero himself.”
Helbram said nothing as Sophia continued.
“They see a man chosen to wield a powerful sword, chosen to banish an all consuming evil from his home. They see a man of great strength, of power that is to be admired and coveted… of a sacrifice that rings true of all heroes of legend. But what do they not see?”
She leaned forward, grabbing the edges of the table with a grip tight enough to turn her knuckles pale, “Do they see the weight of such responsibility? The pressure of the expectation that is placed upon a hero? Are they aware of the pain that man must have gone through, the abject terror and tribulations that plagued him as he not only fought that darkness, but harbored it within him until he found no other choice than to smother the very light of his own life?”
Sophia looked into Helbram’s eyes, “No, they do not. They see the opportunity for glory, the means to powers that they could only dream of, blissfully unaware that the tale of a hero is not one of such heights, but of peaks amidst a tide of lows that will erode a man’s very soul.”
Helbram leaned back, “And that is what you wish to spare Marcus from.”
Her eyes widened, “You are as perceptive as I hoped.”
“You would not be speaking like this were Marjorie were on your mind,” Helbram explained.
Sophia closed her eyes and loosened her grip on the table, “Of that… you are correct.”
He crossed his arm, “Do you not believe that he can handle the Sword?”
She shook her head, “I know full well that Marcus would be able to wield it, to bear the responsibilities that would come with it. Yes, he is naive, and untrained, but at his core he is a strong, good man,” her voice grew soft, “I have known ever since we were children, yet I would spare him of the burden all the same.”
“And place it onto me,” Helbram kept his voice and posture relaxed, studying Sophia’s body language carefully, “why not Marjorie? She would be more than eager to claim the Sword.”
She frowned, “Great though my desires may be, I do not aim to be foolish in my choices. Of the two others that the Sword speaks to, I trust you the most to take it.”
“And why is that?”
“Marjorie hungers for it, with a desire that I daresay matches that of Marcus’s, perhaps even more. But whereas Marcus’s rages like a flame hers serves to drown me like the ocean,” She motioned to Helbram, “You, however, seem almost adverse to the Sword, regardless of its desire for you to wield it. If you were to be the one to draw it… then perhaps you would be the one to best wield its power.”
Helbram nodded, “And so you deem me worthy enough to bear the burdens that you do not wish to befall Marcus. While I appreciate the honesty, I must say you are doing a rather poor job of convincing me to do so.”
Sophia did not look away, “You strike me as an honorable man. It would be unfair of me to try and deceive you.”
He snorted, “Marcus is indeed quite lucky to be in your care. I can see why he is enamored by you.”
A blush races across Sophia’s cheeks, “That is irrelevant.”
Helbram eyed her with doubt, “Hardly, but I shall prod no further on that subject,” he pressed his lips together and stared at her with a solemn expression, “Regardless, I am afraid I cannot do what you want. I have no intention of drawing the Sword.”
Her eyes became downcast, “May I ask why?”
“I’d say you made a rather compelling case as to why I should not do so,” he said, which brought about a defeated frown from her face, “But, more importantly, I cannot trust it.”
She looked at him with confusion, “What do you mean?”
“The words that it speaks to everyone… whispers that promise some sort of boon, some fulfillment of wishes, or even revelations that are too vague to verify, but broad enough that you cannot help but believe that it was speaking the truth,” he leaned towards Sophia, keeping a spark of anger contained as he grit his teeth, “But the words it spoke to me… I know them to be lies,” he said, feeling his shoulder throb, reminding him of the realities of his weakness, “none knows that more than I. So tell me, how could I draw the Sword when it chooses to lure me in with falsehoods?”
To his surprise, Sophia did not falter. Instead, the tired woman’s expression went still, a calmness to her features that was different from the guise she wore as Maiden.
“Are you certain that it was lying to you?” she asked, her voice steady.
Helbram’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”
“I have seen the Sword speak to countless people,” she said, “And while I do agree that most of what it tells people are shallow statements, I have not known it to be wrong.”
She stood up from the table, walking up to the balcony and staring out to the sea, “When the Sword looks into someone… I am able to see what it sees,” she explained, “I have seen the potential of so many… of men and women seeking fortune, children brought by their parents in hopes that they would be chosen or some revelation of their potential might become apparent. In all of these situations I know what the Sword speaks is true, because I have seen it all as well.”
Sophia turned back towards him, “All except for when you took hold of it.”
Helbram said nothing.
“I do not know why that is, but I know that the Sword was not lying to you. In its eyes, you are the one that possesses the most potential to wield it.”
He grit his teeth, holding back the anger that rose in his chest, “Why would that be? I hold no power aside from a sliver of Ether that a child could cultivate in their sleep. The more that the Sword refers to my potential, the more I am forced to confront that simple, undeniable truth.”
Sophia’s eyes widened as a low growl traced his voice.
“I have traveled through the Six Kingdoms, consulting with scholars, pleading with healers in the hopes of finding some cure for the weakness that plagues me, and none could be found. I have crossed the ocean to Esperia, believing that perhaps that land of magitek could have discovered a method by which I could break the shackles of my own constitution, only to be told that yes, there are methods by which someone with my condition could eventually come to cultivate the strength that is denied to them… but that my particular case was too severe to treat,” his voice descended to resignation, “And in that revelation I found myself wandering, finding my way to the Freemarks, being given hope in a brief moment where I managed to do what was thought impossible by my own hands, finding companions that I do not deserve.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, “Hope that is smothered the more that I am forced to confront the reality that, in my own arrogance, I thought I could ignore for a time,” He stood up from his chair and walked towards the stairs, “I am not the one that will wield the Sword, “ he did not face Sophia as he spoke, “ I am sorry.”
He made way to the stairs.
“What if you spoke to the Sword further?” Sophia asked, steel in her voice.
Helbram stopped and looked back at her.
“You only touched the Sword for an instant, hearing its voice for only a moment,” she said, “Will you not give it a chance to explain itself further? To know for certain if the words it speaks are indeed the lies you believe them to be?”
Resolution was clear in her eyes, but Helbram could also see the desperation under it all.
He took a deep breath, “Marcus is indeed fortunate to have someone cherish him so… Fine, I will speak to the Sword once more.”
Sophia’s chest fell in relief, “I will take you to it now.”
He did not say much as they made their way back to the front of the Shrine, but as Sophia unlocked its doors and moved to go inside, he grasped her shoulder to stop her.
“I will speak with it alone,” he said, his voice calm, but with a weight behind it that gave her pause.
She bit her lip, brow furrowed in uncertainty, but she eventually nodded, “I will wait for you out here.”
Helbram gave her a small smile, “I thank you.”
He brushed past her and into the shrine, closing the door behind him. The Shrine was enshrouded by the night’s shadows, with only the tree at its center illuminated by the pale moonlight that leaked in from above. As he walked closer to the blackened wood his eyes wandered back to the murals that sat above. The tale of the nameless hero held a sadder tone to it within the pale light, and as Helbram stared at the image of the hero impaling himself with his sword, he could not help but understand the fear that Sophia felt.
He sighed again, “Gods, how do I find myself in these situations?”
His eyes fell back to the Sword, its silver make glimmering further in the as moonlight danced upon its exposed surface. The sight alone was entracing enough to drive him closer out of sheer curiosity, and to his surprise, there was no compulsion that moved him as there was at the beginning of the day.
He snorted, “Want to leave it as my own choice, I see…”
He rolled his good shoulder and took in a breath, staring at the blade’s handle. He grasped it before doubt could overcome him, and as he did, all went black.
The void surrounded him again, its formless floor supporting his body that, thankfully, reflected his current attire of simple clothes. There was a chill to his injured shoulder that he caught a fleeting feeling of, a brief flash that banished the pulsing waves of pain that would radiate from it, letting him move it like normal.
Helbram rolled his shoulder as he looked around, “I suppose that is a good start…”
He stopped as his eyes fell upon an expected sight.
A man that was as tall as him, but with a wider and sturdier build. Their hair was similar, though the burly man’s was more well kept than his. There was steel in his brown eyes, but the man’s face was a kindly one, possessing a gentle smile that brought an ache to Helbram’s heart.
His father walked up to him, arms open and welcoming.
“At last, we meet.”
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___
Author's Note: I wanted to use this chapter to flesh out the character of Sophia a bit. I didn't want her to be some simple Maiden of the Sword that did not appear that much in the story itself, and I feel like this goes a long way in giving her some dimension beyond what was shown of her before. Let me know how I did!
If you wish to read ahead and gain access to the audiobook version of this story, consider supporting me on Patreon. If you want to leave a donation, here is my Ko-fi. More than any of that though, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have yourself a very wonderful day! :)
submitted by grierks to HFY [link] [comments]
The night air was brisk without his armor, and he could feel gooseflesh travel across his skin when a soft gale brushed through the empty street. There was a small thought at the back of Helbram’s mind that told him that removing his armor was a poor choice where he was going, but he did so anyway.
He was done fighting for today.
The Troll’s face flashed through his mind. His eyes in shock, brimmed with tears as its heart stopped beating from the spear that was embedded into his chest. Helbram shook his head to banish the image from his thoughts, but as he did the soreness to his body became all the more evident. Embers of pain rested in his arms, reminding him of how he pulled at the rope with all his strength.
Only for it all to amount to nothing.
Helbram closed his eyes and sighed before looking ahead, catching the sight of Sophia walking ahead of him.
“I thank you for your assistance,” Helbram said, “Elly may have been putting on a brave face but she took the hardest hit out of all of us.”
“It is the least I could do, healing is one of my duties,” The Maiden of the Sword glanced back, “Though from what I can tell, you require it more than she did.”
Helbram’s shoulder throbbed as she spoke, and he had to admit that she was correct. While the shield had absorbed most of the Troll’s blow, his shoulder took the rest, and he had the misfortune of landing on it when he hit the ground. The rush of battle and haze of his own anger had dulled the pain previously, but when all that had faded, he found himself hesitant to even move his arm for fear of the fire that would lance through him if he did so.
He clutched his shoulder with his uninjured hand, “Perhaps you are correct… though I will tolerate it for now. Let it serve as a reminder.”
Sophia nodded, and let silence fall over them again. They remained that way until they arrived at the Shrine. The water of the sea below reflected the blackness of the night above, but the restlessness of its waves allowed for no clear image of the starry night above to appear over its visage. When they crossed the bridge to the Shrine’s island, Sophia turned, avoiding the front doors and walking off to the building’s side. Helbram quirked an eyebrow and looked at her, and The Maiden only glanced at him before motioning for him to follow her.
He did, but he took in a small breath and focused his Ether into his ears. The sounds of the waves below grew more prominent along with Sophia’s own footsteps, but he could hear no other sounds. Helbram relaxed his posture when he did not detect anyone nearby and picked up his pace, walking right behind Sophia as she guided him to the back of the building. A cliff spiked from the isolated isle like a blade, pointing to the near full moon that glowed so brightly in the sky, casting its pale light across the cliff and the back of the building.
At the base of the cliff was, to Helbram’s surprise, a trapdoor. It was of the same wood of the Shrine’s own entrance and was surrounded by a border of the same pale stone. Its make was noticeably less elaborate, much more weathered than the building that loomed over it, evidenced by the rounded corners of the stone’s border.
Sophia pulled the trap door open, revealing a staircase. Rather than crafted, its stone steps appeared to be carved from the earth itself, and lead down far enough that he could only catch the hint of light at its bottom.
Helbram pressed his lips thin and looked at The Maiden, “Pardon my caution, but I am none too fond of going down mysterious doorways.”
Sophia frowned, “As understandable as your caution is, there are far less conspicuous locations for me to try and trap you.”
There was a bluntness to her voice that bled through her polite demeanor, revealing only a glimpse at the woman that sat behind the mantle of The Maiden.
Helbram snorted, “Fair enough, but ladies first.”
Her frown deepened, but she walked through the trap door first. Helbram waited a moment before following her, leaving the trap door open behind him as he made his way down the stairs. The air was still as he walked down the stairs, but the once distant sound of crashing waves grew closer,and clearer the further down that he went. The reason for this was made obvious when he reached the bottom of the stairs and was greeted by the cave that sat at its end.
It was not large, its size barely providing enough room for the small table and two chairs that sat at its center, rustic pieces crafted from lumber so worn it could be mistaken for driftwood. The far end of the cave opened out to the sea below, a simplistic railing of the same weathered wood serving as its border. Water crashed below, spraying the railing with a light mist. He could see the waves themselves reaching the lips of the cave on stormier days, but on this night he found the sight mesmerizing, its calmness a far cry from the chaos that occurred earlier in the night.
Sophia took a seat at the table and motioned towards the opposite chair, “Please, sit down.”
Helbram made his way to the table, noting that his height was enough that he felt the tip of his hair brush against the cave’s roof. Ducking instinctively, he took his seat as he looked out to the sea.
“I must admit, this is quite the unusual spot,” he said, “Never would I have guessed that such a hideaway existed.”
Sophia joined him in looking out towards the waves. When he looked out to her, the mask of the Maiden could no longer be seen. Gone was the serenity from her face, the stillness to her features, replaced by eyes cast downward, unable to look up as worry gradually furrowed her brow. Her upright posture was now slouched, hunched over as if the weight of the world sat upon her shoulders.
“It was made by those that built the Shrine,” she explained, a tiredness overhanging her voice, “It served as their place of respite, away from the town above.”
She looked at him, “Away from the voice of the Sword that whispered into their ears.”
Helbram nodded, understanding her point, “That is interesting… I wonder why that is.”
Sophia shrugged, “I have heard tales that those sailing the Black Sea will sometimes find their spells and magitek disrupted. Perhaps that is the reason.”
He rubbed his chin, “Would the Sword not notice your absence?”
The tired woman sat back in her chair, letting out a sigh, “If it has before, it has not made mention of it, and I am hardly the first Maiden to utilize this space for their own peace of mind,” she tapped her fingers against the table, “Besides, it has been preoccupied as of late, speaking to those it has chosen,” she looked him in the eye, “You among them.”
Helbram kept his expression blank, “I do not know what you speak of.”
“I am not a fool, Helbram,” she said, the spark of irritation in her voice fading to weariness, “Aside from the brief moment that you laid your hands on it, I am exposed to its voice at all times. It spoke to Marcus, to Marjorie… to you.”
He crossed his fingers and rested them against the table, “...yes, it did, but I spoke true when I told you it did not choose me.”
“It did not say it overtly to any of you three, yet it chooses to speak to you three among all others, and of all those that it spoke with, it is only with you that it appeared so earnest,” she said, “I could feel its desire as it reached out to you, speaking to you with visions of memories past.”
“How much did you see?” He asked.
“Glimpses,” she said, “the sight of a large, damaged rock, of a man splitting stone without an ounce of effort, but no more than that. I did not wish to glimpse too much. I saw even less of Marjorie’s.”
“And of Marcus?”
She closed her eyes, “Of that, I saw everything, felt everything. The hand that reached out to his father as he abandoned them, the tears that fell down his eyes as he cried with his mother. The anger, the sorrow, the burning flame of desire to surpass the man that left them behind… for the Sword that will grant that wish. It senses it, it calls to it, kindling the fire with trauma that should be long past, growing it with each passing moment.”
Sophia opened her eyes, the steel behind their gaze giving him pause, ‘Which is why he must never have it.”
Helbram regarded her words, resting his uninjured arm on the table, “And so you come to me.”
Sophia nodded, “Tell me, when you looked upon the murals within the Shrine, what was it that you saw?”
Helbram recalled the pictures that sat above the Sword, “The story of a hero, felling a great darkness that had befallen a land and making the ultimate sacrifice to finish it off for good,” he searched Sophia’s eyes as he spoke, noting that his recounting of the tale did nothing to bring a reaction to her expression, “But that is not what you see, is it?”
The tired woman sat back and sighed, “What you see is a vision of the past, what I see is prophecy.”
Helbram looked at her with questioning eyes.
“Not in the literal sense,” she said, brushing her silver hair aside, “all who look upon the mural praise the glory of the hero and his actions. None have ever considered the perspective of the hero himself.”
Helbram said nothing as Sophia continued.
“They see a man chosen to wield a powerful sword, chosen to banish an all consuming evil from his home. They see a man of great strength, of power that is to be admired and coveted… of a sacrifice that rings true of all heroes of legend. But what do they not see?”
She leaned forward, grabbing the edges of the table with a grip tight enough to turn her knuckles pale, “Do they see the weight of such responsibility? The pressure of the expectation that is placed upon a hero? Are they aware of the pain that man must have gone through, the abject terror and tribulations that plagued him as he not only fought that darkness, but harbored it within him until he found no other choice than to smother the very light of his own life?”
Sophia looked into Helbram’s eyes, “No, they do not. They see the opportunity for glory, the means to powers that they could only dream of, blissfully unaware that the tale of a hero is not one of such heights, but of peaks amidst a tide of lows that will erode a man’s very soul.”
Helbram leaned back, “And that is what you wish to spare Marcus from.”
Her eyes widened, “You are as perceptive as I hoped.”
“You would not be speaking like this were Marjorie were on your mind,” Helbram explained.
Sophia closed her eyes and loosened her grip on the table, “Of that… you are correct.”
He crossed his arm, “Do you not believe that he can handle the Sword?”
She shook her head, “I know full well that Marcus would be able to wield it, to bear the responsibilities that would come with it. Yes, he is naive, and untrained, but at his core he is a strong, good man,” her voice grew soft, “I have known ever since we were children, yet I would spare him of the burden all the same.”
“And place it onto me,” Helbram kept his voice and posture relaxed, studying Sophia’s body language carefully, “why not Marjorie? She would be more than eager to claim the Sword.”
She frowned, “Great though my desires may be, I do not aim to be foolish in my choices. Of the two others that the Sword speaks to, I trust you the most to take it.”
“And why is that?”
“Marjorie hungers for it, with a desire that I daresay matches that of Marcus’s, perhaps even more. But whereas Marcus’s rages like a flame hers serves to drown me like the ocean,” She motioned to Helbram, “You, however, seem almost adverse to the Sword, regardless of its desire for you to wield it. If you were to be the one to draw it… then perhaps you would be the one to best wield its power.”
Helbram nodded, “And so you deem me worthy enough to bear the burdens that you do not wish to befall Marcus. While I appreciate the honesty, I must say you are doing a rather poor job of convincing me to do so.”
Sophia did not look away, “You strike me as an honorable man. It would be unfair of me to try and deceive you.”
He snorted, “Marcus is indeed quite lucky to be in your care. I can see why he is enamored by you.”
A blush races across Sophia’s cheeks, “That is irrelevant.”
Helbram eyed her with doubt, “Hardly, but I shall prod no further on that subject,” he pressed his lips together and stared at her with a solemn expression, “Regardless, I am afraid I cannot do what you want. I have no intention of drawing the Sword.”
Her eyes became downcast, “May I ask why?”
“I’d say you made a rather compelling case as to why I should not do so,” he said, which brought about a defeated frown from her face, “But, more importantly, I cannot trust it.”
She looked at him with confusion, “What do you mean?”
“The words that it speaks to everyone… whispers that promise some sort of boon, some fulfillment of wishes, or even revelations that are too vague to verify, but broad enough that you cannot help but believe that it was speaking the truth,” he leaned towards Sophia, keeping a spark of anger contained as he grit his teeth, “But the words it spoke to me… I know them to be lies,” he said, feeling his shoulder throb, reminding him of the realities of his weakness, “none knows that more than I. So tell me, how could I draw the Sword when it chooses to lure me in with falsehoods?”
To his surprise, Sophia did not falter. Instead, the tired woman’s expression went still, a calmness to her features that was different from the guise she wore as Maiden.
“Are you certain that it was lying to you?” she asked, her voice steady.
Helbram’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”
“I have seen the Sword speak to countless people,” she said, “And while I do agree that most of what it tells people are shallow statements, I have not known it to be wrong.”
She stood up from the table, walking up to the balcony and staring out to the sea, “When the Sword looks into someone… I am able to see what it sees,” she explained, “I have seen the potential of so many… of men and women seeking fortune, children brought by their parents in hopes that they would be chosen or some revelation of their potential might become apparent. In all of these situations I know what the Sword speaks is true, because I have seen it all as well.”
Sophia turned back towards him, “All except for when you took hold of it.”
Helbram said nothing.
“I do not know why that is, but I know that the Sword was not lying to you. In its eyes, you are the one that possesses the most potential to wield it.”
He grit his teeth, holding back the anger that rose in his chest, “Why would that be? I hold no power aside from a sliver of Ether that a child could cultivate in their sleep. The more that the Sword refers to my potential, the more I am forced to confront that simple, undeniable truth.”
Sophia’s eyes widened as a low growl traced his voice.
“I have traveled through the Six Kingdoms, consulting with scholars, pleading with healers in the hopes of finding some cure for the weakness that plagues me, and none could be found. I have crossed the ocean to Esperia, believing that perhaps that land of magitek could have discovered a method by which I could break the shackles of my own constitution, only to be told that yes, there are methods by which someone with my condition could eventually come to cultivate the strength that is denied to them… but that my particular case was too severe to treat,” his voice descended to resignation, “And in that revelation I found myself wandering, finding my way to the Freemarks, being given hope in a brief moment where I managed to do what was thought impossible by my own hands, finding companions that I do not deserve.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, “Hope that is smothered the more that I am forced to confront the reality that, in my own arrogance, I thought I could ignore for a time,” He stood up from his chair and walked towards the stairs, “I am not the one that will wield the Sword, “ he did not face Sophia as he spoke, “ I am sorry.”
He made way to the stairs.
“What if you spoke to the Sword further?” Sophia asked, steel in her voice.
Helbram stopped and looked back at her.
“You only touched the Sword for an instant, hearing its voice for only a moment,” she said, “Will you not give it a chance to explain itself further? To know for certain if the words it speaks are indeed the lies you believe them to be?”
Resolution was clear in her eyes, but Helbram could also see the desperation under it all.
He took a deep breath, “Marcus is indeed fortunate to have someone cherish him so… Fine, I will speak to the Sword once more.”
Sophia’s chest fell in relief, “I will take you to it now.”
He did not say much as they made their way back to the front of the Shrine, but as Sophia unlocked its doors and moved to go inside, he grasped her shoulder to stop her.
“I will speak with it alone,” he said, his voice calm, but with a weight behind it that gave her pause.
She bit her lip, brow furrowed in uncertainty, but she eventually nodded, “I will wait for you out here.”
Helbram gave her a small smile, “I thank you.”
He brushed past her and into the shrine, closing the door behind him. The Shrine was enshrouded by the night’s shadows, with only the tree at its center illuminated by the pale moonlight that leaked in from above. As he walked closer to the blackened wood his eyes wandered back to the murals that sat above. The tale of the nameless hero held a sadder tone to it within the pale light, and as Helbram stared at the image of the hero impaling himself with his sword, he could not help but understand the fear that Sophia felt.
He sighed again, “Gods, how do I find myself in these situations?”
His eyes fell back to the Sword, its silver make glimmering further in the as moonlight danced upon its exposed surface. The sight alone was entracing enough to drive him closer out of sheer curiosity, and to his surprise, there was no compulsion that moved him as there was at the beginning of the day.
He snorted, “Want to leave it as my own choice, I see…”
He rolled his good shoulder and took in a breath, staring at the blade’s handle. He grasped it before doubt could overcome him, and as he did, all went black.
The void surrounded him again, its formless floor supporting his body that, thankfully, reflected his current attire of simple clothes. There was a chill to his injured shoulder that he caught a fleeting feeling of, a brief flash that banished the pulsing waves of pain that would radiate from it, letting him move it like normal.
Helbram rolled his shoulder as he looked around, “I suppose that is a good start…”
He stopped as his eyes fell upon an expected sight.
A man that was as tall as him, but with a wider and sturdier build. Their hair was similar, though the burly man’s was more well kept than his. There was steel in his brown eyes, but the man’s face was a kindly one, possessing a gentle smile that brought an ache to Helbram’s heart.
His father walked up to him, arms open and welcoming.
“At last, we meet.”
First / Previous / Next
___
Author's Note: I wanted to use this chapter to flesh out the character of Sophia a bit. I didn't want her to be some simple Maiden of the Sword that did not appear that much in the story itself, and I feel like this goes a long way in giving her some dimension beyond what was shown of her before. Let me know how I did!
If you wish to read ahead and gain access to the audiobook version of this story, consider supporting me on Patreon. If you want to leave a donation, here is my Ko-fi. More than any of that though, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have yourself a very wonderful day! :)
2023.05.28 20:31 matrixmg1 GTA 5 ALL FIRE TRUCK Location GTAV 2022
 | submitted by matrixmg1 to u/matrixmg1 [link] [comments] |
2023.05.28 20:29 RXCmods Cringe wall of rambling stupid bullshit about random shit my brain makes up.
I don't know how to explain anything. I'm simply just too complicated to be properly understood. I'm 14 years old and I've decided to end it all tomorrow. That's it. Actually, I'll try to explain but it won't really be understandable for anyone. I may have mixed up the order in which all of this happened. So it all started 4 years ago or so. I had many friends, always straight A:s on everything at school. My life was going great and I loved going to school every day to study and meet friends. Then my parents started fighting because my dad started to act almost violently towards me, my mom, and my little sister under the influence of alcohol after drinking wine on the weekends. My parents decided to break up after 16 years or so of being together and my dad moved out to a different house and started dating new people, specifically Thai women for some reason. It was very painful for me that they broke up. On top of that, my father's mom died and that was incredibly painful for me as I had met her almost every week for my entire life. I had never seen my father's dad as he died quite young in the 90s from a heart attack I think. He smoked a lot and didn’t live very healthily. We never had any contact with my mother's parents as they lived very far away from Sweden, which is where I've lived my entire life. One lived in Turkey and the other lived in Tunisia. I don't know if they even know that I exist. Anyways, my father's mom was the only person in my family that I still had contact with so that was as I said incredibly painful. My grandma who died had some other relative in Finland who had sent me letters, money, and gifts a couple of times. In the letters, he said that he wants to meet me sometime, but he died about a week after my grandma due to the same reason as her, cancer probably because my Finnish relatives didn't live very healthily. Then a few months later someone had written something bad on the teacher's chair. I was pretty sure I knew who it was. but for some reason, I took the blame for it. The guy that did it was that one guy who always causes and gets in trouble all the time. So I took the blame for it for absolutely no reason or simply because I'm stupid or whatever. That's when things turned around in my life. We had a bunch of meetings with the teacher and my parents discussing why I did it and stuff and I tried to tell them the actual truth, but obviously, it just seems like I just can't take the consequences or whatever. The teacher had always been nice to me and I liked that teacher because she gave me work at school that matched my level of skill, usually work from 4 school years above. After I made the false confession, I was the guy that got all the blame for everything that the other trouble kid was doing. I never talked to him or anything, he was in a completely different gang of friends, often with older people. I've never been that guy who caused any trouble at all, so getting all the blame for everything that the trouble kid was doing was incredibly painful. The stuff included: Stealing things, putting sharp stuff on the floors, destroying things, etc. So that continued happening until the next year of school when I got another teacher. This teacher refused to give me work that was challenging and just gave me the same really easy stuff that all the other students were working with. I tried to talk about it with my parents and the teacher but it seems like they had just forgotten that I was above the other students in terms of knowledge levels. Maybe I did just lose a lot of intelligence over the summer break, but it doesn't make sense to suddenly drop 4 years of knowledge in 2 months from not attending school or whatever. We had P.E. together with the older people for some reason and one day we played soccer. I've always hated soccer and I'm really bad at it. Team sports are not my thing. So I did very bad and the older people started swearing at me and one guy pretended like I hurt them, which the P.E teacher actually believed. So my parents are wondering what happened to me, I used to be a really good student and now I'm suddenly writing bad stuff to the teachers, destroying stuff and hurting people, all because I made a false confession once. To this day they still think I did all this. So the older people started bullying me a lot and rumors about me started going around and everyone believed in them. The people that did all this stuff could do basically whatever they want, blame me, and get away with it. I've heard them say some very bad things about me when they think I'm not there. And in 2021, my really good friends that I had since 2018 no longer talked to me. I think it was because they believed in all those rumors about me that even my teacher believed in so much one of them even said to me: "You are so fucking stupid". So when the summer break started: I had lost all my friends, family members died, gotten bullied by teachers and students, parents divorced, and probably more that I'd just forgotten about. Yea, there is. So after my parents divorced, my mom met a new guy who was very nice and had a son around my age. We were the same age, had the same interests and we were really good friends. One day my mom broke up with her new guy, turns out he's been cheating on her for months. So I lost contact with my only friend as the only times we met were when my mom met him. It was incredibly painful to lose my only friend on top of everything I was already going through. I've never had any phone number for any friend or anything. To this day the only phone numbers I have are my parents whom I haven't talked to on the phone I think ever. So I started a new school after the summer of 2021 because the school where all this happened didn't have classes for people my age. All my old friends started a private school which they had been queueing for their entire life. I was hoping to get some new friends and get back to my normal life. Little did I know things were only about to get way worse than they've ever been. This school was a very sketchy and old school that I had heard some very bad things about but decided to start anyways mostly because of its location. So right off the start, on the first day of school, they failed to provide instructions on where to go, and I was late because I had to find someone who knew where I was supposed to go. It was already a pretty big red sign as they had promised in a mail that somebody was supposed to lead me to the right place. Anyways, the school seemed quite normal until I had been there for a few weeks. That's when I realized I'm not going to get any friends at this school. Everyone there is just so different from me. They all are the average kid my age who plays soccer, and boring video games, and use their phone for hours every day. I stopped talking entirely at this school due to many reasons, but mostly because there simply was no need to talk when there was no one to talk to about anything. The school did kind of realize I was different and needed special support, but promised a lot that they never actually delivered. They did realize I need more difficult work but always forgot about it. By not talking, I have developed a fear of talking, also known as extreme social anxiety which plagues me to this day. I've always had trouble concentrating when there are noises in the background, which I hadn't really realized before I started here. This school is on a completely different level than anything I've ever seen before. The best way to describe it is total anarchy. Also one of 3 schools in the entire country that has security cameras, the other 2 being famous for their serious problems. This school is for me, constant mental torture. As I said the school is very old, built in the 70s and most of the furniture is probably original. Everything looks so disgusting and torn down. The floors, the walls, everything. The bathrooms were straight out of silent hill. I forgot to mention that I had developed some form of eating disorder at the previous school, which still plagues me to this day. Haven't consumed school food since 2020. So I went depressed, hungry, and extremely mad in school every day. My suicidal thoughts started in 2022. My parents, and teachers all knew everything I thought about the school, but my teachers really didn't have time to do anything. We decided that I'll be working alone in a different room than the rest of the class. The room was the same room we did important tests in. So we started doing that, and it actually worked well for the first weeks, until my teachers simply forgot that I'm working in that room. They stopped giving me the stuff to work on and gave me absent status on every lesson. The teachers had suddenly just completely forgotten about my entire existence. So I went to school every day to enter a room and stare at a clock for 6 hours a day, failed multiple subjects because as I said, teachers completely forgot about my existence. That's when my suicidal thoughts really started coming up often. We had meetings sometimes with the school and they kept promising things they actually didn't have the capability to offer. Tons of misunderstandings and changes that just made things even worse. One day, my teacher told me that the school had hired a new special teacher that is educated about the things that I struggled with. I met him once and turns out we have really similar interests. We discussed them the entire day. Then the next day he was sick. He was sick for weeks until returning once after weeks of me sitting in that room staring at the clock, going insane and flipping furniture, breaking things, etc. Massive thanks to my mom who have been very supportive and pushed for school to give me what I need. The issues were just on the school's side. So the school ended up promising they'll solve this stuff after the summer break of 2022, and that I'll work with him in the room and a bunch of solutions to my problems that sounded great and would finally fix my life to almost normal. A few days before school started, my teacher announced I'll be getting some completely different teachers who knew nothing about my issues and that the special help guy would not meet me again as he had started a completely different job in some other school. This is where I begin to realize that when things seem to be getting better, they're actually only getting worse. It was like I started from scratch again with everything. My new teachers thought I was just an average student, they knew nothing about the issues I have at school. After a few weeks of going there, in the classrooms, not working because of my issues, my mom came to me with what seemed like the best news I'd ever gotten in my life. I got a place in that private school that all my old friends went to. There are only good things heard about this school, and I thought I'll be able to get my old friends back and get back to my normal life with friends, good grades, and good teachers. I hadn't been this happy in a very long time. Little did I know things were only about to get even worse. I started this school in a completely different class than all of my friends, in a different part of the building with tons of people who knew a lot about me, even though I didn't know their names and still don't. The issues that I had developed didn't just disappear because I switched to a new school. I still have extreme social anxiety and autism and I still can't eat school food. In my opinion this school is actually only worse than my previous, where I thought it just couldn't get any worse. Mainly due to the same reason the previous school sucked. It ain't the schools that suck, it's me. I'm the problem causing all of this. I'm the most annoying kid a parent could ever have and the most annoying student a teacher can ever have. There is no problem with school. It's all made up by my mind and I can't get over it. There's still a lot more that happened that has led me into this decision. but I've been typing for a long time and I'm too tired to continue on with this wall of cringy bullshit. There is only one way out.
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2023.05.28 19:52 Just-a-guy-for-you 40 [M4F] Europe/Anywhere seeking a serious relationship! Please read my post in full! I am very genuine
Hi ladies I’m a 40 year old guy I am originally from England and currently living in another part of Europe for the last few years I’m not giving out my exactly location on this post.
I am a very well spoken guy you could say I sound a bit posh the way I speak I have a strong south English accent I am originally from Reading Berkshire and I later lived in Oxford England before moving to where I am now.
What I am looking for is a serious relationship that leads to marriage that’s based on love and friendship. I have very strong morals boundaries and standards I live by. I have never used dating apps at all I never will to be honest I don’t think there a good idea at all. I know I’ll be a good loyal man to you and a good father I won’t ever abandon my children and walk away from them.I know also be a really good lover to you too
I do not Watch Porn i have no addictions I don’t smoke I don’t drink heavily and I’ve never touched any illegal drugs. Porn is causing unrealistic expectations in relationships I have no unrealistic expectations for intimate things once I get in a relationship. I have no other addictions and I’m in very good health with no serious health conditions
Intimacy is something I only want to have with one woman and is something I also don’t want to rush into I want to take our time getting to know each other properly. I really want to be a father in the future very much so I want a woman that also wants children the same as me.
I want to be In a loving caring supportive relationship and marriage. I believe that being intimate should be very special between two people and it should also be gentle between two people. I am a Virgin and I am not interested In any kind of meaningless stuff.
I could never have an affair or cheat on someone as I say I only want to be with one woman and share my body with one woman. Ideally I’d also prefer to be with a woman that’s also a virgin.
I only want to be married once in my life this is why I haven’t settled yet I don’t just want to settle with just anyone. Another thing is I’m extremely family orientated family is very important for me in fact I actually live with my parents at the moment I have no desire to live by myself I’m not someone that likes living alone so you will have to be okay with that and also the fact I don’t work at the moment again you will have to be okay with that from the get go.
My interests include photography gym swimming nature beaches walking camping hiking travel reading music I love classical music I listen to classic FM uk during the day which is classical music 24/7. I also love food Im a big foodie! I also love animals especially cats and dogs! I love technology too. I also love eating in good restaurants and red wine is my favourite drink I know a few good eating spots! I am also a very strong swimmer I would love to hear from women that also love swimming as this is something I’d love to do together!
I am not vegan or vegetarian I love meat and dairy foods. I love Italian Indian Mexican food cooking from scratch is how I mostly roll and I don’t eat much sugary foods or processed or junk foods.
I am also not liberal and I don’t follow any liberal political movements including woks culture I’d like the someone who is the same as me on that.
I am 6ft 4 dark blonde hair hazel eyes rugby player build and Natural smooth body which means I’m naturally smooth chest back arms and legs. I have freckles on my arms and legs plus big hands and feet. I do havé a big frame to go with it. I have a very deep manly voice too which I’ve been told women really like and I don’t aspire to look like men on social media and reality tv I have a very natural body type I prefer Being natural basically I embrace being natural.
In a woman I like a natural body type and no heavy makeup fake tan fake nails fake hair extensions fake eyelashes. I do also like women that don’t show too much off that dress conservatively and modestly plus you don’t wear too skimpy bikini on the beach. You also don’t aspire to look like women on social media and reality tv. Basically I like women that have a completely natural body and are natural all over. I do find women that are feminine and embrace there feminine side extremely attractive can’t tell you how attracted I am to that.
Please also be kind caring sweet easygoing gentle supportive trustworthy genuine and You have never done any meaningless stuff at all and have never cheated or had an affair either ideally as I say I’d prefer you to also be a virgin.
Please mention the word milkshakes when you send me a message and tell me more about you your age location and what you are most passionate about please don’t just say hi or hey or hello I’m unlikely to respond to that at all.
submitted by Just-a-guy-for-you to R4R40Plus [link] [comments]
I am a very well spoken guy you could say I sound a bit posh the way I speak I have a strong south English accent I am originally from Reading Berkshire and I later lived in Oxford England before moving to where I am now.
What I am looking for is a serious relationship that leads to marriage that’s based on love and friendship. I have very strong morals boundaries and standards I live by. I have never used dating apps at all I never will to be honest I don’t think there a good idea at all. I know I’ll be a good loyal man to you and a good father I won’t ever abandon my children and walk away from them.I know also be a really good lover to you too
I do not Watch Porn i have no addictions I don’t smoke I don’t drink heavily and I’ve never touched any illegal drugs. Porn is causing unrealistic expectations in relationships I have no unrealistic expectations for intimate things once I get in a relationship. I have no other addictions and I’m in very good health with no serious health conditions
Intimacy is something I only want to have with one woman and is something I also don’t want to rush into I want to take our time getting to know each other properly. I really want to be a father in the future very much so I want a woman that also wants children the same as me.
I want to be In a loving caring supportive relationship and marriage. I believe that being intimate should be very special between two people and it should also be gentle between two people. I am a Virgin and I am not interested In any kind of meaningless stuff.
I could never have an affair or cheat on someone as I say I only want to be with one woman and share my body with one woman. Ideally I’d also prefer to be with a woman that’s also a virgin.
I only want to be married once in my life this is why I haven’t settled yet I don’t just want to settle with just anyone. Another thing is I’m extremely family orientated family is very important for me in fact I actually live with my parents at the moment I have no desire to live by myself I’m not someone that likes living alone so you will have to be okay with that and also the fact I don’t work at the moment again you will have to be okay with that from the get go.
My interests include photography gym swimming nature beaches walking camping hiking travel reading music I love classical music I listen to classic FM uk during the day which is classical music 24/7. I also love food Im a big foodie! I also love animals especially cats and dogs! I love technology too. I also love eating in good restaurants and red wine is my favourite drink I know a few good eating spots! I am also a very strong swimmer I would love to hear from women that also love swimming as this is something I’d love to do together!
I am not vegan or vegetarian I love meat and dairy foods. I love Italian Indian Mexican food cooking from scratch is how I mostly roll and I don’t eat much sugary foods or processed or junk foods.
I am also not liberal and I don’t follow any liberal political movements including woks culture I’d like the someone who is the same as me on that.
I am 6ft 4 dark blonde hair hazel eyes rugby player build and Natural smooth body which means I’m naturally smooth chest back arms and legs. I have freckles on my arms and legs plus big hands and feet. I do havé a big frame to go with it. I have a very deep manly voice too which I’ve been told women really like and I don’t aspire to look like men on social media and reality tv I have a very natural body type I prefer Being natural basically I embrace being natural.
In a woman I like a natural body type and no heavy makeup fake tan fake nails fake hair extensions fake eyelashes. I do also like women that don’t show too much off that dress conservatively and modestly plus you don’t wear too skimpy bikini on the beach. You also don’t aspire to look like women on social media and reality tv. Basically I like women that have a completely natural body and are natural all over. I do find women that are feminine and embrace there feminine side extremely attractive can’t tell you how attracted I am to that.
Please also be kind caring sweet easygoing gentle supportive trustworthy genuine and You have never done any meaningless stuff at all and have never cheated or had an affair either ideally as I say I’d prefer you to also be a virgin.
Please mention the word milkshakes when you send me a message and tell me more about you your age location and what you are most passionate about please don’t just say hi or hey or hello I’m unlikely to respond to that at all.