Patio triangle shade cover
Hydroquinone with Sun Exposure
2023.06.03 23:10 workit88 Hydroquinone with Sun Exposure
Hi,
I have been wanting to try hydroquinone for a while now. I have some sunspots on my face I would like to fade. For about a year I was using tret but stopped recently because I think it is causing more sun spots and making my skin hypersensitive to the sun. Problem is that I live in the tropics. I use sunscreen every day (Riemann p20 for kids spf 50) and wear a hat while in the the sun or stay under shade cover.
Is hydroquinone safe & effective to use while getting sun exposure? Even as much as I try to avoid the sun, it is always out in full force.
I was going to order some from AllDayChemist. Anyone have a brand from ADC that they like? I am aware of the time limits of using hydroquinone.
Thanks!
submitted by workit88 to 30PlusSkinCare [link] [comments]
I have been wanting to try hydroquinone for a while now. I have some sunspots on my face I would like to fade. For about a year I was using tret but stopped recently because I think it is causing more sun spots and making my skin hypersensitive to the sun. Problem is that I live in the tropics. I use sunscreen every day (Riemann p20 for kids spf 50) and wear a hat while in the the sun or stay under shade cover.
Is hydroquinone safe & effective to use while getting sun exposure? Even as much as I try to avoid the sun, it is always out in full force.
I was going to order some from AllDayChemist. Anyone have a brand from ADC that they like? I am aware of the time limits of using hydroquinone.
Thanks!
2023.06.03 23:07 pharkas257 Deck tiles over cracked concrete patio
I am considering rehabing my 400 sq ft concrete patio by covering it with composite deck tiles. The concrete is cracked in many places which has created uneven edges (differences in height on either side of the cracks). The largest is about 1" as shown in the picture.
Before laying down deck tiles, what would be the best way to address the uneven surface? Would it be OK to just lay down some gravel around some of the lower spots? I am not really concerned about looks given that it would be covered; I just want a relatively flat surface.
Pics: https://imgur.com/gallery/dHQxcFJ
submitted by pharkas257 to HomeImprovement [link] [comments]
Before laying down deck tiles, what would be the best way to address the uneven surface? Would it be OK to just lay down some gravel around some of the lower spots? I am not really concerned about looks given that it would be covered; I just want a relatively flat surface.
Pics: https://imgur.com/gallery/dHQxcFJ
2023.06.03 22:13 KyleKKent Out of Cruel Space, part 702
First
Capes and Conundrums
“So wait, I missed what?” Robin asks into his communicator. Apparently whatever was going back at base was too cool for him to be left out of.
“New kit! An infinite grenade launcher, what’s looking like magic freaking wands, explosive gel and more! Hell! We can all get Pop Guns now?”
“Aren’t those the rifles that WILL pop your shoulder out of it’s socket if you fire it wrong?”
“Yep! Man portable and dangerous to starfighters!” The man on the other end boasts.
“And pop your ears out if you don’t have some kind of Axiom bullshit to silence it or hearing protection.”
“Right, well maybe it’s just me, but I think a gun that can kick people that are neither being shot by it or shooting it is a little excessive.” Robin remarks. “I’ll check the firing range and armoury later. Is there anything else?”
“We can kick up flaming tornadoes with some of the new toys?” The man on the other side asks.
“Stop interrupting my date.” Robin says before hanging up.
“That was kind of rude.” Alviara notes and Robin shrugs before pausing.
“Wait, is that on my part or on...” He starts to ask before a scream cuts through the air. It’s one of the teenagers that have been more or less stalking them.
“Should we?” He asks and Alviara nods and then proves herself to be no slouch in Axiom movement as she teleports to the edge of the roof. Robin is there in a moment. The girls are scattering away from something with screams of terror, several are trying to fight something off. Something that Robin tackles directly into and rolls with it along the edge of a skyscraper tier before getting his hand around their throat.
His pinned target has not been stunned and has zero chill as a bloody knife is thrust towards Robin’s eye and he’s forced to give up the grip to save his eye.
“What’s the matter!? I thought you liked killers around here? What’s the matter? Not enough purple?” The demented Lutrin asks. She has a vaguely stained purple jacket open to reveal a sports bra underneath and she’s squeezed into filthy and torn pants, also stained purple. Her left wrist has a small electrical fob on it with a hollow Green Triangle on it. A Lutrin symbol of health, a medical band.
“Shit, shit! Shit!” Alviara exclaims over the wounded teenager. “You! Call an ambulance! I need to keep pressure on the wound or she’s going to bleed out!”
“Who are you?” Robin asks and the Lutrin starts smiling wide.
“I...” She begins and he’s already moving. He just wanted her somewhat distracted. But apparently she’s far from that unalert as she swings the knife a few more times before vanishing in a chaotic whirl of Axiom and appearing behind him. He turns in time to catch the blow, but she’s enhanced it in such a way that he’s sent skidding to the edge of the tier even as she break she breaks her own fist.
“Yeowchkabibbles! Big man’s been eating his wheeties!” She exclaims in a tone that shifts through at least three levels of mania. “Hey! You’re CHEATing!”
“Idiot.” Robin remarks as he tucks away the medical band he ripped off her wrist. It should have all the information he needs on her. Now he just needs to take her down.
“Cheating cheating CHEATING!” She rants and then the Axiom jolts around her according to her demented and manic will.
Robin parries what seems to be a ghost of the woman as he just barely gets his boot knife up in time. The Axiom twists and he drives his opposite elbow into the forming gut of another illusion as the original blurs at him while wildly swinging the knife.
She catches a solid boot in the stomach and is sent tumbling. Her focus on the Axiom constructs never wavers though despite her rising up with a groan and Robin catches the wrist of the rallied illusion that walks on air out above the street.
“Naughty naughty... little boys are for cutting not for...” The madwoman begins to rant as she gathers her knife up again and Robin’s patience dies.
Both illusions receive bone snapping blows and his knife buries itself in her left knee and as she starts to scream he draws his pistol, takes aim, and then shatters her right kneecap with a single shot.
The illusions fade and before the Madwoman can even focus Robin stomps on her arm and feels it snap. She screams in agony.
“I don’t know what kind of crazy you are. But a word of advice. Don’t start fights you can’t finish. Especially not with the armed and dangerous.” Robin chides her and he hears a slow clap. Above is a Feli woman slowly applauding.
“I was indeed wondering what would happen if this little comic book city would have an actual comic come to life. Good to know we’re in a darker version like Alan Moore’s Watchmen.”
“Did you set this woman loose?” Robin asks.
“Confessing to such a thing would-” The woman begins before a bullet crashes into an energy shield she has outside the visible spectrum. “Oh! Very nice! Well placed shot! That would have gone clear through my collarbone!”
“Surrender or die.” Robin says lowly and the Feli grins.
“No.” She says before suddenly seizing up and then her appearance fades entirely as a prosthetic body falls to the ground like a puppet with it’s strings cut.
“Hmm...” Robin mutters. In the distance he can hear the ambulance coming and it’s been maybe three minutes since they were called. So that’s good reaction time if nothing else. Still... who’s doing this and why? He needs to report this directly to Admiral Hynala. This is the sort of thing that requires his direct attention.
“Why... why so serious?” The Joker wannabe asks and Robin resists the urge to just shoot her in the head. She’s not going anywhere and is in too much pain to actually cause further harm.
He resists the urge to threaten the idiot as he dials the contact for the Admiral’s direct contact. It’s every inch an emergencies only thing and he risks a heft pay dock if he uses it frivolously.
“Admiral Hynala.” The all business voice of the local admiral states.
“I’ve just stopped a Joker cosplayer from murdering a young woman and an ambulance is on approach. We will need to speak, preferably in person, when I can clear out all the hospital and police formalities.”
“Anything else?”
“Someone with a prosthetic body that projected the image of a Feli woman all but claimed responsibility. So you need to get into contact with the police so we can get all the information possible out of the prosthesis.” Robin states.
“Well reasoned soldier. Anything else?”
“The attacked civilian seems like she’ll make it. Especially as the Ambulance is currently swooping in. So I’ll say no. I will update you whenever new information becomes available.” Robin reports before hanging up. Perhaps rude and he’ll get a bit of a telling off later, but honestly? Priorities.
“How is she?” Robin asks as he kneels down next to Alviarna.
“She’s in shock, but the bleeding is staunched. She’ll live. What about...?” Alviarna asks as she looks over towards the injured and bleeding attacker.
“Disabled, temporarily. Healing comas mean anything shy of a decapitation or ripping out her heart can be excused as non-lethal. So long as she doesn’t pull the knife out like an idiot, she’ll live.”
Police cruisers swoop into the area. Good, he might not have heard it, but clearly there was sense enough to call the police. Good. Very good.
“Hopefully our next date doesn’t end so excitedly.” Robin says with a rueful smile towards Alviarna.
“Hopefully.” She confirms.
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
“Soldier.” Admiral Hynala says as he steps up beside Robin. The man is staring at a monitor that’s just watching the woman in the interrogation room. She had been placed under a small scale healing coma and was no longer at risk of death.
“Her name is Hezalia Cross.” Robin states. “We pulled most of her information off the medical bracelet I got off her. She’s a severe paranoid schizophrenic. A long history of lashing out violently and apparently went missing three years ago. There were apparently markings that she was experimented on, including numerous suture markings over her scalp. These have been cleared away by the healing coma.
“What have they gotten out of her?”
“She’s latched onto the Joker Character. What has me concerned however is her supposed handler. From the interrogation it was a hundred different people bringing her the Joker merchandise and such, but they all acted like one person. Meaning the Feli illusion overtop the prosthetic body could have been anyone, anywhere and to be frank, anything. No species is off the suspect list, and due to the way that these bodies work the perpetrator might not even be in the Skathac system.”
“The question of why is one I cannot help but ask.” Admiral Hynala says.
“That’s the information we don’t have. Information chuckles in there can’t give us.”
“... You pity her.”
“This isn’t the Joker. This isn’t a genius madman with complete and total nihilism trying to break the minds and souls of those around them. This woman isn’t even at the level of Victor Zsasz with a fanatic need to cut people. This is a sick woman who lashes out at her nightmares and I’ve shot, stomped and stabbed her. She should be in a padded cell and slowly working her way out of the hell she’s trapped in, not in an interrogation chamber.”
“I’m glad you’ve kept perspective. You will have some mandatory counselling just in case.” Admiral Hynala states. “Still... it looks like we have more drama on the horizon.”
“Perhaps not.” An officer says walking up to them. “Detective Savage.”
“A pleasure, what have you found?”
“This young woman had been used as a case study and her mind was partially digitized. We’ve caught the program. Effectively her mysterious benefactor was her own cyber-clone. The paranoid schizophrenia with violent tendencies has manifested in different ways digitally and caused her digital daughter to pull her out of her padded cell and try and ‘help’ her by giving her a persona to focus on and wanted to ‘release her to the wild’ where she could be free. The backup to Skathac was a lower Centris Spire chosen at random.”
“I must say, while this is somewhat anti-climatic it is VERY encouraging to see such competence in our allies.” Admiral Hynala states. “Might I inquire as to how you discovered this all so quickly?”
“We would have had it one way or the other. She was still wearing her medical band when she was let loose. Your soldier here ripped it off, but he was assuming she might still be able to escape at the time. So grabbing evidence when opportune is just smart. Anyways, it had a full list of her side effects and issues including the catastrophic failure of trying to use a cybernetic uplink to try and effectively speed her her mental healing. The end result was that they had two of her and one of them was living in cyberspace and had already gotten out into the network like a virus.”
“I see, and how did you catch her?”
“She craves sensation and is paranoid. She bound herself into a main body and destroyed it’s ability to contact a larger network for fear of it eating her. Which meant that we were able to trace things back fairly easily.”
“And being insane means she’s not exactly good at covering her tracks.” Robin notes.
“Exactly.” Detective Savage says. “This is why I argued long and hard with the Chief of Police against the Gothamization of the Skathac. Even if it brings in a lot of money the city of Gotham in the comic books is synonymous with corruption, crime and madness. None of which are good things. Here is madness. How long until Crime and Corruption are rampant as well? How long until this city is Gotham but real?”
“It won’t be. Comics have to follow certain rules. You don’t. There’s nothing stopping you from just shooting the lunatics.” Robin assures her.
“And what stopped you from doing so?” She asks immediately and he gives her an odd look.
“Ma’am. If not for healing comas then she’d be crippled for life or dead. Which is as gentle as I’m willing to go with someone trying to be a legit supervillain. If she was even more threatening, then I would have just straight up killed her and then needed some real therapy for murdering a mentally invalid woman.” Robin says and Detective Savage gives him a long look. The Sonir woman doesn’t break the gaze as she looks for something in him.
“I see. I see... Very much the, do what needs to be done then beg forgiveness type.”
“It works.” Robin says.
“What’s your schedule like?” Detective Savage asks.
“Why?”
“Because it relates to my next question.”
“Which is?” Robin presses.
“Are you seeing anyone?” She asks and Robin blinks.
“I’ll leave you two love bats at it then. I’ll request a formal report on this situation when I return to our base.” Admiral Hynala states with a smirk. It can be hard to not laugh at his soldiers and the silly situations they get caught up in.
First Last
submitted by KyleKKent to HFY [link] [comments]
Capes and Conundrums
“So wait, I missed what?” Robin asks into his communicator. Apparently whatever was going back at base was too cool for him to be left out of.
“New kit! An infinite grenade launcher, what’s looking like magic freaking wands, explosive gel and more! Hell! We can all get Pop Guns now?”
“Aren’t those the rifles that WILL pop your shoulder out of it’s socket if you fire it wrong?”
“Yep! Man portable and dangerous to starfighters!” The man on the other end boasts.
“And pop your ears out if you don’t have some kind of Axiom bullshit to silence it or hearing protection.”
“Right, well maybe it’s just me, but I think a gun that can kick people that are neither being shot by it or shooting it is a little excessive.” Robin remarks. “I’ll check the firing range and armoury later. Is there anything else?”
“We can kick up flaming tornadoes with some of the new toys?” The man on the other side asks.
“Stop interrupting my date.” Robin says before hanging up.
“That was kind of rude.” Alviara notes and Robin shrugs before pausing.
“Wait, is that on my part or on...” He starts to ask before a scream cuts through the air. It’s one of the teenagers that have been more or less stalking them.
“Should we?” He asks and Alviara nods and then proves herself to be no slouch in Axiom movement as she teleports to the edge of the roof. Robin is there in a moment. The girls are scattering away from something with screams of terror, several are trying to fight something off. Something that Robin tackles directly into and rolls with it along the edge of a skyscraper tier before getting his hand around their throat.
His pinned target has not been stunned and has zero chill as a bloody knife is thrust towards Robin’s eye and he’s forced to give up the grip to save his eye.
“What’s the matter!? I thought you liked killers around here? What’s the matter? Not enough purple?” The demented Lutrin asks. She has a vaguely stained purple jacket open to reveal a sports bra underneath and she’s squeezed into filthy and torn pants, also stained purple. Her left wrist has a small electrical fob on it with a hollow Green Triangle on it. A Lutrin symbol of health, a medical band.
“Shit, shit! Shit!” Alviara exclaims over the wounded teenager. “You! Call an ambulance! I need to keep pressure on the wound or she’s going to bleed out!”
“Who are you?” Robin asks and the Lutrin starts smiling wide.
“I...” She begins and he’s already moving. He just wanted her somewhat distracted. But apparently she’s far from that unalert as she swings the knife a few more times before vanishing in a chaotic whirl of Axiom and appearing behind him. He turns in time to catch the blow, but she’s enhanced it in such a way that he’s sent skidding to the edge of the tier even as she break she breaks her own fist.
“Yeowchkabibbles! Big man’s been eating his wheeties!” She exclaims in a tone that shifts through at least three levels of mania. “Hey! You’re CHEATing!”
“Idiot.” Robin remarks as he tucks away the medical band he ripped off her wrist. It should have all the information he needs on her. Now he just needs to take her down.
“Cheating cheating CHEATING!” She rants and then the Axiom jolts around her according to her demented and manic will.
Robin parries what seems to be a ghost of the woman as he just barely gets his boot knife up in time. The Axiom twists and he drives his opposite elbow into the forming gut of another illusion as the original blurs at him while wildly swinging the knife.
She catches a solid boot in the stomach and is sent tumbling. Her focus on the Axiom constructs never wavers though despite her rising up with a groan and Robin catches the wrist of the rallied illusion that walks on air out above the street.
“Naughty naughty... little boys are for cutting not for...” The madwoman begins to rant as she gathers her knife up again and Robin’s patience dies.
Both illusions receive bone snapping blows and his knife buries itself in her left knee and as she starts to scream he draws his pistol, takes aim, and then shatters her right kneecap with a single shot.
The illusions fade and before the Madwoman can even focus Robin stomps on her arm and feels it snap. She screams in agony.
“I don’t know what kind of crazy you are. But a word of advice. Don’t start fights you can’t finish. Especially not with the armed and dangerous.” Robin chides her and he hears a slow clap. Above is a Feli woman slowly applauding.
“I was indeed wondering what would happen if this little comic book city would have an actual comic come to life. Good to know we’re in a darker version like Alan Moore’s Watchmen.”
“Did you set this woman loose?” Robin asks.
“Confessing to such a thing would-” The woman begins before a bullet crashes into an energy shield she has outside the visible spectrum. “Oh! Very nice! Well placed shot! That would have gone clear through my collarbone!”
“Surrender or die.” Robin says lowly and the Feli grins.
“No.” She says before suddenly seizing up and then her appearance fades entirely as a prosthetic body falls to the ground like a puppet with it’s strings cut.
“Hmm...” Robin mutters. In the distance he can hear the ambulance coming and it’s been maybe three minutes since they were called. So that’s good reaction time if nothing else. Still... who’s doing this and why? He needs to report this directly to Admiral Hynala. This is the sort of thing that requires his direct attention.
“Why... why so serious?” The Joker wannabe asks and Robin resists the urge to just shoot her in the head. She’s not going anywhere and is in too much pain to actually cause further harm.
He resists the urge to threaten the idiot as he dials the contact for the Admiral’s direct contact. It’s every inch an emergencies only thing and he risks a heft pay dock if he uses it frivolously.
“Admiral Hynala.” The all business voice of the local admiral states.
“I’ve just stopped a Joker cosplayer from murdering a young woman and an ambulance is on approach. We will need to speak, preferably in person, when I can clear out all the hospital and police formalities.”
“Anything else?”
“Someone with a prosthetic body that projected the image of a Feli woman all but claimed responsibility. So you need to get into contact with the police so we can get all the information possible out of the prosthesis.” Robin states.
“Well reasoned soldier. Anything else?”
“The attacked civilian seems like she’ll make it. Especially as the Ambulance is currently swooping in. So I’ll say no. I will update you whenever new information becomes available.” Robin reports before hanging up. Perhaps rude and he’ll get a bit of a telling off later, but honestly? Priorities.
“How is she?” Robin asks as he kneels down next to Alviarna.
“She’s in shock, but the bleeding is staunched. She’ll live. What about...?” Alviarna asks as she looks over towards the injured and bleeding attacker.
“Disabled, temporarily. Healing comas mean anything shy of a decapitation or ripping out her heart can be excused as non-lethal. So long as she doesn’t pull the knife out like an idiot, she’ll live.”
Police cruisers swoop into the area. Good, he might not have heard it, but clearly there was sense enough to call the police. Good. Very good.
“Hopefully our next date doesn’t end so excitedly.” Robin says with a rueful smile towards Alviarna.
“Hopefully.” She confirms.
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
“Soldier.” Admiral Hynala says as he steps up beside Robin. The man is staring at a monitor that’s just watching the woman in the interrogation room. She had been placed under a small scale healing coma and was no longer at risk of death.
“Her name is Hezalia Cross.” Robin states. “We pulled most of her information off the medical bracelet I got off her. She’s a severe paranoid schizophrenic. A long history of lashing out violently and apparently went missing three years ago. There were apparently markings that she was experimented on, including numerous suture markings over her scalp. These have been cleared away by the healing coma.
“What have they gotten out of her?”
“She’s latched onto the Joker Character. What has me concerned however is her supposed handler. From the interrogation it was a hundred different people bringing her the Joker merchandise and such, but they all acted like one person. Meaning the Feli illusion overtop the prosthetic body could have been anyone, anywhere and to be frank, anything. No species is off the suspect list, and due to the way that these bodies work the perpetrator might not even be in the Skathac system.”
“The question of why is one I cannot help but ask.” Admiral Hynala says.
“That’s the information we don’t have. Information chuckles in there can’t give us.”
“... You pity her.”
“This isn’t the Joker. This isn’t a genius madman with complete and total nihilism trying to break the minds and souls of those around them. This woman isn’t even at the level of Victor Zsasz with a fanatic need to cut people. This is a sick woman who lashes out at her nightmares and I’ve shot, stomped and stabbed her. She should be in a padded cell and slowly working her way out of the hell she’s trapped in, not in an interrogation chamber.”
“I’m glad you’ve kept perspective. You will have some mandatory counselling just in case.” Admiral Hynala states. “Still... it looks like we have more drama on the horizon.”
“Perhaps not.” An officer says walking up to them. “Detective Savage.”
“A pleasure, what have you found?”
“This young woman had been used as a case study and her mind was partially digitized. We’ve caught the program. Effectively her mysterious benefactor was her own cyber-clone. The paranoid schizophrenia with violent tendencies has manifested in different ways digitally and caused her digital daughter to pull her out of her padded cell and try and ‘help’ her by giving her a persona to focus on and wanted to ‘release her to the wild’ where she could be free. The backup to Skathac was a lower Centris Spire chosen at random.”
“I must say, while this is somewhat anti-climatic it is VERY encouraging to see such competence in our allies.” Admiral Hynala states. “Might I inquire as to how you discovered this all so quickly?”
“We would have had it one way or the other. She was still wearing her medical band when she was let loose. Your soldier here ripped it off, but he was assuming she might still be able to escape at the time. So grabbing evidence when opportune is just smart. Anyways, it had a full list of her side effects and issues including the catastrophic failure of trying to use a cybernetic uplink to try and effectively speed her her mental healing. The end result was that they had two of her and one of them was living in cyberspace and had already gotten out into the network like a virus.”
“I see, and how did you catch her?”
“She craves sensation and is paranoid. She bound herself into a main body and destroyed it’s ability to contact a larger network for fear of it eating her. Which meant that we were able to trace things back fairly easily.”
“And being insane means she’s not exactly good at covering her tracks.” Robin notes.
“Exactly.” Detective Savage says. “This is why I argued long and hard with the Chief of Police against the Gothamization of the Skathac. Even if it brings in a lot of money the city of Gotham in the comic books is synonymous with corruption, crime and madness. None of which are good things. Here is madness. How long until Crime and Corruption are rampant as well? How long until this city is Gotham but real?”
“It won’t be. Comics have to follow certain rules. You don’t. There’s nothing stopping you from just shooting the lunatics.” Robin assures her.
“And what stopped you from doing so?” She asks immediately and he gives her an odd look.
“Ma’am. If not for healing comas then she’d be crippled for life or dead. Which is as gentle as I’m willing to go with someone trying to be a legit supervillain. If she was even more threatening, then I would have just straight up killed her and then needed some real therapy for murdering a mentally invalid woman.” Robin says and Detective Savage gives him a long look. The Sonir woman doesn’t break the gaze as she looks for something in him.
“I see. I see... Very much the, do what needs to be done then beg forgiveness type.”
“It works.” Robin says.
“What’s your schedule like?” Detective Savage asks.
“Why?”
“Because it relates to my next question.”
“Which is?” Robin presses.
“Are you seeing anyone?” She asks and Robin blinks.
“I’ll leave you two love bats at it then. I’ll request a formal report on this situation when I return to our base.” Admiral Hynala states with a smirk. It can be hard to not laugh at his soldiers and the silly situations they get caught up in.
First Last
2023.06.03 22:10 dont_mindme47 Help me find a creme blush
 | Hi all! So I have limited experience with makeup as I’ve really only ever did mascara, lip liner and eyeliner. I do eventually want to expand on eyeshadow and more, but for now I want to add more color on my face and get a creme blush. I never wear foundation (I don’t want to cover any of the moles or freckles on my face) so I’m conflicted on which brand would work best for combo skin, along which color would compliment me best. I want to get at least 2 shades of blush so the more, the merrier. I provided some pictures with different lighting and angles for reference :) submitted by dont_mindme47 to MakeupAddiction [link] [comments] |
2023.06.03 22:10 delta5 $2,395 - For Rent by Owner - 2 Bed/2 Bath pet friendly condo in Ashburn w/ great amenities
Modern 2019 built single level, dual master bedroom condo for rent by owner in Ashburn. 1,004sqft living space with a cozy floorplan and granite, tile, and hardwood features, plus newly updated GE Profile stainless steel appliances. Kitchen includes large center island, generous cabinet space, and gas stove with griddle. First master bedroom has ample closet space and well-appointed master bathroom featuring a large vanity. Second master bedroom offers a spacious closet and full bath. Additional highlights include a centrally located washedryer and desirable covered patio.
Quiet neighborhood with walking access to Clubhouse w/ Fitness Center, 3 Community Pools, trails, parks & playground. Unit has an assigned parking space and plentiful guest parking. Non-smoking. $2395/month + 1 month security deposit; pets welcome with refundable pet deposit + pet rent (restrictions may apply). $55 application fee for screening (credit & background check), utilities not included; online rent pay available. Conveniently located off Loudoun County Parkway, near Rt. 50, Dulles Greenway and Silver Line Metro. Wheelchair accessible. Move-in ready, available now.
Inquire here or check Zillow listing https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/43021-Greggsville-Chapel-Ter-108-Ashburn-VA-20148/328219037_zpid/?view=public
submitted by delta5 to novarent [link] [comments]
Quiet neighborhood with walking access to Clubhouse w/ Fitness Center, 3 Community Pools, trails, parks & playground. Unit has an assigned parking space and plentiful guest parking. Non-smoking. $2395/month + 1 month security deposit; pets welcome with refundable pet deposit + pet rent (restrictions may apply). $55 application fee for screening (credit & background check), utilities not included; online rent pay available. Conveniently located off Loudoun County Parkway, near Rt. 50, Dulles Greenway and Silver Line Metro. Wheelchair accessible. Move-in ready, available now.
Inquire here or check Zillow listing https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/43021-Greggsville-Chapel-Ter-108-Ashburn-VA-20148/328219037_zpid/?view=public
2023.06.03 21:34 hopesfalling Property line help… red lines is where neighbor is cutting grass, believing to be all his property. Based on our plot map, is he in the right? And if not, about how far out would you say our property line should be?
 | submitted by hopesfalling to Homebuilding [link] [comments] |
2023.06.03 21:22 Kind-Impression1832 The reason for this line is covered with a black triangle. Thanks for any help
submitted by Kind-Impression1832 to pchelp [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 21:19 Gordegey Any dog friendly restaurants or shops we can use to escape the rain tomorrow?
I have a friend visiting me with her in-training service dog (not ESA) Sunday for the arts festival, and its supposed to pour rain. ): I want to show her the performances and vendors tomorrow, but we might want indoor respite and a snack. Are there any places we can bring in a well behaved (but not quite service certified yet) dog? Or any places with a covered outdoor patio that might allow it?
submitted by Gordegey to SalemMA [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 21:15 TwistedNeth3r Toja Pergola
 | What's the permitting difference between a patio and a freestanding pergola? My wife and are are looking at the Toja system for a shade cover inout backyard. It would rest on an existing concrete pad. submitted by TwistedNeth3r to huntingtonbeach [link] [comments] We're hoping there's no permit required if it's freestanding. We're looking at a 12' x 24' |
2023.06.03 21:05 Dizzy-General8771 Instinct
This story is true about what my husband experienced one summer in the mid 90’s while working as a grounds keeper at a camp for kids.
It was the early 90’s and at the time my husband, Eddie (just passed his 19th birthday) hadn’t yet decided whether or not he wanted to go to college. He had recently lost touch with most of his high school friends and as such, didn’t have much planned for the summer. So, when the offer to be a live-in grounds keeper at a children’s day camp came his way, Eddie was happy to take the opportunity. He lived in a rural area of Ontario so the camp, surrounded by trees and having it’s own small lake, was both secluded enough to have peace and quiet, but not so far away that he couldn’t manage a trip home on the off days.
While the seclusion wasn’t geographically extreme, once everyone left on Friday afternoons – all the children gone, the day staff back home to their families – the place was actually really eerie. This was magnified by the fact that at the time, Eddie didn’t have a car, and the only phone was about a 20 minute walk from his tiny cabin at the back of the property along a dark dirt path. This meant that most evenings and weekends were spent next to a camp fire or inside the cabin with the door locked listening to loud music and having a few drinks.
Usually, the property was really quiet and it would actually get boring out there with no one to talk to and nothing to do. Eddie once told me that he would pass time by canoeing around the tiny lake (which was more like a large pond) and catching every turtle he could find. He would place them in the bottom of the canoe( with some water and lily-pads so they were comfortable) then once he caught every one he could find, he would canoe to different parts of the lake and put them back one-by-one. So, obviously, there wasn’t much going on in the area.
It was one quiet night however, where despite how peaceful it seemed, there was definitely something evil happening out in those trees and fields.
The night started like any other. It was a warm Saturday in Ontario which meant that the bugs were biting and you could drown in the humidity. It was getting toward the end of the summer and Eddie had gotten into the weekly routine - cleaning and fixing things around the camp during the week days then wandering around the property on the weekends. This Saturday had started off no different that the others. Eddie had done a quick security sweep of the area in the morning to make sure nothing was amiss, then spent the afternoon paddling around the lake catching turtles. A few hours before sundown, Eddie was back at his cabin and had built a nice campfire. He always made sure to start the fire before dark.
On this Saturday Eddie had spent the evening cooking a meal over the fire and reading his favorite Stephen King novel The Stand. He had listened to the weather forecast on the little cabin radio earlier that morning and was aware there was a chance of some nasty thunderstorms that night. He was keeping a close eye on the wind and the clouds as night rolled in, knowing that even this far north, the heat and humidity was known to give rise to fearsome tornadoes every few years.
Not long after he finished his meal, the sky turned dark and the wind began to pick up. Eddie doused his fire and was starting to pack up his book and his dishes when he heard something moving through the brush. He stopped and listened for a moment. The rustling continued, but figuring it was a racoon or a deer, Eddie went about his business – more concerned with the approaching storm.
Once in the cabin, Eddie locked the door and felt a little more secure. He turned on the single, un-shaded light bulb that hung above the sink. The rickety cabin wasn’t much, it had no bathroom and no stove, just a mini fridge, sink, a hot plate, and musty bed. As rickety as it was, it still had a lock on the door and the only window was too small for a person to fit through without a struggle.
Soon, Eddie was getting settled back in with his book. It wasn’t long before the rustling sound he had heard outside returned, but this time it sounded like something was brushing up again the outside wall of the cabin. Still thinking it was just an animal, Eddie tried to keep his attention on his book. The curtains on the window were closed, so he couldn’t see outside, but he knew it was dark and thought he heard the distant rumbling of thunder. The rustling and brushing sound was right outside his door now. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had heard the handle jiggle.
Suddenly the rustling turned to a crashing and it sounded like two or three people were running away from the cabin. This startled Eddie causing him to drop his book.
“Maybe that wasn’t just a deer after all”. Eddie thought out loud. He stood up and hesitated.
What was he going to do?
Part of his job was to watch out for trespassers and notify them that they had to leave if he found any. Usually this was an easy job. He was only run into this a couple times and both occasion it was a group of local kids taking a nighttime swim in the pond. Usually, he scared them more than they scared him.
Thinking this was probably the case – the local kids having found his cabin and decided to play a bit of a prank on him- Eddie grabbed his keys and his flashlight and headed for the door.
He could hear the wind howling and the rain starting to tap on the roof. Not quite a downpour yet.
He took a deep breath and opened was about to open the door when he heard a gentle tapping on the window. This was obviously not rain.
The hairs on his arms stood at attention. His blood ran cold even in the stuffy and sweltering heat of late July. He was frozen with his hand on the door knob. Not even breathing. Something in his stomach was telling his to remain completely still and whatever he did to NOT OPEN THE DOOR.
After a few minutes, the tapping hadn’t returned. The rain was coming down harder now and Eddie began to breath again. He let go of the door knob and immediately turn off the light. He quietly got under the covers, not even bothering to take off his shoes or put back the large, metal flash light, in case whatever it was that was out there came back. Eventually he fell asleep.
The next morning Eddie awoke and felt no sign of the eerie presence from the night before. He got up and immediately noticed that the storm had passed and the morning sun was shining through the curtains. Groggy and a bit shaken, Eddie splashed some water on his face and began to rummage through the fridge for something to eat.
He was just debating whether he wanted to cook his eggs and bacon over the fire or if the firewood was too damp when there were a loud knock at the door. Eddie jumped and almost soiled his pants. No one had even shown up unannounced way out here on a Saturday.
“Eddie, it’s Jim, your mom’s friend from work. Are you in there?”
Eddie recognized the voice. His mom worked in dispatch for the local police department. Eddie, being a bit of a trouble maker in a small town, knew the members of the force both from family BBQ’s and from his own personal run-ins.
Eddie let out a breath and relaxed a bit, but then it hit him – Why was Jim out here so early on a Saturday?
Thinking something might be wrong at home, Eddie rushed to the door and unlocked it.
“Hey Jim, is everything okay? Why are you out here?”
“Morning Eddie, everything is fine, but your mom sent me to pick you up and bring you home this morning.” Jim looked around the cabin. He was in his uniform and Eddie could make out his cruiser a few yards away. Eddie noticed Jim was subconsciously fingering his weapon.
“I think you’re mistaken Jim. I’m not supposed to be going home until next weekend and Mom said that she was going to come out to pick me up.” Eddie took a step back and watched Jim’s face as he surveyed the tiny cabin.
“I know that was the original plan, Eddie, but we all think it’s best that you get your things and come with me.” Jim stood in the door with the face of a man who was not to be questioned. The hair’s on Eddie’s arms stood up and he had no choice but to agree and begin to pack up his belongings.
As they packed the car, Eddie could have sworn he was a set of shoe prints that made a trail around his cabin.
After driving in silence for a few minutes Jim casually began asking Eddie what he had been up to last night.
“Did you go out at all or just stay by the fire?” Jim asked, his eyes watching Eddie through the rearview mirror.
“I was by the fire, but they went in side when it started to rain. That storm was starting, so I didn’t want to be caught out in it.”
“It must get a bit creepy out there all alone during a storm”, Jim said. That’s when Eddie remembered the tapping at the window and the strange rustling sounds.
“Actually, it’s usually fine, but last night I got a bit of a scare. Just as the storm was starting, I think an animal or something was walking around my site. Probably a coyote or a fox that smelled my supper.” Eddie’s eyes locked with Jim’s.
“Did you see anything?” Jim asked.
“No. At first I thought it was some of the local kids that I had kicked out of the lake a couple weeks ago. Thought maybe they were playing a bit of a prank on me in return, but the rain was starting to pick up, so I decided to stay in the cabin and pretend I didn’t notice.” Not wanted to sound like a wimp in front of one of his mom’s coworkers in the force, Eddie lied about the chills he had experienced.
“That’s probably for the better.” Jim said. “They usually go away if you ignore them”.
The rest of the ride was silent. Eddie drifted to sleep for a little while and when he awoke they were pulling into the driveway of his parents house. His mom was standing on the front steps when they got there.
“Eddie!” His mom called as he was getting out of the car. “Come inside, I have coffee and breakfast ready”.
“Thanks mom, just let me get my things from the trunk.”
“Just leave them for now. Jim is going to join us for breakfast. You can get your things after we talk.” His mom turned and disappeared into the house. A little confused, but hungry from having missed his morning meal, Eddie shrugged and walked toward the house. Jim locked the car and followed close behind.
Eddie sat at the kitchen table and was greeted with a plate of hot pancakes with bacon and a fresh cup of coffee. Eddie began to eat but noticed that Jim and his mom were only drinking coffee.
After a couple minutes of pleasantries Eddie was starting to get annoyed.
“Why did you pick me up early mom? And if you’re home, why did you send Jim out to get me? Mom, what’s going on!?”.
“Eddie,” his mother said his nice calmly yet firmly in the way only a mother can, as she rested her hand on this arm. He stopped and looked at her. What she said next still gives my husband a pit in his stomach to this day.
“Three people were found dead within a mile of that camp early this morning, just as the storm was clearing.” The words sounded distant in Eddie’s ears.
“What do you mean? Like a car accident?” Eddie was confused but starting to get nervous.
“A man was found dead at the bottom of a radio tower a half mile up to road. We don’t know how he got in there, but it looks like he tried to climb it and fell off.”
Eddie’s eyes widened.
“About a half a mile in the other direction, a young man and woman, about your age Eddie, were found dead. The woman was in the house and the man was found in the back yard. They were both stabbed to death. We found no evidence of a break in.” Jim told this part of the story. He watched Eddie to gauge his reaction.
Suddenly Eddie’s pancakes didn’t taste to good any more and he felt a knot build in his stomach.
“So, you came to get me because you were afraid I might be dead too.” Eddie said this slowly and looked at both his mother and officer Jim.
“Did you hear or see anything strange last night, Eddie?” His mother tightened to grip on his arm and looked into his eyes. He glanced at officer Jim who gave an emotionless stare back.
“Yeah. I was telling Jim that I heard what I thought was an animal rummaging around by the fire after I went to bed. It didn’t go away and I thought it might be some of the local kids. I was going to check it out, but the rain was heavy and I thought they would go away if I stayed inside and ignored them.”
“Thank god you did.” Eddie’s mom hugged him and tried her best to hold back tears. Eddie hugged his mom back. His breath shallow from the shock.
Had he almost been one of the victims of this murder? Had the murderer tried to hide out at the camp after brutally slaying the young couple up the road? If Eddie hadn’t gone inside when he did, would he have been murdered while he sat by his fire?
Eddie’s thought were spinning so fast that he didn’t even notice Jim get up and leave. It was a half hour later when his mother calmed down enough for Eddie to realize that Jim had driven off with his things.
“Mom, you need to call Jim, my things are in his car!”
“I’ll call the station and let them know”. Eddie’s mom didn’t seem surprised that Jim had left without saying goodbye. She just went to the phone and called the station.
“Hi Gale, it’s Penny. Eddie was wondering when Jim will be back with his bags.” At the time, Eddie didn’t notice that his mother hadn’t had to explain the situation to her coworkers in dispatch. Wouldn’t they be wondering why Jim had Eddie’s bags in the car?
Jim eventually came back on his way home after his shift. He dropped Eddie’s stuff off, gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and said “take care of yourself, kid. It was smart of you not to open that door last night.”
It wasn’t until looking back on the incident 5 years later that Eddie realized Jim had come to pick him up for two reasons. Either, after receiving the call about the three deaths, they were all afraid that Eddie, out there alone in the food with no way to call for help, mate the same fate as the poor souls who lost their lives during that storm, OR, Eddie himself had been the one who had stabbed a young man and his wife to death in their own home before murdering a third victim near a radio tower in the field adjacent to the camp.
Eddie isn’t certain, but when he counts the story, he seems to remember when he got his bags back they weren’t packed in the same way he had left them. He is convinced that his mother and the officers thought that we had been the perpetrator of the terrible crimes committed that stormy July night in southwestern Ontario.
They never did end up finding the killer.
submitted by Dizzy-General8771 to BeingScaredStories [link] [comments]
It was the early 90’s and at the time my husband, Eddie (just passed his 19th birthday) hadn’t yet decided whether or not he wanted to go to college. He had recently lost touch with most of his high school friends and as such, didn’t have much planned for the summer. So, when the offer to be a live-in grounds keeper at a children’s day camp came his way, Eddie was happy to take the opportunity. He lived in a rural area of Ontario so the camp, surrounded by trees and having it’s own small lake, was both secluded enough to have peace and quiet, but not so far away that he couldn’t manage a trip home on the off days.
While the seclusion wasn’t geographically extreme, once everyone left on Friday afternoons – all the children gone, the day staff back home to their families – the place was actually really eerie. This was magnified by the fact that at the time, Eddie didn’t have a car, and the only phone was about a 20 minute walk from his tiny cabin at the back of the property along a dark dirt path. This meant that most evenings and weekends were spent next to a camp fire or inside the cabin with the door locked listening to loud music and having a few drinks.
Usually, the property was really quiet and it would actually get boring out there with no one to talk to and nothing to do. Eddie once told me that he would pass time by canoeing around the tiny lake (which was more like a large pond) and catching every turtle he could find. He would place them in the bottom of the canoe( with some water and lily-pads so they were comfortable) then once he caught every one he could find, he would canoe to different parts of the lake and put them back one-by-one. So, obviously, there wasn’t much going on in the area.
It was one quiet night however, where despite how peaceful it seemed, there was definitely something evil happening out in those trees and fields.
The night started like any other. It was a warm Saturday in Ontario which meant that the bugs were biting and you could drown in the humidity. It was getting toward the end of the summer and Eddie had gotten into the weekly routine - cleaning and fixing things around the camp during the week days then wandering around the property on the weekends. This Saturday had started off no different that the others. Eddie had done a quick security sweep of the area in the morning to make sure nothing was amiss, then spent the afternoon paddling around the lake catching turtles. A few hours before sundown, Eddie was back at his cabin and had built a nice campfire. He always made sure to start the fire before dark.
On this Saturday Eddie had spent the evening cooking a meal over the fire and reading his favorite Stephen King novel The Stand. He had listened to the weather forecast on the little cabin radio earlier that morning and was aware there was a chance of some nasty thunderstorms that night. He was keeping a close eye on the wind and the clouds as night rolled in, knowing that even this far north, the heat and humidity was known to give rise to fearsome tornadoes every few years.
Not long after he finished his meal, the sky turned dark and the wind began to pick up. Eddie doused his fire and was starting to pack up his book and his dishes when he heard something moving through the brush. He stopped and listened for a moment. The rustling continued, but figuring it was a racoon or a deer, Eddie went about his business – more concerned with the approaching storm.
Once in the cabin, Eddie locked the door and felt a little more secure. He turned on the single, un-shaded light bulb that hung above the sink. The rickety cabin wasn’t much, it had no bathroom and no stove, just a mini fridge, sink, a hot plate, and musty bed. As rickety as it was, it still had a lock on the door and the only window was too small for a person to fit through without a struggle.
Soon, Eddie was getting settled back in with his book. It wasn’t long before the rustling sound he had heard outside returned, but this time it sounded like something was brushing up again the outside wall of the cabin. Still thinking it was just an animal, Eddie tried to keep his attention on his book. The curtains on the window were closed, so he couldn’t see outside, but he knew it was dark and thought he heard the distant rumbling of thunder. The rustling and brushing sound was right outside his door now. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had heard the handle jiggle.
Suddenly the rustling turned to a crashing and it sounded like two or three people were running away from the cabin. This startled Eddie causing him to drop his book.
“Maybe that wasn’t just a deer after all”. Eddie thought out loud. He stood up and hesitated.
What was he going to do?
Part of his job was to watch out for trespassers and notify them that they had to leave if he found any. Usually this was an easy job. He was only run into this a couple times and both occasion it was a group of local kids taking a nighttime swim in the pond. Usually, he scared them more than they scared him.
Thinking this was probably the case – the local kids having found his cabin and decided to play a bit of a prank on him- Eddie grabbed his keys and his flashlight and headed for the door.
He could hear the wind howling and the rain starting to tap on the roof. Not quite a downpour yet.
He took a deep breath and opened was about to open the door when he heard a gentle tapping on the window. This was obviously not rain.
The hairs on his arms stood at attention. His blood ran cold even in the stuffy and sweltering heat of late July. He was frozen with his hand on the door knob. Not even breathing. Something in his stomach was telling his to remain completely still and whatever he did to NOT OPEN THE DOOR.
After a few minutes, the tapping hadn’t returned. The rain was coming down harder now and Eddie began to breath again. He let go of the door knob and immediately turn off the light. He quietly got under the covers, not even bothering to take off his shoes or put back the large, metal flash light, in case whatever it was that was out there came back. Eventually he fell asleep.
The next morning Eddie awoke and felt no sign of the eerie presence from the night before. He got up and immediately noticed that the storm had passed and the morning sun was shining through the curtains. Groggy and a bit shaken, Eddie splashed some water on his face and began to rummage through the fridge for something to eat.
He was just debating whether he wanted to cook his eggs and bacon over the fire or if the firewood was too damp when there were a loud knock at the door. Eddie jumped and almost soiled his pants. No one had even shown up unannounced way out here on a Saturday.
“Eddie, it’s Jim, your mom’s friend from work. Are you in there?”
Eddie recognized the voice. His mom worked in dispatch for the local police department. Eddie, being a bit of a trouble maker in a small town, knew the members of the force both from family BBQ’s and from his own personal run-ins.
Eddie let out a breath and relaxed a bit, but then it hit him – Why was Jim out here so early on a Saturday?
Thinking something might be wrong at home, Eddie rushed to the door and unlocked it.
“Hey Jim, is everything okay? Why are you out here?”
“Morning Eddie, everything is fine, but your mom sent me to pick you up and bring you home this morning.” Jim looked around the cabin. He was in his uniform and Eddie could make out his cruiser a few yards away. Eddie noticed Jim was subconsciously fingering his weapon.
“I think you’re mistaken Jim. I’m not supposed to be going home until next weekend and Mom said that she was going to come out to pick me up.” Eddie took a step back and watched Jim’s face as he surveyed the tiny cabin.
“I know that was the original plan, Eddie, but we all think it’s best that you get your things and come with me.” Jim stood in the door with the face of a man who was not to be questioned. The hair’s on Eddie’s arms stood up and he had no choice but to agree and begin to pack up his belongings.
As they packed the car, Eddie could have sworn he was a set of shoe prints that made a trail around his cabin.
After driving in silence for a few minutes Jim casually began asking Eddie what he had been up to last night.
“Did you go out at all or just stay by the fire?” Jim asked, his eyes watching Eddie through the rearview mirror.
“I was by the fire, but they went in side when it started to rain. That storm was starting, so I didn’t want to be caught out in it.”
“It must get a bit creepy out there all alone during a storm”, Jim said. That’s when Eddie remembered the tapping at the window and the strange rustling sounds.
“Actually, it’s usually fine, but last night I got a bit of a scare. Just as the storm was starting, I think an animal or something was walking around my site. Probably a coyote or a fox that smelled my supper.” Eddie’s eyes locked with Jim’s.
“Did you see anything?” Jim asked.
“No. At first I thought it was some of the local kids that I had kicked out of the lake a couple weeks ago. Thought maybe they were playing a bit of a prank on me in return, but the rain was starting to pick up, so I decided to stay in the cabin and pretend I didn’t notice.” Not wanted to sound like a wimp in front of one of his mom’s coworkers in the force, Eddie lied about the chills he had experienced.
“That’s probably for the better.” Jim said. “They usually go away if you ignore them”.
The rest of the ride was silent. Eddie drifted to sleep for a little while and when he awoke they were pulling into the driveway of his parents house. His mom was standing on the front steps when they got there.
“Eddie!” His mom called as he was getting out of the car. “Come inside, I have coffee and breakfast ready”.
“Thanks mom, just let me get my things from the trunk.”
“Just leave them for now. Jim is going to join us for breakfast. You can get your things after we talk.” His mom turned and disappeared into the house. A little confused, but hungry from having missed his morning meal, Eddie shrugged and walked toward the house. Jim locked the car and followed close behind.
Eddie sat at the kitchen table and was greeted with a plate of hot pancakes with bacon and a fresh cup of coffee. Eddie began to eat but noticed that Jim and his mom were only drinking coffee.
After a couple minutes of pleasantries Eddie was starting to get annoyed.
“Why did you pick me up early mom? And if you’re home, why did you send Jim out to get me? Mom, what’s going on!?”.
“Eddie,” his mother said his nice calmly yet firmly in the way only a mother can, as she rested her hand on this arm. He stopped and looked at her. What she said next still gives my husband a pit in his stomach to this day.
“Three people were found dead within a mile of that camp early this morning, just as the storm was clearing.” The words sounded distant in Eddie’s ears.
“What do you mean? Like a car accident?” Eddie was confused but starting to get nervous.
“A man was found dead at the bottom of a radio tower a half mile up to road. We don’t know how he got in there, but it looks like he tried to climb it and fell off.”
Eddie’s eyes widened.
“About a half a mile in the other direction, a young man and woman, about your age Eddie, were found dead. The woman was in the house and the man was found in the back yard. They were both stabbed to death. We found no evidence of a break in.” Jim told this part of the story. He watched Eddie to gauge his reaction.
Suddenly Eddie’s pancakes didn’t taste to good any more and he felt a knot build in his stomach.
“So, you came to get me because you were afraid I might be dead too.” Eddie said this slowly and looked at both his mother and officer Jim.
“Did you hear or see anything strange last night, Eddie?” His mother tightened to grip on his arm and looked into his eyes. He glanced at officer Jim who gave an emotionless stare back.
“Yeah. I was telling Jim that I heard what I thought was an animal rummaging around by the fire after I went to bed. It didn’t go away and I thought it might be some of the local kids. I was going to check it out, but the rain was heavy and I thought they would go away if I stayed inside and ignored them.”
“Thank god you did.” Eddie’s mom hugged him and tried her best to hold back tears. Eddie hugged his mom back. His breath shallow from the shock.
Had he almost been one of the victims of this murder? Had the murderer tried to hide out at the camp after brutally slaying the young couple up the road? If Eddie hadn’t gone inside when he did, would he have been murdered while he sat by his fire?
Eddie’s thought were spinning so fast that he didn’t even notice Jim get up and leave. It was a half hour later when his mother calmed down enough for Eddie to realize that Jim had driven off with his things.
“Mom, you need to call Jim, my things are in his car!”
“I’ll call the station and let them know”. Eddie’s mom didn’t seem surprised that Jim had left without saying goodbye. She just went to the phone and called the station.
“Hi Gale, it’s Penny. Eddie was wondering when Jim will be back with his bags.” At the time, Eddie didn’t notice that his mother hadn’t had to explain the situation to her coworkers in dispatch. Wouldn’t they be wondering why Jim had Eddie’s bags in the car?
Jim eventually came back on his way home after his shift. He dropped Eddie’s stuff off, gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and said “take care of yourself, kid. It was smart of you not to open that door last night.”
It wasn’t until looking back on the incident 5 years later that Eddie realized Jim had come to pick him up for two reasons. Either, after receiving the call about the three deaths, they were all afraid that Eddie, out there alone in the food with no way to call for help, mate the same fate as the poor souls who lost their lives during that storm, OR, Eddie himself had been the one who had stabbed a young man and his wife to death in their own home before murdering a third victim near a radio tower in the field adjacent to the camp.
Eddie isn’t certain, but when he counts the story, he seems to remember when he got his bags back they weren’t packed in the same way he had left them. He is convinced that his mother and the officers thought that we had been the perpetrator of the terrible crimes committed that stormy July night in southwestern Ontario.
They never did end up finding the killer.
2023.06.03 20:45 Snoo-15524 HELP! Not sure my my plant leafs are turning yellow?
 | Location- south FL Plants - pic one (3 loofahs) Pic 2 ( 2 squash) submitted by Snoo-15524 to gardening [link] [comments] Dirt - Kellogg’s raised bed and potting mix Straw - shredded straw for ground cover Watering- It’s been raining a lot here in South FL. No shade for the plants. Thank you!! |
2023.06.03 20:05 Rand0mness4 Trails of Our Hatred Ch. 5
Special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for allowing fanfiction and giving us Tilfish.
[First] [Prior] [Next]
.*~*.
Memory Transcription Subject: ? , run run run run run run.
Date: December 2, 2136
.~*~.
I'm tired. I'm so unbearably tired. I don't remember the fall or when my legs quit working, but I'm still denied the sweet release of sleep by the fires radiating from my muscles. It's sick and twisted, but I don't think I can move any more. I'm stuck here face down in the soil, unable or unwilling to do anything but wonder if a harvesting drone will roll over me and turn me into mist on the crops I'm lost in. My mouth itches. Some loose soil in my nose makes me hack, but there's nothing I can do but wheeze and pant. There's not a drop of moisture left in me. I'm all shriveled up. Everything's a haze.
I should've stopped for water. There was time. A few ponds that didn't look filmed over with vile algae blooms. The last town had a fountain on the outskirts. There were a few distant outbuildings that could've had a sink or a hose. Really, a few mouthfuls would've been enough to keep me from cramping up. Now I feel like I'm all dried out, like a stick of fruit jerky.
I should've taken a break. I've not been able to run in so long. I knew it was getting bad, but I ignored it. I'm paying for it now. I pushed way too far. Run until I black out. Wake up. Repeat. For days and days, or however long I've been free. I don't know. Every time I wake I can't tell if minutes have passed or days. I would push myself back to my feet and run. Because distance is all that matters. I made the right call avoiding the roads. The cameras. The soles of my feet are battered and wail in pain, but for every step I took was a minute longer I got to feel the sun kiss my scales and the gentle caress of the wind upon my neck. The cool soil seeping into my burning side. Fresh air in my lungs. Faint mist on my back.
I should've calmed down. I'm wasting what little time I have left stuck here in misery. I missed my chance to escape. My saviors were predators, but it would've been a better fate. And they're everywhere. Monsters and Predators alike. The whole planet is getting what it deserves. I made my choice, but now I'm squandering it. At least the soil is nice. Even as broken as I feel, it is only temporary. I know this is heaven. I wouldn't trade it for anything else. Even if my tongue is dried and bleeding.
I.
Just.
Need.
To.
Get.
Up.
no no no no no. Hurts. Hurts hurts hurts.
UP.
My body rebels. I settle on crawling. Dragging my tainted digits through the soil and forcing myself through the mud.
Puddle. Puddle Puddle Puddle.
I'm glad to be alive. I'm glad for this puddle. It's my whole world. I crawl to it as quickly as my body allows and beyond, but I'm too dehydrated to cry at the lancing pain in my joints. I slip and tumble into it face first, a cold shock making me freeze up. I don't even try to drink at first, my eyes closed as I lay partially submerged in this brackish water. It makes me feel slightly better as the cold gently eases my neck muscles, and I feel the rest of my body cramping up again.
Imagine drowning in a claw of water. I'm suddenly terrified that it's possible. I throw an arm out and dig it deep into the mud, clawing silt as I awkwardly pull myself in sideways. I roll, splashing the rest of the way in and feeling my poorly treated scales weep as the cold bleeds into them. I lay my head sideways and drink, gagging at the taste but unable to stop myself. I still can't cry, but my face is still trying to produce tears anyways.
In delirium, I notice the corner of a structure well above me. It's a pole, made of metal and towering well above me. Morning dew drips off of it and into my eye not currently submerged, and I blink it away.
Thank you pole. You're a life saver.
I don't plan on moving for a while, so I don't. The dew drips onto my snout several times, and my body rejoices at the cool water I've partially submerged myself in. The silt in my mouth is a necessary and tolerable evil from my desperate dive, and I angle my snout so that I can catch the fresh dew dripping from above instead. It tastes far better than the puddle, and for the first time in ever, I feel a smile creeping on my face.
.*~*.
I blink lazily, one eyelid operating a few seconds behind the other. I feel better. This blackout felt more natural, less forced. Like a gentle wave over my mind than the harsh crack of a baton. My mouth is still full of silt that I spit out, and a moment later I realize I can spit again. The bitter taste of blood in my mouth is faint now, and the joy of having a wet palate can't be described.
ow.
It hurts to move. I try again, but my flesh feels like it's been filled with concrete. My muscles are too tight on my bones. Stiffly, I try again, making little progress, but still progress. I edge out a claw at a time, barely getting my neck out of the pool before collapsing, the chilly waters leaving me shivering.
Where am I?
A very good question, I ask myself. I don't know. That's the cost of running without direction for so long. I think I'm in a field, judging by the crops looking over me and encompassing my wide vision of the vibrant sky overhead.
Yeah... that's it. I'm in a field. Brilliant observation skills.
I try again, but nothing new comes up. For the first time since I fled, I think about what I'm going to do. I'm free. I'm free. What am I going to do now that I'm free? How long do I have? I know the answer to that already. I have a long time. Everybody that knew me is dead and gone. I just need to be careful and not ruin this chance. I should try and find a town. Cities are too big, too many problems could come up. Too many exterminators. I could start over off the beaten path. Somewhere I can hide in plain sight.
This is Sillis. Being me shouldn't be an issue. I... I can get a labor job somewhere. Change my name. What can I do?
...
What can I do?
What is my name?
"Oh dear." I whispered quietly to myself, brows furrowing. Odd. How odd. I can move on from that. Makes starting a new life easier. Something that isn't four walls and a paper thin mattress. Something outside. I just... need to get... out of this darn puddle. No, still not happening. Ouch.
I splash my paw into the puddle in frustration, using about the full range of motion I seem capable of in a mild fit. I want to stay on the move, but the consequences of my poor decision making have come back to bite me right on the rear. At least I have some time to think.
I could try the lumber industry. That's usually away from people. I think I can figure out how to knock down trees, or at least fix up the machines that can. Maybe I can join a farm around here once I'm cleaned up. There's always something to do on a farm. Like counting shipments, or unloading shipments, or loading them. Maybe I can fix things around the property. Golly, I hope I know how to fix the automated machinery. That would really be nice.
Ooh! I could try and be a tram service maintenance operator. Wait, no no no. That requires background checks, I think. Darn it. Uuuh, road utility services? No, that'll take me into cities one way or another. There's a ton of work with drainage systems and water run off here. I could get good money for that since it's risky. Pollutants, constant thundering streams of water. I think I can go with that. There would be a lot of rural investigations that I could apply for. If not, I'm certain the underground construction projects would bear fruit. I'll miss the sun but nobody would bother me too much... no, still too many people. Drainage systems it is!
A faint whistle catches my ear and I freeze, tilting my head as something green flies just overhead. It clips several stalks and leaves as it passes, but seems unbothered as the severed branches fall to the ground and leaves gently cascade after. I follow its path with an eye and it vanishes between some tall plants, leaving me alone just as quickly as-
Nope, the same thing floats by again, darting between crops once more directly above me. It's odd, I can't hear wing beats or buzzing, or see anything keeping it airborne as it passed, and I wait with baited breath to see if it shows itself again. I don't know what I feel, but it isn't terror. It's... something. Curiosity? This time I hear a chirrup, but it's close. I don't see it float by, and painfully I crane my neck and look at the other side of the puddle.
It's an insectoid of some kind, strangely wide and flat. It looks pretty similar to the leaves on the many trees that I've seen since I got out, with uneven, tapered sides. It has a few pairs of legs, and it scuttles to the puddle and dips the front of its body towards the surface. It really does look like a large leaf, but my observation is cut short when the bug abruptly stops moving within barely a claw of the water, a pair of forward facing compound eyes snug against the stem near the tip of its body. It chirps again, and I see narrow maw under the front of this creature, a slim set of fangs briefly glinting in the sun before its mandibles hide them.
"Oh dear." I manage to whisper.
With remarkable dexterity it hops across the body of water and splashes down on top of me, and several legs grip my ribs and arms. My tail flicks under the water's surface, but I don't move as the thing's maw looms over my snout. A smaller set of feelers touch my scales and let it guide where it can't see, and it pecks at my nostril once. I smell ozone and feel a different fire burn in my core, and relax.
This isn't ideal. It really isn't. But it's still better that what once was. You won't hurt me for too long. You're better than they ever were.
Trading my cell for this... it's not that scary. Somehow, despite this predator straddling me and chewing on my snout, I'm not scared of it. I have alarms shrieking in my ears and ozone burning my nostrils and wrists. Bubbly poison twisting my insides and making me gag. I'm terrified of that, but that's long gone. That broken visage cuts deep, but it leaves me feeling empty. I'm alone with this thing pecking at my skull, occasionally chirping or hissing softly as it chews over my scales.
It's little mandibles flutter over my cheek and squish it, the fangs behind it pricking at my scales but never really puncturing. It's odd, almost exploratory. I hear a faint plip as some dew from the pole overhead drips onto the creature, and it leans back slightly to presumably look up. It lowers back down on me, and I wince as it gets a little rougher. It halts for a moment, mandibles still dancing over my scales, before I feel a set of legs slip past my arms and latch onto my back.
I grit my teeth, expecting it to finally lunge down and bite into my flesh as the rest of it's body tenses, but with a start it lifts me up with strength I didn't think it had. My back scrapes along the mud as it lifts me and drags me partially out of the muck. It lowers me down just as quickly as it started, leaving a bit of my upper body out of the water and in the warm air. I blink as it lowers its body down onto my own, legs tightening its grip on me as it presses itself against me. It chirrups again and resumes nibbling on my neck, and my mind absently puzzles over this change of events.
It's roosting on me. Is it my body heat? I feel cold, but maybe it's colder. I wish I knew what you were. I'm glad you're not really biting me. It tickles, stop!
I couldn't help but squeak out a laugh, despite the very present danger I was in. The bug tensed for a moment but didn't sink its fangs into my neck, and after a moment it resumed licking at me. Slowly, it's legs tightened on my body and it pressed itself against me further, and it hissed softly. I closed my eyes when it's maw pressed against me, but once again no bite split me open and drained my lifeblood. It's mandibles tickled my scales some more as the creature flattened out, the ridges of its body laying in the mud as it settled down. I was all but buried under the thing that was almost as big as me, and my tail swished lightly in the water.
Once again, I find myself stuck. I wasn't going anywhere anyways, but now I'm very stuck. Hopefully it doesn't get peckish. This thing could definitely eat me if it wanted to. It's funny that I'm supposed to fear it. All those training exercises failed. Every test and experiment. Maybe it enforced the wrong behavior. I think I might've been respectfully afraid of this creature once, but that part of me is all burned up. If it existed at all.
.~*~.
I've missed the novelty of clouds. Sillis has an overabundance of them, but so far I've been lucky that none of the ones passing overhead were angry. It's almost odd that no rain has come, but I'm glad. I faintly remember that the rains could become acidic if there's too long a pause between storms. Too much smoke or warp residue building up in the atmosphere.
So far I've counted two absolutely towering thunderheads and small storm systems roll by in all their stunning glory, and dozens of smaller offsets in their wake. Hundreds of individual clouds dot the skies, not quite blanketing it yet. It's pleasant, even within the grasp of a large, sleeping predator that's fully enveloped me. I can feel it's diaphragm shifting ever so slightly on my chest, and it twitches occasionally.
I don't mind. For now, things are peaceful. I'm enjoying that. At least, until something crunched a few rows over.
That sounds a lot bigger than this predator.
The creature shifts slightly but doesn't wake as whatever else is out there stalks through the crops. It has to be a predator, from how quiet it moves. Every little rustle and faint step happen far from each other, and my mind immediately jumps to an ambush hunter. Carefully, I move my head to catch a glimpse of the thing, trying not to disturb the slumbering creature that is currently resting it's mouth on my neck. My scales fade into a dirty black that matches the soil, and I squint to hide my eyes from whatever is out there.
There's movement on my left, something tall shifting between the crops a few rows down. I hear a rumbling noise- a deep based growl, and the back of my skull itches.
"...D-1?"
No no no no no. I don't want to go back. I want to be free.
I know what the thing is. It's a new predator. A sapient one. The same ones that freed me. The same ones that wanted to herd me onto a ship. I can't do this. Sapient predators are cruel, far crueler than the average ones. A normal predator wasn't personal about the kill. It could be reasoned with. Where did that come from? A sapient predator was ruthless for entertainment.
I owe them my life.
They'll just take it.
There's a rustle from a different direction, and a behemoth steps out of the crops far closer to me than I would prefer. It is armored like the many I've seen before, but I realize instead of a firearm it wields a bulky tool of some kind tightly in its paws. It dawns on me that it's colors are different, green and blue instead of solid blue, and there's a colorful flag of some kind pressed on the garments of its arm.
"Copy." It rumbled quietly.
"Crikey, you spooked me there!" the other predator whispered, changing course. Thankfully the closest one broke off to meet it, and they stopped one row over. It was best I stay still. Their hearing was better than they let on. "Okay, did you get it done?"
I can't see them clearly, but some non verbal communication must have occurred because the one predator continues speaking.
"Good. Look, trouble is coming. A fellow seppo noticed the ordinance went missing. He's suspicious. There'll be heat soon. Have you made any progress with the other front?" A pause. "Same. I've dealt with several of his goons, but none knew anything good."
"I'll have him tonight."
"...D-1?"
"An exterminator account and reversed polarity on some switches works wonders."
"...you seppos are terrifying."
"We're a world power for a reason."
"...yeah. Do you have the drive? Nice. You keep this up and we'll have everything we need from this planet before Christmas. We're going to make things right." There's an odd grunt, and one of them starts rumbling quietly in what translates as amusement. "Involved in peace. What do they really think this accomplishes?"
"Don't care. We find our whales and move on."
"Come on, we can have some more fun if we're careful! Don't act like that doesn't entertain you after that bomber plot of yours!"
"S-4," there's an undertone in that growl that makes my scales shrink, "remember the prize."
"...God, you're a hard ass. Fine. I'm certain you're carrying that giant wrench for peaceful reasons and not to crack open any skulls out here. I'll check the smuggling routes. Rig up something to keep these bugs under our thumb. You keep being you. I need to move before they notice I'm gone."
Faint footsteps leading away, and I sighed. While brief, just being around them made my scales crawl-
The crops right beside me parted, and the other predator stepped out. It's covered foot splashed into the puddle, and stirred the predator enveloping me. Much to my horror the thing chirruped and hissed, releasing me and spinning around. The apex predator looked down at the smaller thing and regarded it.
:)
The drawing on the mask was comical, and not at all what I was expecting. Most humans didn't wear masks, so blinding terror didn't sweep me away. I almost laughed at the absurdity of concealing one's face, only to make a lazy drawing of a face overtop of it.
The smaller predator didn't find it nearly as confusing or entertaining as I did, and hissed. The apex didn't falter, but surprisingly held its ground despite being threatened by a lesser predator.
Most predators would make a threat back and assert itself. Or lash out. What is this one up too? It's not acting submissive so it isn't backing down. But it isn't retaliating either. Does it need to? It's using it's own size as a deterrent.
My thoughts are interrupted when my toothy cover abruptly spins and flees, gaining air under its body and become airborne. It slashes through a row of crops and is gone, just like how it arrived. The apex still hasn't moved. It takes a few steps forward, nearing me. I can't tell if it's looking at me or not so I close my eyes tight, hoping that my eyes hadn't given me away. There's a thump right beside me and I flinch. I can feel it's presence. It has stopped walking.
It knows. Somehow it sees me. It knows it knows it knows.
Something warm grazes my neck and I flinch again, despite myself. I can't do it. I don't want to die with my eyes closed. I want to see the sun and the clouds and the crops, not this faux darkness.
I open my eyes and it's right there, crouched over me. I can't bother with wasting my energy by screaming. It saw through my camouflage and had a paw to my neck. I wished it to be merciful and just strike me down with the wrench it brought, but it doesn't. Instead it plunges its paw into the water, under my rump. It rips me out of the water and I gasp as its other paw slips down under my shoulders and lifts, but my mind catches up a moment later when it pressed me against it's chest instead of its mouth, forsaking my exposed stomach. It's grip loosens slightly and it adjusts, an arm under my shoulder blades and legs. I can feel the muscles rippling in it's grip, and how easily it could fold me over backwards and squish me. I've seen it first hand.
But it's so gently. So unbelievably gentle. I don't remember the last time I was touched like this. Something in a dark recess of my mind wavered, and I realized I'd curled my tail around the creature's arm without meaning to. It holds me a little closer, nowhere near enough to hurt, and my scales start to change to match the colors it wears. It's not looking at me, the mask is angled too far up. We're moving at a blinding pace suddenly, the rows of crops blurring in my vision. It doesn't stop. This apex runs like a machine, each breath consistent and calculated to a rhythm I notice. Its breathing labors but it keeps going, warm jets of air spitting out the bottom of its mask and onto my soggy, damp form.
It's so warm. I didn't realize the chill of the water until now but I'm shivering. My body takes over for my confused mind and curls into the predator's grasp, trying to get as much warmth from the human's rough garments as I can. I don't know what's come over me. I don't know where it's taking me. I don't care. I can't escape it, and if this thing kills me it was at least kind enough to be gentle.
The skies are so beautiful. I try and focus on them but all I can really see is the predator's mask. I can see the bottom of it's jaw, the taught muscles there. I dread what its face looks like in this moment under that mask. Its digits tighten on my shoulder and side in response to me curling into it, and absently I wonder how this predator is the same as the ones from days ago with their thundering bellows and ruthless firepower.
The apex thunders out of the field and I'm assaulted by new sights. There's a few dozen of them roving around a clearing by several vehicles.
I also spot an Exterminator's van, and my claws unsheathe. The predator winces and I realize I've nailed him with them, but he doesn't throw me down or bark at me. He sprints by the van without stopping, but I see several Tilfish locked inside and doomed to a terrible fate worse than being eaten.
"Ambulance!?" It barks sharply, out of breath. It skids to a stop beside one of the transports, clutching me firmly.
"Just left with the patient. Where the hell did this one come from?" An unmasked predator growled, eyes beady and looking over me. Mine made an odd jerking motion and continued.
"Get Doc."
"I will. What hospital are we calling?" The thought of a clinical space makes me flinch. White walls. White floors. Cold tiles. Needles. Beeping. Humming. Frying.
"None. Operational security."
The other predator screwed its face up and departed, and abruptly mine was sitting down on the back of one of the trucks. Gently I was plopped down on its lap, and I watched transfixed as it peeled its armor off, then its outer garment. There's an image of a veiled human on the back with its eyes closed, head craned down. Its hands are clasped together in thought, and the meaning of it goes over my head.
The predator is a lot smaller than I thought it was. It gently lifts me and set me in the garment, before it starts wiping me down with it. I'm too sore to fight it, and the cloth is exceptionally warm from the creature's body heat. It pulls me closer and holds me in a way that makes my chest hurt, and it looks out at an approaching predator. It rumbles softly.
"You're going to be okay."
My body relaxes despite my mind's warnings. I'm wrapped up in this garment it wore. I can't escape it. But it's warm. The material soaks up the water on my skin, and wipes away the grime and muck I've accumulated over the days. Slowly, my scales begin to shift again, bleeding back to my normal tan coloration.
"Did something finally bite you Sunshine? I haven't seen you run like that in- oh-kay." The approaching predator flinched when it got close and tensed up.
It wants to eat me. This one- Sunshine- it won't let it without a fight. Are they going to eat me? Sunshine won't. Right?
"I thought there was only one victim." The predator rumbled after a moment, creeping closer. I shrank into the material and took on it's color, only for a warm paw to settle on my arm.
"You're fine." Sunshine whispered. It looked up at the approaching predator and jerked its head awkwardly. "There is. Look at it. Do you see it too?"
Gently, it lifted my arm. I was too stiff to pull it back, not that I could've against its powerful grip. I was completely exposed to this other predator.
"Relax. Please." Sunshine whispered once more. The growl was soft, and I looked up at the mask above me. The grip on my arm was careful, I realized. I could pull away right now. Slowly, my scales lightened. The other predator leaned in closer and I flashed white and yellow briefly, but Sunshine propped me up a bit and started gently poking at sore parts of my body. My ribs. My neck. "Here. And... and here."
The other predator's eyes seemed to get bigger. Something deeper changed in its face. "Holy shit." It made to move forward and I reeled back, pressing myself further into Sunshine. The predator immediately froze and slunk back.
"He can help." Sunshine rumbled softly.
Oh dear. Oh dear.
It touched me. It's diminutive nails didn't rend into my scales as it touched my ribs, prodding them softly. Sunshine adjusted how it sat so that the other predator could have better access to me, and I couldn't help but focus on the skies again as it assessed what part of me it wanted.
Sunshine won't let it eat me.
I don't know where the thought came from, but it was firm. I believed it entirely. Even though Sunshine was a sapient predator, it wouldn't let it happen. Maybe it claimed me as its own already. I... I had doubts I would be eaten. The thoughts were there, but Sunshine had a perfect chance already. Unless it wanted to flaunt its catch first, which the Arxur did- but it was gentle. Sunshine was better than an Arxur.
"Malnourished, deep sores. Ulcers. There's bruising up and down the rib cage. Jesus- sorry."
"They're old. Persistent. Its feet."
"What about..." The predator got quiet. I felt my scales shift in worry as it gingerly lifted one of my legs. It remained quiet, but its face stretched further. "What happened?"
It was looking at me. Asking me. I shrank further into the fabric, but there was nowhere to go. The silence was unbearable, and I started trembling.
The silence continued.
"A runaway." Sunshine rumbled after forever. I didn't understand what that meant. My translator didn't pick it up quite right. Run-away? Like fleeing? Was that what these predators called their prey? No... no that didn't seem right. It was possible, but...
"Could have been kidnapped." Another word I didn't understand, but my translator worked on the other predator. Stealing a person by force? Using fear outside of the law? How did predators have such a word? "We need to get it to the hospital. Figure out what happened and how it ended up in this field."
NO NO NO NO NO
Sunshine's arms draped over me before I could escape, my attempt no better than a drunk Mazic trying to fit through a Venlil sized door. I couldn't stop the whine in my throat, but its soft digits down my back froze me. A subtle noise filtered out behind the mask, and it settled me back down in its garment. It picked up an edge lined with little metal teeth and draped it over me, blocking my sight from the other predator. I felt safe, suddenly. Sunshine's firm grip on my body didn't feel threatening. It felt like a promise, as it carefully pulled me against it's bulk. I was warm, despite my terror.
"Zuda will handle it. No hospitals. This stays with us."
"Sunshine," the other predator protested, "we need to figure out what happened!"
"Think, Doc." Sunshine growled, and this was no doubt a warning. I felt relief that the difference between the two growls was so obvious.
"What?"
"Think. Use your head."
There was a period of silence. "You don't... that can't be right." I didn't understand what conclusion it made.
"The injuries are uniform. Too clean to be anything else."
They can't know. How can they know?
"We need confirmation!"
"We already have it." Sunshine stated, and slowly the fabric was lifted off of my head. I blinked, and noticed that the other predator had changed a different shade.
That's odd. Are you predators like me?
That's terrifying. I'm not a threat. I'm me.
"It reacted to the van and mention of a hospital, Doc. Nobody outside the UN hears of this. Operational security."
It... does Sunshine know? How do they know?
"What the fuck is this planet, Sunshine?" The other predator lamented.
Sunshine didn't respond. He looked around at the surrounding encampment, and I realized it was shrinking. They were leaving. A few other predators were subtly watching as they worked, but I doubted they could hear the conversation with how quiet it was. I realize there's a few Venlil in their ranks, unbothered by their presence and even wearing garments similar to the predators around them.
A digit tapped the end of my snout and I flinched, looking up at Sunshine. It's paw retracted as the other predator withdrew a medical kit with a paw print on it and began to unclasp it. "You're safe. We're... we're going to help."
You know. You know what I am. And you're helping me anyway. Why are you helping me? I'm weak. I'm dangerous. But not to you. You're an apex. Is that why? Does your species stick together, unlike the Arxur? Do you uplift those around you, no matter if they're prey or dangerous? The Venlil are not afraid of you. You must not eat them. What do you eat? It has to be meat. But, it must be something that they can handle. Does what makes me dangerous fall away under your hierarchy? I hope it does. It doesn't seem real. I guess to you, what makes me a threat is meaningless.
I believe Sunshine. I really do. When the other predator comes forward with a healing gel, I surrender.
I am safe.
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.*~*.
Memory Transcription Subject: ? , run run run run run run.
Date: December 2, 2136
.~*~.
I'm tired. I'm so unbearably tired. I don't remember the fall or when my legs quit working, but I'm still denied the sweet release of sleep by the fires radiating from my muscles. It's sick and twisted, but I don't think I can move any more. I'm stuck here face down in the soil, unable or unwilling to do anything but wonder if a harvesting drone will roll over me and turn me into mist on the crops I'm lost in. My mouth itches. Some loose soil in my nose makes me hack, but there's nothing I can do but wheeze and pant. There's not a drop of moisture left in me. I'm all shriveled up. Everything's a haze.
I should've stopped for water. There was time. A few ponds that didn't look filmed over with vile algae blooms. The last town had a fountain on the outskirts. There were a few distant outbuildings that could've had a sink or a hose. Really, a few mouthfuls would've been enough to keep me from cramping up. Now I feel like I'm all dried out, like a stick of fruit jerky.
I should've taken a break. I've not been able to run in so long. I knew it was getting bad, but I ignored it. I'm paying for it now. I pushed way too far. Run until I black out. Wake up. Repeat. For days and days, or however long I've been free. I don't know. Every time I wake I can't tell if minutes have passed or days. I would push myself back to my feet and run. Because distance is all that matters. I made the right call avoiding the roads. The cameras. The soles of my feet are battered and wail in pain, but for every step I took was a minute longer I got to feel the sun kiss my scales and the gentle caress of the wind upon my neck. The cool soil seeping into my burning side. Fresh air in my lungs. Faint mist on my back.
I should've calmed down. I'm wasting what little time I have left stuck here in misery. I missed my chance to escape. My saviors were predators, but it would've been a better fate. And they're everywhere. Monsters and Predators alike. The whole planet is getting what it deserves. I made my choice, but now I'm squandering it. At least the soil is nice. Even as broken as I feel, it is only temporary. I know this is heaven. I wouldn't trade it for anything else. Even if my tongue is dried and bleeding.
I.
Just.
Need.
To.
Get.
Up.
no no no no no. Hurts. Hurts hurts hurts.
UP.
My body rebels. I settle on crawling. Dragging my tainted digits through the soil and forcing myself through the mud.
Puddle. Puddle Puddle Puddle.
I'm glad to be alive. I'm glad for this puddle. It's my whole world. I crawl to it as quickly as my body allows and beyond, but I'm too dehydrated to cry at the lancing pain in my joints. I slip and tumble into it face first, a cold shock making me freeze up. I don't even try to drink at first, my eyes closed as I lay partially submerged in this brackish water. It makes me feel slightly better as the cold gently eases my neck muscles, and I feel the rest of my body cramping up again.
Imagine drowning in a claw of water. I'm suddenly terrified that it's possible. I throw an arm out and dig it deep into the mud, clawing silt as I awkwardly pull myself in sideways. I roll, splashing the rest of the way in and feeling my poorly treated scales weep as the cold bleeds into them. I lay my head sideways and drink, gagging at the taste but unable to stop myself. I still can't cry, but my face is still trying to produce tears anyways.
In delirium, I notice the corner of a structure well above me. It's a pole, made of metal and towering well above me. Morning dew drips off of it and into my eye not currently submerged, and I blink it away.
Thank you pole. You're a life saver.
I don't plan on moving for a while, so I don't. The dew drips onto my snout several times, and my body rejoices at the cool water I've partially submerged myself in. The silt in my mouth is a necessary and tolerable evil from my desperate dive, and I angle my snout so that I can catch the fresh dew dripping from above instead. It tastes far better than the puddle, and for the first time in ever, I feel a smile creeping on my face.
.*~*.
I blink lazily, one eyelid operating a few seconds behind the other. I feel better. This blackout felt more natural, less forced. Like a gentle wave over my mind than the harsh crack of a baton. My mouth is still full of silt that I spit out, and a moment later I realize I can spit again. The bitter taste of blood in my mouth is faint now, and the joy of having a wet palate can't be described.
ow.
It hurts to move. I try again, but my flesh feels like it's been filled with concrete. My muscles are too tight on my bones. Stiffly, I try again, making little progress, but still progress. I edge out a claw at a time, barely getting my neck out of the pool before collapsing, the chilly waters leaving me shivering.
Where am I?
A very good question, I ask myself. I don't know. That's the cost of running without direction for so long. I think I'm in a field, judging by the crops looking over me and encompassing my wide vision of the vibrant sky overhead.
Yeah... that's it. I'm in a field. Brilliant observation skills.
I try again, but nothing new comes up. For the first time since I fled, I think about what I'm going to do. I'm free. I'm free. What am I going to do now that I'm free? How long do I have? I know the answer to that already. I have a long time. Everybody that knew me is dead and gone. I just need to be careful and not ruin this chance. I should try and find a town. Cities are too big, too many problems could come up. Too many exterminators. I could start over off the beaten path. Somewhere I can hide in plain sight.
This is Sillis. Being me shouldn't be an issue. I... I can get a labor job somewhere. Change my name. What can I do?
...
What can I do?
What is my name?
"Oh dear." I whispered quietly to myself, brows furrowing. Odd. How odd. I can move on from that. Makes starting a new life easier. Something that isn't four walls and a paper thin mattress. Something outside. I just... need to get... out of this darn puddle. No, still not happening. Ouch.
I splash my paw into the puddle in frustration, using about the full range of motion I seem capable of in a mild fit. I want to stay on the move, but the consequences of my poor decision making have come back to bite me right on the rear. At least I have some time to think.
I could try the lumber industry. That's usually away from people. I think I can figure out how to knock down trees, or at least fix up the machines that can. Maybe I can join a farm around here once I'm cleaned up. There's always something to do on a farm. Like counting shipments, or unloading shipments, or loading them. Maybe I can fix things around the property. Golly, I hope I know how to fix the automated machinery. That would really be nice.
Ooh! I could try and be a tram service maintenance operator. Wait, no no no. That requires background checks, I think. Darn it. Uuuh, road utility services? No, that'll take me into cities one way or another. There's a ton of work with drainage systems and water run off here. I could get good money for that since it's risky. Pollutants, constant thundering streams of water. I think I can go with that. There would be a lot of rural investigations that I could apply for. If not, I'm certain the underground construction projects would bear fruit. I'll miss the sun but nobody would bother me too much... no, still too many people. Drainage systems it is!
A faint whistle catches my ear and I freeze, tilting my head as something green flies just overhead. It clips several stalks and leaves as it passes, but seems unbothered as the severed branches fall to the ground and leaves gently cascade after. I follow its path with an eye and it vanishes between some tall plants, leaving me alone just as quickly as-
Nope, the same thing floats by again, darting between crops once more directly above me. It's odd, I can't hear wing beats or buzzing, or see anything keeping it airborne as it passed, and I wait with baited breath to see if it shows itself again. I don't know what I feel, but it isn't terror. It's... something. Curiosity? This time I hear a chirrup, but it's close. I don't see it float by, and painfully I crane my neck and look at the other side of the puddle.
It's an insectoid of some kind, strangely wide and flat. It looks pretty similar to the leaves on the many trees that I've seen since I got out, with uneven, tapered sides. It has a few pairs of legs, and it scuttles to the puddle and dips the front of its body towards the surface. It really does look like a large leaf, but my observation is cut short when the bug abruptly stops moving within barely a claw of the water, a pair of forward facing compound eyes snug against the stem near the tip of its body. It chirps again, and I see narrow maw under the front of this creature, a slim set of fangs briefly glinting in the sun before its mandibles hide them.
"Oh dear." I manage to whisper.
With remarkable dexterity it hops across the body of water and splashes down on top of me, and several legs grip my ribs and arms. My tail flicks under the water's surface, but I don't move as the thing's maw looms over my snout. A smaller set of feelers touch my scales and let it guide where it can't see, and it pecks at my nostril once. I smell ozone and feel a different fire burn in my core, and relax.
This isn't ideal. It really isn't. But it's still better that what once was. You won't hurt me for too long. You're better than they ever were.
Trading my cell for this... it's not that scary. Somehow, despite this predator straddling me and chewing on my snout, I'm not scared of it. I have alarms shrieking in my ears and ozone burning my nostrils and wrists. Bubbly poison twisting my insides and making me gag. I'm terrified of that, but that's long gone. That broken visage cuts deep, but it leaves me feeling empty. I'm alone with this thing pecking at my skull, occasionally chirping or hissing softly as it chews over my scales.
It's little mandibles flutter over my cheek and squish it, the fangs behind it pricking at my scales but never really puncturing. It's odd, almost exploratory. I hear a faint plip as some dew from the pole overhead drips onto the creature, and it leans back slightly to presumably look up. It lowers back down on me, and I wince as it gets a little rougher. It halts for a moment, mandibles still dancing over my scales, before I feel a set of legs slip past my arms and latch onto my back.
I grit my teeth, expecting it to finally lunge down and bite into my flesh as the rest of it's body tenses, but with a start it lifts me up with strength I didn't think it had. My back scrapes along the mud as it lifts me and drags me partially out of the muck. It lowers me down just as quickly as it started, leaving a bit of my upper body out of the water and in the warm air. I blink as it lowers its body down onto my own, legs tightening its grip on me as it presses itself against me. It chirrups again and resumes nibbling on my neck, and my mind absently puzzles over this change of events.
It's roosting on me. Is it my body heat? I feel cold, but maybe it's colder. I wish I knew what you were. I'm glad you're not really biting me. It tickles, stop!
I couldn't help but squeak out a laugh, despite the very present danger I was in. The bug tensed for a moment but didn't sink its fangs into my neck, and after a moment it resumed licking at me. Slowly, it's legs tightened on my body and it pressed itself against me further, and it hissed softly. I closed my eyes when it's maw pressed against me, but once again no bite split me open and drained my lifeblood. It's mandibles tickled my scales some more as the creature flattened out, the ridges of its body laying in the mud as it settled down. I was all but buried under the thing that was almost as big as me, and my tail swished lightly in the water.
Once again, I find myself stuck. I wasn't going anywhere anyways, but now I'm very stuck. Hopefully it doesn't get peckish. This thing could definitely eat me if it wanted to. It's funny that I'm supposed to fear it. All those training exercises failed. Every test and experiment. Maybe it enforced the wrong behavior. I think I might've been respectfully afraid of this creature once, but that part of me is all burned up. If it existed at all.
.~*~.
I've missed the novelty of clouds. Sillis has an overabundance of them, but so far I've been lucky that none of the ones passing overhead were angry. It's almost odd that no rain has come, but I'm glad. I faintly remember that the rains could become acidic if there's too long a pause between storms. Too much smoke or warp residue building up in the atmosphere.
So far I've counted two absolutely towering thunderheads and small storm systems roll by in all their stunning glory, and dozens of smaller offsets in their wake. Hundreds of individual clouds dot the skies, not quite blanketing it yet. It's pleasant, even within the grasp of a large, sleeping predator that's fully enveloped me. I can feel it's diaphragm shifting ever so slightly on my chest, and it twitches occasionally.
I don't mind. For now, things are peaceful. I'm enjoying that. At least, until something crunched a few rows over.
That sounds a lot bigger than this predator.
The creature shifts slightly but doesn't wake as whatever else is out there stalks through the crops. It has to be a predator, from how quiet it moves. Every little rustle and faint step happen far from each other, and my mind immediately jumps to an ambush hunter. Carefully, I move my head to catch a glimpse of the thing, trying not to disturb the slumbering creature that is currently resting it's mouth on my neck. My scales fade into a dirty black that matches the soil, and I squint to hide my eyes from whatever is out there.
There's movement on my left, something tall shifting between the crops a few rows down. I hear a rumbling noise- a deep based growl, and the back of my skull itches.
"...D-1?"
No no no no no. I don't want to go back. I want to be free.
I know what the thing is. It's a new predator. A sapient one. The same ones that freed me. The same ones that wanted to herd me onto a ship. I can't do this. Sapient predators are cruel, far crueler than the average ones. A normal predator wasn't personal about the kill. It could be reasoned with. Where did that come from? A sapient predator was ruthless for entertainment.
I owe them my life.
They'll just take it.
There's a rustle from a different direction, and a behemoth steps out of the crops far closer to me than I would prefer. It is armored like the many I've seen before, but I realize instead of a firearm it wields a bulky tool of some kind tightly in its paws. It dawns on me that it's colors are different, green and blue instead of solid blue, and there's a colorful flag of some kind pressed on the garments of its arm.
"Copy." It rumbled quietly.
"Crikey, you spooked me there!" the other predator whispered, changing course. Thankfully the closest one broke off to meet it, and they stopped one row over. It was best I stay still. Their hearing was better than they let on. "Okay, did you get it done?"
I can't see them clearly, but some non verbal communication must have occurred because the one predator continues speaking.
"Good. Look, trouble is coming. A fellow seppo noticed the ordinance went missing. He's suspicious. There'll be heat soon. Have you made any progress with the other front?" A pause. "Same. I've dealt with several of his goons, but none knew anything good."
"I'll have him tonight."
"...D-1?"
"An exterminator account and reversed polarity on some switches works wonders."
"...you seppos are terrifying."
"We're a world power for a reason."
"...yeah. Do you have the drive? Nice. You keep this up and we'll have everything we need from this planet before Christmas. We're going to make things right." There's an odd grunt, and one of them starts rumbling quietly in what translates as amusement. "Involved in peace. What do they really think this accomplishes?"
"Don't care. We find our whales and move on."
"Come on, we can have some more fun if we're careful! Don't act like that doesn't entertain you after that bomber plot of yours!"
"S-4," there's an undertone in that growl that makes my scales shrink, "remember the prize."
"...God, you're a hard ass. Fine. I'm certain you're carrying that giant wrench for peaceful reasons and not to crack open any skulls out here. I'll check the smuggling routes. Rig up something to keep these bugs under our thumb. You keep being you. I need to move before they notice I'm gone."
Faint footsteps leading away, and I sighed. While brief, just being around them made my scales crawl-
The crops right beside me parted, and the other predator stepped out. It's covered foot splashed into the puddle, and stirred the predator enveloping me. Much to my horror the thing chirruped and hissed, releasing me and spinning around. The apex predator looked down at the smaller thing and regarded it.
:)
The drawing on the mask was comical, and not at all what I was expecting. Most humans didn't wear masks, so blinding terror didn't sweep me away. I almost laughed at the absurdity of concealing one's face, only to make a lazy drawing of a face overtop of it.
The smaller predator didn't find it nearly as confusing or entertaining as I did, and hissed. The apex didn't falter, but surprisingly held its ground despite being threatened by a lesser predator.
Most predators would make a threat back and assert itself. Or lash out. What is this one up too? It's not acting submissive so it isn't backing down. But it isn't retaliating either. Does it need to? It's using it's own size as a deterrent.
My thoughts are interrupted when my toothy cover abruptly spins and flees, gaining air under its body and become airborne. It slashes through a row of crops and is gone, just like how it arrived. The apex still hasn't moved. It takes a few steps forward, nearing me. I can't tell if it's looking at me or not so I close my eyes tight, hoping that my eyes hadn't given me away. There's a thump right beside me and I flinch. I can feel it's presence. It has stopped walking.
It knows. Somehow it sees me. It knows it knows it knows.
Something warm grazes my neck and I flinch again, despite myself. I can't do it. I don't want to die with my eyes closed. I want to see the sun and the clouds and the crops, not this faux darkness.
I open my eyes and it's right there, crouched over me. I can't bother with wasting my energy by screaming. It saw through my camouflage and had a paw to my neck. I wished it to be merciful and just strike me down with the wrench it brought, but it doesn't. Instead it plunges its paw into the water, under my rump. It rips me out of the water and I gasp as its other paw slips down under my shoulders and lifts, but my mind catches up a moment later when it pressed me against it's chest instead of its mouth, forsaking my exposed stomach. It's grip loosens slightly and it adjusts, an arm under my shoulder blades and legs. I can feel the muscles rippling in it's grip, and how easily it could fold me over backwards and squish me. I've seen it first hand.
But it's so gently. So unbelievably gentle. I don't remember the last time I was touched like this. Something in a dark recess of my mind wavered, and I realized I'd curled my tail around the creature's arm without meaning to. It holds me a little closer, nowhere near enough to hurt, and my scales start to change to match the colors it wears. It's not looking at me, the mask is angled too far up. We're moving at a blinding pace suddenly, the rows of crops blurring in my vision. It doesn't stop. This apex runs like a machine, each breath consistent and calculated to a rhythm I notice. Its breathing labors but it keeps going, warm jets of air spitting out the bottom of its mask and onto my soggy, damp form.
It's so warm. I didn't realize the chill of the water until now but I'm shivering. My body takes over for my confused mind and curls into the predator's grasp, trying to get as much warmth from the human's rough garments as I can. I don't know what's come over me. I don't know where it's taking me. I don't care. I can't escape it, and if this thing kills me it was at least kind enough to be gentle.
The skies are so beautiful. I try and focus on them but all I can really see is the predator's mask. I can see the bottom of it's jaw, the taught muscles there. I dread what its face looks like in this moment under that mask. Its digits tighten on my shoulder and side in response to me curling into it, and absently I wonder how this predator is the same as the ones from days ago with their thundering bellows and ruthless firepower.
The apex thunders out of the field and I'm assaulted by new sights. There's a few dozen of them roving around a clearing by several vehicles.
I also spot an Exterminator's van, and my claws unsheathe. The predator winces and I realize I've nailed him with them, but he doesn't throw me down or bark at me. He sprints by the van without stopping, but I see several Tilfish locked inside and doomed to a terrible fate worse than being eaten.
"Ambulance!?" It barks sharply, out of breath. It skids to a stop beside one of the transports, clutching me firmly.
"Just left with the patient. Where the hell did this one come from?" An unmasked predator growled, eyes beady and looking over me. Mine made an odd jerking motion and continued.
"Get Doc."
"I will. What hospital are we calling?" The thought of a clinical space makes me flinch. White walls. White floors. Cold tiles. Needles. Beeping. Humming. Frying.
"None. Operational security."
The other predator screwed its face up and departed, and abruptly mine was sitting down on the back of one of the trucks. Gently I was plopped down on its lap, and I watched transfixed as it peeled its armor off, then its outer garment. There's an image of a veiled human on the back with its eyes closed, head craned down. Its hands are clasped together in thought, and the meaning of it goes over my head.
The predator is a lot smaller than I thought it was. It gently lifts me and set me in the garment, before it starts wiping me down with it. I'm too sore to fight it, and the cloth is exceptionally warm from the creature's body heat. It pulls me closer and holds me in a way that makes my chest hurt, and it looks out at an approaching predator. It rumbles softly.
"You're going to be okay."
My body relaxes despite my mind's warnings. I'm wrapped up in this garment it wore. I can't escape it. But it's warm. The material soaks up the water on my skin, and wipes away the grime and muck I've accumulated over the days. Slowly, my scales begin to shift again, bleeding back to my normal tan coloration.
"Did something finally bite you Sunshine? I haven't seen you run like that in- oh-kay." The approaching predator flinched when it got close and tensed up.
It wants to eat me. This one- Sunshine- it won't let it without a fight. Are they going to eat me? Sunshine won't. Right?
"I thought there was only one victim." The predator rumbled after a moment, creeping closer. I shrank into the material and took on it's color, only for a warm paw to settle on my arm.
"You're fine." Sunshine whispered. It looked up at the approaching predator and jerked its head awkwardly. "There is. Look at it. Do you see it too?"
Gently, it lifted my arm. I was too stiff to pull it back, not that I could've against its powerful grip. I was completely exposed to this other predator.
"Relax. Please." Sunshine whispered once more. The growl was soft, and I looked up at the mask above me. The grip on my arm was careful, I realized. I could pull away right now. Slowly, my scales lightened. The other predator leaned in closer and I flashed white and yellow briefly, but Sunshine propped me up a bit and started gently poking at sore parts of my body. My ribs. My neck. "Here. And... and here."
The other predator's eyes seemed to get bigger. Something deeper changed in its face. "Holy shit." It made to move forward and I reeled back, pressing myself further into Sunshine. The predator immediately froze and slunk back.
"He can help." Sunshine rumbled softly.
Oh dear. Oh dear.
It touched me. It's diminutive nails didn't rend into my scales as it touched my ribs, prodding them softly. Sunshine adjusted how it sat so that the other predator could have better access to me, and I couldn't help but focus on the skies again as it assessed what part of me it wanted.
Sunshine won't let it eat me.
I don't know where the thought came from, but it was firm. I believed it entirely. Even though Sunshine was a sapient predator, it wouldn't let it happen. Maybe it claimed me as its own already. I... I had doubts I would be eaten. The thoughts were there, but Sunshine had a perfect chance already. Unless it wanted to flaunt its catch first, which the Arxur did- but it was gentle. Sunshine was better than an Arxur.
"Malnourished, deep sores. Ulcers. There's bruising up and down the rib cage. Jesus- sorry."
"They're old. Persistent. Its feet."
"What about..." The predator got quiet. I felt my scales shift in worry as it gingerly lifted one of my legs. It remained quiet, but its face stretched further. "What happened?"
It was looking at me. Asking me. I shrank further into the fabric, but there was nowhere to go. The silence was unbearable, and I started trembling.
The silence continued.
"A runaway." Sunshine rumbled after forever. I didn't understand what that meant. My translator didn't pick it up quite right. Run-away? Like fleeing? Was that what these predators called their prey? No... no that didn't seem right. It was possible, but...
"Could have been kidnapped." Another word I didn't understand, but my translator worked on the other predator. Stealing a person by force? Using fear outside of the law? How did predators have such a word? "We need to get it to the hospital. Figure out what happened and how it ended up in this field."
NO NO NO NO NO
Sunshine's arms draped over me before I could escape, my attempt no better than a drunk Mazic trying to fit through a Venlil sized door. I couldn't stop the whine in my throat, but its soft digits down my back froze me. A subtle noise filtered out behind the mask, and it settled me back down in its garment. It picked up an edge lined with little metal teeth and draped it over me, blocking my sight from the other predator. I felt safe, suddenly. Sunshine's firm grip on my body didn't feel threatening. It felt like a promise, as it carefully pulled me against it's bulk. I was warm, despite my terror.
"Zuda will handle it. No hospitals. This stays with us."
"Sunshine," the other predator protested, "we need to figure out what happened!"
"Think, Doc." Sunshine growled, and this was no doubt a warning. I felt relief that the difference between the two growls was so obvious.
"What?"
"Think. Use your head."
There was a period of silence. "You don't... that can't be right." I didn't understand what conclusion it made.
"The injuries are uniform. Too clean to be anything else."
They can't know. How can they know?
"We need confirmation!"
"We already have it." Sunshine stated, and slowly the fabric was lifted off of my head. I blinked, and noticed that the other predator had changed a different shade.
That's odd. Are you predators like me?
That's terrifying. I'm not a threat. I'm me.
"It reacted to the van and mention of a hospital, Doc. Nobody outside the UN hears of this. Operational security."
It... does Sunshine know? How do they know?
"What the fuck is this planet, Sunshine?" The other predator lamented.
Sunshine didn't respond. He looked around at the surrounding encampment, and I realized it was shrinking. They were leaving. A few other predators were subtly watching as they worked, but I doubted they could hear the conversation with how quiet it was. I realize there's a few Venlil in their ranks, unbothered by their presence and even wearing garments similar to the predators around them.
A digit tapped the end of my snout and I flinched, looking up at Sunshine. It's paw retracted as the other predator withdrew a medical kit with a paw print on it and began to unclasp it. "You're safe. We're... we're going to help."
You know. You know what I am. And you're helping me anyway. Why are you helping me? I'm weak. I'm dangerous. But not to you. You're an apex. Is that why? Does your species stick together, unlike the Arxur? Do you uplift those around you, no matter if they're prey or dangerous? The Venlil are not afraid of you. You must not eat them. What do you eat? It has to be meat. But, it must be something that they can handle. Does what makes me dangerous fall away under your hierarchy? I hope it does. It doesn't seem real. I guess to you, what makes me a threat is meaningless.
I believe Sunshine. I really do. When the other predator comes forward with a healing gel, I surrender.
I am safe.
2023.06.03 20:04 Aware_Machine_9838 (Selling) List of 4K and HD movies, TV Shows, Marvel, Disney
13 Hours VUDU $5 (split) 3 From Hell (Unrated) MA 4K $10 300 Rise of an Empire MA HD $5 31 VUDU HD $7 42 The Jackie Robinson Story MA $6 47 Ronin VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $6 (MA) (split) A Quiet Place VUDU 4K $9, VUDU HD $6, iTunes 4K $6 (split) A Quiet Place Part 2 VUDU 4K $10 Action Point VUDU $3, iTunes 4K $4 (split) Alfred Hitchcock collection MA 4K $30 (Rear Window, Vertigo, Psycho, The Birds) Alien MA 4K $9 All the Money in the World MA $6.50 Allied VUDU 4K $10, iTunes 4K $7 (split) Almost Famous VUDU 4K $10 American Gangster MA 4K $11 American Hustle MA $5 American Made MA 4K $10 American Psycho VUDU 4K $10 American Reunion MA $5 (split) American Sniper MA $5 Amira (drafthouse) $2 Anatomy of a Murder MA 4K $10 Animal House MA 4K $10 Anna MA 4K $10 Annabelle MA $6 Annihilation VUDU 4K $8, VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Antebellum VUDU 4K $10 Apocalypse Now VUDU 4K $10 Apollo 13 MA 4K $10 Argo MA $5 Arrival VUDU 4K $8, VUDU HD $4, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Atomic Blonde VUDU 4K $7, VUDU HD $4, iTunes 4K $6 (MA) (split) Back to the Future Trilogy MA 4K $20, MA HD $15 Bad Grandpa VUDU $5 (split) Battleship MA 4K $10 The Beguiled MA $5 (split) Benji (moviespree) $2 Beverly Hills Cop MA 4K $10 The Big Lebowsky VUDU 4K $10 The Birds MA 4K $9 Birds of Prey MA 4K $10 Blade MA 4K $11 Blood Father VUDU $5 Bloodshot MA 4K $10 The Blues Brothers MA 4K $10 Book Club VUDU $4, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Boss Baby MA $5 The Boss (Unrated) iTunes $4 Bourne Identity VUDU 4K $8 (split) Bourne Supremacy VUDU HD $4 (split) Bourne Legacy VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $6 (MA) (split) Jason Bourne VUDU 4K $8 Braveheart VUDU 4K $10 The Breakfast Club MA $6 Bumblebee VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $6 (split) The Bye Bye Man iTunes $5 Cabin in the Woods MA 4K $10, VUDU HD/iTunes 4K $6 The Campaign MA $5 Captain Fantastic MA $5 Casino MA 4K $10 Clint Eastwood a Cinematic Legacy MA HD $6 Cloverfield VUDU 4K $10 Clueless VUDU $7 Cold Pursuit VUDU 4K $10 The Commuter VUDU 4K $10 The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It MA $8 Crawl VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) The Curse of La Lorona MA $5 Daddy's Home VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Daddy's Home 2 VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Dallas Buyers Club VUDU $6, iTunes $6 (split) The Dark Knight Rises MA HD $5 Darkest Hour MA 4K $10 Days of Thunder VUDU 4K $10 Deadpool MA 4K $10 Deadpool 2 MA 4K $10 Deepwater Horizon VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $7 (split) Den of Thieves iTunes $5 Despicable Me 2 VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Despicable Me 3 VUDU 4K $9, VUDU HD $5 (MA) (split) Dirty Grandpa MA 4K $10 Do the Right Thing MA 4K $10 Dom Hemingway MA $5 Dr. Strangelove MA 4K $10 Dreamworks 10 movie bundle MA $30 (Shrek, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, Madagascar, Kung Fu Panda, How to Train Your Dragon, The Croods, Home, Trolls, The Boss Baby, Abominable) Dredd VUDU 4K $10, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Dunkirk MA HD $6 E.T. iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Elysium VUDU 4K $10 Ender's Game VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Evil Dead 1 4K $8 Evil Dead 2 4K $8 (together $14) Ex Machina VUDU 4K $9, VUDU HD $5 The Expendables 3 (theatrical) VUDU $4, iTunes 4K $5 (split) The Expendables 3 (unrated) VUDU $4, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close MA $5 The Fast and the Furious MA 4K $8 The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift MA 4K $8 Fast Five MA HD $5 The Fate of the Furious MA HD $3 Fences MA $5 Field of Dreams MA 4K $10 Fifty Shades of Grey VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $6 (MA) (split) Fifty Shades Darker iTunes 4K $6 (MA) (split) Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within MA 4K $10 First Man MA 4K $10 Fist Fight MA $5 Focus MA $5 Forrest Gump MA 4K $10 Friday the 13th 8 movie pack VUDU $35 Full Metal Jacket MA 4K $10 Fury MA $5 Gandhi MA 4K $10 Gangster Squad MA $5 The Gentlemen iTunes 4K $8.50 Gemini Man VUDU 4K $9, iTunes 4K $6 (split) Get Out VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $5 (MA) (split) Ghostbusters: Answer the Call MA 4K $10 Ghost in the Shell (1995 - anime) VUDU 4K $8 Ghost in the Shell (2017 - movie) VUDU 4K $10 GI Joe Retaliation VUDU 4K $10 Girls Trip VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (MA) (split) Godzilla MA 4K $10, MA HD $5 Godzilla vs Kong MA 4K $10 Going in Style MA $5 Gold VUDU $6, iTunes $6 (split) Good Boys MA $7 Goonies MA 4K $10 Gone With the Wind MA $7 The Greatest Show On Earth MA $8 The Greatest Showman MA $6 The Great Wall VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $5 (split) The Green Knight VUDU 4K $10 Green Lantern + Green Lantern: Emerald Knights MA $9 The Grey VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (split) Grudge Match MA $5 Hacksaw Ridge VUDU 4K $10 Hail, Caesar! MA $5, iTunes $5 (split) The Hangover Part II MA $5 Harold and Maude VUDU $8 Harriet MA $7 The Hateful Eight VUDU/GP $6 The Heat MA $5 Hell Fest (2018) VUDU $5 Hell or High Water VUDU 4K $10 Hidden Figures iTunes 4K (MA) $8 Hitman's Bodyguard VUDU 4K $10 The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey MA $5 Home Alone MA 4K $8 Hop VUDU $6, iTunes $6 (MA) (split) Hope Springs MA HD $5 Horrible Bosses MA $5 Hostiles VUDU 4K $10 The House MA $5 How to Train Your Dragon 2 MA $4 Hugo VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (split) The Hunger Games VUDU 4K $6, iTunes 4K $3 (split) The Hunt For Red October VUDU 4K $10, iTunes 4K $6 (split) The Huntsman: Winter’s War MA 4K $10 I Feel Pretty iTunes $5 Ice Age MA $4 Independence Day MA 4K $8 Inglourious Basterds MA 4K $10 Instant Family VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Interstellar VUDU 4K $11 Invisible Man (2020) MA $6 It's A Wonderful Life VUDU 4K $9, iTunes 4K $6 (split) Jack Reacher Never Go Back VUDU $5 (split) Jack Ryan VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) James Bond - Daniel Craig 4 movie collection VUDU 4K $25 (Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace, Skyfall, Spectre) James Bond - Spectre VUDU 4K $10 James Bond - Skyfall VUDU 4K $10 Jaws MA 4K $10, MA HD $5 Jerry Maguire MA 4K $10 Jigsaw VUDU 4K $10, VUDU HD $7 John Wick VUDU 4K $9, VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) John Wick 2 VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) John Wick 3 VUDU 4K $9, VUDU HD/iTunes 4K $7 Journey 2 SD $2 Juice VUDU 4K $10 Jupiter Ascending MA $5 Jurassic Park VUDU $5 (split) Jurassic Park III VUDU $5 (split) Justice League MA $5 The Karate Kid (1984) MA 4K $10 Kidnap VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (split) King Kong (2005) VUDU 4K $10, VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Kingsman: Golden Circle MA 4K $7 Knights of Sidonia - Love Woven in the Stars (funimation) $8 La La Land VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) iTunes 4K $7 (split) Last Action Hero MA 4K $10 The Last Stand VUDU $5 Lawrence of Arabia MA 4K $10 The LEGO Movie MA 4K $8 Leprechaun 1-7 VUDU $15 Live by Night MA $5 Little Monsters $6.50 Logan 4K $8 Logan Lucky VUDU 4K $8 Lone Survivor VUDU 4K $8, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) The Longest Ride 4K $7 The Lorax iTunes $5 (MA) (split) Love & Monsters VUDU 4K $10 The Lucky One MA $5 Lucy MA 4K $10 Mad Max Fury Road MA 4K $9, MA HD $5 Mad Max: The Road Warrior MA 4K $10 Magic Mike MA $4 Maggie VUDU $5 Mama (2013) iTunes $5 Mamma Mia! MA 4K $10 Man of Steel MA $5 Men in Black III MA $5 Midway MA 4K $10 Mile 22 iTunes 4K $7 Minions VUDU HD $5 Mission Impossible 1-6 VUDU 4K $45 Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Mission Impossible: Fallout VUDU HD $3, iTunes 4K $3 (split) Mood (drafthouse) $2 Monster Hunter MA 4K $10 Mortal Kombat VUDU 4K $12 Mother! VUDU 4K $5, iTunes 4K $4 (split) Mr. Smith Goes to Washington MA 4K $10 The Mummy 1-3 MA 4K $18 (split) The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor iTunes 4K $6 (MA) (split) Murder on the Orient Express MA $6 Nebraska VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (split) Neighbors VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (MA) (split) News of the World MA 4K $10 Noah VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (MA) (split) Oblivion VUDU 4K $10, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Office Christmas Party VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Oliver! MA 4K $10 Overlord VUDU 4K $6, VUDU HD $4, iTunes 4K $4 (split) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood MA 4K $10 Operation Finale iTunes 4K $6 Ouija: Origin of Evil iTunes $5 Pacific Rim MA HD $5 Peppermint iTunes $5 Pet Sematary (1989) VUDU 4K $10, iTunes 4K $7 (split) Pet Sematary (2019) VUDU 4K $8, VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Philadelphia MA 4K $10 Pitch Perfect VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Pitch Perfect 2 VUDU $5 (split) Planes, Trains & Automobiles VUDU/iTunes $6 The Post MA HD $6 Power Rangers VUDU 4K $9, iTunes 4K $6 (split) Prometheus iTunes 4K (MA) $8 Psycho MA 4K $9 The Punisher VUDU 4K $10 The Purge VUDU $5 (split) The Purge 1-3 VUDU 4K $20, iTunes 4K $18 (MA) (split) Rambo 1-5 VUDU 4K $30, VUDU HD $20 Rambo: First Blood VUDU 4K $9 Rambo (2008) VUDU 4K $9 Rampage MA $6 Ran VUDU 4K $10 Rear Window MA 4K $10 Red Heat VUDU 4K $10 Red Sparrow MA $6 Resident Evil MA 4K $10 Resident Evil: Afterlife MA 4K $10 Resident Evi: The Final Chapter MA 4K $10 Requiem for a Dream VUDU 4K $10 The Revenant MA 4K $8 Riddick (Director’s Cut) iTunes $5 (split) Rob Zombie Trilogy VUDU $10 (House of 1000 Corpses, The Devil's Rejects, 3 From Hell) Robin Hood (2018) MA 4K $8 Robocop (2014) VUDU/GP $5 Rocketman VUDU 4K $9, iTunes 4K $6 (split) Roman Holiday VUDU/iTunes $8 San Andreas ma 4K $8 Saw VUDU 4K $9 Scarface MA 4K $10 Scott Pilgrim vs. the World MA 4K $10 Scream (1996) VUDU 4K $9 The Secret Life of Pets MA 4K $10, MA HD $5 Sense and Sensibility MA 4K $10 Sherlock Holmes Game of Shadows MA HD $5 Sicario VUDU 4K $9, VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $6 (split) Shawshank Redemption MA 4K $10 She's The Man VUDU/iTunes $6 The Shining MA 4K $10 Shrek MA 4K $10 Shutter Island VUDU 4K $10 Skyscraper MA 4K $10, MA HD $5 Sleepless MA $5 Smokey and the Bandit MA 4K $10 Snatched iTunes 4K (MA) $6 Snow White and the Huntsman iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Snowden iTunes $5 (MA) The Social Network MA 4K $10 Sonic the Hedgehog MA 4K $10 Spartacus MA 4K $10 Speed MA 4K $10 Spider-Man Homecoming MA 4K $10 Star Trek 1-4 VUDU 4K/iTunes 4K $35 (The Motion Picture, The Wrath of Khan, The Search for Spock, The Voyage Home) Star Trek (2009) VUDU 4K $10 (split) Star Trek Into Darkness VUDU 4K $10 VUDU HD $5, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Star Trek Beyond VUDU 4K $9, VUDU HD/iTunes 4K $5 (split) Steel Dawn VUDU $5 The Sting MA 4K $10 Straight Outta Compton MA 4K $10 Stripes MA 4K $10 The Suicide Squad MA 4K $10 Super 8 VUDU 4K $10 Tammy MA $5 Taxi Driver MA 4K $10 Ted (unrated) VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (split) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014) iTunes 4K $5 (split) The Ten Commandments VUDU 4K $9 Tenet MA 4K $10 Terminator 2 VUDU 4K $10 Terminator Dark Fate VUDU 4K $9, iTunes 4K $5 (split) Terminator Genesis VUDU 4K $9 The Theory of Everything iTunes $5 (MA) (split) The Thing MA 4K $10 Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri MA $7 Top Gun VUDU 4K $10 Total Recall VUDU 4K $10 Transformers 4 Age of Extinction VUDU HD $5 (split) Unforgettable MA $5 Universal Soldier VUDU 4K $10 Upgrade (2018) MA $7.50 The Upside iTunes $5 Underworld MA 4K $10 Underworld: Blood Wars MA 4K $10 Underworld: Evolution MA 4K $10 Universal Classic Monsters MA 4K $30 (Dracula, Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, The Wolfman) V for Vendetta MA 4K $10 Vanilla Sky VUDU HD/iTunes 4K $7.50 Valerian VUDU $6 Vertigo MA 4K $10 War for the Planet of the Apes iTunes 4K (MA) $6 Warcraft VUDU 4K $10, iTunes 4K $7 (MA) (split) Warrior VUDU 4K/iTunes 4K $10 We're the Millers MA $5 What Men Want VUDU $5, iTunes $5 (split) White Boy Rick MA $7 Why Him? iTunes 4K (MA) $6 Widows MA $7 Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory MA 4K $10 Wizard of Oz MA $6 Wolf of Wall Street VUDU 4K $10 Wonder VUDU HD/iTunes 4K $6 Wonder Park VUDU $5, iTunes 4K $6 (split) Wonder Woman 1984 MA 4K $10 Wrath of the Titans MA $5 X-Men: Days of Future Past iTunes 4K (MA) $8, MA HD $5 XxX Return of Xander Cage VUDU $4, iTunes 4K $5 (split) You're Next VUDU $6 Sony Buff Pass MA $8 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Disney/Marvel (all split) Aladdin iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $6 Ant-Man and the Wasp iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K) The Avengers iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $6 The Avengers: Age of Ultron iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $6 Avengers: Endgame MA 4K $8, GP $5 Avengers: Infinity War MA 4K $8, GP $5 Bedknobs And Broomsticks GP $8 The Big Friendly Giant (BFG) GP $7 Big Hero 6 GP $6 Black Widow MA 4K $12, MA HD $8, GP $6 Captain America: The First Avenger iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $7 Captain America: The Winter Soldier iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $7 Captain America: Civil War iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $7 Captain Marvel MA 4K $8, GP $5 Celebrating Mickey MA $8 Christopher Robin MA $7 Cruella MA 4K $12, GP $8 Finding Dory iTunes 4K $8 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $4 The French Dispatch MA $10 Frozen GP $4 The Good Dinosaur GP $4 Hocus Pocus MA 4K $10, GP $7 Jungle Cruise MA $9, GP $7 The Lion King iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $5 The Little Mermaid iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K) Maleficient MA 4K $10, iTunes 4K $9, GP $7 Maleficent: Mistress of Evil MA 4K $10 Million Dollar Arm MA $8, GP $7 Moana iTunes 4K $8 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $4 Mulan (animated) iTunes 4K $8 (ports in 4K to VUDU), GP $6 Mulan II MA $8 Mulan 2020 (live action) GP $5 Nomadland GP $6 Peter Pan Return To Never Land MA $10, GP $9 Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales iTunes 4K $10 (ports to VUDU in 4K), GP $6 Pinocchio MA $9, GP $7 Pocahontas GP $8 The Santa Clause GP $7 Shang Chi GP $5 Star Wars 1-9 MA 4K $75, GP $55 Star Wars: The Force Awakens MA 4K $8, GP $4 Star Wars: The Last Jedi MA 4K $8, GP $4 Ralph Breaks the Internet MA 4K $8, GP $5 Robin Hood (animated) GP $8 Rogue One MA 4K $8, GP $5 Tarzan GP $8 Thor: Ragnarok iTunes 4K $8 (ports in 4K to VUDU), GP $4 Toy Story GP $6 Toy Story 4 MA 4K $10, GP $6 Who Framed Roger Rabbit MA 4K $10, GP $6 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- TV Shows The Blacklist - season 2 VUDU $6 Game of Thrones - season 1 iTunes $5, GP $3 (split) Game of Thrones - season 2 iTunes $5, GP $3 (split) Game of Thrones - season 3 GP $3 (split) Hannibal - season 1 $6 Man Men – Final Season Part 2 VUDU $5 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I accept PayPal Goods and Services. Prices available when buying 3 or more titles (I will be covering the fees). For less than 3 titles add a 10% PayPal fee to the total. HD quality where not mentioned.
submitted by Aware_Machine_9838 to DigitalCodeSELL [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 19:54 bu_SV [FNV] Game keeps crashing
There are two problems. First is whenever I try to fast travel to the triangle between Durable Dunn's Sacked caravan, Raul's shack and Vault 34 game crashes. Second is whenever I fight any turret that is connected to a ceiling game crashes.
There is a modlist.
#Mod_Priority,#Mod_Status,#Mod_Name,#Mod_Version
"0000","+","DLC: TribalPack",""
"0001","+","DLC: OldWorldBlues",""
"0002","+","DLC: MercenaryPack",""
"0003","+","DLC: LonesomeRoad",""
"0004","+","DLC: HonestHearts",""
"0005","+","DLC: GunRunnersArsenal",""
"0006","+","DLC: DeadMoney",""
"0007","+","DLC: ClassicPack",""
"0008","+","DLC: CaravanPack",""
"0009","-","Utilities_separator",""
"0010","+","Fixed ESMs",""
"0011","+","JIP LN NVSE Plugin","f57.01"
"0012","+","JohnnyGuitar NVSE","4.93.0.0"
"0013","+","Crash Logger","3.0.0.0"
"0014","+","NVTF - New Vegas Tick Fix","10.2.2.3"
"0015","+","NVTF - INI Presets","10.2.2.2"
"0016","+","FNV Mod Limit Fix","3.0.0.0"
"0017","+","kNVSE Animation Plugin","20.0.0.0"
"0018","+","Console Paste Support","1.0.0.0"
"0019","+","ShowOff xNVSE Plugin","1.60.0.0"
"0020","+","ShowOff xNVSE Plugin INI","--"
"0021","+","JIP Companions Command and Control","2.60.0.0"
"0022","+","JIP CCC HD icons","1.0.0.0"
"0023","+","SUP NVSE","8.35.0.0"
"0024","-","Bug Fixes_separator",""
"0025","+","Yukichigai Unofficial Patch - YUP","12.6.0.0"
"0026","+","Unofficial Patch NVSE Plus","1.4.4.0"
"0027","+","Improved AI (Navmesh Overhaul Mod)","2.0.0.0"
"0028","+","lStewieAl's Tweaks and Engine Fixes","8.65.0.0"
"0029","+","Stewie Tweaks Essentials INI","f1.05"
"0030","+","Presets for LstewieAL's Tweaks","5.0.0.0"
"0031","+","Combat Lag Fix (NVSE)","1.0.0.0"
"0032","+","ISControl Enabler and Ironsights adjuster (now ESPless)","1.4.0.0"
"0033","+","Vanilla Iron Sights Realligned","1.1.0.0"
"0034","+","New Vegas Mesh Improvement Mod - NVMIM","1.10.0.0"
"0035","+","Collision Meshes","1.6.3.0"
"0036","+","Asterra's Many Fixes","1.16.0.0b"
"0037","+","Improved Lighting Shaders","1.5.0.0b4a"
"0038","+","Climate Control NVSE","1.0.0.0"
"0039","+","Elijah Voice Audio Files Fix","0.2.0.0"
"0040","+","ActorCause Save Bloat Fix","1.0.0.0"
"0041","+","Aqua Performa - Strip Performance Fix","1.0.0.0"
"0042","+","Fog-based Object Culling","2.0.0.0"
"0043","+","Exterior Emittance Fix - NVSE","1.1.0.0"
"0044","+","Crafting Consistency Fix","1.1.1.0"
"0045","+","ExRB - Extended Roombounds","1.4.0.0"
"0046","+","Strip Lights Region Fix","1.3.0.0"
"0047","+","Johnson Nash Ammo Fix","1.0.0.0"
"0048","-","User Interface_separator",""
"0049","+","UIO - User Interface Organizer","2.30.0.0"
"0050","+","One HUD - oHUD","1.2.1.0"
"0051","+","The Mod Configuration Menu","1.5.0.0"
"0052","+","Vanilla UI Plus (New Vegas)","9.48.0.0"
"0053","+","Clean Vanilla Hud","0.59.0.0b"
"0054","+","Consistent Pip-Boy Icons","4.4.0.0"
"0055","+","Consistent Addon Icons","4.0.0.0"
"0056","+","Clean Companion Wheel","0.9.0.0"
"0057","+","High Res Local Maps","1.2.0.0"
"0058","+","High Resolution Screens","1.1.0.0"
"0059","+","yUI - User Ynterface","1.4.0.0d"
"0060","+","Simple Cursor (YUI)","0.1.0.0"
"0061","+","ySI - Sorting Ycons","1.4.0.0b"
"0062","-","Gameplay_separator",""
"0063","+","JAM - Just Assorted Mods","4.4.0.0"
"0064","+","Bullet Time Improved - a JAM addon","f1.01"
"0065","+","NPCs Sprint In Combat","2.13.0.0"
"0066","+","Real Recoil","1.2.1.0"
"0067","+","Real Recoil Tweaks","1.0.0.0"
"0068","+","Follower Tweaks","1.0.0.0"
"0069","+","Delay DLC Redux","1.5.0.0"
"0070","+","NV Collectibles - Merged","1.0.0.0"
"0071","+","Better Caravan","1.0.0.0"
"0072","+","Soft-Lock Aim-Assist","1.1.0.0"
"0073","+","FOV Slider","2.9.0.0"
"0074","+","NAWEMO - NPCs use Ammo Variants and Weapon Mods","1.3.3.0"
"0075","+","NPCs use Aid items","2.3.0.0"
"0076","+","Martialize","0.6.0.0"
"0077","+","Consistent Spread - Firearms Accuracy and Wobble Fix","1.1.0.0"
"0078","+","BallistX - Internal and External Ballistics","5.0.0.0"
"0079","+","B42 Inspect - aka Animated Ammo and Weapon Condition Checking","f1.01-hotfix"
"0080","+","B42 Melee Bash","0.5.0.0b"
"0081","+","B42 Quickthrow - an alternative grenade hotkey mod","3.1.0.0b"
"0082","+","Quickthrow Stylized HUD Icons","1.1.0.0"
"0083","+","B42 Descriptions aka Pip-Info","0.3.0.0"
"0084","-","Overhauls_separator",""
"0085","+","JSawyer Ultimate Edition","5.5.1.0"
"0086","+","JSawyer Ultimate Edition - Push's Tweaks","5.5.0.0"
"0087","+","Mojave Arsenal","3.0.8.0"
"0088","+","Famine - A Loot Rarity Mod","1.3.0.0"
"0089","+","Food Effect Tweaks - Custom Food Healing","1.0.0.0"
"0090","+","Player Combat Priority","1.0.2.0"
"0091","+","Player Combat Priority Alt Chance To Attack Dog Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0092","+","Essential Vanilla Enhancements Merged","1.3.2.0"
"0093","+","Essential Vanilla Enhancements Merged - JSawyer Ultimate Push Tweaks Patch","1.3.2.0"
"0094","+","EVEM - YUP Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0095","+","EVEM - Crafting Consistency Fix Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0096","+","EVEM - JSUE Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0097","+","EVEM - Mojave Arsenal Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0098","+","Navmesh Overhaul VNV Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0099","+","Better Character Creation","1.0.0.0"
"0100","+","Harder Barter Faster Stronger","f1.01"
"0101","+","Economy Overhaul","3.0.4.0"
"0102","+","Economy Overhaul - FO3E INI","3.0.0.0"
"0103","+","Better Brotherhood","2.1.0.0c"
"0104","+","DEC - Dynamic Essential Companions","1.1.0.0"
"0105","+","Immersive Critical Effects (AKA Classic Critical Effects)","f1.06a"
"0106","+","Radioactive Muck","1.0.0.0"
"0107","+","Canvas Backpacks - FNV - TTW","2.0.0.0"
"0108","+","Accessible Lucky shades","1.1.0.0"
"0109","-","Content_separator",""
"0110","+","Uncut Wasteland","1.0.0.0"
"0111","+","Strip Lights Region Fix - Uncut Wasteland","Patch"
"0112","+","Essential DLC Enhancements Merged","1.3.2.0"
"0113","+","Essential DLC Enhancements Merged - JSUE Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0114","+","Mojave Raiders","1.2.3.0"
"0115","+","Mojave Raiders Tweaks","1.0.0.0"
"0116","+","Mojave Raiders - JSUE Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0117","+","Mojave Raiders - EVEM Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0118","+","Mojave Wildlife","1.1.0.0"
"0119","+","The Living Desert - Travelers Patrols Consequences Increased Population and more","2.3.0.0"
"0120","+","Simple Open Strip","1.8.0.0"
"0121","+","Simple Open Freeside","1.7.0.0"
"0122","+","Mojave NPCs","1.6.5.0"
"0123","+","Mojave NPCs - FPGE Patch","1.6.4.0"
"0124","+","Cook-Cook In His Castle","1.2.0.0"
"0125","+","Functional Post Game Ending","5.6.5.0"
"0126","+","FPGE Patch - JSawyer Ultimate","1.0.0.0"
"0127","+","FPGE Patch - Uncut Wasteland (Viva New Vegas)","1.0.0.0"
"0128","+","FPGE Patch - Mojave Raiders","1.4.0.0"
"0129","+","FPGE Patch - Simple Open Strip","1.0.0.0"
"0130","+","FPGE Patch - Simple Open Freeside","1.0.0.0"
"0131","+","FPGE Patch - Cook-Cook In His Castle","1.0.0.0"
"0132","+","Mojave Express Courier Delivery Work - Primm","2.4.0.0"
"0133","+","No Toll Booths for Mojave Express Courier Delivery Work","1.0.0.0"
"0134","+","The Someguy Series","2.0.0.0"
"0135","+","New Vegas Bounties I","1.55.0.0"
"0136","+","New Vegas Bounties II","1.47.0.0"
"0137","+","New Vegas Bounties III",".954"
"0138","+","The Inheritance","1.29.0.0"
"0139","+","King of the Ring","f1.04"
"0140","+","New Vegas Killer","1.0.0.0"
"0141","+","The Better Angels","f1.01"
"0142","+","CONELRAD 640-1240 - Civil Defense Radio","1.4.0.0"
"0143","+","Platinum Radio - A New Radio for New Vegas","2.0.0.0"
"0144","+","Blues Radio New Vegas","1.1.0.0"
"0145","+","Cowboy Radio","2.0.0.0"
"0146","-","Textures_separator",""
"0147","+","NMCs_Texture_Pack_For_New_Vegas","1.0.0.0"
"0148","+","NMCs_Texture_Pack_For_New_Vegas_Washedout_Wasteland","1.0.0.0"
"0149","+","Asterra's Many Fixes - NMC's Texture Pack compatibility","1.1.0.0"
"0150","+","Weapon Mesh Improvement Mod","1.3.0.0"
"0151","+","Weapon Retexture Project - WRP","2.2.4.0"
"0152","+","WTH - Weapon Textures from Heaven","1.1.0.0"
"0153","+","WTH - WRP Patch","1.1.0.0"
"0154","+","Armed to the Teeth - Redux","2.3.0.0"
"0155","+","All Non DLC Clothing Retex 2K","1.0.0.0"
"0156","+","All DLC Clothing Retex 2K","1.0.0.0"
"0157","+","Power Armor Visual Enhancement (PAVE)","2.1.0.0"
"0158","+","EVE - Essential Visual Enhancements","1.19.0.0"
"0159","+","EXE - Effect teXtures Enhanced","2.0.0.0"
"0160","+","All Weapon Sounds Overhaul Modern Edition - AWSOME","1.0.0.0"
"0161","+","Simple Open Freeside - Vanilla LOD","1.0.0.0"
"0162","+","Simple Open Strip - Vanilla LOD","1.0.0.0"
"0163","+","NMC's Pre-Generated LOD Updated","1.0.0.0"
"0164","+","Improved LOD Noise Texture","f1.00"
"0165","+","FNVLODGen Resources","1.1.0.0"
"0166","+","LOD additions and improvements","f1.07"
"0167","+","Much Needed LOD","1.2.0.0"
"0168","+","Much Needed LOD - NMC WASHEDOUTWASTELAND Patch","1.2.0.0"
"0169","+","FNV LOD Texture Patches","0.7.0.0"
"0170","+","TCM's LOD Overhaul","1.1.0.0"
"0171","+","Bullet Impact Increased LOD","d2023.5.26.0"
"0172","+","Enhanced Bullet Impacts","1.0.0.0"
"0173","+","xLODGen Output",""
"0174","-","Visuals_separator",""
"0175","+","Pip-Boy 2000 Mk VI","0.9.0.0"
"0176","+","Different PipBoy Animations","2.0.0.0"
"0177","+","No Muzzle Flash Lights","2.0.0.0"
"0178","+","Melee Hitstop Effects","f3.01"
"0179","+","Anniversary Anim Pack","1.9.0.0d"
"0180","+","Anniversary Anim Pack - General Bugfix","1.3.0.0"
"0181","+","Anniversary Anim Pack - Bonus Patch","1.3.0.0a"
"0182","+","Dedicated Weapon Animations (kNVSE)","0.2.9.0"
"0183","+","rockomotion","1.0.0.0"
"0184","+","Butcher Pete Complete - A Melee Animation Overhaul","1.0.0.0"
"0185","+","Wasteland Warrior - A Melee Animation Overhaul","1.0.0.0"
"0186","+","Viewmodel Recoil 0.308","d2023.5.28.0"
"0187","+","Power Fists Debulked","1.3.0.0"
"0188","+","Gauntlets Debulked","1.0.0.0"
"0189","+","Auto Melee Debulked","1.0.0.0"
"0190","+","Unarmed Animations","f1.00"
"0191","+","Different PowerFist Animations Xolerys kNVSE","1.0.0.0"
"0192","+","B42 Weapon Inertia","1.2.0.0"
"0193","+","B42 Dropmag and One in the chamber","1.2.0.0b"
"0194","+","Permanent Weapon Shells","1.1.0.0"
"0195","+","Awesome Staggering","1.5.0.0"
"0196","+","Diagonal movement","0.6.0.0b"
"0197","+","Ragdolls","5.3.9.0."
"0198","+","NV Compatibility Skeleton","13.0.0.0"
"0199","+","3rd person Movement Animations Overhaul (and bugfix)","1.0.0.0"
"0200","+","NVTS - New Vegas True Scopes","1.0.0.0"
"0201","+","Pip-Boy Shading Fix NVSE","1.0.0.0a"
"0202","+","Strip Street Light Corrections","1.0.0.0"
"0203","+","A Little More Lamplight","1.2.0.0"
"0204","+","Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks (Interior Lighting for FNV and TTW)","1.2.1.0"
"0205","+","Clarity - An Orange Tint Remover","1.2.0.0"
"0206","+","MoonlightNVSE","1.5.1.0"
"0207","+","High Resolution Bloom NVSE","5.0.0.0"
"0208","+","Cloud Shadows","1.0.1.0"
"0209","+","Cloud Shadows - Clear Weather","1.0.0.0"
"0210","+","Cloud Upgrade NVSE","1.0.0.0"
"0211","+","Interior Rain","1.0.0.0"
"0212","+","Climate Control - Rain","1.0.0.0"
"0213","+","Character Expansions Revised","2.0.0.0"
"0214","+","Character Expansions - YUP","P2.0"
"0215","+","Character Expansions Revised - JSU","P1.1"
"0216","+","Character Expansions Revised - MR","P1.3"
submitted by bu_SV to FalloutMods [link] [comments]
There is a modlist.
#Mod_Priority,#Mod_Status,#Mod_Name,#Mod_Version
"0000","+","DLC: TribalPack",""
"0001","+","DLC: OldWorldBlues",""
"0002","+","DLC: MercenaryPack",""
"0003","+","DLC: LonesomeRoad",""
"0004","+","DLC: HonestHearts",""
"0005","+","DLC: GunRunnersArsenal",""
"0006","+","DLC: DeadMoney",""
"0007","+","DLC: ClassicPack",""
"0008","+","DLC: CaravanPack",""
"0009","-","Utilities_separator",""
"0010","+","Fixed ESMs",""
"0011","+","JIP LN NVSE Plugin","f57.01"
"0012","+","JohnnyGuitar NVSE","4.93.0.0"
"0013","+","Crash Logger","3.0.0.0"
"0014","+","NVTF - New Vegas Tick Fix","10.2.2.3"
"0015","+","NVTF - INI Presets","10.2.2.2"
"0016","+","FNV Mod Limit Fix","3.0.0.0"
"0017","+","kNVSE Animation Plugin","20.0.0.0"
"0018","+","Console Paste Support","1.0.0.0"
"0019","+","ShowOff xNVSE Plugin","1.60.0.0"
"0020","+","ShowOff xNVSE Plugin INI","--"
"0021","+","JIP Companions Command and Control","2.60.0.0"
"0022","+","JIP CCC HD icons","1.0.0.0"
"0023","+","SUP NVSE","8.35.0.0"
"0024","-","Bug Fixes_separator",""
"0025","+","Yukichigai Unofficial Patch - YUP","12.6.0.0"
"0026","+","Unofficial Patch NVSE Plus","1.4.4.0"
"0027","+","Improved AI (Navmesh Overhaul Mod)","2.0.0.0"
"0028","+","lStewieAl's Tweaks and Engine Fixes","8.65.0.0"
"0029","+","Stewie Tweaks Essentials INI","f1.05"
"0030","+","Presets for LstewieAL's Tweaks","5.0.0.0"
"0031","+","Combat Lag Fix (NVSE)","1.0.0.0"
"0032","+","ISControl Enabler and Ironsights adjuster (now ESPless)","1.4.0.0"
"0033","+","Vanilla Iron Sights Realligned","1.1.0.0"
"0034","+","New Vegas Mesh Improvement Mod - NVMIM","1.10.0.0"
"0035","+","Collision Meshes","1.6.3.0"
"0036","+","Asterra's Many Fixes","1.16.0.0b"
"0037","+","Improved Lighting Shaders","1.5.0.0b4a"
"0038","+","Climate Control NVSE","1.0.0.0"
"0039","+","Elijah Voice Audio Files Fix","0.2.0.0"
"0040","+","ActorCause Save Bloat Fix","1.0.0.0"
"0041","+","Aqua Performa - Strip Performance Fix","1.0.0.0"
"0042","+","Fog-based Object Culling","2.0.0.0"
"0043","+","Exterior Emittance Fix - NVSE","1.1.0.0"
"0044","+","Crafting Consistency Fix","1.1.1.0"
"0045","+","ExRB - Extended Roombounds","1.4.0.0"
"0046","+","Strip Lights Region Fix","1.3.0.0"
"0047","+","Johnson Nash Ammo Fix","1.0.0.0"
"0048","-","User Interface_separator",""
"0049","+","UIO - User Interface Organizer","2.30.0.0"
"0050","+","One HUD - oHUD","1.2.1.0"
"0051","+","The Mod Configuration Menu","1.5.0.0"
"0052","+","Vanilla UI Plus (New Vegas)","9.48.0.0"
"0053","+","Clean Vanilla Hud","0.59.0.0b"
"0054","+","Consistent Pip-Boy Icons","4.4.0.0"
"0055","+","Consistent Addon Icons","4.0.0.0"
"0056","+","Clean Companion Wheel","0.9.0.0"
"0057","+","High Res Local Maps","1.2.0.0"
"0058","+","High Resolution Screens","1.1.0.0"
"0059","+","yUI - User Ynterface","1.4.0.0d"
"0060","+","Simple Cursor (YUI)","0.1.0.0"
"0061","+","ySI - Sorting Ycons","1.4.0.0b"
"0062","-","Gameplay_separator",""
"0063","+","JAM - Just Assorted Mods","4.4.0.0"
"0064","+","Bullet Time Improved - a JAM addon","f1.01"
"0065","+","NPCs Sprint In Combat","2.13.0.0"
"0066","+","Real Recoil","1.2.1.0"
"0067","+","Real Recoil Tweaks","1.0.0.0"
"0068","+","Follower Tweaks","1.0.0.0"
"0069","+","Delay DLC Redux","1.5.0.0"
"0070","+","NV Collectibles - Merged","1.0.0.0"
"0071","+","Better Caravan","1.0.0.0"
"0072","+","Soft-Lock Aim-Assist","1.1.0.0"
"0073","+","FOV Slider","2.9.0.0"
"0074","+","NAWEMO - NPCs use Ammo Variants and Weapon Mods","1.3.3.0"
"0075","+","NPCs use Aid items","2.3.0.0"
"0076","+","Martialize","0.6.0.0"
"0077","+","Consistent Spread - Firearms Accuracy and Wobble Fix","1.1.0.0"
"0078","+","BallistX - Internal and External Ballistics","5.0.0.0"
"0079","+","B42 Inspect - aka Animated Ammo and Weapon Condition Checking","f1.01-hotfix"
"0080","+","B42 Melee Bash","0.5.0.0b"
"0081","+","B42 Quickthrow - an alternative grenade hotkey mod","3.1.0.0b"
"0082","+","Quickthrow Stylized HUD Icons","1.1.0.0"
"0083","+","B42 Descriptions aka Pip-Info","0.3.0.0"
"0084","-","Overhauls_separator",""
"0085","+","JSawyer Ultimate Edition","5.5.1.0"
"0086","+","JSawyer Ultimate Edition - Push's Tweaks","5.5.0.0"
"0087","+","Mojave Arsenal","3.0.8.0"
"0088","+","Famine - A Loot Rarity Mod","1.3.0.0"
"0089","+","Food Effect Tweaks - Custom Food Healing","1.0.0.0"
"0090","+","Player Combat Priority","1.0.2.0"
"0091","+","Player Combat Priority Alt Chance To Attack Dog Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0092","+","Essential Vanilla Enhancements Merged","1.3.2.0"
"0093","+","Essential Vanilla Enhancements Merged - JSawyer Ultimate Push Tweaks Patch","1.3.2.0"
"0094","+","EVEM - YUP Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0095","+","EVEM - Crafting Consistency Fix Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0096","+","EVEM - JSUE Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0097","+","EVEM - Mojave Arsenal Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0098","+","Navmesh Overhaul VNV Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0099","+","Better Character Creation","1.0.0.0"
"0100","+","Harder Barter Faster Stronger","f1.01"
"0101","+","Economy Overhaul","3.0.4.0"
"0102","+","Economy Overhaul - FO3E INI","3.0.0.0"
"0103","+","Better Brotherhood","2.1.0.0c"
"0104","+","DEC - Dynamic Essential Companions","1.1.0.0"
"0105","+","Immersive Critical Effects (AKA Classic Critical Effects)","f1.06a"
"0106","+","Radioactive Muck","1.0.0.0"
"0107","+","Canvas Backpacks - FNV - TTW","2.0.0.0"
"0108","+","Accessible Lucky shades","1.1.0.0"
"0109","-","Content_separator",""
"0110","+","Uncut Wasteland","1.0.0.0"
"0111","+","Strip Lights Region Fix - Uncut Wasteland","Patch"
"0112","+","Essential DLC Enhancements Merged","1.3.2.0"
"0113","+","Essential DLC Enhancements Merged - JSUE Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0114","+","Mojave Raiders","1.2.3.0"
"0115","+","Mojave Raiders Tweaks","1.0.0.0"
"0116","+","Mojave Raiders - JSUE Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0117","+","Mojave Raiders - EVEM Patch","1.0.0.0"
"0118","+","Mojave Wildlife","1.1.0.0"
"0119","+","The Living Desert - Travelers Patrols Consequences Increased Population and more","2.3.0.0"
"0120","+","Simple Open Strip","1.8.0.0"
"0121","+","Simple Open Freeside","1.7.0.0"
"0122","+","Mojave NPCs","1.6.5.0"
"0123","+","Mojave NPCs - FPGE Patch","1.6.4.0"
"0124","+","Cook-Cook In His Castle","1.2.0.0"
"0125","+","Functional Post Game Ending","5.6.5.0"
"0126","+","FPGE Patch - JSawyer Ultimate","1.0.0.0"
"0127","+","FPGE Patch - Uncut Wasteland (Viva New Vegas)","1.0.0.0"
"0128","+","FPGE Patch - Mojave Raiders","1.4.0.0"
"0129","+","FPGE Patch - Simple Open Strip","1.0.0.0"
"0130","+","FPGE Patch - Simple Open Freeside","1.0.0.0"
"0131","+","FPGE Patch - Cook-Cook In His Castle","1.0.0.0"
"0132","+","Mojave Express Courier Delivery Work - Primm","2.4.0.0"
"0133","+","No Toll Booths for Mojave Express Courier Delivery Work","1.0.0.0"
"0134","+","The Someguy Series","2.0.0.0"
"0135","+","New Vegas Bounties I","1.55.0.0"
"0136","+","New Vegas Bounties II","1.47.0.0"
"0137","+","New Vegas Bounties III",".954"
"0138","+","The Inheritance","1.29.0.0"
"0139","+","King of the Ring","f1.04"
"0140","+","New Vegas Killer","1.0.0.0"
"0141","+","The Better Angels","f1.01"
"0142","+","CONELRAD 640-1240 - Civil Defense Radio","1.4.0.0"
"0143","+","Platinum Radio - A New Radio for New Vegas","2.0.0.0"
"0144","+","Blues Radio New Vegas","1.1.0.0"
"0145","+","Cowboy Radio","2.0.0.0"
"0146","-","Textures_separator",""
"0147","+","NMCs_Texture_Pack_For_New_Vegas","1.0.0.0"
"0148","+","NMCs_Texture_Pack_For_New_Vegas_Washedout_Wasteland","1.0.0.0"
"0149","+","Asterra's Many Fixes - NMC's Texture Pack compatibility","1.1.0.0"
"0150","+","Weapon Mesh Improvement Mod","1.3.0.0"
"0151","+","Weapon Retexture Project - WRP","2.2.4.0"
"0152","+","WTH - Weapon Textures from Heaven","1.1.0.0"
"0153","+","WTH - WRP Patch","1.1.0.0"
"0154","+","Armed to the Teeth - Redux","2.3.0.0"
"0155","+","All Non DLC Clothing Retex 2K","1.0.0.0"
"0156","+","All DLC Clothing Retex 2K","1.0.0.0"
"0157","+","Power Armor Visual Enhancement (PAVE)","2.1.0.0"
"0158","+","EVE - Essential Visual Enhancements","1.19.0.0"
"0159","+","EXE - Effect teXtures Enhanced","2.0.0.0"
"0160","+","All Weapon Sounds Overhaul Modern Edition - AWSOME","1.0.0.0"
"0161","+","Simple Open Freeside - Vanilla LOD","1.0.0.0"
"0162","+","Simple Open Strip - Vanilla LOD","1.0.0.0"
"0163","+","NMC's Pre-Generated LOD Updated","1.0.0.0"
"0164","+","Improved LOD Noise Texture","f1.00"
"0165","+","FNVLODGen Resources","1.1.0.0"
"0166","+","LOD additions and improvements","f1.07"
"0167","+","Much Needed LOD","1.2.0.0"
"0168","+","Much Needed LOD - NMC WASHEDOUTWASTELAND Patch","1.2.0.0"
"0169","+","FNV LOD Texture Patches","0.7.0.0"
"0170","+","TCM's LOD Overhaul","1.1.0.0"
"0171","+","Bullet Impact Increased LOD","d2023.5.26.0"
"0172","+","Enhanced Bullet Impacts","1.0.0.0"
"0173","+","xLODGen Output",""
"0174","-","Visuals_separator",""
"0175","+","Pip-Boy 2000 Mk VI","0.9.0.0"
"0176","+","Different PipBoy Animations","2.0.0.0"
"0177","+","No Muzzle Flash Lights","2.0.0.0"
"0178","+","Melee Hitstop Effects","f3.01"
"0179","+","Anniversary Anim Pack","1.9.0.0d"
"0180","+","Anniversary Anim Pack - General Bugfix","1.3.0.0"
"0181","+","Anniversary Anim Pack - Bonus Patch","1.3.0.0a"
"0182","+","Dedicated Weapon Animations (kNVSE)","0.2.9.0"
"0183","+","rockomotion","1.0.0.0"
"0184","+","Butcher Pete Complete - A Melee Animation Overhaul","1.0.0.0"
"0185","+","Wasteland Warrior - A Melee Animation Overhaul","1.0.0.0"
"0186","+","Viewmodel Recoil 0.308","d2023.5.28.0"
"0187","+","Power Fists Debulked","1.3.0.0"
"0188","+","Gauntlets Debulked","1.0.0.0"
"0189","+","Auto Melee Debulked","1.0.0.0"
"0190","+","Unarmed Animations","f1.00"
"0191","+","Different PowerFist Animations Xolerys kNVSE","1.0.0.0"
"0192","+","B42 Weapon Inertia","1.2.0.0"
"0193","+","B42 Dropmag and One in the chamber","1.2.0.0b"
"0194","+","Permanent Weapon Shells","1.1.0.0"
"0195","+","Awesome Staggering","1.5.0.0"
"0196","+","Diagonal movement","0.6.0.0b"
"0197","+","Ragdolls","5.3.9.0."
"0198","+","NV Compatibility Skeleton","13.0.0.0"
"0199","+","3rd person Movement Animations Overhaul (and bugfix)","1.0.0.0"
"0200","+","NVTS - New Vegas True Scopes","1.0.0.0"
"0201","+","Pip-Boy Shading Fix NVSE","1.0.0.0a"
"0202","+","Strip Street Light Corrections","1.0.0.0"
"0203","+","A Little More Lamplight","1.2.0.0"
"0204","+","Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks (Interior Lighting for FNV and TTW)","1.2.1.0"
"0205","+","Clarity - An Orange Tint Remover","1.2.0.0"
"0206","+","MoonlightNVSE","1.5.1.0"
"0207","+","High Resolution Bloom NVSE","5.0.0.0"
"0208","+","Cloud Shadows","1.0.1.0"
"0209","+","Cloud Shadows - Clear Weather","1.0.0.0"
"0210","+","Cloud Upgrade NVSE","1.0.0.0"
"0211","+","Interior Rain","1.0.0.0"
"0212","+","Climate Control - Rain","1.0.0.0"
"0213","+","Character Expansions Revised","2.0.0.0"
"0214","+","Character Expansions - YUP","P2.0"
"0215","+","Character Expansions Revised - JSU","P1.1"
"0216","+","Character Expansions Revised - MR","P1.3"
2023.06.03 19:12 Raldor_S Cheap amp suggestion for ceiling speakers in covered patio
I don't know much about home theater (as will be obvious from my post), but the ceiling is about to go in my covered patio, and it just hit me that now would be the time if I ever want wires in there. So now I'm doing an uninformed mad dash and running wires this weekend.
I ran 4 home runs of speaker wire from the TV (which will also be mounted out there) to roughly the corners of the patio, and planned to get (4) Micca M-8c Amazon link.
What should I get to power them? I'm hoping to find something cheap, hopefully under $100, but definitely under $200.
I'm not expecting mind blowing sound, it's mostly just so we don't have to rely on TV speakers. But I'd also like a remote because it will be mounted up high, and bluetooth so we can play music from a phone.
I was searching Amazon but was confused as to whether I need 2 channel or do I need 4 channel since I ran 4 wires? I'm not looking to control zones or anything, they can all be the same volume.
submitted by Raldor_S to hometheater [link] [comments]
I ran 4 home runs of speaker wire from the TV (which will also be mounted out there) to roughly the corners of the patio, and planned to get (4) Micca M-8c Amazon link.
What should I get to power them? I'm hoping to find something cheap, hopefully under $100, but definitely under $200.
I'm not expecting mind blowing sound, it's mostly just so we don't have to rely on TV speakers. But I'd also like a remote because it will be mounted up high, and bluetooth so we can play music from a phone.
I was searching Amazon but was confused as to whether I need 2 channel or do I need 4 channel since I ran 4 wires? I'm not looking to control zones or anything, they can all be the same volume.
2023.06.03 17:25 Razberry910 Best use of Sun and pool cover to heat pool.
 | On Tuesday I set up our pool and over a couple days filled it with we'll water ~53f. yesterday morning the temp was 65f and worked its way up to 73f last night. we used it but of course it was chilly. we put the cover on last night(I've never used this cover before) the water temp was 73 again this morning and rising as its going to be 90f and sunny today. submitted by Razberry910 to pools [link] [comments] question. in regards for warming the water should I remove the cover on sunny days or leave it on? my brain says the cover provides shade and stops some of the sun, but I also think the cover will make a green house type environment. question 2. I imagine running the filter cools or slows down warming as water agitation increases evaporation. |
2023.06.03 16:56 Lim0zine Ground cover suggestions
I'm in zone 7b in South Carolina and looking for suggestions for native ground cover to replace an area of lawn that is full shade. I'd prefer something good for pollinators as well.
submitted by Lim0zine to NativePlantGardening [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 16:10 YaaliAnnar NoP: Lost and Found (57)
First Previous
Memory Transcription Subject: Tresn, Arxur Defector
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-22
After the encounter with the disdainful zurulian, Elangkasa led me to another section of the medical complex. We navigated through the makeshift path until we arrived at a building. The painted sign marked this as "Recovery Center".
Inside I found a hive of movement and noise. Humans filled the space and engaged in different activities meant to acclimate them to their prosthetic limbs. Sounds of encouragement and determination echoed in the room. A unique mix of scents filled the air, warm metal, the clinical smell of antiseptic, and the underlying current of human sweat.
One side of the room housed various forms of mobility training. Here, individuals learned to walk again, their new legs carrying them across varieties of terrains from flat platforms to uneven rocky surfaces, all designed to mimic real-world conditions. The patients stumbled, recovered, and started to find their footing.
In a separate section, people sat around tables with an array of tactile puzzles and dexterity tools strewn around. Their faces scrunched in concentration, brows furrowed and lips pursed as they manipulated small objects or practiced precise movements with their acquired hands. The mechanical digits moved with a jerky grace but grew more fluid with each passing moment. A chorus of patient encouragement followed the quiet clinks and clatters of dropped objects.
A human figure clad in the typical uniform of the facility came toward us. An intricate headgear on their head concealed their mane.
"Ah, is this the arxur?" My translator assigned her feminine voice. "Hi, I'm Ida."
"Hi Ida," Elangkasa shared a formal nod with the other human. "This is Tresn."
"Thanks, Coordinator," Ida responded with another nod. "I can handle it from here."
After a quick farewell, Elangkasa left me in the capable hands of Ida. I looked around the bustling hall, my gaze sweeping over the flurry of activity.
"So... this is where you train people to adapt to their new limbs?"
"Yeah. Do you have your prosthesis?" Ida inquired, her voice carrying a professional tone laced with underlying warmth.
"Sure," I responded, reaching for the bag slung over the back of my wheelchair. From its depths, I extracted the mechanical feet.
"Hmm, interesting. This doesn't resemble an arxur foot at all," Ida observed, her dark eyebrows arching as she scrutinized the unconventional prosthetic.
"Indeed, I drew inspiration from your planet's creatures," I replied, a hint of pride slipping into my tone. "You have a species related to your kind, yes? I believe they're referred to as monkeys?"
"I see..." Ida murmured, a thoughtful expression wrinkling her forehead. I felt a slight apprehension in her voice. "But can you control such a thing?"
"Watch this!" Excitement coursed through me as I manipulated the intricate prosthetic. With a flex of my thoughts, the prosthetic responded, the claws moving with surprising fluidity, much like an additional set of hand paws.
"Excellent!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up in a wide smile. She clapped her hands together.
With practiced ease, the human-assisted me in attaching the prostheses. She produced a sturdy belt, custom-made to secure the prostheses and ensure they stayed attached. As the weight of my body pressed onto the artificial limbs, I felt a dull throbbing at the ends of my stumps. The sensation felt odd, not quite pain, but rather, a constant reminder of the foreign appendages now attached to my body.
For starters, I had a simple exercise, designed to introduce my body to a new way of movement. I had to walk between two parallel bars. My arms took some of the weight as I grabbed the bar and attempted to maneuver my prosthetic feet. I tried to replicate my usual gait, letting the claws on my new limbs ripple and flex in what I hoped was a natural manner.
However, it became apparent that just manipulating the claws of my prostheses didn't suffice. I needed to master the motion of bending the wrist and ankle analogs, a detail I hadn't considered before. My first steps came out as awkward and clumsy, a far cry from the graceful movements I had imagined.
Our rehabilitation session continued until a sharp, persistent ache at the base of my stumps signaling me to stop. Back in my wheelchair again, I maneuvered my way to the comfort of my assigned habitation unit. With my friends engrossed in their volunteer duties, I only had myself. The silence in the room reminded me back when I had to stay hidden in the camp. In those quiet moments, my thoughts strayed to my predicament, wishing for a rapid recovery that would free me from my solitude and allow me to stand beside my companions, contributing to helping humans.
Amid my reflection, my mind wandered back to a previous interaction with a human acquaintance named Jagomerah. I remembered his offer to meet up if I ever found myself in Purwakarta, prompting me to revisit our old messages on social media.
"Hi there, Jagomerah," I initiated the conversation, my fingers tapping out the words on the screen. "I've made it to Purwakarta, Sector Twelve to be precise."
He sent a swift and enthusiastic response, "No way! Alright, meet me at Sector Ten's plaza at 16:00 then."
"Looking forward to it," I typed back, a flicker of anticipation sparking within me.
As the time neared the fifteenth hour, my human friends returned, their faces flush with the day's exertion. To pass the time while waiting for our remaining companions, we played a game of human cards.
Bolad and Vani appeared a half-hour later, their arrival completing our little circle. With everyone present, I proposed an expedition to Sector Ten and I was met with eager nods and enthusiastic agreement. Thus, our band of six ventured, weaving through the intricate maze of sectors within the camp. I met several arxur on my way, always giving me a look of disapproval. Upon reaching the bustling plaza of Sector Ten, I shot a quick message to Jagomerah, notifying him of our arrival. It didn't take long for our gaze to meet each other.
To my surprise, Snop already knew this Jagomerah person. She referred to him as a "scalie", an apparent misnomer given the absence of any discernible scales on his skin.
A sharp voice cut off our introduction. "Have you no shame?" The words came from the female arxur who had been standing behind Jagomerah. Her eyes glared at me with a chilling reproof. "Wasting resources like this, when others are clinging to life."
Jagomerah, the human with a mane of untamed curls, turned back to meet Lovaz's scathing gaze. "What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was a gruff contrast to her icy disdain.
With an indignant huff, Lovaz gestured at me, her clawed hand sweeping in my direction. "Look at him! He's nothing more than a drain on society now."
"Lovaz," Jagomerah said in a stern voice. The curly-maned human squared his shoulders and met the arxur's gaze with unwavering defiance. "What do you do to an injured arxur?"
"We do nothing." She snapped, her tail lashing with irritation. "It is the responsibility of the impaired to stop being a burden to our society."
"In human society, it's the responsibility of the society to care for the impaired," Jagomerah retorted, his dark eyes never leaving Lovaz's.
"This weakness," Lovaz spat out the word with such venom, "is why all this happened to you, human."
Jagomerah's gaze hardened. With a swift movement of his left arm, he pulled his armband aside, revealing a metallic ring. His fingers moved over the surface of his arm, found a hidden latch, and with a quick twist, the arm detached. The purpose of his armband became clear to me in that instant. The fabric covered the prosthetic limb's attachment point.
"See this?" Jagomerah held up his detached arm. "This hand can crush your windpipe. Not so weak now, huh?"
Modern arxurs only understood the language of strength and violence. From what I had learned about humans, a display like Jagomerah's could escalate into a fight. Yet the arxur woman just chuckled, her sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory grin. "Okay… I see your point."
"Hey...Tresn wasn't it?" Jagomerah said, his voice had a note of regret in it. I inclined my head in response. "I must apologize for my earlier suspicion."
I looked at his arm, or rather, the empty space where they should have been. "So...uh, what happened to your arm?"
"Well, see, I'm a firefighter," Jagomerah began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of long-held sadness. The metal arm detached from his body was held in his remaining hand. "When you're fighting a beast of fire, sometimes it bites back. Burning debris can fall, and sometimes it traps someone whose means of escape is for his comrade to make a tough call because the fire is spreading."
As Jagomerah talked, his fingers worked on his mechanical limb. The sight fascinated me, the gleaming metallic end, the intricate design, and the way the parts clicked into place with a satisfying sound. Each movement reflected countless repetitions and a depth of familiarity that looked almost second nature.
His gaze turned to me, a question hanging in the air between us. "What about you? How did it happen?"
"Grenade," I replied, the single word packed with echoes of a past I wasn't quite ready to delve into.
"My shift has started, but I have time before I have to go to Greater Jakarta for the next twenty hours. Maybe I can show you around?"
I looked at Lovaz's whose hard gaze still didn't escape me. I met her glare with a smile, feeling a touch of defiance rise in me.
"Why do you care so much about this defective one?" Lovaz spat.
Jagomerah shrugged "He seemed nice. You don't have to come along with me. Just…reconvene at the meeting point at 18:45"
The tension between us hung palpably in the air as Lovaz lingered, shooting one last look of contempt my way before she walked away, her tail slapped against Jagomerah's leg.
"Well… that was something," Johan murmured. "The arxurs aren't one for much for socialization, are they?"
Feeling an odd kinship with the human, I decided to explain, "The only necessary relationship in the Dominion is between you and the State. Some arxurs would take a mate, but it's always in the service of the State. A mate could keep an eye on you in the field and administer first aid if needed."
"If you have a mate," Vani began. "what would he do if the incident with the farsul happened?"
I looked down at my lap, my scales catching the low light. "He would leave me to die." My voice sounded heavy with a bitter truth.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
"Let's not dawdle," Jagomerah interrupted, shifting the atmosphere with a few words. "Follow me."
As we moved, I found myself questioning the cyborg. "What are you doing here?"
Jagomerah stopped, turning back to me. "Wait... you do have the concept of disaster relief... right?"
I blinked, my mind racing. "Uh... the closest thing we have is asset recovery," I said, embarrassed. "Your description on social media says you fight the fire, right? Do you put out conflagration?"
"That's right," he walked away again, his mechanical limb gesturing for us to continue following him.
As we moved, Jagomerah began to explain his role. It went beyond just putting out raging fires but it also involved pulling out survivors or bodies, clearing away the debris, and ensuring the remaining structures had enough integrity for rebuilding to commence. Their dedicated work created the foundation on which the rest of the humans could begin reconstructing the city.
After navigating the winding alleys of Sector Ten, we arrived at a prefabricated building near a wide road that allowed for the movement of large vehicles. Indeed, several huge vehicles bordered the building. Jagomerah led us through one of the gates in the building into a cavernous room. Inside, we saw a massive vehicle with dimensions larger than Johan's already big van. Humans moved around it in coordinated chaos, packing the vehicle with an assortment of tools and supplies.
All sorts of rescue gear adorned the walls. Some of them looked familiar to me, hoses coiled, axes with their blades shining under the overhead lights, ladders arranged according to size, and sledgehammers. There were also some that looked more complicated, from the design, I guessed that it uses hydraulics to help prop something or force something to open.
Lockers, each personalized with a human name, added a touch of individuality to the otherwise functional room. The heavy scent of rubber and metal hung in the air. Dominating the far end of the room, a large digital display showcased a detailed map of Greater Jakarta. The multitude of markings and notes told a silent story of planning, strategic thinking, and past operations.
A human woman approached Jagomerah, her greeting a bark, "Hey, Agni!"
Agni? Perhaps that was his other name, just like Snop was also known as Kirani. I found myself a little puzzled, having to familiarize myself with the concept of people using multiple names for everyday social life, not for espionage.
The human's skin was a deeper shade of brown, her hair coiled and secured into a neat bun. Her gaze turned to me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Whoa… what happened to that guy?"
"Grenade," Jagomerah replied, the single-word explanation heavy with unspoken stories.
Her eyes narrowed, "You're not replacing Lovaz with them, are you?"
"No," he assured her, his tone calm and clear. "Lovaz should arrive after breaking the fast. I'm taking this arxur and his friend here to look around."
We introduced ourselves with Johan kicking off the process. When my turn arrived, I said to myself with a touch of embarrassment, "My name is Tresn, right now… I'm not able to contribute."
A man, his face marked by burn scars that halted the growth of facial fur, chimed in, "Of course, you can't. No one in the right mind would ask you to work. Focus on your healing first."
Jagomerah then guided us through the process of their preparation. He explained what each item in the stacks of supplies was for. Besides the collection of essentials like food and water, and medical kits it also featured an impressive array of construction tools. I watched as teams worked together, loading supplies into vehicles, and checking and double-checking their lists. I saw clusters of team members in huddled discussions, their focus on tablets displaying complex documents. I watched them practice procedures, going through the motions of first aid, victim search, debris clearing, and evacuation protocols.
At one point Jagomerah introduced us to one of the drones that would help them. It looked like a human if a human was made out of blocks. The drone excited Johan and Cynthio and the two humans began interrogating the machine.
The buzz of activity that had characterized this place began to fade as the time for meal approached. People moved away from their tasks, converging towards the dining halls, the scent of food replacing the scent of rubber and metal.
Jagomerah and his team brought me towards the carnivore dining hall, a part of the camp designed to accommodate species with diets like us. My roommates, meanwhile, wandered off towards the herbivore hall. There were many arxurs present, and though I could feel their glances on my scarred form, none approached me.
The dining area was divided into two queues. One led to a spread of raw meat where the arxurs could pile their trays high with a selection of proteins. The second queue catered to a more human palate, featuring cooked dishes.
When I joined the line for the human food, Jagomerah looked at me in surprise. But he nodded in approval after I explained that I prefer cooked meat now. He told me that the dish for the night was Rawon, a delicious black soup cooked with a special kind of plant that contains hydrogen cyanide.
"Wait...what?"
"Yeah, but the plant has been processed to remove that toxin away. See... this is why we process food and cook them." He looked at the line of arxurs helping themselves to the blocks of meat. "I can't imagine eating them, so chewy and bland, even our raw meat dishes have seasoning in them."
That remark intrigued me. "Wait, you have raw meat dishes too?"
"Sure, we have-"
"Next!" The human server shouted. Our discussion had made a large gap between us and the last human.
"Okay, let's get this rawon first."
I noticed that the humans also have white plant matter called 'rice' to go with the rawon. For me, I would have just the soup, rich, aromatic, and packed with chunks of meat. To my delight, the meal also came with boiled eggs. Settling down with humans felt different from the stern, disapproving arxur tables back at the fleet. Here, Jagomerah and his team shared jokes, stories, and smiles as we ate. As we tucked into our meals, I shared my own tale, the official version of my crash landing.
Jagomerah listened, his gaze serious. When I finished, he took a moment before speaking. "When Lovaz says… I'm sorry… 'defective'… she's referring to more than just your physical condition, right?" He paused, recalling our earlier conversation. "You said the same to me when we chatted."
"Yeah... us Arxurs aren't supposed to be like... this." I gestured towards myself.
"I'm glad that you're like this," Jagomerah patted my shoulder. I didn't think he said that in pity, but rather understanding, and acceptance.
A soft chiming sound echoed from his wrist, drawing our attention. Jagomerah glanced down at the device strapped around his wrist, his eyes scanning over the display.
"Ah, duty calls," he sighed. I could feel a certain heaviness in his tone. "Our mission is about to start and we'll be in Greater Jakarta for the next twenty-four hours."
"Do what you need, human," I responded, a hint of a smile on my face.
"But feel free to message me, okay?" He proposed. Giving me a chance for us to continue our discussion. Perhaps it could lead to something more, I hoped.
After saying our goodbyes, I watched Jagomerah and his team depart. The herbivore dining didn't expect an Arxur like me and it would cause problems if I popped up there. Instead, I decided to wait in the plaza. I found a quiet corner and parked myself, my mind wandering back to Jagomerah and his team. The brief time I'd spent with them passed, unlike anything I'd experienced before. I felt a sense of acceptance and togetherness that felt...right.
For the first time, I felt like I belonged.
submitted by YaaliAnnar to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-22
After the encounter with the disdainful zurulian, Elangkasa led me to another section of the medical complex. We navigated through the makeshift path until we arrived at a building. The painted sign marked this as "Recovery Center".
Inside I found a hive of movement and noise. Humans filled the space and engaged in different activities meant to acclimate them to their prosthetic limbs. Sounds of encouragement and determination echoed in the room. A unique mix of scents filled the air, warm metal, the clinical smell of antiseptic, and the underlying current of human sweat.
One side of the room housed various forms of mobility training. Here, individuals learned to walk again, their new legs carrying them across varieties of terrains from flat platforms to uneven rocky surfaces, all designed to mimic real-world conditions. The patients stumbled, recovered, and started to find their footing.
In a separate section, people sat around tables with an array of tactile puzzles and dexterity tools strewn around. Their faces scrunched in concentration, brows furrowed and lips pursed as they manipulated small objects or practiced precise movements with their acquired hands. The mechanical digits moved with a jerky grace but grew more fluid with each passing moment. A chorus of patient encouragement followed the quiet clinks and clatters of dropped objects.
A human figure clad in the typical uniform of the facility came toward us. An intricate headgear on their head concealed their mane.
"Ah, is this the arxur?" My translator assigned her feminine voice. "Hi, I'm Ida."
"Hi Ida," Elangkasa shared a formal nod with the other human. "This is Tresn."
"Thanks, Coordinator," Ida responded with another nod. "I can handle it from here."
After a quick farewell, Elangkasa left me in the capable hands of Ida. I looked around the bustling hall, my gaze sweeping over the flurry of activity.
"So... this is where you train people to adapt to their new limbs?"
"Yeah. Do you have your prosthesis?" Ida inquired, her voice carrying a professional tone laced with underlying warmth.
"Sure," I responded, reaching for the bag slung over the back of my wheelchair. From its depths, I extracted the mechanical feet.
"Hmm, interesting. This doesn't resemble an arxur foot at all," Ida observed, her dark eyebrows arching as she scrutinized the unconventional prosthetic.
"Indeed, I drew inspiration from your planet's creatures," I replied, a hint of pride slipping into my tone. "You have a species related to your kind, yes? I believe they're referred to as monkeys?"
"I see..." Ida murmured, a thoughtful expression wrinkling her forehead. I felt a slight apprehension in her voice. "But can you control such a thing?"
"Watch this!" Excitement coursed through me as I manipulated the intricate prosthetic. With a flex of my thoughts, the prosthetic responded, the claws moving with surprising fluidity, much like an additional set of hand paws.
"Excellent!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up in a wide smile. She clapped her hands together.
With practiced ease, the human-assisted me in attaching the prostheses. She produced a sturdy belt, custom-made to secure the prostheses and ensure they stayed attached. As the weight of my body pressed onto the artificial limbs, I felt a dull throbbing at the ends of my stumps. The sensation felt odd, not quite pain, but rather, a constant reminder of the foreign appendages now attached to my body.
For starters, I had a simple exercise, designed to introduce my body to a new way of movement. I had to walk between two parallel bars. My arms took some of the weight as I grabbed the bar and attempted to maneuver my prosthetic feet. I tried to replicate my usual gait, letting the claws on my new limbs ripple and flex in what I hoped was a natural manner.
However, it became apparent that just manipulating the claws of my prostheses didn't suffice. I needed to master the motion of bending the wrist and ankle analogs, a detail I hadn't considered before. My first steps came out as awkward and clumsy, a far cry from the graceful movements I had imagined.
Our rehabilitation session continued until a sharp, persistent ache at the base of my stumps signaling me to stop. Back in my wheelchair again, I maneuvered my way to the comfort of my assigned habitation unit. With my friends engrossed in their volunteer duties, I only had myself. The silence in the room reminded me back when I had to stay hidden in the camp. In those quiet moments, my thoughts strayed to my predicament, wishing for a rapid recovery that would free me from my solitude and allow me to stand beside my companions, contributing to helping humans.
Amid my reflection, my mind wandered back to a previous interaction with a human acquaintance named Jagomerah. I remembered his offer to meet up if I ever found myself in Purwakarta, prompting me to revisit our old messages on social media.
"Hi there, Jagomerah," I initiated the conversation, my fingers tapping out the words on the screen. "I've made it to Purwakarta, Sector Twelve to be precise."
He sent a swift and enthusiastic response, "No way! Alright, meet me at Sector Ten's plaza at 16:00 then."
"Looking forward to it," I typed back, a flicker of anticipation sparking within me.
As the time neared the fifteenth hour, my human friends returned, their faces flush with the day's exertion. To pass the time while waiting for our remaining companions, we played a game of human cards.
Bolad and Vani appeared a half-hour later, their arrival completing our little circle. With everyone present, I proposed an expedition to Sector Ten and I was met with eager nods and enthusiastic agreement. Thus, our band of six ventured, weaving through the intricate maze of sectors within the camp. I met several arxur on my way, always giving me a look of disapproval. Upon reaching the bustling plaza of Sector Ten, I shot a quick message to Jagomerah, notifying him of our arrival. It didn't take long for our gaze to meet each other.
To my surprise, Snop already knew this Jagomerah person. She referred to him as a "scalie", an apparent misnomer given the absence of any discernible scales on his skin.
A sharp voice cut off our introduction. "Have you no shame?" The words came from the female arxur who had been standing behind Jagomerah. Her eyes glared at me with a chilling reproof. "Wasting resources like this, when others are clinging to life."
Jagomerah, the human with a mane of untamed curls, turned back to meet Lovaz's scathing gaze. "What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was a gruff contrast to her icy disdain.
With an indignant huff, Lovaz gestured at me, her clawed hand sweeping in my direction. "Look at him! He's nothing more than a drain on society now."
"Lovaz," Jagomerah said in a stern voice. The curly-maned human squared his shoulders and met the arxur's gaze with unwavering defiance. "What do you do to an injured arxur?"
"We do nothing." She snapped, her tail lashing with irritation. "It is the responsibility of the impaired to stop being a burden to our society."
"In human society, it's the responsibility of the society to care for the impaired," Jagomerah retorted, his dark eyes never leaving Lovaz's.
"This weakness," Lovaz spat out the word with such venom, "is why all this happened to you, human."
Jagomerah's gaze hardened. With a swift movement of his left arm, he pulled his armband aside, revealing a metallic ring. His fingers moved over the surface of his arm, found a hidden latch, and with a quick twist, the arm detached. The purpose of his armband became clear to me in that instant. The fabric covered the prosthetic limb's attachment point.
"See this?" Jagomerah held up his detached arm. "This hand can crush your windpipe. Not so weak now, huh?"
Modern arxurs only understood the language of strength and violence. From what I had learned about humans, a display like Jagomerah's could escalate into a fight. Yet the arxur woman just chuckled, her sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory grin. "Okay… I see your point."
"Hey...Tresn wasn't it?" Jagomerah said, his voice had a note of regret in it. I inclined my head in response. "I must apologize for my earlier suspicion."
I looked at his arm, or rather, the empty space where they should have been. "So...uh, what happened to your arm?"
"Well, see, I'm a firefighter," Jagomerah began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of long-held sadness. The metal arm detached from his body was held in his remaining hand. "When you're fighting a beast of fire, sometimes it bites back. Burning debris can fall, and sometimes it traps someone whose means of escape is for his comrade to make a tough call because the fire is spreading."
As Jagomerah talked, his fingers worked on his mechanical limb. The sight fascinated me, the gleaming metallic end, the intricate design, and the way the parts clicked into place with a satisfying sound. Each movement reflected countless repetitions and a depth of familiarity that looked almost second nature.
His gaze turned to me, a question hanging in the air between us. "What about you? How did it happen?"
"Grenade," I replied, the single word packed with echoes of a past I wasn't quite ready to delve into.
"My shift has started, but I have time before I have to go to Greater Jakarta for the next twenty hours. Maybe I can show you around?"
I looked at Lovaz's whose hard gaze still didn't escape me. I met her glare with a smile, feeling a touch of defiance rise in me.
"Why do you care so much about this defective one?" Lovaz spat.
Jagomerah shrugged "He seemed nice. You don't have to come along with me. Just…reconvene at the meeting point at 18:45"
The tension between us hung palpably in the air as Lovaz lingered, shooting one last look of contempt my way before she walked away, her tail slapped against Jagomerah's leg.
"Well… that was something," Johan murmured. "The arxurs aren't one for much for socialization, are they?"
Feeling an odd kinship with the human, I decided to explain, "The only necessary relationship in the Dominion is between you and the State. Some arxurs would take a mate, but it's always in the service of the State. A mate could keep an eye on you in the field and administer first aid if needed."
"If you have a mate," Vani began. "what would he do if the incident with the farsul happened?"
I looked down at my lap, my scales catching the low light. "He would leave me to die." My voice sounded heavy with a bitter truth.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
"Let's not dawdle," Jagomerah interrupted, shifting the atmosphere with a few words. "Follow me."
As we moved, I found myself questioning the cyborg. "What are you doing here?"
Jagomerah stopped, turning back to me. "Wait... you do have the concept of disaster relief... right?"
I blinked, my mind racing. "Uh... the closest thing we have is asset recovery," I said, embarrassed. "Your description on social media says you fight the fire, right? Do you put out conflagration?"
"That's right," he walked away again, his mechanical limb gesturing for us to continue following him.
As we moved, Jagomerah began to explain his role. It went beyond just putting out raging fires but it also involved pulling out survivors or bodies, clearing away the debris, and ensuring the remaining structures had enough integrity for rebuilding to commence. Their dedicated work created the foundation on which the rest of the humans could begin reconstructing the city.
After navigating the winding alleys of Sector Ten, we arrived at a prefabricated building near a wide road that allowed for the movement of large vehicles. Indeed, several huge vehicles bordered the building. Jagomerah led us through one of the gates in the building into a cavernous room. Inside, we saw a massive vehicle with dimensions larger than Johan's already big van. Humans moved around it in coordinated chaos, packing the vehicle with an assortment of tools and supplies.
All sorts of rescue gear adorned the walls. Some of them looked familiar to me, hoses coiled, axes with their blades shining under the overhead lights, ladders arranged according to size, and sledgehammers. There were also some that looked more complicated, from the design, I guessed that it uses hydraulics to help prop something or force something to open.
Lockers, each personalized with a human name, added a touch of individuality to the otherwise functional room. The heavy scent of rubber and metal hung in the air. Dominating the far end of the room, a large digital display showcased a detailed map of Greater Jakarta. The multitude of markings and notes told a silent story of planning, strategic thinking, and past operations.
A human woman approached Jagomerah, her greeting a bark, "Hey, Agni!"
Agni? Perhaps that was his other name, just like Snop was also known as Kirani. I found myself a little puzzled, having to familiarize myself with the concept of people using multiple names for everyday social life, not for espionage.
The human's skin was a deeper shade of brown, her hair coiled and secured into a neat bun. Her gaze turned to me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Whoa… what happened to that guy?"
"Grenade," Jagomerah replied, the single-word explanation heavy with unspoken stories.
Her eyes narrowed, "You're not replacing Lovaz with them, are you?"
"No," he assured her, his tone calm and clear. "Lovaz should arrive after breaking the fast. I'm taking this arxur and his friend here to look around."
We introduced ourselves with Johan kicking off the process. When my turn arrived, I said to myself with a touch of embarrassment, "My name is Tresn, right now… I'm not able to contribute."
A man, his face marked by burn scars that halted the growth of facial fur, chimed in, "Of course, you can't. No one in the right mind would ask you to work. Focus on your healing first."
Jagomerah then guided us through the process of their preparation. He explained what each item in the stacks of supplies was for. Besides the collection of essentials like food and water, and medical kits it also featured an impressive array of construction tools. I watched as teams worked together, loading supplies into vehicles, and checking and double-checking their lists. I saw clusters of team members in huddled discussions, their focus on tablets displaying complex documents. I watched them practice procedures, going through the motions of first aid, victim search, debris clearing, and evacuation protocols.
At one point Jagomerah introduced us to one of the drones that would help them. It looked like a human if a human was made out of blocks. The drone excited Johan and Cynthio and the two humans began interrogating the machine.
The buzz of activity that had characterized this place began to fade as the time for meal approached. People moved away from their tasks, converging towards the dining halls, the scent of food replacing the scent of rubber and metal.
Jagomerah and his team brought me towards the carnivore dining hall, a part of the camp designed to accommodate species with diets like us. My roommates, meanwhile, wandered off towards the herbivore hall. There were many arxurs present, and though I could feel their glances on my scarred form, none approached me.
The dining area was divided into two queues. One led to a spread of raw meat where the arxurs could pile their trays high with a selection of proteins. The second queue catered to a more human palate, featuring cooked dishes.
When I joined the line for the human food, Jagomerah looked at me in surprise. But he nodded in approval after I explained that I prefer cooked meat now. He told me that the dish for the night was Rawon, a delicious black soup cooked with a special kind of plant that contains hydrogen cyanide.
"Wait...what?"
"Yeah, but the plant has been processed to remove that toxin away. See... this is why we process food and cook them." He looked at the line of arxurs helping themselves to the blocks of meat. "I can't imagine eating them, so chewy and bland, even our raw meat dishes have seasoning in them."
That remark intrigued me. "Wait, you have raw meat dishes too?"
"Sure, we have-"
"Next!" The human server shouted. Our discussion had made a large gap between us and the last human.
"Okay, let's get this rawon first."
I noticed that the humans also have white plant matter called 'rice' to go with the rawon. For me, I would have just the soup, rich, aromatic, and packed with chunks of meat. To my delight, the meal also came with boiled eggs. Settling down with humans felt different from the stern, disapproving arxur tables back at the fleet. Here, Jagomerah and his team shared jokes, stories, and smiles as we ate. As we tucked into our meals, I shared my own tale, the official version of my crash landing.
Jagomerah listened, his gaze serious. When I finished, he took a moment before speaking. "When Lovaz says… I'm sorry… 'defective'… she's referring to more than just your physical condition, right?" He paused, recalling our earlier conversation. "You said the same to me when we chatted."
"Yeah... us Arxurs aren't supposed to be like... this." I gestured towards myself.
"I'm glad that you're like this," Jagomerah patted my shoulder. I didn't think he said that in pity, but rather understanding, and acceptance.
A soft chiming sound echoed from his wrist, drawing our attention. Jagomerah glanced down at the device strapped around his wrist, his eyes scanning over the display.
"Ah, duty calls," he sighed. I could feel a certain heaviness in his tone. "Our mission is about to start and we'll be in Greater Jakarta for the next twenty-four hours."
"Do what you need, human," I responded, a hint of a smile on my face.
"But feel free to message me, okay?" He proposed. Giving me a chance for us to continue our discussion. Perhaps it could lead to something more, I hoped.
After saying our goodbyes, I watched Jagomerah and his team depart. The herbivore dining didn't expect an Arxur like me and it would cause problems if I popped up there. Instead, I decided to wait in the plaza. I found a quiet corner and parked myself, my mind wandering back to Jagomerah and his team. The brief time I'd spent with them passed, unlike anything I'd experienced before. I felt a sense of acceptance and togetherness that felt...right.
For the first time, I felt like I belonged.
2023.06.03 15:41 Brutalatops45 [WTB] A1 Triangle Handguard Cap .750
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Looking to spend $5 to $10 to cover shipping.
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submitted by Brutalatops45 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]
Looking to spend $5 to $10 to cover shipping.
PayPal and Venmo work for me.
2023.06.03 15:38 obeliskposture Short story about bad times & bad jobs
I've shared fiction here before and it didn't go altogether too poorly, so I'm going to press my luck and do it again. This was written about a year ago, and I'm tired of trying to peddle it to lit magazines. Might as well share it here, know that it met a few eyeballs, and have done with it.
It's relevant to the sub insofar as it's about urban alienation and the working conditions at a small business run by IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE people. (I tried to pitch it as a story of the great resignation with a momentary flicker of cosmic horror.) It's based on a similar job I took on after getting laid off during the lockdown, and the circumstances of the main character's breakup are faintly similar to one I went through several years back (her job sucked the life out of her).
Without further ado:
* * *
It was getting close to midnight, and the temperature outside was still above 80 degrees. We’d locked up the shop at 10:15 and walked over to Twenty, the dive bar on Poplar Street, where a single wall-mounted air conditioner and four wobbly ceiling fans weren’t putting up much resistance against the July heat baking the place from the outside and the dense mass of bodies giving it a stifling fever from within.
Just now I came close to saying it was a Wednesday night, because that was usually when the cyclists descended upon Avenue Brew, the gritty-but-bougie craft beer and sandwich shop I was working at back then. Every Wednesday between March and November, about fifteen to twenty-five Gen Xers dressed in skintight polyester, all packages and camel toes and fanny packs, locked up their thousand-dollar bikes on the sidewalk and lined up for IPAs and paninis. They reliably arrived around 8:00, an hour before we closed, making it impossible to get started on the closing checklist and leave on time at 10:00. The worst of them were demanding and rude, and even the best got raucous and stubborn after a couple drinks. There were nights when bringing in the sidewalk tables couldn’t be done without arguing with them. Most were sub-par tippers, to boot.
After Wednesday came and went that week without so much as a single 40-something in Ray Bans and padded shorts stopping in to double-fist two cans of Jai Alai, we dared to hope the cyclists had chosen another spot to be their finish line from there on out. But no—they’d only postponed their weekly ride, and swarmed us on Friday night instead.
I was the last person to find out; I was clocked in as purchaser that evening. The position was something like a promotion I'd received a year earlier: for twenty hours a week, I got to retreat from the public and sit in the back room with the store laptop, reviewing sales and inventory, answering emails from brewery reps, and ordering beer, beverages, and assorted paper goods. When I put in hours as purchaser, my wage went up from $11 to $15 an hour, but I was removed from the tip pool. On most days, tips amounted to an extra two or three dollars an hour, so I usually came out ahead.
This was back in 2021. I don't know what Avenue Brew pays these days.
Anyway, at about 8:15, I stepped out to say goodbye to everyone and found the shop in chaos. Friday nights were generally pretty active, the cyclists' arrival had turned the place into a mob scene. The line extended to the front door. The phone was ringing. The Grubhub tablet dinged like an alarm clock without a snooze button. Danny was on the sandwich line and on the verge of losing his temper. Oliver was working up a sweat running food, bussing tables, and replenishing ingredients from the walk-in. The unflappable Marina was on register, and even she seemed like she was about to snap at somebody.
What else could I do? I stayed until closing to answer the phone, process Grubhub orders, hop on and off the second register, and help Danny with sandwich prep. After the tills were counted out, I stayed another hour to take care of the dishes, since nobody had a chance to do a first load. Oliver was grateful, even though he grumbled about having to make some calls and rearrange Sunday's schedule so I could come in a couple hours late. Irene and Jeremy, Avenue Brew's owners, would kick his ass if he let me go into overtime.
Danny suggested that we deserved a few drinks ourselves after managing to get through the shift without killing anyone. Not even Marina could find a reason to disagree with him.
The neighborhood had undergone enough gentrification to support an upscale brunch spot, an ice cream parlor, a gourmet burger restaurant, a coffee and bahn mi shop, and Avenue Brew (to name a few examples), but not yet quite enough that the people who staffed them couldn’t afford to live within a ten-minute walk from the main avenue where all these hep eateries stood between 24-hour corner stores with slot machines in back, late-night Chinese and Mexico-Italian takeout joints with bulletproof glass at the counters, and long-shuttered delis and shoe stores. Twenty on Poplar was the watering hole set aside for people like us. It was dim, a bit dilapidated, and inexpensive, and usually avoided by denizens of the condos popping up on the vacant lots and replacing clusters of abandoned row houses.
When we arrived, Kyle waved us over. He didn’t work at Avenue Brew anymore, but still kept up with a few of us. He was at Twenty at least four nights out of the week.
So there we all were. I sat with a brooding stranger freestyling to himself in a low mumble on the stool to my left and Oliver on my right, who tapped at his phone and nursed a bottle of Twisted Tea. To Oliver’s right sat Marina, staring at nothing in particular and trying to ignore Danny, who stood behind her, closer than she would have liked, listening to Kyle explain the crucial differences between the Invincible comic book and the Invincible web series.
I recall being startled back to something like wakefulness when it seemed to me that the ceiling had sprouted a new fan. I blinked my eyes, and it wasn’t there anymore. It reminded me of an incident from when I was still living with my folks in South Jersey and still had a car, and was driving home from a friend’s house party up in Bergen County. It was 6:30 AM, I hadn’t slept all night, and needed to get home so I could get at least little shuteye before heading to Whole Foods for my 11:00 AM shift. I imagined I passed beneath the shadows of overpasses I knew weren’t there, and realized I was dreaming at the wheel.
I was pretty thoroughly zombified at that point. Heather and I had broken up for good the night before, and I hadn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Calling out at Avenue Brew was tough. Unless you found someone willing to cover your shift on like six hours' notice, you were liable to get a writeup, a demotion, or your hours cut if you couldn't produce a doctor's note. So I loaded up on caffeine pills and Five-Hour Energy bottles at the corner store, and powered through as best I could.
I finished the last thimbleful of Blue Moon in my glass. Oliver wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a napkin and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at the KiwiFarms thread he was scrolling through. Pool balls clacked; somebody swore and somebody laughed. The TouchTunes box was playing Bob Dylan’s “Rain Day Woman #12 & 35,” and enough bleary 40-something men around the bar were bobbing their heads and mouthing the words to make it impossible to determine which one of them paid two bucks to hear it. A guy by the cigarette machine who looked like a caricature of Art Carney in flannel and an old Pixies T-shirt was accosting a woman who must have been a toddler when he hit drinking age, and she momentarily made eye contact with me as she scanned the area for a way out. Danny was shouting over the bartender’s head, carrying on a conversation with the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, who was sitting on the horseshoe’s opposite arm.
I never got his name, but when Oliver first referred to him as the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, I knew exactly who he meant. Philly scene kid par excellence. Mid-20s, washed-out black denim, dyed black hair, thick bangs, and dark, gentle eyes. He was only truly alluring when he was on the job, because he seldom smiled then—and when he smiled, he broke the spell by exposing his teeth, stained a gnarly shade of mahogany from too much smoking and not enough brushing.
“How’s Best? Marcus still a joker?” Danny asked him.
“Yeah, you know Marcus. You know how he is.”
So the Hot Guy had been working at Best Burger (directly across the street from Avenue Brew) ever since Pizza Stan’s owners mismanaged the place unto insolvency. (Afterwards it was renovated and reopened as a vegan bakery—which incidentally closed down about a month ago.) Danny used to work at Best Burger, but that ended after he got into a shouting match with the owner. I happened to overhear it while I was dragging in the tables and collecting the chairs from the sidewalk the night it happened. It wasn’t any of my business, and I tried not to pay attention, but they were really tearing into each other. A month later, Oliver welcomed Danny aboard at Avenue Brew. I hadn’t known he’d been interviewed, and by then it was too late to mention the incident. But I’d have been a hypocrite to call it a red flag after the way I resigned from my position as Café Chakra's assistant manager two years earlier—not that we need to go dredging that up right now. Let's say there was some bad blood and leave it at that.
Anyway, I was thinking about giving in and buying a pack of cigarettes from the machine—and then remembered that Twenty didn’t have a cigarette machine. I looked again. The Art Carney-lookalike was still there, fingering his phone with a frown, but the girl was gone—and so was the cigarette machine.
I had only a moment to puzzle over this before Danny clapped me on the shoulder and thrust a shot glass in front of me.
“Starfish!” he said. (Danny called me Starfish. Everybody else called me Pat.) “You look like you need some juice.”
He distributed shots to everyone else. Marina declined hers, but changed her mind when Kyle offered to take it instead.
She and Kyle had stopped sleeping together after Kyle left Avenue Brew to work at the Victory taproom on the Parkway, but Marina was still concerned about his bad habits, which Danny delighted in encouraging.
We all leaned in to clink our glasses. Before I could find an appropriate moment to ask Marina if I could bum a cigarette, she got up to visit the bathroom. Danny took her seat and bowed his head for a conspiratorial word with Kyle.
I watched from the corner of my eye and tried to listen in. Like Marina, I was a little worried about Kyle. He got hired at Avenue Brew around the same time I did, just before the pandemic temporarily turned us into a takeout joint. He was a senior at Drexel then, an English major, and sometimes talked about wanting to either find work in publishing or carve out a career as a freelance writer after graduating. But first he intended to spend a year getting some life in before submitting himself to the forever grind.
He read a lot of Charles Bukowski and Hunter Thompson. He relished the gritty and sordid, and had already been good at sniffing it out around the neighborhood and in West Philly before Danny introduced him to cocaine, casinos, strip clubs, and a rogue’s gallery of shady but fascinating people. (None were really Danny’s friends; just fellow passengers who intersected with the part of his life where he sometimes went to Parx, sometimes came out ahead, sometimes spent his winnings on coke, and sometimes did bumps at titty bars.) Kyle recounted these adventures with a boyish enthusiasm for the naked reality of sleaze, like a middle schooler telling his locker room buddies about catching his older brother in flagrante and seeing so-and-so body parts doing such-and-such things.
Marina hated it. She never said as much to me, but she was afraid that the template Kyle set for his life during his “year off” was in danger of becoming locked in. The anniversary of his graduation had already passed, and now here he was trying to convince Danny to contribute a couple hundred dollars toward a sheet of acid his guy had for sale. He wasn't doing much writing lately.
I was the oldest employee at Avenue Brew (as I write this I’m 37, but fortunately I don’t look it), and when Kyle still worked with us I felt like it was my prerogative to give him some advice. The longer he waited to make inroads, I once told him, the more likely he’d be seen as damaged goods by the publishing world. He needed to jam his foot in the door while he was still young.
I could tell the conversation bored him, and didn’t bring up the subject again.
The bartender took my glass and curtly asked if I’d like another drink.
“No thanks, not yet,” I answered.
She slid me my bill.
I missed the old bartender, the one she’d replaced. I forget her name, but she was ingenuous and energetic and sweet. Pretty much everyone had some sort of crush on her. Sometimes she came into Avenue Brew for lunch, and tipped us as well as we tipped her. Maybe three months before that night—Danny witnessed it—she suddenly started crying and rushed out the door. Everyone at the bar mutely looked to each other for an explanation. (Fortunately for Twenty, the kitchen manager hadn’t left yet, and picked up the rest of her shift.)
She never came back. None of us had seen her since. But drafts still had to be poured and bottlecaps pulled off, and now here was another white woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black tank top, a pushup bra, and a scrunchie, same as before. Twenty’s regulars grew accustomed to not expecting to see the person she’d replaced, and life went on.
“How’re you doing?” I asked Oliver, just to say something to somebody, and to keep my thoughts from wandering back to Heather.
“Just kind of existing right now,” he answered. His phone lay face-up on the counter. He was swiping through Instagram, and I recognized the avatar of the user whose album he hate-browsed.
“And how’s Austin been?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Not even three weeks after getting over the jetlag from his trip back from the Cascades, he’s off touring Ireland.” He shook his head. “Living his best life.”
He’d hired Austin on a part-time basis in September. We needed a new associate when Emma was promoted to replace a supervisor who'd quit without even giving his two weeks. There was a whole thing. I'm having a hard time recalling the guy's name, but I liked him well enough. He was a good worker and he seemed like a bright kid, but he was—well, he was young. Naïve. One day he found Jeremy sitting in the back room with his laptop, and took advantage of the open-door policy to ask why the store manager and supervisors didn’t get health benefits or paid time off. Jeremy told him it "was being worked on," and that he couldn’t discuss it any further at that time. I understand the kid got argumentative, though I never knew precisely what was said.
Irene started visiting the shop a lot more often after that, almost always arriving when the kid was working. No matter what he was doing, she’d find a reason to intervene, to micromanage and harangue him, and effectively make his job impossible. A coincidence, surely.
It’s something I still think about. By any metric, Jeremy and Irene have done very well for themselves. They’re both a little over 40 years old. I remember hearing they met at law school. In addition to Avenue Brew, they own a bistro in Francisville and an ice cream parlor in Point Breeze. They have a house on the Blue Line, send their son to a Montessori school, and pull up to their businesses in a white Volkswagen ID.4. But whenever the subject of benefits, wages, or even free shift meals came up, they pled poverty. It simply couldn’t be done. But they liked to remind us about all they did to make Avenue Brew a fun place to work, like let the staff pick the music and allow Oliver and me to conduct a beer tasting once a day. They stuck Black Lives Matter, Believe Women, and Progress flag decals on the front door and windows, and I remember Irene wearing a Black Trans Lives Matter shirt once or twice when covering a supervisor's shift. None of the college students or recent graduates who composed most of Avenue Brew's staff could say the bosses weren't on the right team. And yet...
I'm sorry—I was talking about Austin. He was maybe 30 and already had another job, a “real” job, some sort of remote gig lucrative enough for him to make rent on a studio in the picturesque Episcopal church down the street that had been converted into upscale apartments some years back. Austin wasn’t looking for extra cash. He wanted to socialize. To have something to do and people to talk to in the outside world. He wanted to make friends, and all of us could appreciate that—but it’s hard to be fond of a coworker who irredeemably sucks at his job. Austin never acted with any urgency, was inattentive to detail, and even after repeated interventions from Oliver and the supervisors, he continued to perform basic tasks in bafflingly inefficient ways. Having Austin on your shift meant carrying his slack, and everyone was fed up after a few months. Oliver sat him down, told him he was on thin ice, and gave him a list of the areas in which he needed to improve if he didn’t want to be let go.
When Austin gave Oliver the indignant “I don’t need this job” speech, it was different from those times Danny or I told a boss to go to hell and walked out. Austin truly didn’t need it. He basically said the job was beneath him, and so was Oliver.
It got deep under Oliver’s skin. He did need the job and had to take it seriously, even when it meant being the dipshit manager chewing out a man four or five years his senior. He earned $18 an hour (plus tips when he wasn’t doing admin work), had debts to pay off, and couldn't expect to get any help from his family.
The important thing, though, the part I distinctly remember, was that Oliver was looking at a video of a wading bird Austin had recorded. An egret, maybe. White feathers, long black legs, pointy black beak. Austin must have been standing on a ledge above a creek, because he had an overhead view of the bird as it stood in the water, slowly and deliberately stretching and retracting its neck, eyeing the wriggling little shadows below. As far as the fish could know, they were swimming around a pair of reeds growing out of the silt. The predator from which they extended was of a world beyond their understanding and out of their reach.
The video ended. Oliver moved on to the next item: a photograph of the bird from the same perspective, with a fish clamped in its beak. Water droplets flung from the victim's thrashing tail caught the sunlight. And I remember now, I clearly remember, the shapes of like twelve other fish stupidly milling about the bird's feet, unperturbed and unpanicked.
Danny peered at Oliver’s phone and observed a resemblance between the bird—its shape and bearing, and the composition of the photograph—and a POV porn video shot from behind and above, and he told us so. Elaborately. He made squawking noises.
“And mom says I’m a degenerate,” Oliver sighed. “Can you practice your interspecies pickup artist shit somewhere else?” Oliver flicked his wrist, shooing Danny off, and held his phone in front of his face to signal that he was done talking.
Danny sagged a little on his stool and turned away. I sometimes felt bad for him. For all his faults, he had the heart of a puppy dog. He really did think of us as his tribe. There was nobody else who’d only ever answer “yes” when you asked him to pick up a shift, and he did it completely out of loyalty.
He was turning 29 in a week. I wondered how many people would actually turn out to celebrate with him at the Black Taxi. Kyle probably would—but even he regarded Danny more as a source of vulgar entertainment than a friend.
Then it happened again. When I turned to speak to Oliver, there’d been a pair of pool cues leaning side-by-side against the wall a few stools down. Now they were gone.
This time it might have been my imagination. Somebody passing by could have casually snatched them up and kept walking.
But a moment later I seemed to notice a second TouchTunes box protruding from the wall directly behind me. I let it be.
Marina returned from the bathroom. Danny rose and offered her back her seat with an exaggerated bow. Before she got settled, I asked if she’d like to step outside with me. She withdrew her pack of Marlboro Menthols from her canvas bag, which she left sitting on the stool to deter Danny from sitting back down.
Marina never minded letting me bum cigarettes from time to time. I couldn’t buy them for myself anymore; it’s a habit I could never keep under control, and was only getting more expensive. Like everything else in the world. About once a month I reimbursed her by buying her a pack.
The air out on the sidewalk was as hot as the air inside Twenty, but easier to breathe. After lighting up, Marina leaned against the bricks and sighed.
“I wish Oliver would fire Danny already and get it over with.”
I nodded. Marina rarely talked about anything but work.
“He sneaks drinks and doesn't think anyone notices he's buzzed,” she went on. “He steals so much shit and isn’t even a little subtle about it. He’s going to get Oliver in trouble. And he’s a creep.”
“Yeah,” I said. These were her usual complaints about Danny, and they were all true. “At least he’s better than Austin.”
“That’s a low bar.”
Three dirt bikes and an ATV roared down the lonely street, charging through stop sign after stop sign, putting our talk on hold.
“Remind me. You’ve got one semester left, right?” I asked after the noise ebbed.
“Yep.”
Marina was a marketing major at Temple. She’d had an internship during the spring semester, and her boss told her to give her a call the very minute she graduated. Her parents in central Pennsylvania couldn’t pay her rent or tuition for her, so she was a full-time student and a full-time employee at Avenue Brew. Her emotional spectrum ranged from "tired" to "over it." She’d been waiting tables and working at coffee shops since she was seventeen, had no intention of continuing for even a day longer than she had to, and feared the escape hatch would slam shut if she dallied too long after prying it open.
She’d considered majoring in English, like Kyle. She went for marketing instead. I couldn’t blame her.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been kind of off all day.”
“I’m terrible.”
“Why?”
I gave dodgy answers, but she asked precisely the right follow-up questions to get me going about what happened with Heather the night before.
It was the new job. Before the pandemic, Heather worked as a server at a Center City bar and grill. (That's where I met her; we were coworkers for about a year, and then I left to work Café Chakra because it was quieter and closer to where I lived.) When the place closed its doors and laid everyone off during the lockdown, she got a stopgap job at the Acme on Passyunk, and hated it. Then in March, she found a bar-and-lounge gig in a ritzy hotel on Broad Street. Very corporate. Excellent pay, great benefits. Definitely a step up. But her new employers made Irene and Jeremy look like Bob and Linda Belcher by comparison. It was the kind of place where someone had recently gotten herself fired for leaving work to rush to the hospital after getting the news that her grandmother was about to be taken off life support, and not finding someone to come in and cover the last two hours of her shift.
Heather seldom worked fewer than fifty-five hours a week, and her schedule was even more erratic than mine. At least once a week she left the hotel at 1:00 or 2:00 AM and returned at 9:00 the next morning. Neither of us could remember the last time she’d had two consecutive days off, and it had been over a month since one of mine overlapped with one of hers. She’d spent it drinking alone at home. All she wanted was some privacy.
I’d biked to South Philly to meet her when she got home at 1:30. The argument that killed our relationship for good began around 2:30, when I complained that we never had sex anymore. Heather accused me of only caring about that, when she was so exhausted and stressed that her hair was falling out in the shower. Quit the job? She couldn’t quit. The money was too good. She had student loans, medical bills, and credit card debt, and for the first time in her life she could imagine paying it all off before hitting menopause.
So, yeah, I was cranky about our sex life being dead in the water. Say whatever you like. But at that point, what were we to each other? We did nothing together anymore but complain about work before one or both of us fell asleep. That isn’t a relationship.
She said my hair always smelled like sandwiches, even after bathing, and she was done pretending it didn’t turn her off. I told her she was one to talk—she always reeked of liquor. As things escalated, we stopped caring if her roommates heard us. “You want to be a father?” she shouted around 4:00 AM. “Making what you make? That poor fucking kid.”
We fought until sunrise, and I left her apartment with the understanding that I wouldn’t be coming back, wouldn’t be calling her ever again. I biked home and sat on the steps facing the cement panel that was my house’s backyard. After my phone died and I couldn’t anaesthetize myself with dumb YouTube videos or make myself feel crazy staring at the download button for the Tinder app, I watched the sparrows hopping on and off the utility lines for a while.
At 11:40 I went inside. One of my roommates was already in the shower, so the best I could do was put on a clean Avenue Brew T-shirt before walking to the shop and clocking in at noon to help deal with the lunch rush.
“That’s a lot,” Marina finally said. “Sorry.”
I don’t know what I was expecting her to say. She was sixteen years my junior, after all, and just a coworker. She didn’t need to hear any of this, and I definitely didn't need to be telling her. But who else was there to tell?
She’d already finished her cigarette. I still had a few puffs left. She went inside.
I decided to call it a night.
The second TouchTunes box was gone—naturally. Danny had taken my stool, and regarded my approach with a puckish you snooze you lose grin. I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d just pay my bill, give everyone a nod goodnight, and walk the five blocks back home.
And then Danny disappeared.
One second, he was there. The next—gone.
Danny didn’t just instantaneously vanish. Even when something happens in the blink of an eye, you can still put together something of a sequence. I saw him—I seemed to see him—falling into himself, collapsing to a point, and then to nothing.
You know how sometimes a sound is altogether inaudible unless you’re looking at the source—like when you don’t realize somebody’s whispering at you, and can then hear and understand them after they get your attention? I think that was the case here. I wouldn't have known to listen if I hadn't seen it happen. What I heard lingered for two, maybe three seconds, and wasn't any louder than a fly buzzing inside a lampshade. A tiny and impossibly distant scream, pitchshifted like a receding ambulance siren into a basso drone...
I don’t know. I don’t know for sure. I’m certain I remember a flash of red, and I have the idea of Danny’s trunk expanding, opening up as it imploded. A crimson flower, flecked white, with spooling pink stalks—and Danny’s wide-eyed face above it, drawn twisting and shrinking into its petals.
For an instant, Twenty’s interior shimmered. Not shimmered, exactly—glitched would be a better word. If you’re old enough to remember the fragmented graphics that sometimes flashed onscreen when you turned on the Nintendo without blowing on the cartridge, you’ll have an idea of what I mean. It happened much too fast, and there was too much of it to absorb. The one clear impression I could parse was the mirage of a cash register flickering upside-down above the pool table.
Not a cash register. The shape was familiar, but the texture was wrong. I think it was ribbed, sort of like a maggot. I think it glistened. Like—camo doesn’t work anymore when the wearer stops crouching behind a bush and breaks into a run. Do you get what I’m saying?
Nobody else seemed to notice. The pool balls clacked. A New Order track was playing on the TouchTunes box. A nearby argument about about Nick Sirianni continued unabated.
Finally, there was a downward rush of air—and this at least elicited a reaction from the bartender, who slapped my bill to keep it from sailing off the counter.
“Danny,” I said.
“Danny?” Kyle asked me quietly. His face had gone pale.
“Danny?” Oliver repeated in a faraway voice.
After a pause, Kyle blinked a few times. “You heard from him?”
“God forbid,” said Marina. “When he quit I was like, great, I can keep working here after all.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Kyle. Did I ever show you those texts he sent me once at three in the morning?” The color had returned to Oliver’s face.
“No, what did he say?”
Oliver tapped at his phone and turned the screen toward Kyle.
“Oh. Oh, jeez.”
“Right? Like—if you want to ask me something, ask me. You know? Don’t be weirdly accusatory about it…”
I pulled a wad of fives and ones from my pocket, threw it all onto the counter, and beelined for the exit without consideration for the people I squeezed through and shoved past on the way.
I heard Marina saying “let him go.”
I went a second consecutive night without sleep. Fortunately I wasn’t scheduled to come in the next day.
The schedule. It’s funny. Oliver was generally great at his job, and even when he wasn’t, I cut him a lot of slack because I knew Irene and Jeremy never gave him a moment’s peace. But I could never forgive him those times he waited until the weekend to make up and distribute the schedule. This was one of those weeks he didn’t get around to it until Saturday afternoon. When I found it in my inbox, Danny’s name wasn’t anywhere on it.
As far as I know, nobody who hadn’t been at Twenty that night asked what happened to him. We were a bit overstaffed as it was, and everyone probably assumed Danny was slated for the chopping block. The part-timers were, for the most part, happy to get a few additional hours.
Oliver abruptly quit around Labor Day after a final acrimonious clash with the owners. I never found out the details, and I never saw him again. Jeremy and Irene took turns minding the store while a replacement manager was sought. None of the supervisors would be pressured into taking the job; they knew from Oliver what they could expect.
About three weeks after Oliver left, I came in for my purchasing shift and found Jeremy waiting for me in the back room. I knew it was serious when he didn’t greet me with the awkward fist-bump he ordinarily required of his male employees.
“You’ve seen the numbers,” he said. Business for the summer had fallen short of expectations, it was true, and he and Irene had decided to rein in payroll expenses. My purchaser position was being eliminated. Its responsibilities would be redistributed among the supervisors and the new manager, when one was found. In the meantime, I'd be going back to the regular $11 an hour (plus tips of course) associate position full-time.
Jeremy assured me I'd be first in the running for supervisor the next time there was an opening.
I told him it was fine, I was done, and if he’d expected the courtesy of two weeks’ notice, he shouldn’t have blindsided me like that.
“Well, that’s your choice,” he answered, trying not to look pleased. His payroll problem was solving itself.
I racked up credit card debt for a few months. Applied for entry-level museum jobs that might appreciate my art history degree. Aimed for some purchasing and administrative assistant gigs, and just for the hell of it, turned in a resume for a facilitator position at an after-school art program. Got a few interviews. All of them eventually told me they’d decided to go in a different direction. I finally got hired to bartend at Hops from Underground, a microbrewery on Fairmount.
I’m still there. The money’s okay, but it fluctuates. Hours are reasonable. I’m on their high-deductible health plan. There’s a coworker I’ve been dating. Sort of dating. You know how it goes. In this line of work you get so used to people coming and going that you learn not to get too attached. I walk past Avenue Brew a few times a week, but stopped peering in through the window when I didn't recognize the people behind the counter anymore.
submitted by obeliskposture to stupidpol [link] [comments]
It's relevant to the sub insofar as it's about urban alienation and the working conditions at a small business run by IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE people. (I tried to pitch it as a story of the great resignation with a momentary flicker of cosmic horror.) It's based on a similar job I took on after getting laid off during the lockdown, and the circumstances of the main character's breakup are faintly similar to one I went through several years back (her job sucked the life out of her).
Without further ado:
* * *
It was getting close to midnight, and the temperature outside was still above 80 degrees. We’d locked up the shop at 10:15 and walked over to Twenty, the dive bar on Poplar Street, where a single wall-mounted air conditioner and four wobbly ceiling fans weren’t putting up much resistance against the July heat baking the place from the outside and the dense mass of bodies giving it a stifling fever from within.
Just now I came close to saying it was a Wednesday night, because that was usually when the cyclists descended upon Avenue Brew, the gritty-but-bougie craft beer and sandwich shop I was working at back then. Every Wednesday between March and November, about fifteen to twenty-five Gen Xers dressed in skintight polyester, all packages and camel toes and fanny packs, locked up their thousand-dollar bikes on the sidewalk and lined up for IPAs and paninis. They reliably arrived around 8:00, an hour before we closed, making it impossible to get started on the closing checklist and leave on time at 10:00. The worst of them were demanding and rude, and even the best got raucous and stubborn after a couple drinks. There were nights when bringing in the sidewalk tables couldn’t be done without arguing with them. Most were sub-par tippers, to boot.
After Wednesday came and went that week without so much as a single 40-something in Ray Bans and padded shorts stopping in to double-fist two cans of Jai Alai, we dared to hope the cyclists had chosen another spot to be their finish line from there on out. But no—they’d only postponed their weekly ride, and swarmed us on Friday night instead.
I was the last person to find out; I was clocked in as purchaser that evening. The position was something like a promotion I'd received a year earlier: for twenty hours a week, I got to retreat from the public and sit in the back room with the store laptop, reviewing sales and inventory, answering emails from brewery reps, and ordering beer, beverages, and assorted paper goods. When I put in hours as purchaser, my wage went up from $11 to $15 an hour, but I was removed from the tip pool. On most days, tips amounted to an extra two or three dollars an hour, so I usually came out ahead.
This was back in 2021. I don't know what Avenue Brew pays these days.
Anyway, at about 8:15, I stepped out to say goodbye to everyone and found the shop in chaos. Friday nights were generally pretty active, the cyclists' arrival had turned the place into a mob scene. The line extended to the front door. The phone was ringing. The Grubhub tablet dinged like an alarm clock without a snooze button. Danny was on the sandwich line and on the verge of losing his temper. Oliver was working up a sweat running food, bussing tables, and replenishing ingredients from the walk-in. The unflappable Marina was on register, and even she seemed like she was about to snap at somebody.
What else could I do? I stayed until closing to answer the phone, process Grubhub orders, hop on and off the second register, and help Danny with sandwich prep. After the tills were counted out, I stayed another hour to take care of the dishes, since nobody had a chance to do a first load. Oliver was grateful, even though he grumbled about having to make some calls and rearrange Sunday's schedule so I could come in a couple hours late. Irene and Jeremy, Avenue Brew's owners, would kick his ass if he let me go into overtime.
Danny suggested that we deserved a few drinks ourselves after managing to get through the shift without killing anyone. Not even Marina could find a reason to disagree with him.
The neighborhood had undergone enough gentrification to support an upscale brunch spot, an ice cream parlor, a gourmet burger restaurant, a coffee and bahn mi shop, and Avenue Brew (to name a few examples), but not yet quite enough that the people who staffed them couldn’t afford to live within a ten-minute walk from the main avenue where all these hep eateries stood between 24-hour corner stores with slot machines in back, late-night Chinese and Mexico-Italian takeout joints with bulletproof glass at the counters, and long-shuttered delis and shoe stores. Twenty on Poplar was the watering hole set aside for people like us. It was dim, a bit dilapidated, and inexpensive, and usually avoided by denizens of the condos popping up on the vacant lots and replacing clusters of abandoned row houses.
When we arrived, Kyle waved us over. He didn’t work at Avenue Brew anymore, but still kept up with a few of us. He was at Twenty at least four nights out of the week.
So there we all were. I sat with a brooding stranger freestyling to himself in a low mumble on the stool to my left and Oliver on my right, who tapped at his phone and nursed a bottle of Twisted Tea. To Oliver’s right sat Marina, staring at nothing in particular and trying to ignore Danny, who stood behind her, closer than she would have liked, listening to Kyle explain the crucial differences between the Invincible comic book and the Invincible web series.
I recall being startled back to something like wakefulness when it seemed to me that the ceiling had sprouted a new fan. I blinked my eyes, and it wasn’t there anymore. It reminded me of an incident from when I was still living with my folks in South Jersey and still had a car, and was driving home from a friend’s house party up in Bergen County. It was 6:30 AM, I hadn’t slept all night, and needed to get home so I could get at least little shuteye before heading to Whole Foods for my 11:00 AM shift. I imagined I passed beneath the shadows of overpasses I knew weren’t there, and realized I was dreaming at the wheel.
I was pretty thoroughly zombified at that point. Heather and I had broken up for good the night before, and I hadn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Calling out at Avenue Brew was tough. Unless you found someone willing to cover your shift on like six hours' notice, you were liable to get a writeup, a demotion, or your hours cut if you couldn't produce a doctor's note. So I loaded up on caffeine pills and Five-Hour Energy bottles at the corner store, and powered through as best I could.
I finished the last thimbleful of Blue Moon in my glass. Oliver wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a napkin and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at the KiwiFarms thread he was scrolling through. Pool balls clacked; somebody swore and somebody laughed. The TouchTunes box was playing Bob Dylan’s “Rain Day Woman #12 & 35,” and enough bleary 40-something men around the bar were bobbing their heads and mouthing the words to make it impossible to determine which one of them paid two bucks to hear it. A guy by the cigarette machine who looked like a caricature of Art Carney in flannel and an old Pixies T-shirt was accosting a woman who must have been a toddler when he hit drinking age, and she momentarily made eye contact with me as she scanned the area for a way out. Danny was shouting over the bartender’s head, carrying on a conversation with the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, who was sitting on the horseshoe’s opposite arm.
I never got his name, but when Oliver first referred to him as the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, I knew exactly who he meant. Philly scene kid par excellence. Mid-20s, washed-out black denim, dyed black hair, thick bangs, and dark, gentle eyes. He was only truly alluring when he was on the job, because he seldom smiled then—and when he smiled, he broke the spell by exposing his teeth, stained a gnarly shade of mahogany from too much smoking and not enough brushing.
“How’s Best? Marcus still a joker?” Danny asked him.
“Yeah, you know Marcus. You know how he is.”
So the Hot Guy had been working at Best Burger (directly across the street from Avenue Brew) ever since Pizza Stan’s owners mismanaged the place unto insolvency. (Afterwards it was renovated and reopened as a vegan bakery—which incidentally closed down about a month ago.) Danny used to work at Best Burger, but that ended after he got into a shouting match with the owner. I happened to overhear it while I was dragging in the tables and collecting the chairs from the sidewalk the night it happened. It wasn’t any of my business, and I tried not to pay attention, but they were really tearing into each other. A month later, Oliver welcomed Danny aboard at Avenue Brew. I hadn’t known he’d been interviewed, and by then it was too late to mention the incident. But I’d have been a hypocrite to call it a red flag after the way I resigned from my position as Café Chakra's assistant manager two years earlier—not that we need to go dredging that up right now. Let's say there was some bad blood and leave it at that.
Anyway, I was thinking about giving in and buying a pack of cigarettes from the machine—and then remembered that Twenty didn’t have a cigarette machine. I looked again. The Art Carney-lookalike was still there, fingering his phone with a frown, but the girl was gone—and so was the cigarette machine.
I had only a moment to puzzle over this before Danny clapped me on the shoulder and thrust a shot glass in front of me.
“Starfish!” he said. (Danny called me Starfish. Everybody else called me Pat.) “You look like you need some juice.”
He distributed shots to everyone else. Marina declined hers, but changed her mind when Kyle offered to take it instead.
She and Kyle had stopped sleeping together after Kyle left Avenue Brew to work at the Victory taproom on the Parkway, but Marina was still concerned about his bad habits, which Danny delighted in encouraging.
We all leaned in to clink our glasses. Before I could find an appropriate moment to ask Marina if I could bum a cigarette, she got up to visit the bathroom. Danny took her seat and bowed his head for a conspiratorial word with Kyle.
I watched from the corner of my eye and tried to listen in. Like Marina, I was a little worried about Kyle. He got hired at Avenue Brew around the same time I did, just before the pandemic temporarily turned us into a takeout joint. He was a senior at Drexel then, an English major, and sometimes talked about wanting to either find work in publishing or carve out a career as a freelance writer after graduating. But first he intended to spend a year getting some life in before submitting himself to the forever grind.
He read a lot of Charles Bukowski and Hunter Thompson. He relished the gritty and sordid, and had already been good at sniffing it out around the neighborhood and in West Philly before Danny introduced him to cocaine, casinos, strip clubs, and a rogue’s gallery of shady but fascinating people. (None were really Danny’s friends; just fellow passengers who intersected with the part of his life where he sometimes went to Parx, sometimes came out ahead, sometimes spent his winnings on coke, and sometimes did bumps at titty bars.) Kyle recounted these adventures with a boyish enthusiasm for the naked reality of sleaze, like a middle schooler telling his locker room buddies about catching his older brother in flagrante and seeing so-and-so body parts doing such-and-such things.
Marina hated it. She never said as much to me, but she was afraid that the template Kyle set for his life during his “year off” was in danger of becoming locked in. The anniversary of his graduation had already passed, and now here he was trying to convince Danny to contribute a couple hundred dollars toward a sheet of acid his guy had for sale. He wasn't doing much writing lately.
I was the oldest employee at Avenue Brew (as I write this I’m 37, but fortunately I don’t look it), and when Kyle still worked with us I felt like it was my prerogative to give him some advice. The longer he waited to make inroads, I once told him, the more likely he’d be seen as damaged goods by the publishing world. He needed to jam his foot in the door while he was still young.
I could tell the conversation bored him, and didn’t bring up the subject again.
The bartender took my glass and curtly asked if I’d like another drink.
“No thanks, not yet,” I answered.
She slid me my bill.
I missed the old bartender, the one she’d replaced. I forget her name, but she was ingenuous and energetic and sweet. Pretty much everyone had some sort of crush on her. Sometimes she came into Avenue Brew for lunch, and tipped us as well as we tipped her. Maybe three months before that night—Danny witnessed it—she suddenly started crying and rushed out the door. Everyone at the bar mutely looked to each other for an explanation. (Fortunately for Twenty, the kitchen manager hadn’t left yet, and picked up the rest of her shift.)
She never came back. None of us had seen her since. But drafts still had to be poured and bottlecaps pulled off, and now here was another white woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black tank top, a pushup bra, and a scrunchie, same as before. Twenty’s regulars grew accustomed to not expecting to see the person she’d replaced, and life went on.
“How’re you doing?” I asked Oliver, just to say something to somebody, and to keep my thoughts from wandering back to Heather.
“Just kind of existing right now,” he answered. His phone lay face-up on the counter. He was swiping through Instagram, and I recognized the avatar of the user whose album he hate-browsed.
“And how’s Austin been?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Not even three weeks after getting over the jetlag from his trip back from the Cascades, he’s off touring Ireland.” He shook his head. “Living his best life.”
He’d hired Austin on a part-time basis in September. We needed a new associate when Emma was promoted to replace a supervisor who'd quit without even giving his two weeks. There was a whole thing. I'm having a hard time recalling the guy's name, but I liked him well enough. He was a good worker and he seemed like a bright kid, but he was—well, he was young. Naïve. One day he found Jeremy sitting in the back room with his laptop, and took advantage of the open-door policy to ask why the store manager and supervisors didn’t get health benefits or paid time off. Jeremy told him it "was being worked on," and that he couldn’t discuss it any further at that time. I understand the kid got argumentative, though I never knew precisely what was said.
Irene started visiting the shop a lot more often after that, almost always arriving when the kid was working. No matter what he was doing, she’d find a reason to intervene, to micromanage and harangue him, and effectively make his job impossible. A coincidence, surely.
It’s something I still think about. By any metric, Jeremy and Irene have done very well for themselves. They’re both a little over 40 years old. I remember hearing they met at law school. In addition to Avenue Brew, they own a bistro in Francisville and an ice cream parlor in Point Breeze. They have a house on the Blue Line, send their son to a Montessori school, and pull up to their businesses in a white Volkswagen ID.4. But whenever the subject of benefits, wages, or even free shift meals came up, they pled poverty. It simply couldn’t be done. But they liked to remind us about all they did to make Avenue Brew a fun place to work, like let the staff pick the music and allow Oliver and me to conduct a beer tasting once a day. They stuck Black Lives Matter, Believe Women, and Progress flag decals on the front door and windows, and I remember Irene wearing a Black Trans Lives Matter shirt once or twice when covering a supervisor's shift. None of the college students or recent graduates who composed most of Avenue Brew's staff could say the bosses weren't on the right team. And yet...
I'm sorry—I was talking about Austin. He was maybe 30 and already had another job, a “real” job, some sort of remote gig lucrative enough for him to make rent on a studio in the picturesque Episcopal church down the street that had been converted into upscale apartments some years back. Austin wasn’t looking for extra cash. He wanted to socialize. To have something to do and people to talk to in the outside world. He wanted to make friends, and all of us could appreciate that—but it’s hard to be fond of a coworker who irredeemably sucks at his job. Austin never acted with any urgency, was inattentive to detail, and even after repeated interventions from Oliver and the supervisors, he continued to perform basic tasks in bafflingly inefficient ways. Having Austin on your shift meant carrying his slack, and everyone was fed up after a few months. Oliver sat him down, told him he was on thin ice, and gave him a list of the areas in which he needed to improve if he didn’t want to be let go.
When Austin gave Oliver the indignant “I don’t need this job” speech, it was different from those times Danny or I told a boss to go to hell and walked out. Austin truly didn’t need it. He basically said the job was beneath him, and so was Oliver.
It got deep under Oliver’s skin. He did need the job and had to take it seriously, even when it meant being the dipshit manager chewing out a man four or five years his senior. He earned $18 an hour (plus tips when he wasn’t doing admin work), had debts to pay off, and couldn't expect to get any help from his family.
The important thing, though, the part I distinctly remember, was that Oliver was looking at a video of a wading bird Austin had recorded. An egret, maybe. White feathers, long black legs, pointy black beak. Austin must have been standing on a ledge above a creek, because he had an overhead view of the bird as it stood in the water, slowly and deliberately stretching and retracting its neck, eyeing the wriggling little shadows below. As far as the fish could know, they were swimming around a pair of reeds growing out of the silt. The predator from which they extended was of a world beyond their understanding and out of their reach.
The video ended. Oliver moved on to the next item: a photograph of the bird from the same perspective, with a fish clamped in its beak. Water droplets flung from the victim's thrashing tail caught the sunlight. And I remember now, I clearly remember, the shapes of like twelve other fish stupidly milling about the bird's feet, unperturbed and unpanicked.
Danny peered at Oliver’s phone and observed a resemblance between the bird—its shape and bearing, and the composition of the photograph—and a POV porn video shot from behind and above, and he told us so. Elaborately. He made squawking noises.
“And mom says I’m a degenerate,” Oliver sighed. “Can you practice your interspecies pickup artist shit somewhere else?” Oliver flicked his wrist, shooing Danny off, and held his phone in front of his face to signal that he was done talking.
Danny sagged a little on his stool and turned away. I sometimes felt bad for him. For all his faults, he had the heart of a puppy dog. He really did think of us as his tribe. There was nobody else who’d only ever answer “yes” when you asked him to pick up a shift, and he did it completely out of loyalty.
He was turning 29 in a week. I wondered how many people would actually turn out to celebrate with him at the Black Taxi. Kyle probably would—but even he regarded Danny more as a source of vulgar entertainment than a friend.
Then it happened again. When I turned to speak to Oliver, there’d been a pair of pool cues leaning side-by-side against the wall a few stools down. Now they were gone.
This time it might have been my imagination. Somebody passing by could have casually snatched them up and kept walking.
But a moment later I seemed to notice a second TouchTunes box protruding from the wall directly behind me. I let it be.
Marina returned from the bathroom. Danny rose and offered her back her seat with an exaggerated bow. Before she got settled, I asked if she’d like to step outside with me. She withdrew her pack of Marlboro Menthols from her canvas bag, which she left sitting on the stool to deter Danny from sitting back down.
Marina never minded letting me bum cigarettes from time to time. I couldn’t buy them for myself anymore; it’s a habit I could never keep under control, and was only getting more expensive. Like everything else in the world. About once a month I reimbursed her by buying her a pack.
The air out on the sidewalk was as hot as the air inside Twenty, but easier to breathe. After lighting up, Marina leaned against the bricks and sighed.
“I wish Oliver would fire Danny already and get it over with.”
I nodded. Marina rarely talked about anything but work.
“He sneaks drinks and doesn't think anyone notices he's buzzed,” she went on. “He steals so much shit and isn’t even a little subtle about it. He’s going to get Oliver in trouble. And he’s a creep.”
“Yeah,” I said. These were her usual complaints about Danny, and they were all true. “At least he’s better than Austin.”
“That’s a low bar.”
Three dirt bikes and an ATV roared down the lonely street, charging through stop sign after stop sign, putting our talk on hold.
“Remind me. You’ve got one semester left, right?” I asked after the noise ebbed.
“Yep.”
Marina was a marketing major at Temple. She’d had an internship during the spring semester, and her boss told her to give her a call the very minute she graduated. Her parents in central Pennsylvania couldn’t pay her rent or tuition for her, so she was a full-time student and a full-time employee at Avenue Brew. Her emotional spectrum ranged from "tired" to "over it." She’d been waiting tables and working at coffee shops since she was seventeen, had no intention of continuing for even a day longer than she had to, and feared the escape hatch would slam shut if she dallied too long after prying it open.
She’d considered majoring in English, like Kyle. She went for marketing instead. I couldn’t blame her.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been kind of off all day.”
“I’m terrible.”
“Why?”
I gave dodgy answers, but she asked precisely the right follow-up questions to get me going about what happened with Heather the night before.
It was the new job. Before the pandemic, Heather worked as a server at a Center City bar and grill. (That's where I met her; we were coworkers for about a year, and then I left to work Café Chakra because it was quieter and closer to where I lived.) When the place closed its doors and laid everyone off during the lockdown, she got a stopgap job at the Acme on Passyunk, and hated it. Then in March, she found a bar-and-lounge gig in a ritzy hotel on Broad Street. Very corporate. Excellent pay, great benefits. Definitely a step up. But her new employers made Irene and Jeremy look like Bob and Linda Belcher by comparison. It was the kind of place where someone had recently gotten herself fired for leaving work to rush to the hospital after getting the news that her grandmother was about to be taken off life support, and not finding someone to come in and cover the last two hours of her shift.
Heather seldom worked fewer than fifty-five hours a week, and her schedule was even more erratic than mine. At least once a week she left the hotel at 1:00 or 2:00 AM and returned at 9:00 the next morning. Neither of us could remember the last time she’d had two consecutive days off, and it had been over a month since one of mine overlapped with one of hers. She’d spent it drinking alone at home. All she wanted was some privacy.
I’d biked to South Philly to meet her when she got home at 1:30. The argument that killed our relationship for good began around 2:30, when I complained that we never had sex anymore. Heather accused me of only caring about that, when she was so exhausted and stressed that her hair was falling out in the shower. Quit the job? She couldn’t quit. The money was too good. She had student loans, medical bills, and credit card debt, and for the first time in her life she could imagine paying it all off before hitting menopause.
So, yeah, I was cranky about our sex life being dead in the water. Say whatever you like. But at that point, what were we to each other? We did nothing together anymore but complain about work before one or both of us fell asleep. That isn’t a relationship.
She said my hair always smelled like sandwiches, even after bathing, and she was done pretending it didn’t turn her off. I told her she was one to talk—she always reeked of liquor. As things escalated, we stopped caring if her roommates heard us. “You want to be a father?” she shouted around 4:00 AM. “Making what you make? That poor fucking kid.”
We fought until sunrise, and I left her apartment with the understanding that I wouldn’t be coming back, wouldn’t be calling her ever again. I biked home and sat on the steps facing the cement panel that was my house’s backyard. After my phone died and I couldn’t anaesthetize myself with dumb YouTube videos or make myself feel crazy staring at the download button for the Tinder app, I watched the sparrows hopping on and off the utility lines for a while.
At 11:40 I went inside. One of my roommates was already in the shower, so the best I could do was put on a clean Avenue Brew T-shirt before walking to the shop and clocking in at noon to help deal with the lunch rush.
“That’s a lot,” Marina finally said. “Sorry.”
I don’t know what I was expecting her to say. She was sixteen years my junior, after all, and just a coworker. She didn’t need to hear any of this, and I definitely didn't need to be telling her. But who else was there to tell?
She’d already finished her cigarette. I still had a few puffs left. She went inside.
I decided to call it a night.
The second TouchTunes box was gone—naturally. Danny had taken my stool, and regarded my approach with a puckish you snooze you lose grin. I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d just pay my bill, give everyone a nod goodnight, and walk the five blocks back home.
And then Danny disappeared.
One second, he was there. The next—gone.
Danny didn’t just instantaneously vanish. Even when something happens in the blink of an eye, you can still put together something of a sequence. I saw him—I seemed to see him—falling into himself, collapsing to a point, and then to nothing.
You know how sometimes a sound is altogether inaudible unless you’re looking at the source—like when you don’t realize somebody’s whispering at you, and can then hear and understand them after they get your attention? I think that was the case here. I wouldn't have known to listen if I hadn't seen it happen. What I heard lingered for two, maybe three seconds, and wasn't any louder than a fly buzzing inside a lampshade. A tiny and impossibly distant scream, pitchshifted like a receding ambulance siren into a basso drone...
I don’t know. I don’t know for sure. I’m certain I remember a flash of red, and I have the idea of Danny’s trunk expanding, opening up as it imploded. A crimson flower, flecked white, with spooling pink stalks—and Danny’s wide-eyed face above it, drawn twisting and shrinking into its petals.
For an instant, Twenty’s interior shimmered. Not shimmered, exactly—glitched would be a better word. If you’re old enough to remember the fragmented graphics that sometimes flashed onscreen when you turned on the Nintendo without blowing on the cartridge, you’ll have an idea of what I mean. It happened much too fast, and there was too much of it to absorb. The one clear impression I could parse was the mirage of a cash register flickering upside-down above the pool table.
Not a cash register. The shape was familiar, but the texture was wrong. I think it was ribbed, sort of like a maggot. I think it glistened. Like—camo doesn’t work anymore when the wearer stops crouching behind a bush and breaks into a run. Do you get what I’m saying?
Nobody else seemed to notice. The pool balls clacked. A New Order track was playing on the TouchTunes box. A nearby argument about about Nick Sirianni continued unabated.
Finally, there was a downward rush of air—and this at least elicited a reaction from the bartender, who slapped my bill to keep it from sailing off the counter.
“Danny,” I said.
“Danny?” Kyle asked me quietly. His face had gone pale.
“Danny?” Oliver repeated in a faraway voice.
After a pause, Kyle blinked a few times. “You heard from him?”
“God forbid,” said Marina. “When he quit I was like, great, I can keep working here after all.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Kyle. Did I ever show you those texts he sent me once at three in the morning?” The color had returned to Oliver’s face.
“No, what did he say?”
Oliver tapped at his phone and turned the screen toward Kyle.
“Oh. Oh, jeez.”
“Right? Like—if you want to ask me something, ask me. You know? Don’t be weirdly accusatory about it…”
I pulled a wad of fives and ones from my pocket, threw it all onto the counter, and beelined for the exit without consideration for the people I squeezed through and shoved past on the way.
I heard Marina saying “let him go.”
I went a second consecutive night without sleep. Fortunately I wasn’t scheduled to come in the next day.
The schedule. It’s funny. Oliver was generally great at his job, and even when he wasn’t, I cut him a lot of slack because I knew Irene and Jeremy never gave him a moment’s peace. But I could never forgive him those times he waited until the weekend to make up and distribute the schedule. This was one of those weeks he didn’t get around to it until Saturday afternoon. When I found it in my inbox, Danny’s name wasn’t anywhere on it.
As far as I know, nobody who hadn’t been at Twenty that night asked what happened to him. We were a bit overstaffed as it was, and everyone probably assumed Danny was slated for the chopping block. The part-timers were, for the most part, happy to get a few additional hours.
Oliver abruptly quit around Labor Day after a final acrimonious clash with the owners. I never found out the details, and I never saw him again. Jeremy and Irene took turns minding the store while a replacement manager was sought. None of the supervisors would be pressured into taking the job; they knew from Oliver what they could expect.
About three weeks after Oliver left, I came in for my purchasing shift and found Jeremy waiting for me in the back room. I knew it was serious when he didn’t greet me with the awkward fist-bump he ordinarily required of his male employees.
“You’ve seen the numbers,” he said. Business for the summer had fallen short of expectations, it was true, and he and Irene had decided to rein in payroll expenses. My purchaser position was being eliminated. Its responsibilities would be redistributed among the supervisors and the new manager, when one was found. In the meantime, I'd be going back to the regular $11 an hour (plus tips of course) associate position full-time.
Jeremy assured me I'd be first in the running for supervisor the next time there was an opening.
I told him it was fine, I was done, and if he’d expected the courtesy of two weeks’ notice, he shouldn’t have blindsided me like that.
“Well, that’s your choice,” he answered, trying not to look pleased. His payroll problem was solving itself.
I racked up credit card debt for a few months. Applied for entry-level museum jobs that might appreciate my art history degree. Aimed for some purchasing and administrative assistant gigs, and just for the hell of it, turned in a resume for a facilitator position at an after-school art program. Got a few interviews. All of them eventually told me they’d decided to go in a different direction. I finally got hired to bartend at Hops from Underground, a microbrewery on Fairmount.
I’m still there. The money’s okay, but it fluctuates. Hours are reasonable. I’m on their high-deductible health plan. There’s a coworker I’ve been dating. Sort of dating. You know how it goes. In this line of work you get so used to people coming and going that you learn not to get too attached. I walk past Avenue Brew a few times a week, but stopped peering in through the window when I didn't recognize the people behind the counter anymore.
2023.06.03 15:24 Humble_Sheepp This is the first time I lucid dreamt and it was terrifying
TLDR at the end.
The earliest I can remember in the dream was going to this huge house for a get together with friends from a new church that invited me. The house had a large TV, a very spacious living room, a line of doors north the living room that lead to another part of the house, stairs on the east of the room that lead to the outside patio, three doorways southwest of the house the lead to three rooms each with a large stain glassed window of Jesus, and to the west of the house was a kitchen that had large stairs that lead up. In this house, there were about 8 girls around my age, a medium sized dog, and a man in his late 20s - early 30s with his wife and a buddy of his. The couple and his friend decided to leave the house for some reason and I was left alone in this house with the girls and the dog. At some point, I accidentally hurt the dog (not badly though, just made him yelp) and one of the girls grabbed the dog and yelled, "I hope you never do that again. If you do that again I'll kill you. I'll kill your right here." In a fit of rage I screamed back, "Well I hope you do. I HOPE YOU DO FUCKING KILL ME!" At that moment I grabbed some of my things and ran up the stairs, however I was still missing my backpack. I looked behind me and saw the girl angrily grab an empty bottle of svedka and march up the stairs after me as I hurriedly fiddled with the shitty doorknob to the outside patio. Once I got out there the patio was mostly covered in smooth gravel with the occasional concrete squares and a metal grater close to the door that was falling in. I stood outside of the door as the girl who I pissed off as well as the other girls started throwing glass bottles at me and everyone of them missed me and shattered behind me. They were shouting at me as I was trying to explain to them that all I needed was my backpack and I would leave. A girl with blonde wavy hair walked out of the house and started shoving me and pushing her glass bottle into my arm and chest. At that moment, I realized that her pushes felt like nothing and a voice inside my head said "You're dreaming". I forcefully pushed her away and looked at the ground while I did it then looked back up only to realize the blonde girl disappeared. I looked back over at the door to see the girls staring back at me then shutting the door. I walked back into the house with the girls nowhere to be found and the dog peacefully sleeping on the floor. I walked back down the stairs and once I reached the bottom I noticed one of the girls peaking from behind one of the lines of doors from the north side of the room then slowly closing it. I realized now would be a good time to find my backpack and head home. This was when I looked into the different doorways that lead to the rooms with the stain glassed windows and thought, "Damn, this house is huge." I walked into the kitchen only to be welcomed by the man and his wife and friend walking through one of the doors that lead outside. I told him about the backpack situation and he said I would get it back after the church service and lead me up the stairs in the kitchen and it was at that moment I realized I was shirtless. I covered my breasts with my arms and walked up the stairs to a huge chapel full of people. I sat down for a few moments then decided to just leave and maybe come back later once i was dressed. Once I got home and put a shirt on I noticed how absolutely filthy my room was. There were yellow and white stains on the carpet, the windows were covered in condensation on the inside, and both of my pet's tanks (I have am axolotl and a hamster) were disgusting. I also noticed that my axolotl's bubbler was on in his tank and half the water was gone. I quickly unplugged it then stared out the window because I noticed my mom's suitcase on the floor and she was nowhere to be found so u assumed she'd be coming home soon. I first saw a woman I didn't know walk up the stairs to my house and knocked on the door and stood there then I saw my mom. I turned around only to see her already walking up the stairs to my room and I explained the situation with the bubbler. She replied, " oh its good for him" to which I said, "no, if you leave it on too long it stresses him out." I looked away and looked back only to see the bubbler on again and my axolotl vomiting became of it. Once again I turned it off and said "Keep it off, I mean it." "Oh, he likes it." "I MEAN IT!" Just then mom let out my old family dog who died 2 years ago. Her fur was completely white when it was usually brown and black and she could barely walk. She fell to the floor and started vomiting profusely with the occasional human-sounding burp in between gagging. Then I woke up. It was the craziest thing I ever dreamt.
TLDR: I went to a big church house that housed 8 girls and a dog. I hurt the dog and the girls got mad and fought me. I realized I was dreaming when I didn't feel them hurt me. They ran off and spied on me in the house when I went looking for my backpack. The man who owned the house returned with his wife and I realized I was naked at this point. He told me I would get my backpack back if I went to a church service. I went home instead to put on some clothes. At home my room was filthy and my pets were sick. I got into an argument with my mom over it.
submitted by Humble_Sheepp to DreamInterpretation [link] [comments]
The earliest I can remember in the dream was going to this huge house for a get together with friends from a new church that invited me. The house had a large TV, a very spacious living room, a line of doors north the living room that lead to another part of the house, stairs on the east of the room that lead to the outside patio, three doorways southwest of the house the lead to three rooms each with a large stain glassed window of Jesus, and to the west of the house was a kitchen that had large stairs that lead up. In this house, there were about 8 girls around my age, a medium sized dog, and a man in his late 20s - early 30s with his wife and a buddy of his. The couple and his friend decided to leave the house for some reason and I was left alone in this house with the girls and the dog. At some point, I accidentally hurt the dog (not badly though, just made him yelp) and one of the girls grabbed the dog and yelled, "I hope you never do that again. If you do that again I'll kill you. I'll kill your right here." In a fit of rage I screamed back, "Well I hope you do. I HOPE YOU DO FUCKING KILL ME!" At that moment I grabbed some of my things and ran up the stairs, however I was still missing my backpack. I looked behind me and saw the girl angrily grab an empty bottle of svedka and march up the stairs after me as I hurriedly fiddled with the shitty doorknob to the outside patio. Once I got out there the patio was mostly covered in smooth gravel with the occasional concrete squares and a metal grater close to the door that was falling in. I stood outside of the door as the girl who I pissed off as well as the other girls started throwing glass bottles at me and everyone of them missed me and shattered behind me. They were shouting at me as I was trying to explain to them that all I needed was my backpack and I would leave. A girl with blonde wavy hair walked out of the house and started shoving me and pushing her glass bottle into my arm and chest. At that moment, I realized that her pushes felt like nothing and a voice inside my head said "You're dreaming". I forcefully pushed her away and looked at the ground while I did it then looked back up only to realize the blonde girl disappeared. I looked back over at the door to see the girls staring back at me then shutting the door. I walked back into the house with the girls nowhere to be found and the dog peacefully sleeping on the floor. I walked back down the stairs and once I reached the bottom I noticed one of the girls peaking from behind one of the lines of doors from the north side of the room then slowly closing it. I realized now would be a good time to find my backpack and head home. This was when I looked into the different doorways that lead to the rooms with the stain glassed windows and thought, "Damn, this house is huge." I walked into the kitchen only to be welcomed by the man and his wife and friend walking through one of the doors that lead outside. I told him about the backpack situation and he said I would get it back after the church service and lead me up the stairs in the kitchen and it was at that moment I realized I was shirtless. I covered my breasts with my arms and walked up the stairs to a huge chapel full of people. I sat down for a few moments then decided to just leave and maybe come back later once i was dressed. Once I got home and put a shirt on I noticed how absolutely filthy my room was. There were yellow and white stains on the carpet, the windows were covered in condensation on the inside, and both of my pet's tanks (I have am axolotl and a hamster) were disgusting. I also noticed that my axolotl's bubbler was on in his tank and half the water was gone. I quickly unplugged it then stared out the window because I noticed my mom's suitcase on the floor and she was nowhere to be found so u assumed she'd be coming home soon. I first saw a woman I didn't know walk up the stairs to my house and knocked on the door and stood there then I saw my mom. I turned around only to see her already walking up the stairs to my room and I explained the situation with the bubbler. She replied, " oh its good for him" to which I said, "no, if you leave it on too long it stresses him out." I looked away and looked back only to see the bubbler on again and my axolotl vomiting became of it. Once again I turned it off and said "Keep it off, I mean it." "Oh, he likes it." "I MEAN IT!" Just then mom let out my old family dog who died 2 years ago. Her fur was completely white when it was usually brown and black and she could barely walk. She fell to the floor and started vomiting profusely with the occasional human-sounding burp in between gagging. Then I woke up. It was the craziest thing I ever dreamt.
TLDR: I went to a big church house that housed 8 girls and a dog. I hurt the dog and the girls got mad and fought me. I realized I was dreaming when I didn't feel them hurt me. They ran off and spied on me in the house when I went looking for my backpack. The man who owned the house returned with his wife and I realized I was naked at this point. He told me I would get my backpack back if I went to a church service. I went home instead to put on some clothes. At home my room was filthy and my pets were sick. I got into an argument with my mom over it.
2023.06.03 15:10 T_Tkind Seeking Advice: Wearing My Wedding Dress at My Cousin's Wedding - A Dilemma
Hey there, fellow Redditors! I need some guidance on a tricky situation I find myself in. Let me share the details, and I'd appreciate your input on whether I'm being unreasonable or not.
I (27F) tied the knot with my amazing husband (35M) last summer. We aren't exactly rolling in wealth, as our combined monthly income averages around 2500 euros. Despite this, we were determined to celebrate our love and decided to invite all my family members to our ceremony in the US, fully covering the expenses ourselves. For two years, we tirelessly saved every penny, living a frugal lifestyle to make this celebration possible. While it wasn't a grand affair, we cherished the intimacy and wanted our loved ones present, so we made arrangements to fly them in from France. We were fortunate enough to host the ceremony at my in-laws' place, and a friend kindly lent us some decorations from her own wedding a year prior. With our limited budget, I decided to invest in my dream wedding dress, which cost 1700 euros. It was a simple yet stunning white gown that perfectly matched the countryside/garden ambiance we envisioned. Although it may have seemed extravagant, it wasn't our largest expense—the caterer claimed that title.
Now, here's where things get complicated: My cousin (26F) is getting married this August. While we were close during our childhood, our adult lives led us on different paths, with her being occupied by work and me spending several years abroad. Nevertheless, I still hold deep affection for her, and she has requested that I speak at her wedding. Her ceremony will be a traditional, sophisticated French affair, and she has strict expectations regarding guest attire. I genuinely want to adhere to her aesthetic, which is considered reasonable in France. Unfortunately, I don't own any suitable attire and lack the funds to purchase something new and fancy.
When I initially bought my wedding dress, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving it stored away for decades, watching the lace yellow with time, especially after investing such a significant amount for a one-time use. I conceived the idea of altering it slightly, trimming the bottom to make it less "bridal" and dyeing it a soft lilac shade. This way, I could wear it on special occasions in the coming years. I discussed this plan with some female family members, including my grandma, seeking their assistance with the sewing aspect. To my disappointment, they refused, branding me inconsiderate and deeming it completely unacceptable and inappropriate to wear my wedding dress at my cousin's wedding.
So, dear Reddit community, I turn to you for an honest evaluation: Am I being unreasonable or "the asshole" in this situation? Your insights and advice are much appreciated!
Here is the link to my wedding dress if you need to see what it looks like in order to express an opinion : https://cymbeline.com/fportfolio/marie/
submitted by T_Tkind to TwoHotTakes [link] [comments]
I (27F) tied the knot with my amazing husband (35M) last summer. We aren't exactly rolling in wealth, as our combined monthly income averages around 2500 euros. Despite this, we were determined to celebrate our love and decided to invite all my family members to our ceremony in the US, fully covering the expenses ourselves. For two years, we tirelessly saved every penny, living a frugal lifestyle to make this celebration possible. While it wasn't a grand affair, we cherished the intimacy and wanted our loved ones present, so we made arrangements to fly them in from France. We were fortunate enough to host the ceremony at my in-laws' place, and a friend kindly lent us some decorations from her own wedding a year prior. With our limited budget, I decided to invest in my dream wedding dress, which cost 1700 euros. It was a simple yet stunning white gown that perfectly matched the countryside/garden ambiance we envisioned. Although it may have seemed extravagant, it wasn't our largest expense—the caterer claimed that title.
Now, here's where things get complicated: My cousin (26F) is getting married this August. While we were close during our childhood, our adult lives led us on different paths, with her being occupied by work and me spending several years abroad. Nevertheless, I still hold deep affection for her, and she has requested that I speak at her wedding. Her ceremony will be a traditional, sophisticated French affair, and she has strict expectations regarding guest attire. I genuinely want to adhere to her aesthetic, which is considered reasonable in France. Unfortunately, I don't own any suitable attire and lack the funds to purchase something new and fancy.
When I initially bought my wedding dress, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving it stored away for decades, watching the lace yellow with time, especially after investing such a significant amount for a one-time use. I conceived the idea of altering it slightly, trimming the bottom to make it less "bridal" and dyeing it a soft lilac shade. This way, I could wear it on special occasions in the coming years. I discussed this plan with some female family members, including my grandma, seeking their assistance with the sewing aspect. To my disappointment, they refused, branding me inconsiderate and deeming it completely unacceptable and inappropriate to wear my wedding dress at my cousin's wedding.
So, dear Reddit community, I turn to you for an honest evaluation: Am I being unreasonable or "the asshole" in this situation? Your insights and advice are much appreciated!
Here is the link to my wedding dress if you need to see what it looks like in order to express an opinion : https://cymbeline.com/fportfolio/marie/