Border wait times rainbow bridge
For those friends who await us at the Rainbow Bridge
2010.05.07 09:56 neoronin For those friends who await us at the Rainbow Bridge
petloss is a community of support for Pet owners whose Pets have passed away. This is not a place to post lost Pet stories or any other news about Pets.
2015.06.21 17:29 vvstn Baja 1000
Score and off-road racing archive of maps and information. A place to share any racing news, stories, ask questions, and network with other racers and fans. Now excepting Mod request to help keep the page current. Contact on Instagram @langford_performance for faster reply.
2014.10.13 19:11 capital_of_romania Share the memory of your beloved pet
A place to share stories, pay tribute, ask for advice or post anything related to the loss of a beloved pet.
2023.06.01 04:00 miningmyownbiz The Launch of Diablo 4: A Sentimental Journey
Hey, fellow gamers and Diablo enthusiasts,
As I sit here, reflecting on my gaming journey, I can't help but feel a surge of nostalgia and excitement. Tomorrow marks the launch of Diablo 4, and for me, it's not just another game release—it's a profound and sentimental moment. Let me share with you why this day is so special to me.
Back in the day, when I was younger and full of ambition, I found solace in the world of Diablo. Diablo 1 and Diablo 2 became my refuge after long nights working the night shift at a local pizza hut. I vividly remember coming home, exhausted but exhilarated, joining my friends from the pizza hut, and immersing ourselves in the Diablo universe until the sun greeted us once again. Little did I know that these friends would become my lifelong companions, sharing countless memories and forming unbreakable bonds.
Diablo 1 and 2 were not just games to me; they were a defining part of my gaming youth. The hours spent exploring dungeons, battling demons, and delving into the depths of Hell left an indelible mark on my gaming soul. Those were the moments when gaming was more than just a pastime—it was an adventure that we embarked on together, united by a shared passion.
When Diablo 3 was released, it was met with its fair share of issues and controversies. The real money auction house drama, among other problems, left a bitter taste in many players' mouths. But despite all that, Diablo 3 was a game that I poured countless hours into. It may not have been perfect, but it still held a special place in my heart—a testament to the love I had for the Diablo series.
Now, here's where the story takes an even more remarkable turn. By some incredible stroke of fate, I have a relative who works at Blizzard and is part of the Diablo 4 team. Knowing that someone I care about is pouring their heart and soul into bringing this new chapter of the Diablo saga to life fills me with a sense of pride and anticipation. I can only imagine the dedication and passion that must have gone into crafting this game.
But what truly brings tears to my eyes is the fact that my friends, the very same ones I met at that pizza hut all those years ago, have grown up, gotten married, and now have young children of their own. And just like in the good old days, the dads among us are preparing to sit down once again, mouse in hand, and experience the magic of Diablo 4. It's a testament to the enduring power of gaming, the way it can transcend time and responsibilities, and bring people together like nothing else.
So, my fellow gamers, as I eagerly await the launch of Diablo 4, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the emotions and memories it evokes. This is not just another game; it's a symbol of our shared past, our triumphs, and the friendships that have stood the test of time. It represents the magic that can be found in virtual worlds and the connections we forge within them.
No matter what hurdles the future may bring, nothing can diminish the significance of this moment. Diablo 4 is here, and it's a testament to the love, dedication, and community that surrounds this iconic franchise. In less than 24 hrs, we will embark on a new adventure, together, ready to experience the magic once again.
Hold onto your memories, embrace the present. It's time to write a new chapter in our gaming lives.
I can't wait till tomorrow.
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2023.06.01 04:00 makeamericask8again If you get asbestos shingles removed from your house can you stay in your house while the work is done or should you stay in a hotel?
I have asbestos shingles on 3 sides of my home and am getting them removed. I’m wondering if while the people removing them are doing the work, can I stay inside my home or should I stay somewhere else. Can I run my a/c after they’re done doing the work or should I wait a certain amount of time? How long would I have to wait to open my windows? Any information on this is so appreciated, thanks!
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2023.06.01 04:00 Analypiss Durability
Key and explanation of periods where Juggernaut was stronger or weaker than normal
Durability w/ Force Field/Armor
Blunt
Piercing/Cutting
Sound
Heat
Cold
Electricity
Light
Energy
Chemical
Adhesive
Biological
Matter Manipulation
Phasing
Magic
Soul/Life Force
Power Absorption/Nullification
Mental
Durability w/o Force Field/Armor
Blunt
Piercing/Cutting
Sound
Cold
Heat
Gravity
Light
Energy
Chemical
Biological
Mental
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2023.06.01 03:59 RepresentativeFan740 Vape blew hot
So I bought a new vape (nicotine) at the shop. Started the car blew .000. After I hit it a few times. Bethany (my intoxalock device) went off and I blew in it and registered a .038 on a rolling retest. I failed it. I swished my tongue on the top of my mouth and waited for the retest. Blew a .000 and it wiped the failure (as if it didn’t happen) but wanted to give a heads up that apparently vapes will set it off. I’m gonna call intoxalock tomorrow and make sure it didn’t save and stuff. I didn’t enter a lockout or anything. But yeah. Just a heads up for all my nic addicts out there.
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2023.06.01 03:58 Jessica19922 Pick your singles
If you could pick a song from each album what would they be? I chose ones that weren’t already singles or didn’t have videos. I’m interested in hearing everyone’s thoughts on songs they think should have been singles, or given a music video. Idk why, but in my mind a song isn’t a truly a single without a video, even though I know that’s not true lol.
🙂
- (Debut) Cold As You. This is a deep cut and my favorite from her first album. I think the 5 singles chosen from debut were the perfect to launch her career, but if she had chosen a 6th I think this would have been a great pick. And it would have gone well with the others. 3 serious songs and 3 fun songs. It would have also shown off her songwriting skills even more, because I think it has some of the best lyrics.
- (Fearless) Forever and Always. I never understood why this wasn’t a single? It fit so perfectly with the time. When she first released Fearless I kept waiting for this to be a single and I was so shocked that it never was lol.
- (Speak Now) Speak Now It’s so catchy and precious. I think everyone would have loved it.
- (Red) I Almost Do Country music fans would have eaten this one up. It’s just a really good song too.
- (1989) Wonderland 1989 is full of songs I think would have made great singles. HYGTG, IWYW, AYHTDWS. That being said I have a soft spot for Wonderland.
- (Reputation) Getaway Car I can’t even. I’ll never understand why this wasn’t a single. When I hear this song the word “epic” comes to mind. And the live performance, even though it’s so simple, is so good too.
- (Lover) Cruel Summer I know with the pandemic she couldn’t in good conscience release this. But I think we all agree this would have been a great single, and would have sounded great on radio.
- (Folklore) Mirrorball I think this would have been well received. (But really I wish she had given us videos for “betty”, “august” and “cardigan” that all went together. Set in the late 90’s or early 2000’s. Idk why but my mind always goes to that time period when I listen to them. And the “cardigan” music video was beautiful, but I think it would have fit a different song better.)
- (Evermore) ‘Tis The Damn Season I think this would have performed so well. Especially since Evermore was released in December. I think it would have appealed to many audiences, and maybe even could have become a popular Christmas song. I can see “‘tis the damn season” becoming a sort of catchphrase haha. Maybe she could have released this in November as a single? To give it time to gain traction. And the Evermore album still could have been a total surprise.
- (Midnights) Hits Different No idea why this song wasn’t part of the standard album. Its pure pop goodness. A complete bop. Plus I can picture the video being really cute. And I think everyone one who hears it loves it.
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2023.06.01 03:58 Betty-Adams "Flying Sparks" A novel of a boy, a dragon, and an alien. 100K words of science fiction adventure.
https://i.redd.it/bqo2debncb3b1.gif Chapter 2
“Hazardous? I’ll show that manipulative, misanthropic, anti-establishment cretin just what hazardous means if he thinks I’m going to fold on this!”
The sound of vigorous guitar riffs made a fitting accompaniment to the angry tirade despite originating on opposite sides of the communal area. Ama was glaring at a laptop that sat on a stained oak desk shoved against the large table near the kitchen. She tapped a fingernail on the wood as she read through the alert.
“And what violation of basic human dignity has her royal prudishness’s undies in a bunch?” Em demanded with an affected sneer without looking up from his guitar scales.
“Oh you’ll agree with this one tree-hugger,” Drake muttered from where he sat oiling his work boots.
“Yeah,” Donny piped up, “Finney is trying to kill a perfectly healthy fir.”
“What!” Em demanded, carefully placing his battered old acoustic guitar down in its case and darting over to look at the computer screen. “You mean apark tree?”
Despite her simmering frustration Ama allowed a small smile to flicker across her face as she continued to type.
“Get out of your pajamas and I’ll tell you,” Drake ordered pointing towards the bathroom door with a stained rag. “School starts in forty-five minutes and you still have breakfast and chores. That goes for you too Pip-squirt.”
“I hope you washed your hands before you touched our food,” Em said with a frown.
“Boot grease makes a great source of fatty acids.” Drake retorted. “Now go!”
The two smaller boys muttered in annoyance but stumbled off to follow orders.
“So what is up?” the youth asked as he bent his head back over the smooth leather of his boots.
“Mrs. Finney wants that tree down that’s blocking her perfect view of Crescent Lake.” Ama replied in a dry tone.
“One that’s clearly on park property?” Drake asked.
“Indeedy-do.” Ama replied giving the paper in front of her a glare.
“So how’s she justifying it?” Drake asked.
“As a safety hazard to her house.” Ama replied.
“And?”
The biologist groaned and rubbed her face.
“As far as I can tell the trunk is perfectly healthy. There is an old trash can lid grown into the trunk and a little discolored sap is leaking out there.”
“Frass?”
“Watch your language!” Donny interjected as he darted up to the table.
“Frass is not a bad word,” Drake stated. “Have you let the chickens out?”
“Yes, what does frass mean?” Donny asked as he started piling stir-fry onto his plate.
“Look it up.” Drake ordered him. “Emerald! Breakfast ends in ten minutes! Get your tukus down here!”
“It’s bad health to rush meals,” Em snapped out as he came down a narrow stairway with deliberate slowness.
“It’s even worse for your health to skip meals altogether,” Drake growled threateningly.
“Shut it and give me some eggs.” Em snapped back.
“Emerald Waters Undersun,” Drake hissed out through gritted teeth. “You are going to get your own eggs.”
The boy threw himself into a chair and glared at Drake with challenge in every line of his body.
“Emerald,” Ama said in a calm tone. “I think you should apologize to your cousin now.”
“Sorry I disturbed you Ama,” he offered without breaking eye contact with Drake.
“Not me, him,” Ama said.
“Sorry you had to hear that Donny.” Em said.
Ama heaved a sigh and closed her computer.
“Emerald,” Ama said.
“Do you want to eat or go hungry?” Drake demanded.
Ama glanced at him with a familiar uneasy look in her eyes and Drake fought down a wince.
“Now, Em.” she said in a patient tone.
“I’ll go hungry,” Em snapped, jumping up and stalking over to the couch.
Donny kept his eyes fixed on his plate. Ama heaved a sigh before turning back to her computer. Em wriggled on the couch for several minutes before skulking back to the table. Drake moved to intercept him but Ama stopped him with a look and he let Em serve himself. Drake cast irritated glances at the wall clock as the time crept more and more into school time.
Ama closed her computer and stood, then sighed, sat and opened it again.
“I need to pick out their report topics,” Ama muttered.
“I could do it,” Drake offered.
“You do quite enough,” Ama replied briskly, as she scanned the news. “Here you go. For Donny, malfunctions at the Lewis- McChord Air Force Base air show.” A frown creased her face. “Wow, this is pretty serious. It looks like the F-16 demonstration team nearly got killed.”
Drake whistled and leaned over her shoulder.
“Multiple system failures,” he read out loud. “I am pretty sure that isn’t supposed to happen.”
“Nope,” Ama agreed. “Here is a topic on big game management for Em.”
“Reports due by next week?” Drake asked as the old printer on the desk began to squeal and grumble as it powered up.
“Same as usual,” Ama confirmed.
Drake put the printouts on top of the homework pile and moved to wash up the breakfast dishes.
“I need to get to work early today so you two be good for Drake,” she called out placing a quick kiss on top of the smaller boys’ heads and giving Drake’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.
“Good luck with Mrs. Finney, and stay safe.” Drake called out as she went into her room.
The table was cleaned off and wiped down and the clink of forks gave way to the steady scratch of pencils on paper. They broke for a recess after religion and then lunch after history and math, and by the time the Grandfather clock in the corner struck two the younger boys twitching with energy. Drake made certain the internet was disconnected at the router, and chased Donny and Em out into the garden.
“And don’t come in until dark,” he ordered tossing two snack bags out after them.
Donny as usual snatched his food and disappeared into the small orachard. Low grumbles about troglodytes and the Amish wandered out into the high corn following Em and Drake shook his head in exasperation wondering, not for the first time how the dark haired princeling came from the same gene pool as his little brother. The kitchen being mostly ordered Drake was turning to put the last random dirty sock in the hamper when a gnarled hand clutching a cane head appeared in the corner of his eye, causing his heart to make a valiant attempt to bolt out of his throat.
“Abuelita!” he gasped forcing his hands down from the guard position. “Where did you come from?”
Smoldering black eyes ran searchingly over the tall youth. An impossibly long mane of streaked silver and black hair was barely contained in a thick braid. A sharply pointed nose perched over a small wrinkled mouth. A vibrant red horse-hair serape hung over her shoulders concealing everything except her brown and gnarled hands which currently clutched the old tree branch she used as a cane. Drake had been more than a little comforted by the fact that both Em and Donny had admitted to having the thought ‘witch’ every time time they saw her as well.
“From the hand of God by the bodies of my sainted mother and father,” she replied after a long, uncomfortable silence.
She always spoke in a low husky voice that suggested years of smoking, though Drake had never smelled even stale smoke on her.
“Right,” Drake blinked and grinned at the response; the one she always gave. “So you are here for their Spanish lesson? I have their grammar books ready and-”
The narrow end of the tree branch rapped against the concrete of the floor causing Drake to jump. Abuelita glared at him, locking his gaze and holding him in place with it for a moment.
“I am here for their lessons,” she finally stated, “and you are there for my payment.”
Drake thought longingly of the repair and maintenance manuals in the cab of the truck and the new tool he was itching to try, but he forced a grin on his face.
“Yes ma’am,” he said. “What can I get you today?”
Abuelita pulled out a bag of woven grass from under her serape causing the indistinct patterns on the cloth to shift and change.
“Take this,” she ordered him, “and collect me the cobalt blue berries that grow on a single stalk close to the ground. They must come from the mountain to the south east of here by the crystal brook.”
Drake nodded, and took the little bag, he didn’t quite manage to infused his gestures with enthusiasm he supposed. The old woman, probably wouldn’t have noted it anyway. She turned and moved towards the garden door without waiting for any other reply. However she called out over her shoulder as he turned to find his own way out of the rambling structure.
“Don’t dawdle little one. A storm brews in the distance.”
He tried not to roll his eyes at that, the weather forecast was clear and eighties for the next week according to the morning fire report Ama had printed. The youth only nodded and slipped around the corner. He circled the barn and pulled a set of loose tan pants and tunic out of the cubby. The soft worn leather almost perfectly matched the forest floor for color as did the moccasins he pulled on after them. His morning running clothes were modern stuff that wicked the sweat away from him and let him speed through the forest. These were his free day clothes. The ones that let him disappear into the forest and wander. Abuelita, for all of her demands, would tend Em and Donny until he returned no matter how late that was, and with the Park’s yearly budget talks still under way it was highly unlikely Ama would be home until long after the sun had set. Despite still hearing the call of the half restored truck he felt something lossening in him already. The soft cotton and smooth leather rested easily against his skin and Drake slipped into the forest.
Freedom; for the moment at least, blissful freedom. Pushing aside the guilt that accompanied the thought as well as any lingering worries about his charges the youth let his legs carry him through the trees. He shunned the man made paths, following the faint animal trails. This close to the barn they were as clear to him as if they were named city streets. Being animal trails, they invariably led him to water. Today he stopped at a trickling stream, took off his moccasins, and rolled up his pants legs. The youth turned and followed the thin flow of icy water upstream, letting it steal the heat from his body through his feet.
Some distance upstream, the stream widened and pooled under a boulder. There Drake paused and pulled an old black compass out of his pocket. Behind him he knew every trail and tree. Ahead was a broad swath of National Wilderness he would have to cross, or possibly Bureau of Land Management or even state managed forests where he more rarely wandered. It was hard to tell where the boundaries were from the ground. The clearing he wanted for the berries was solidly in BLM land and he still had quite a ways to go to get there. The stand of timber that stood between him and his goal was dense with young tree and branches that frequently formed impenetrable hedges he had to track around and he checked his compass regularly as he climbed in elevation. Even so the youth found he had wandered too far off his route and had to correct when he spotted the boundary fence. However he was in no hurry and he reached the clearing long before the sun told him it was time to turn around.
Sometime in the past some unknown force had carved a shallow trench across the side of one of the small mountains that that dotted the wilderness. It had puzzled Drake at first. The scour was at the wrong angle to be an old rock slide, and terminated in a near perfectly circular clearing at the lower end. Centuries old Douglas Firs abruptly gave way to a second ring only a few decades old. Those were in turn beginning to produce cones and a smattering of knee high saplings. The rest of the space was completely given over to wildflowers. No matter what season Drake visited it he found a riot of life.
There had been an early spring and many herbs that normally would have waited a month or more were already in full bloom in the mountain meadow. A white wave of foamflower washed in from the deep forest surrounding the clearing, sending up knee high stalks covered in the delicate white blooms. Late trillium hid close to the roots of the great firs, many having shed their white corollas and begun to put forth their bulbous seed heads. Fuzzy white baneberry blossoms nodded gently in the breeze. A riot of yellow and purple spread across the ground as vetch and buttercups and a host of clovers competed for space in the open sun. Great stalks of lupine as high as his head thrust up their purple and blue proudly from thick clusters of palm shaped leaves. Pink shooting stars and violet harebells crouched under the protection of the larger plants. Indian paintbrush lit the scene with flames of red and orange. Where a spring seeped into the meadow elephant’s head flared neon pink and corydalis bushes put forth blushing blooms. Pale green wild orchids stood along the wet spot and the swarms of bees danced from them to the glacier lilies.
Sometimes, as he bent over a tiny blossom and traced the intricate network of veins in the petals, drank in the scent, and felt the smooth surface of the leaves an otherworldly feeling would come over him. It was as if there was another world just out of range of his senses. If he could only really
look, the thin illusion that was blocking him would slip away and reveal the real world underneath it.
“
Look Awiegwa,” his father would whisper, pointing at a deer mouse perched on a fallen log. “What does it see?” Awiegwa would screw up his face and squint. Trying to find the answer to the question. Awiegwa had often wondered how so many flowers had come to be in the relatively small area. He had identified dozens of species and there were more he had yet to determine. The clearing was always the first place to bloom and the last to go dormant. Many of the flowers seemed to utterly defy their usual blooming patterns. However, as time passed he had simply come to accept it. It was one of the small good things that brought back the memories of his father. If it didn’t quite follow the rules Ama had taught him, well an impossible clearing in the mountains wasn’t a place for rules.
The particular bloom that Abuelita had requested had taken full advantage of the early sun and had already put forth a few cobalt blue berries; easily spotted at the edge of the clearing in the delicate sea of white flowers.
However before he left the shade of the forest for the meadow the youth paused and closed his eyes. Bole wasn’t always here, but he was often enough that Awiegwa always checked for him. Carefully he reconstructed the clearing in his mind; marking every tree and boulder on the edge. Three years he had been coming here and each time it was easier to recreate the clearing. Breathing evenly he opened his eyes, letting the mental image merge with the actual. There was a brief moment of confusion as details like the play of light through branches and the trembling of small clusters of flowers fixed themselves but there was only one truly jarring note. Awiegwa didn’t let his eyes focus on the disparity; he never did anymore, but a warm smile spread across his features as he slipped silently into the meadow.
He was here. As the youth moved in a low crouch, gathering the first fruits of the Queen’s Cup, he let his peripheral vision linger on a particular snag. There was nothing obviously interesting about it, other than the fact that it had not been there the last time Awiegwa was here. He had named the wanderer Bole, because it most often appeared as a thick tree trunk; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Occasionally it would be a boulder or simply a mound in the dirt. Often it wasn’t in the clearing at all. If the youth moved forward and tried to closely examine it he could never find anything to suggest it was something other than a tree or rock.
He had thought about taking a sample occasionally, had taken his knife out to do just that more than once, but something always held him back. Bole was a part of this place. Dissecting him would be too much like attempting to dissect his sense of his father’s presence here. The youth had never told anyone about this place, not even Ama with who could get most things out of him easily enough. Down at the house, in town, when he was Drake; solid, reliable, first up in the morning, two grades ahead in school with a penchant for science Drake, a productive member of modern society with a promising future and his mother smiling at him. Here he could be Awiegwa. Here he could believe in the ancient medicines his father had dug out of dusty old tomes and brought to life from the forest litter. Every time Awiegwa left the clearing and headed back towards home reality would reassert itself. Bole would resolve back into a figment of his imagination, created from pride in a somewhat better than average memory and what the social workers had called an “intriguing imagination”. When he reached the house and become solidly Drake again flickers of embarrassment would begin eating at him for letting his senses trick him like that, but as long as the blooms nodded around him in this garden Bole could exist even on a Thursday.
The little woven grass bag filled up with the berries fairly quickly and Awiegwa soon stretched out of his crouch and let his gaze wander contentedly over the clearing. As it always did, the warm space was working its special magic. Worries about Em getting out of his schoolwork, of not paying enough attention to the quiet Donny, of letting Ama see his petty resentments: it had all melted away from his muscles, thoughts of college costs and abandoning his duties dissolved into an acute sense of the now. The leaves rustled softly in a barely-there breeze, the heavy scent of some unidentified blossom filled his lungs, a dozen shades of green framed the rainbow of flowers, and over and above it all the creaking of the firs as the wind played over them. It was at times like these that he felth he could almost see into heaven; that something wonderful that existed just beyond his senses, and all he had to do was reach out and claim it.
The youth took a deep breath and let himself fall backwards onto a handy rise in the forest floor. His path had taken him to the foot of the snag and he shifted slightly to align himself with the gnarled roots. One hand gripped a time smoothed root.
“Ama trusted me enough to go out of state,” he murmured. “That’s the first time she’s done that. Usually she has Abulita stay with us to fend off the Harsh, but she said it’s long past legal now.”
It was his imagination of course that made him think the root vibrated in his hand in response. Many a long hour he had spent in this clearing with the wanderer. He had poured out his frustrations and anguishes over life’s injustices, had shared his secrets as he grew, and had shouted his triumphs. Sometimes he felt closer to Bole than to any of his human friends. However, something that sounded like his mother’s voice warned him that there was something odd about this and that awareness was the main reason he had kept this place secret from Ama. Their mother hadn’t exactly liked stuff like that. She had never objected to his father’s digging up the old stories of her people. Making cross generational connections between elders, who more often than not lived isolated lives, and the next generation, was an admirable goal in of itself in her eyes; objectively a social good. Storytelling was only the natural course for these relationships to take, but subtle looks had warned even a very young Drake that it was best to cautious what he shared with his mother. At least of those things that couldn’t be placed on a microscope slide. So this was Awigewa’s place, and while his father’s spirit wanders the flowers with he had never felt his mother here.
He let his focus drift up, and up. Dark blue Lupine nodded over his head framing the faint crisscross of jet contrails that threw a light haze over an otherwise cloudless sky. His clothed grew deliciously hot from the spring sun. The ground too had eagerly accepted the energy and now it conducted the heat into the muscles of his back. Bole’s wood beneath him was warmer even than the surrounding ground and an idle thought traced across Awiegwa’s awareness; something about it being odd for the light colored wood and relatively dry wood to retain more heat than the darker soil surrounding it. His mind was filled with the impression of a goal. He had been meaning to do, something. Something fun, yes, exploring, he’d meant to see if whatever had dug that den by the second boulder was cubing this year. He would just get up and do that in a minute. His back was so warm and comfortable.
https://i.redd.it/zafjty1qcb3b1.gif “Flying Sparks” Another foray into the lives of Drake McCarty, Ama Love, and the rest of their siblings as they discover that something alien is out in the forest around their home. https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/flying-sparks-a-novel-of-dragon-bear-and-boy/coming_soon #FlyingSparks #ScienceFiction #Scifi #Story #novel #book #DrakeMcCarty #AmaLove #Donny #Em #Bard #Bole #Aliens #Spaceships #Crystals #fireflies #NPS #NationalPark #Doctor #Sever #family #storm #writing #reading #drama #literature #author #BettyAdams #DyingEmbers #Dragons #ThingsThatGoBoomp #Indiegogo #CrowdFunding
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2023.06.01 03:58 Unique-Figure6612 [ONLINE COURSE] Swinggcat – Phone Game Audio Course
| LINK DOWNLOAD: https://www.datingcourse.net/swinggcat-phone-game-audio-course/ Description of Phone Game Audio Course Would It Really Be That Easy To Consistently Turn Phone Numbers Into Dates, Sex, & Even Relationships?” The Answer Is Yes And If You’re Ready To Learn Secrets That Emotionally Drive Women To Think About, Obsess Over, & Desire You To Ask Them Out Long Before You Suggest Getting Together With Them, Keep Reading. From: Swinggcat Author of “Real World Seduction” Dear friend, Has something like this ever happened to you. You meet a girl. Spark attraction. Fuse a connection. Maybe lock lips with her. Get her number. Maybe your friends look at you with awe. It’s on like Donkey Kong. Or so you think. But when you contact her, she doesn’t respond. Or. Texts you the dreaded “Who is this?” Or. She texts with you a few times before ignoring you forever. Or. She becomes your text buddy and has no interest in getting together with you. Or. Every time you make plans with her, she flakes. If you answered YES, give yourself a huge pat on the back because. By admitting to yourself that this is something you need to work on, you’ve taken the first step to fixing it. If you ask most men if they’ve ever had a number go sour, they’ll puff out their chest and say, “Nah, man. I’ve got mad game. Girls always respond to my texts.” Their selective memories conveniently remember only the numbers that turned into dates, sex, and relationships. Erased from their memory banks are the dozens of numbers that went sour. The Cold-Hard Truth: Every Heterosexual Male On The Planet Has Gotten A Girl’s Number, & Thought It Was A Sure Thing. But When He Contacted Her, She Never Responded, Rendered Him Her Text Buddy, Or Kept Flaking On Him. This may have left him languishing in a dark, dark place. One minute he felt on top of the world; the next, he felt rejected, pathetic, and smaller than a gnat. Maybe “Bitch,” “whore,” “flake,” and every other dirty word in the book swam through his mind. Maybe he ran through each of his perceived flaws, shortcomings, and inadequacies. Maybe the words, ” You idiot. She was never into you. You’re not good enough for her,” echoed inside his head again and again. Only God Knows How Many Times A Phone Number Went Sour On Me. A thousand? Two thousand times? I shudder thinking about. Even after honing my skills at picking up women, my phone game stunk. Night-after-night, I left friends stunned and awed by how quickly I’d make out with the hottest girls at the bar. All of them envied my dating life. But here’s the inconvenient truth. Most of the girls I picked up, I never saw again. On the plus side, I perfected my skills at getting one-night-stands. But the reality is this: not every interested girl will go home with you that night. Plus, you can sleep with only one (maybe two) girls at a time. Because I lacked phone game, I missed out on a lot of quality pootang. I developed a mature attitude: If a number went sour, it’s okay. It’s just not meant to be. But it wasn’t okay. I’d grown complacent and was leaving a lot of opportunities on the table. The Game Is Played Over The Phone. And The Longer You Wait To Fix Your Phone Game, The More Opportunities You’ll Miss Out On. https://preview.redd.it/rr4nyjrncb3b1.png?width=600&format=png&auto=webp&s=4e42a7a3598cccf2a8e6cd035ae91b69de342b4a submitted by Unique-Figure6612 to u/Unique-Figure6612 [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 03:57 IllustriousPush7646 do i have time?
My date of sep is 6Jan24. I just finished Capstone, do i have time to finish everything in order to do skill bridge? It just feels like i have so much left to do with no one to help. i’m stressed.
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2023.06.01 03:57 Cyeran Game releases for the week of May 28th through June 3rd.
| These are the game releases for the week of May 28th through June 3rd. May 28th - May 29th The Riftbreaker: Into the Dark – Expansion - PC, PS4, PS5, XB1, XBX+ Frigato: Shadows of Caribbean – PC (Early Access) The Highrise – PC (Early Access) May 30th Farworld Pioneers – PC, PC (Early Access), PS4, PS5, Switch, XBX, XBX Friends vs Friends – PC Shame Legacy – PC, PS4, PS5, XB1, XBX Poly Bridge 3 – PC Chicory: A Colorful Tale – XB1 To Hell With the Ugly – PC, PS4, PS5, Switch, XBX, XBX Everdream Valley – PC, PS4, PS5 Company of Heroes - PS5, XBX The Caligula Effect: Overdose – PS5 GeneRally 2 – PC (Early Access) Zorastra – PC (Early Access) Shop-Like – The Rogue-Like Item Shop Experience – PC Return to Grace – PC Glass Masquerade 3: Honeylines – PC System Shock Remastered – PC My Summer Adventure: Memories of Another Life - PC May 31st A Building Full of Cats – XB1, XBX Decarnation – PC, PS4, PS5, Switch Doomblade – PC Undead Horde 2: Necropolis – Switch, XB1, XBX Puzzle Quest 3 – PS4, PS5, XB1, XBX The Tartarus Key – PC, PS4, Switch, XB1 Laserpitium – PS4, PS5, Switch, Xb1, XBX Puzzle by Nikoli W Yajilin – XB1, XBX Candlie Knight – PC Statis: Bone Totem – PC Railbound – XB1, XBX Mobile Suit Gundam: Battle Operation 2 – PC Age of Solitaire: Build Civilization – XB1, XBX Astride – PC (Early Access) Aquarist - XBX June 1st Lucy Dreaming – XB1, XBX Budget Cuts – PS5, PSVR2 We Love Katamari Reroll + Royal Reverie – PC, PS4, PS5, Switch, XB1, XBX Killer Frequency – PC, PS4, PS5, Switch. XB1, XBX Battle Talent – PC RACE: Rocket Arena Car Extreme – PC Dragon’s Hoard – PC TailQuest Defense – PC Slayers X: Terminal Aftrermath: Vegance of the Slayer – PC, XB1, XBX Gibbon: Beyond the Trees – PS4, PS5 Urban Flow – PC Homebody – PC, PS4, PS5, XB1, XBX Etrian Odyssey Origins Collection – PC, Switch Zombie Neighborhood – PC Project Nightmares Case 36: Henrietta Kedward – Switch Aery – The Lost Hero – Switch No More Rainbows – PC AWAY: The Survival Series – XB1, XBX Gunfire Reborn – PS4, PS5 Car Mechanic Simulator 2021 – XBX Driftwood – PC (Early Access) Mythrealm – PC (Early Access) June 2nd Sugar Tanks – PC, XB1, XBX Super Mega Baseball 4 – PC, PS4, PS5, Switch, XB1, XBX Street Fighter 6 – PC, PS4, PS5, XB1, XBX Minabo: A Walk Through Life – XB1, XBX Kuroi Tsubasa – PS4, PS5, Switch, XB1, XBX Speed Truck Racing – XB1, XBX Aery – The Lost Hero – PC Paper Flight: Beyond Time – XBX Shantae – PS4, PS5 June 3rd - #newreleases #videogames #newgames #nintendo #pc #steam #ps4 #ps5 #xbox #xboxone #xboxseriesx #games #game #switch #videogame #android #iOS #newgame #Epicgames #Epicstore #gameboy #streetfighter6 #etrianodyssey #katamari #welovekatamari https://preview.redd.it/ejealcghcb3b1.jpg?width=460&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7360fe81c7807b9689abbc9ae8c8aeb3a84070e9 https://preview.redd.it/vhk7kkghcb3b1.jpg?width=586&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=505a2ded1be692486ba9b4d6210363a1453afdf3 https://preview.redd.it/4fbnddghcb3b1.jpg?width=460&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=20c7fc0ec08c331bbaa74484c4d15b6ffc2d70a6 https://preview.redd.it/sqicjkghcb3b1.jpg?width=616&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=be88aff3d9f81ceeb6fc704238840df53ee5b375 https://preview.redd.it/9tkehighcb3b1.jpg?width=616&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9f9f1e86d3a74ad9587ba38fc753efe4a87dc221 https://preview.redd.it/gwyeckghcb3b1.jpg?width=616&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0f5c0bf7de3dc145a8e6f27d5ee1bb9299166a1d https://preview.redd.it/6d0j6mghcb3b1.jpg?width=529&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=33c1bfe7967a0762ebb6a0473f85078b5d423bd7 https://preview.redd.it/6j3k7oghcb3b1.jpg?width=616&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d2ee119e7ce5cb644c7b9add5f067f5e8935d008 https://preview.redd.it/78aicqghcb3b1.jpg?width=616&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ddb57a9c7e7e330617a4b3aee4d05e71d6201a89 https://preview.redd.it/fuikfrghcb3b1.jpg?width=460&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c8f0c45676f28902e30ecd6b3a299bd085de7c0f submitted by Cyeran to iPlayAllGames [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 03:56 KentariIvy Obligatory HoF post
| First time playing the game, been watching Pikasprey play through it normally so I decided to randomize mine so I wouldn't end up with all the same Pokemon options. That being said I didn't get much randomness 😅 I didn't really understand how the randomizing menu worked and by the time I realized how I could fix it I was far enough in I didn't want to remix. I'll know for next time though! My fave fusions not pictured are Lapras/Absol, Starmie/Articuno, and Ledian/Venusaur. 1 Whimsicott/Tyranitar 2 Luxio/Slaking 3 Hydreigon/Blastoise 4 Ampharos/Talonflame 5 Volcarona/Nidoqueen 6 Banette/Haxorus I can't wait to finish the rest of the game! 😁 submitted by KentariIvy to PokemonInfiniteFusion [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 03:56 proxy5th Tony had the best verbal roasts towards people throughout the show.
Tony to Carlo: Maybe you should start sucking cock instead of watching TVLand because Vito was bringing three times what you do on construction!!!
Tony to Bobby: Get off my car before you tip it over you fat fuck.
Tony to Carmella: What did you guys do for 12 hours? Play name that pope?
Tony to Uncle Junior: Uncle June's in the muff. Did I say muff? I meant rough.
Tony to Uncle Junior: I thought you were Baccala man Uncle June, what are you doing eating sushi?
Tony to Uncle Junior: 🎶South of the border, where the tuna fish plaaaaaay 🎶
Tony to Johnny Sac: So how Ginny like the car?
Tony to the entire crew: When Ginny hauls ass, she's got to make TWO trips.
Tony after beating Zellman: Go ahead, cry like bitch.
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2023.06.01 03:56 Longjumping-Dot6328 When should I take Azithromycin?
Hi,
I received feedback about this situation from two other members from this sub but I’d like to see what a few other people think.
Basically I was prescribed 1.5g of azi before I got my mgen results back, I started taking it because I had no idea what mgen was and had no idea what a bad idea it was at the time.
After becoming informed, I took a extra gram of azi a day after finishing the intial 1.5g of azi to increase it to 2.5g and started doxy that same night (I have 14 days worth of doxy). I’m on the 6th night of doxy, my question is.
A) Should I start 2.5g of azithromycin tomorrow? (7th day) and finish up the rest of the 14 days of doxy after
or
B) Should I wait until the 14th day of doxy and start the 2.5g treatment of azi
I’m asking because I know mgen selects for resistance and I don’t want the gap between the azi I took initially, and the azi that I’m going to take to be too big. I wouldn’t want the bacteria to build up a resistance (maybe it already has, maybe it hasn’t I don’t know).
I know none of you are doctors but I’m unsure of what to do and I wanna hear some of your opinions on this.
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2023.06.01 03:56 Betty-Adams "Flying Sparks" A novel of a boy, a dragon, and an alien. 100K words of science fiction adventure.
| https://i.redd.it/kd8youy5cb3b1.gif Chapter 2 “Hazardous? I’ll show that manipulative, misanthropic, anti-establishment cretin just what hazardous means if he thinks I’m going to fold on this!” The sound of vigorous guitar riffs made a fitting accompaniment to the angry tirade despite originating on opposite sides of the communal area. Ama was glaring at a laptop that sat on a stained oak desk shoved against the large table near the kitchen. She tapped a fingernail on the wood as she read through the alert. “And what violation of basic human dignity has her royal prudishness’s undies in a bunch?” Em demanded with an affected sneer without looking up from his guitar scales. “Oh you’ll agree with this one tree-hugger,” Drake muttered from where he sat oiling his work boots. “Yeah,” Donny piped up, “Finney is trying to kill a perfectly healthy fir.” “What!” Em demanded, carefully placing his battered old acoustic guitar down in its case and darting over to look at the computer screen. “You mean apark tree?” Despite her simmering frustration Ama allowed a small smile to flicker across her face as she continued to type. “Get out of your pajamas and I’ll tell you,” Drake ordered pointing towards the bathroom door with a stained rag. “School starts in forty-five minutes and you still have breakfast and chores. That goes for you too Pip-squirt.” “I hope you washed your hands before you touched our food,” Em said with a frown. “Boot grease makes a great source of fatty acids.” Drake retorted. “Now go!” The two smaller boys muttered in annoyance but stumbled off to follow orders. “So what is up?” the youth asked as he bent his head back over the smooth leather of his boots. “Mrs. Finney wants that tree down that’s blocking her perfect view of Crescent Lake.” Ama replied in a dry tone. “One that’s clearly on park property?” Drake asked. “Indeedy-do.” Ama replied giving the paper in front of her a glare. “So how’s she justifying it?” Drake asked. “As a safety hazard to her house.” Ama replied. “And?” The biologist groaned and rubbed her face. “As far as I can tell the trunk is perfectly healthy. There is an old trash can lid grown into the trunk and a little discolored sap is leaking out there.” “Frass?” “Watch your language!” Donny interjected as he darted up to the table. “Frass is not a bad word,” Drake stated. “Have you let the chickens out?” “Yes, what does frass mean?” Donny asked as he started piling stir-fry onto his plate. “Look it up.” Drake ordered him. “Emerald! Breakfast ends in ten minutes! Get your tukus down here!” “It’s bad health to rush meals,” Em snapped out as he came down a narrow stairway with deliberate slowness. “It’s even worse for your health to skip meals altogether,” Drake growled threateningly. “Shut it and give me some eggs.” Em snapped back. “Emerald Waters Undersun,” Drake hissed out through gritted teeth. “You are going to get your own eggs.” The boy threw himself into a chair and glared at Drake with challenge in every line of his body. “Emerald,” Ama said in a calm tone. “I think you should apologize to your cousin now.” “Sorry I disturbed you Ama,” he offered without breaking eye contact with Drake. “Not me, him,” Ama said. “Sorry you had to hear that Donny.” Em said. Ama heaved a sigh and closed her computer. “Emerald,” Ama said. “Do you want to eat or go hungry?” Drake demanded. Ama glanced at him with a familiar uneasy look in her eyes and Drake fought down a wince. “Now, Em.” she said in a patient tone. “I’ll go hungry,” Em snapped, jumping up and stalking over to the couch. Donny kept his eyes fixed on his plate. Ama heaved a sigh before turning back to her computer. Em wriggled on the couch for several minutes before skulking back to the table. Drake moved to intercept him but Ama stopped him with a look and he let Em serve himself. Drake cast irritated glances at the wall clock as the time crept more and more into school time. Ama closed her computer and stood, then sighed, sat and opened it again. “I need to pick out their report topics,” Ama muttered. “I could do it,” Drake offered. “You do quite enough,” Ama replied briskly, as she scanned the news. “Here you go. For Donny, malfunctions at the Lewis- McChord Air Force Base air show.” A frown creased her face. “Wow, this is pretty serious. It looks like the F-16 demonstration team nearly got killed.” Drake whistled and leaned over her shoulder. “Multiple system failures,” he read out loud. “I am pretty sure that isn’t supposed to happen.” “Nope,” Ama agreed. “Here is a topic on big game management for Em.” “Reports due by next week?” Drake asked as the old printer on the desk began to squeal and grumble as it powered up. “Same as usual,” Ama confirmed. Drake put the printouts on top of the homework pile and moved to wash up the breakfast dishes. “I need to get to work early today so you two be good for Drake,” she called out placing a quick kiss on top of the smaller boys’ heads and giving Drake’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Good luck with Mrs. Finney, and stay safe.” Drake called out as she went into her room. The table was cleaned off and wiped down and the clink of forks gave way to the steady scratch of pencils on paper. They broke for a recess after religion and then lunch after history and math, and by the time the Grandfather clock in the corner struck two the younger boys twitching with energy. Drake made certain the internet was disconnected at the router, and chased Donny and Em out into the garden. “And don’t come in until dark,” he ordered tossing two snack bags out after them. Donny as usual snatched his food and disappeared into the small orachard. Low grumbles about troglodytes and the Amish wandered out into the high corn following Em and Drake shook his head in exasperation wondering, not for the first time how the dark haired princeling came from the same gene pool as his little brother. The kitchen being mostly ordered Drake was turning to put the last random dirty sock in the hamper when a gnarled hand clutching a cane head appeared in the corner of his eye, causing his heart to make a valiant attempt to bolt out of his throat. “Abuelita!” he gasped forcing his hands down from the guard position. “Where did you come from?” Smoldering black eyes ran searchingly over the tall youth. An impossibly long mane of streaked silver and black hair was barely contained in a thick braid. A sharply pointed nose perched over a small wrinkled mouth. A vibrant red horse-hair serape hung over her shoulders concealing everything except her brown and gnarled hands which currently clutched the old tree branch she used as a cane. Drake had been more than a little comforted by the fact that both Em and Donny had admitted to having the thought ‘witch’ every time time they saw her as well. “From the hand of God by the bodies of my sainted mother and father,” she replied after a long, uncomfortable silence. She always spoke in a low husky voice that suggested years of smoking, though Drake had never smelled even stale smoke on her. “Right,” Drake blinked and grinned at the response; the one she always gave. “So you are here for their Spanish lesson? I have their grammar books ready and-” The narrow end of the tree branch rapped against the concrete of the floor causing Drake to jump. Abuelita glared at him, locking his gaze and holding him in place with it for a moment. “I am here for their lessons,” she finally stated, “and you are there for my payment.” Drake thought longingly of the repair and maintenance manuals in the cab of the truck and the new tool he was itching to try, but he forced a grin on his face. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “What can I get you today?” Abuelita pulled out a bag of woven grass from under her serape causing the indistinct patterns on the cloth to shift and change. “Take this,” she ordered him, “and collect me the cobalt blue berries that grow on a single stalk close to the ground. They must come from the mountain to the south east of here by the crystal brook.” Drake nodded, and took the little bag, he didn’t quite manage to infused his gestures with enthusiasm he supposed. The old woman, probably wouldn’t have noted it anyway. She turned and moved towards the garden door without waiting for any other reply. However she called out over her shoulder as he turned to find his own way out of the rambling structure. “Don’t dawdle little one. A storm brews in the distance.” He tried not to roll his eyes at that, the weather forecast was clear and eighties for the next week according to the morning fire report Ama had printed. The youth only nodded and slipped around the corner. He circled the barn and pulled a set of loose tan pants and tunic out of the cubby. The soft worn leather almost perfectly matched the forest floor for color as did the moccasins he pulled on after them. His morning running clothes were modern stuff that wicked the sweat away from him and let him speed through the forest. These were his free day clothes. The ones that let him disappear into the forest and wander. Abuelita, for all of her demands, would tend Em and Donny until he returned no matter how late that was, and with the Park’s yearly budget talks still under way it was highly unlikely Ama would be home until long after the sun had set. Despite still hearing the call of the half restored truck he felt something lossening in him already. The soft cotton and smooth leather rested easily against his skin and Drake slipped into the forest. Freedom; for the moment at least, blissful freedom. Pushing aside the guilt that accompanied the thought as well as any lingering worries about his charges the youth let his legs carry him through the trees. He shunned the man made paths, following the faint animal trails. This close to the barn they were as clear to him as if they were named city streets. Being animal trails, they invariably led him to water. Today he stopped at a trickling stream, took off his moccasins, and rolled up his pants legs. The youth turned and followed the thin flow of icy water upstream, letting it steal the heat from his body through his feet. Some distance upstream, the stream widened and pooled under a boulder. There Drake paused and pulled an old black compass out of his pocket. Behind him he knew every trail and tree. Ahead was a broad swath of National Wilderness he would have to cross, or possibly Bureau of Land Management or even state managed forests where he more rarely wandered. It was hard to tell where the boundaries were from the ground. The clearing he wanted for the berries was solidly in BLM land and he still had quite a ways to go to get there. The stand of timber that stood between him and his goal was dense with young tree and branches that frequently formed impenetrable hedges he had to track around and he checked his compass regularly as he climbed in elevation. Even so the youth found he had wandered too far off his route and had to correct when he spotted the boundary fence. However he was in no hurry and he reached the clearing long before the sun told him it was time to turn around. Sometime in the past some unknown force had carved a shallow trench across the side of one of the small mountains that that dotted the wilderness. It had puzzled Drake at first. The scour was at the wrong angle to be an old rock slide, and terminated in a near perfectly circular clearing at the lower end. Centuries old Douglas Firs abruptly gave way to a second ring only a few decades old. Those were in turn beginning to produce cones and a smattering of knee high saplings. The rest of the space was completely given over to wildflowers. No matter what season Drake visited it he found a riot of life. There had been an early spring and many herbs that normally would have waited a month or more were already in full bloom in the mountain meadow. A white wave of foamflower washed in from the deep forest surrounding the clearing, sending up knee high stalks covered in the delicate white blooms. Late trillium hid close to the roots of the great firs, many having shed their white corollas and begun to put forth their bulbous seed heads. Fuzzy white baneberry blossoms nodded gently in the breeze. A riot of yellow and purple spread across the ground as vetch and buttercups and a host of clovers competed for space in the open sun. Great stalks of lupine as high as his head thrust up their purple and blue proudly from thick clusters of palm shaped leaves. Pink shooting stars and violet harebells crouched under the protection of the larger plants. Indian paintbrush lit the scene with flames of red and orange. Where a spring seeped into the meadow elephant’s head flared neon pink and corydalis bushes put forth blushing blooms. Pale green wild orchids stood along the wet spot and the swarms of bees danced from them to the glacier lilies. Sometimes, as he bent over a tiny blossom and traced the intricate network of veins in the petals, drank in the scent, and felt the smooth surface of the leaves an otherworldly feeling would come over him. It was as if there was another world just out of range of his senses. If he could only really look, the thin illusion that was blocking him would slip away and reveal the real world underneath it. “ Look Awiegwa,” his father would whisper, pointing at a deer mouse perched on a fallen log. “What does it see?” Awiegwa would screw up his face and squint. Trying to find the answer to the question. Awiegwa had often wondered how so many flowers had come to be in the relatively small area. He had identified dozens of species and there were more he had yet to determine. The clearing was always the first place to bloom and the last to go dormant. Many of the flowers seemed to utterly defy their usual blooming patterns. However, as time passed he had simply come to accept it. It was one of the small good things that brought back the memories of his father. If it didn’t quite follow the rules Ama had taught him, well an impossible clearing in the mountains wasn’t a place for rules. The particular bloom that Abuelita had requested had taken full advantage of the early sun and had already put forth a few cobalt blue berries; easily spotted at the edge of the clearing in the delicate sea of white flowers. However before he left the shade of the forest for the meadow the youth paused and closed his eyes. Bole wasn’t always here, but he was often enough that Awiegwa always checked for him. Carefully he reconstructed the clearing in his mind; marking every tree and boulder on the edge. Three years he had been coming here and each time it was easier to recreate the clearing. Breathing evenly he opened his eyes, letting the mental image merge with the actual. There was a brief moment of confusion as details like the play of light through branches and the trembling of small clusters of flowers fixed themselves but there was only one truly jarring note. Awiegwa didn’t let his eyes focus on the disparity; he never did anymore, but a warm smile spread across his features as he slipped silently into the meadow. He was here. As the youth moved in a low crouch, gathering the first fruits of the Queen’s Cup, he let his peripheral vision linger on a particular snag. There was nothing obviously interesting about it, other than the fact that it had not been there the last time Awiegwa was here. He had named the wanderer Bole, because it most often appeared as a thick tree trunk; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Occasionally it would be a boulder or simply a mound in the dirt. Often it wasn’t in the clearing at all. If the youth moved forward and tried to closely examine it he could never find anything to suggest it was something other than a tree or rock. He had thought about taking a sample occasionally, had taken his knife out to do just that more than once, but something always held him back. Bole was a part of this place. Dissecting him would be too much like attempting to dissect his sense of his father’s presence here. The youth had never told anyone about this place, not even Ama with who could get most things out of him easily enough. Down at the house, in town, when he was Drake; solid, reliable, first up in the morning, two grades ahead in school with a penchant for science Drake, a productive member of modern society with a promising future and his mother smiling at him. Here he could be Awiegwa. Here he could believe in the ancient medicines his father had dug out of dusty old tomes and brought to life from the forest litter. Every time Awiegwa left the clearing and headed back towards home reality would reassert itself. Bole would resolve back into a figment of his imagination, created from pride in a somewhat better than average memory and what the social workers had called an “intriguing imagination”. When he reached the house and become solidly Drake again flickers of embarrassment would begin eating at him for letting his senses trick him like that, but as long as the blooms nodded around him in this garden Bole could exist even on a Thursday. The little woven grass bag filled up with the berries fairly quickly and Awiegwa soon stretched out of his crouch and let his gaze wander contentedly over the clearing. As it always did, the warm space was working its special magic. Worries about Em getting out of his schoolwork, of not paying enough attention to the quiet Donny, of letting Ama see his petty resentments: it had all melted away from his muscles, thoughts of college costs and abandoning his duties dissolved into an acute sense of the now. The leaves rustled softly in a barely-there breeze, the heavy scent of some unidentified blossom filled his lungs, a dozen shades of green framed the rainbow of flowers, and over and above it all the creaking of the firs as the wind played over them. It was at times like these that he felth he could almost see into heaven; that something wonderful that existed just beyond his senses, and all he had to do was reach out and claim it. The youth took a deep breath and let himself fall backwards onto a handy rise in the forest floor. His path had taken him to the foot of the snag and he shifted slightly to align himself with the gnarled roots. One hand gripped a time smoothed root. “Ama trusted me enough to go out of state,” he murmured. “That’s the first time she’s done that. Usually she has Abulita stay with us to fend off the Harsh, but she said it’s long past legal now.” It was his imagination of course that made him think the root vibrated in his hand in response. Many a long hour he had spent in this clearing with the wanderer. He had poured out his frustrations and anguishes over life’s injustices, had shared his secrets as he grew, and had shouted his triumphs. Sometimes he felt closer to Bole than to any of his human friends. However, something that sounded like his mother’s voice warned him that there was something odd about this and that awareness was the main reason he had kept this place secret from Ama. Their mother hadn’t exactly liked stuff like that. She had never objected to his father’s digging up the old stories of her people. Making cross generational connections between elders, who more often than not lived isolated lives, and the next generation, was an admirable goal in of itself in her eyes; objectively a social good. Storytelling was only the natural course for these relationships to take, but subtle looks had warned even a very young Drake that it was best to cautious what he shared with his mother. At least of those things that couldn’t be placed on a microscope slide. So this was Awigewa’s place, and while his father’s spirit wanders the flowers with he had never felt his mother here. He let his focus drift up, and up. Dark blue Lupine nodded over his head framing the faint crisscross of jet contrails that threw a light haze over an otherwise cloudless sky. His clothed grew deliciously hot from the spring sun. The ground too had eagerly accepted the energy and now it conducted the heat into the muscles of his back. Bole’s wood beneath him was warmer even than the surrounding ground and an idle thought traced across Awiegwa’s awareness; something about it being odd for the light colored wood and relatively dry wood to retain more heat than the darker soil surrounding it. His mind was filled with the impression of a goal. He had been meaning to do, something. Something fun, yes, exploring, he’d meant to see if whatever had dug that den by the second boulder was cubing this year. He would just get up and do that in a minute. His back was so warm and comfortable. https://i.redd.it/o9pile07cb3b1.gif “Flying Sparks” Another foray into the lives of Drake McCarty, Ama Love, and the rest of their siblings as they discover that something alien is out in the forest around their home. https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/flying-sparks-a-novel-of-dragon-bear-and-boy/coming_soon #FlyingSparks #ScienceFiction #Scifi #Story #novel #book #DrakeMcCarty #AmaLove #Donny #Em #Bard #Bole #Aliens #Spaceships #Crystals #fireflies #NPS #NationalPark #Doctor #Sever #family #storm #writing #reading #drama #literature #author #BettyAdams #DyingEmbers #Dragons #ThingsThatGoBoomp #Indiegogo #CrowdFunding submitted by Betty-Adams to Crowdfunding [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 03:56 nerdmost Story Time: WCW Thunder Dec 1999
So reading some posts here made me think you guys might enjoy this. (TLDR: I snuck backstage at WCW Thunder in college)
I was in college in 1999 and a huge fan of WCW. The other guys were cool but I was a WCW guy. So Thunder was scheduled in Memphis at the Mid-South Coliseum and me and a couple friends are gonna go.
Well in the week leading up to the show I decide I’m going to meet some of the guys. Not sure how but I’m doing it.
I wore a blue Oxford shirt with a tie and had a pen and a tire gauge in my shirt pocket. Sounds dumb but it makes you look like you are working.
I made up some business cards from the college radio station and a newspaper that my friends and I wrote. Created a fake “tour” itinerary and had some bullshit papers on a clipboard. This I learned from the movie The Paper: “A clipboard and a confident wave will get you into any building in the world!” This is very very true.
I had my friend circle the building and drop me off around back. We were pretty early. There were two huge 18-wheelers backed up to the loading area and I walked between them.
When I came out, nobody was really watching and I just walked steady like I was headed somewhere and tried my best to be chill.
I walked by the dressing room and there was a huge dry erase board with all the matches for the show listed. Each match also had a time beside it so the guys knew how long they had and they would each check the board as they came out.
I knew that was where I wanted to be but there was a security guy in a folding chair right by the dressing room. So I kept walking and a couple hundred feet later I found a room with a bunch of phones and fax machines. This was when cell phones weren’t super common so I guess they needed a lot of landlines.
So at that point I walked to the security guy I had seen and in a very annoyed tone say to him:
“Where the hell are the fax machines?! I swear to God every time we come to this place they put them somewhere new!!”
“Um, sir, I’m not sure but maybe-“
I just held up my hand. “Nevermind, I will find them. I always do. But this is ridiculous” and I storm off back the way I came.
Went back to the fax room and cooled my heels for a minute. Tried to call a friend on the phones but I guess you needed a code for it to work.
But now that the security guy knew I was legit I could hang by the board, right?
I walk back down the hall and I spy Norman Smiley who was low key one of my favorite guys at that point. But I just made eye contact and nodded and he did the same. “Just act like you belong” I kept telling myself.
Then I see a guy in a headset…with a bunch of lanyards making a beeline right for me. Busted! It was fun while it lasted. He steps right up to me and says:
“Jimmy Hart left his phone in some lady’s car so it’s waiting for him at will-call, but I gotta go. Will you find him and tell him?”
“Absolutely! I will take care of it.” …and now I had a mission!
So I start wandering around asking after Jimmy Hart. Got to talk to DDP (really tall) and Chris Jericho. Billy Kidman and Rey Mysterio (without his mask which was crazy to me at the time) were very cool. I asked my fav security guard and he told me to check in the dressing room. I strolled in and asked if they had seen Jimmy Hart and nobody had. But one of the guys told me to knock on “The War Room”.
At the front of the dressing room was a closed door with a sign on it that had “War Room” written in sharpie. I knocked on the door and a voice said “Yeah?”
I open the door and there are four guys in there. Some guy I didn’t recognize, Kevin Nash, Scott Hall and ARN ANDERSON! I swear to you my knees got weak when I saw the Enforcer!
Somehow I spit out my bit about Jimmy Hart and a phone and they said no and I shut the door. I went back to the board and just chilled. I had to catch my breath. I started scribbling the names of all the wrestlers I saw and just laughed along as they all hung out by the board and shot the shit.
Eventually though I hear someone say “Hey, have you got a pass?” I look over and who do I see? Jimmy Hart!! I gave him a weak line about not being given one and he says “Nah, come on buddy.”
So he walks me over to Dillenger (head of security) but was super friendly and nice. I ask him if he got his phone, he did. I gave him one of my cards and then they escort me out. And I went to the gate with my ticket and then met up with my friends and enjoyed a great show!
They actually taped two episodes of Thunder that night, so I still got to watch a ton of wrestling and it was an awesome night that I will never forget!!
Jimmy Hart was cool as hell even when he kicked me out. And he was wearing a cool musical themed jacket and tie. Perfectly on point.
This could never happen now with all the security now but every bit of this is true! WCW always be my favorite.
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2023.06.01 03:55 Beanhedge "I work as a lifeguard. I love my job." LONGER VERSION
Hey, this is the longer version of the story "Lifeguarding" I'm posting it here because it got removed from NoSleep due to the main character being the villain (I think?). I am going to just post the shorter version to Short Scary Stories but I've got an hour before I can post there again and I feel that it looses some of the jokes.
Also, I know I said I plan to be posting less, and I do, I promise, I just really liked this idea.
Thank you for reading. :)
***
You learn lots of things working as a lifeguard.
CPR, BLS, EAP’s. They literally make you take a week-long course beforehand—if you’re like me and get your chemical certification with your basic life support so you can earn sixteen bucks an hour instead of thirteen.
My favorite part is what we call the Good Samaritan Law. Or as my instructors called it, the CYA law. (We have an acronym for everything.)
That one stands for “cover your ass”.
It means, in my state, anyway, that a first-responder, like a lifeguard, cannot be sued or jailed for actions taken to save a person's life in an emergency.
It comes in handy often. I guard a place called the Camrock Quarry. Not its real name, of course, but who cares. It’s a glorified swimming pool, except forty feet deep, and we have parents who think we’re a daycare. I regularly fish two to three kids out the deep end, only to drop them off, crying, to parents lazing in our chairs on their phones, angry that I won’t let their kids back in the water for a half-hour and they actually have to care for them.
They threaten to sue. Every. Goddamn. Day.
Other than that, it’s chill.
I spend one hour scanning an area. Then two beautiful, sharp, whistles blow. And it's a chair change. And I get to walk over to another area and watch there. We have breaks sometimes. That’s what adult-swim is.
Today, my coworker, Dede, roves toward me.
“That woman's child vomited watermelon in the toddler pool again.”
I pause. Blink.
“Is that all she feeds it?
Dede shrugs. I rub my face.
“I’ll turn on the pumps.”
I clean the “biomass”. Treat and recycle the water.
Feel the stares of “that woman” on my back.
“Why’s it taking so long?” She asks.
I tell her we have to rerun all the water through our filters.
“Well what am I supposed to do?”
I don’t want to argue.
“My manager bought us ice-cream last week. You could have some while you wait.”
Surprisingly, this works to calm her down. And five minutes later we’re standing in the building kitchen.
“You look like a drumstick man.” I say to the woman's kid, and make a show of him getting the last in the box. He's actually really sweet. He's got acid reflux and his mom doesn't like to pay for tums.
Then I dig back in the freezer.
“And would you like an ice-pop, ma’am?”
“I think I deserve one, at this point.”
“Yep.”
The boy eats his desert with feral energy. His mother is more hesitant. I watch her face pucker.
“These are sugar-free, aren’t they?” She asks.
I pretend to check the box. It's my revenge.
“Oh yeah, huh. Sorry.”
She drops it dramatically into our trash. Bitch. We’ll get bees.
Fifteen minutes later she’s pawned her child off to Dede, and I watch her swim in the deepest part of Camrock, what we call “The Pit”. It’s the actual full forty-foot deep part. We don’t allow children there.
You can’t see the bottom. It just goes black after a few feet.
Sometimes I wonder how many bodies have to be beneath that murk.
What else can you do when you spend twelve hours a day staring at water?
I watch that woman swim to the center of the pit.
Then she touches her head.
And she sinks.
Did you know we’re not supposed to call them victims? They’re “GID’s.” Guests in Distress. Because “It’s not their fault they’re in trouble.”
Nonsense.
But I do my job. Just because I hate someone doesn’t mean I want to get fired.
I blow my whistle long and dive in with my rescue tube. People evacuate. Scream. Get directed to call 9-1-1.
By the time I get her on my tube she’s not breathing. I grab her chin and force open her airway.
Someone slides a board into the water. We pull her out.
I begin CPR.
Her ribs crack, her chest caving as I push hard and fast atop her. It sounds like someone stepping on twigs.
Dede runs up with our crash bag.
“I’ve got the AED! I’ve got the AED!”
And she tries to pull the woman's shirt off while I’m still doing compressions.
“Christ!” I say. “Calm down.”
And then I help cut the woman's shirt off. Her boy is watching us. Crying. There's still ice-cream on his face.
We paste the pads on and wait.
“V-TAC. SHOCK ADVISED.” The machine says. “STAND CLEAR.”
The woman's whole body arcs.
“PULSE DETECTED.”
She doesn’t talk. It’s not like the movies, where someone sits up and speaks. Instead the woman rolls over, crying softly, and vomits. I roll her onto her left side. Dede vacuums out her mouth.
By then the ambulance has arrived.
The EMT’s put her on the stretcher. One of them taps my shoulder after she’s loaded in.
“Hey,” He says. “Congrats. You just saved a life.”
I smile.
Broken ribs. Possible brain damage. She’s going to be in the hospital for months, not to mention the damage of the medical debt.
I think of her boy.
Saved indeed.
All I needed was an ice-pop tray and the key to our chemical shed. And I'm legally protected.
Just thought I’d say.
Enjoy your Summer.
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2023.06.01 03:55 iletmyhairdown Service Fee and Tips
This subreddit started showing up randomly on my Reddit (maybe because I started using DoorDash a lot, lol)
I come from a country where tipping is considered borderline offensive. I know the US service industry is different and tipping is common here, but I didn’t know tipping seems to be the sole earning way for these Door Dashers. I live in CA btw.
I usually order when I am bogged down with work and I have no time to go and pick up my food.
But when I do order, the cost (inflated menu cost + tax + CA driver benefits + service charge) makes my food cost at-least 1.5 times.
But I understand that this is the cost of convenience. But my question is: Whom is this service charge going to? It is quite a lot of charge for maintaining an app. Some of it has gotta go to the driver delivering the order. Plus the delivery charge is separate.
I am going to be honest here and say I am not a good tipper. I think paying surcharges for the food is costly enough, I can’t afford a $5-$10 tip on my $15 food everytime.
I do however, tip if there is rain, if the driver had to wait too long or if it is a holiday, etc. I also make sure to rate the dasher well.
I see this sub full of people saying “It you can’t tip, don’t order” , “Tip is a bid for service”, etc. and this doesn’t make sense to me.
From what I know, a tip is optional and given out of personal courtesy. A tip is not an obligation and definitely not a substitute for regular wages.
It is disheartening to know that DoorDash doesn’t pay the driver enough and so they rely on customer tips. But it doesn’t map to the customer burning their paycheck to provide someone else with theirs.
This driver vs customer mentality needs to change and we need to collectively target the entity responsible.
So after a long rant, coming back to the original question : Whom does the service charge and the delivery fee and the driver benefit go to??
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2023.06.01 03:54 Rich-Department7352 Definitely in a Problem and A Bit Confused Need Some Help!!!
Hi Everyone, Recently I came to know about that my student visa that My Certificate of Eligibility has not been successfully issued this time. The reason for the rejection was It was not recognized that I have fully demonstrated my ability to stably and continuously cover expenses during my stay (asset building process, etc.). But When I was applying at that time the school agreed that the money my sponsors had was sufficient.
I am very disappointed because I have lost already so much time waiting for my admission to happen and now this has occurred, which indirectly means that more time will be lost. I applied last December for the application for July so it has been already 6-8 months gone with no studying.
I am feeling very hopeless at this point, i don't know what should I do, should I look for another school or go ahead with the reapplication at this school once again????
The previous school that I have been applying to was ISI but it seems difficult for me now to figure out what I should do??? Can anyone please suggest anything that can be helpful?? I am really in need of some good advice here!!!
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2023.06.01 03:52 OkayFlan [THANK YOU] Thank you for thinking of me (part 2)
u/GizmoDOS – thank you
x2 for:
- the suuuuper adorable foil rainbow “you’re like a ray of sunshine wearing flame-retardant pants” (lolol) card, I love it! I appreciate the kind reminder inside, and the sticker extras are some of my favorite I’ve received all year 😯
- the tranquil photograph postcard featuring a cabin on the water. It sounds like you should be listening to that voice so I'm glad you are. Also, I love your ink and handwriting, do you use fountain pens?
u/Tinawebmom -- thank you for the adorable hand-stamped card with lilacs, butterflies, and the sentiment "there's nothing better than a friend unless it's a friend with chocolate." It's great to hear that your garden is so successful, you're growing so many different things I'm impressed! And it's nice to finally meet you as well! I've seen you around for so long, I can't believe we haven't exchanged yet. PS- I love the glitter glue accents on the card!
u/TigerLady13 -- thank you for the gardening angels card and the super lovely extras - I love the poem and the phrase stickers in particular and I appreciate you so much for thinking of me! To answer your question, I found RAoC completely by chance, I was using reddit for parenting subreddits and this subreddit appeared in suggested subreddits, so I tried it. I'll answer your note with more detail, I'm going to write you a card back!
u/travel4me22 -- thank you
x2 for:
- the absolutely beautiful handmade blue bird card with the sentiment "hope this card makes you smile" (spoiler: it does). I love the upcycling element. Everything about this card is amazing and cool and I love it. Hope you're having an amazing spring with your hummingbirds!
- the very cool mushroom photo postcard. Is that a photo you took yourself?? That's amazing! I love this photo so much! I hope your guided hike was great.
u/awachob -- thank you for this AMAZING constellation card, it is the coolest thing ever. It's even more incredible than your photo showed. I love it and I appreciate you for sending it to me! Thanks for the cute stickers too!
u/melhen16 -- thank you for the colorful motivational "Today I Will" card, it's great! I appreciate the quote, the well wishes, and the stickers too! Thanks for thinking of me.
u/amabisca -- thank you for the beautiful teal handmade card with the "I've decided to shine anyway" sentiment, it's gorgeous and clear that a lot of love went into its making! Thank you for exchanging with me, and I like your glittery green ink!
u/superpotatochip87 -- thank you for the super cute strawberries card! I am so super glad to hear from you, I'm sorry to hear it hasn't been an easy year. I'm going to write you back. You certainly gave me something to think about with the wombat feces. Also, I'm obsessed with all the stickers and decorations on the envelope, and your "caw caw" sticker (or tape?). I'm actually going to re-stuff the envelope and give it to my toddler because I know he will love it. :P
u/_alltyedup -- thank you for the "A Worm of Robins" cover postcard! I love the bird art on the front, it's a very pretty cover. Thank you for sending this my way, I love it!
u/shipping_addict -- thank you for the vintage Pidgeotto postcard! I appreciate this so much, what a cool piece of history (90s? 00s?) It makes me think of 5 years ago when my husband (then boyfriend) and I played Pokemon Go every weekend for entire days at a time. There were so many Pidgeys. So many.
u/rhapsodytravelr -- thank you for the Flower Box botanical postcard, I love the stickers and washi tape you used to decorate it, it's pretty much a work of art! The best part is the washi tape where you wrote my address, it just completes the scene lol. Thanks!
u/Simple-Reference-357 -- thank you for the Tea House photo postcard, it's so gorgeous! It's cool to hear that you've seen it in person. I bet it's even more beautiful!
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2023.06.01 03:52 saltine_soup “health care is a privilege not a right”
if you truly think that i’m going to call you stupid, i’m going to call you selfish, i’m not going to argue or bring up facts about how other countries have cheap health care and a higher life expectancy, i’m going to call you selfish and stupid. “iTs JuSt My OpInIoN” ok? well mine is you’re and idiotic selfish bigot who has no compassion or care for other people. you’re a horrible person who deserves a painful slow lonely death like you are wish upon people when you say health care is a privilege and shouldn’t be affordable. “that’s not arguing in good faith and is childish” i don’t fucking care, i have no respect for people who willingly let others die cuz they think money is more important than someone being healthy and not in constant pain. i’d take long wait times and medication shortages if it mean people are getting cheap health care vs paying thousands of dollars for a 15 minute meeting that goes nowhere.
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2023.06.01 03:51 dimensionalvibe My worst nightmare
Once during a lucid dream, I found myself in a town with an old friend. However, things took a dark turn when my friend betrayed me and held me hostage at gunpoint in his apartment. To my horror, two other people had come out from a bedroom, each brandishing their own assault rifles. They began to rap and dance around with their weapons, pointing them at me while I pleaded to know why they were doing this.
I ask who they are one more time. One of the gun-wielding strangers then pointed his weapon at my head and said, "This guy doesn't even know he's me." Then turns around to look at the others as they all laugh together. I was terrified, confused and I paniced. I made a run for it. However, the door had five locks, which I frantically unlocked one by one. But my escape was thwarted when I discovered another locked door on the other side of this door. I was dragged back to the center of the room and suddenly woke up, only to fall back asleep and find myself right back in the same nightmare.
I was welcomed back by my friend he had an assault rifle. Supposedly the other 2 were waiting for us in a car downstairs. He pushed against my back with the barrel of the rifle ushering me to open the door and go outside. As i took a step out he took a sdcond to lock the door i instantrly jump off the balconey landing in the grass. I see the other 2 climbing the stairs as I land.
The only thing I remember is runnung as fast as I can. The last thing I did was look back and saw them about 25-30ft away, chasing me with their guns pointed. When I looked back forward there was a corner I was abke to turn for cover and right after I did that I wokeup.
These dreams are super real there is no waking up. They gave me night terrors for a week. I couldnt sleep which led to nor being able to eat much. I would get anxious at night time because I didnt know what was happening with me.
Here is my other "dream", really I call it an experience but I can never prove it was real besides saying the perception i got was that i was awake until i wokeup for a second time in the same place..
https://www.reddit.com/Experiencers/comments/13w4kto/i_think_i_got_abducted/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button submitted by
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2023.06.01 03:50 Betty-Adams Flying Sparks Volume 1 - A Novel of a boy, a dragon, and an alien. Avaliable for preorder on Indiegogo Now.
| https://i.redd.it/929p907cbb3b1.gif Chapter 2 “Hazardous? I’ll show that manipulative, misanthropic, anti-establishment cretin just what hazardous means if he thinks I’m going to fold on this!” The sound of vigorous guitar riffs made a fitting accompaniment to the angry tirade despite originating on opposite sides of the communal area. Ama was glaring at a laptop that sat on a stained oak desk shoved against the large table near the kitchen. She tapped a fingernail on the wood as she read through the alert. “And what violation of basic human dignity has her royal prudishness’s undies in a bunch?” Em demanded with an affected sneer without looking up from his guitar scales. “Oh you’ll agree with this one tree-hugger,” Drake muttered from where he sat oiling his work boots. “Yeah,” Donny piped up, “Finney is trying to kill a perfectly healthy fir.” “What!” Em demanded, carefully placing his battered old acoustic guitar down in its case and darting over to look at the computer screen. “You mean apark tree?” Despite her simmering frustration Ama allowed a small smile to flicker across her face as she continued to type. “Get out of your pajamas and I’ll tell you,” Drake ordered pointing towards the bathroom door with a stained rag. “School starts in forty-five minutes and you still have breakfast and chores. That goes for you too Pip-squirt.” “I hope you washed your hands before you touched our food,” Em said with a frown. “Boot grease makes a great source of fatty acids.” Drake retorted. “Now go!” The two smaller boys muttered in annoyance but stumbled off to follow orders. “So what is up?” the youth asked as he bent his head back over the smooth leather of his boots. “Mrs. Finney wants that tree down that’s blocking her perfect view of Crescent Lake.” Ama replied in a dry tone. “One that’s clearly on park property?” Drake asked. “Indeedy-do.” Ama replied giving the paper in front of her a glare. “So how’s she justifying it?” Drake asked. “As a safety hazard to her house.” Ama replied. “And?” The biologist groaned and rubbed her face. “As far as I can tell the trunk is perfectly healthy. There is an old trash can lid grown into the trunk and a little discolored sap is leaking out there.” “Frass?” “Watch your language!” Donny interjected as he darted up to the table. “Frass is not a bad word,” Drake stated. “Have you let the chickens out?” “Yes, what does frass mean?” Donny asked as he started piling stir-fry onto his plate. “Look it up.” Drake ordered him. “Emerald! Breakfast ends in ten minutes! Get your tukus down here!” “It’s bad health to rush meals,” Em snapped out as he came down a narrow stairway with deliberate slowness. “It’s even worse for your health to skip meals altogether,” Drake growled threateningly. “Shut it and give me some eggs.” Em snapped back. “Emerald Waters Undersun,” Drake hissed out through gritted teeth. “You are going to get your own eggs.” The boy threw himself into a chair and glared at Drake with challenge in every line of his body. “Emerald,” Ama said in a calm tone. “I think you should apologize to your cousin now.” “Sorry I disturbed you Ama,” he offered without breaking eye contact with Drake. “Not me, him,” Ama said. “Sorry you had to hear that Donny.” Em said. Ama heaved a sigh and closed her computer. “Emerald,” Ama said. “Do you want to eat or go hungry?” Drake demanded. Ama glanced at him with a familiar uneasy look in her eyes and Drake fought down a wince. “Now, Em.” she said in a patient tone. “I’ll go hungry,” Em snapped, jumping up and stalking over to the couch. Donny kept his eyes fixed on his plate. Ama heaved a sigh before turning back to her computer. Em wriggled on the couch for several minutes before skulking back to the table. Drake moved to intercept him but Ama stopped him with a look and he let Em serve himself. Drake cast irritated glances at the wall clock as the time crept more and more into school time. Ama closed her computer and stood, then sighed, sat and opened it again. “I need to pick out their report topics,” Ama muttered. “I could do it,” Drake offered. “You do quite enough,” Ama replied briskly, as she scanned the news. “Here you go. For Donny, malfunctions at the Lewis- McChord Air Force Base air show.” A frown creased her face. “Wow, this is pretty serious. It looks like the F-16 demonstration team nearly got killed.” Drake whistled and leaned over her shoulder. “Multiple system failures,” he read out loud. “I am pretty sure that isn’t supposed to happen.” “Nope,” Ama agreed. “Here is a topic on big game management for Em.” “Reports due by next week?” Drake asked as the old printer on the desk began to squeal and grumble as it powered up. “Same as usual,” Ama confirmed. Drake put the printouts on top of the homework pile and moved to wash up the breakfast dishes. “I need to get to work early today so you two be good for Drake,” she called out placing a quick kiss on top of the smaller boys’ heads and giving Drake’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Good luck with Mrs. Finney, and stay safe.” Drake called out as she went into her room. The table was cleaned off and wiped down and the clink of forks gave way to the steady scratch of pencils on paper. They broke for a recess after religion and then lunch after history and math, and by the time the Grandfather clock in the corner struck two the younger boys twitching with energy. Drake made certain the internet was disconnected at the router, and chased Donny and Em out into the garden. “And don’t come in until dark,” he ordered tossing two snack bags out after them. Donny as usual snatched his food and disappeared into the small orachard. Low grumbles about troglodytes and the Amish wandered out into the high corn following Em and Drake shook his head in exasperation wondering, not for the first time how the dark haired princeling came from the same gene pool as his little brother. The kitchen being mostly ordered Drake was turning to put the last random dirty sock in the hamper when a gnarled hand clutching a cane head appeared in the corner of his eye, causing his heart to make a valiant attempt to bolt out of his throat. “Abuelita!” he gasped forcing his hands down from the guard position. “Where did you come from?” Smoldering black eyes ran searchingly over the tall youth. An impossibly long mane of streaked silver and black hair was barely contained in a thick braid. A sharply pointed nose perched over a small wrinkled mouth. A vibrant red horse-hair serape hung over her shoulders concealing everything except her brown and gnarled hands which currently clutched the old tree branch she used as a cane. Drake had been more than a little comforted by the fact that both Em and Donny had admitted to having the thought ‘witch’ every time time they saw her as well. “From the hand of God by the bodies of my sainted mother and father,” she replied after a long, uncomfortable silence. She always spoke in a low husky voice that suggested years of smoking, though Drake had never smelled even stale smoke on her. “Right,” Drake blinked and grinned at the response; the one she always gave. “So you are here for their Spanish lesson? I have their grammar books ready and-” The narrow end of the tree branch rapped against the concrete of the floor causing Drake to jump. Abuelita glared at him, locking his gaze and holding him in place with it for a moment. “I am here for their lessons,” she finally stated, “and you are there for my payment.” Drake thought longingly of the repair and maintenance manuals in the cab of the truck and the new tool he was itching to try, but he forced a grin on his face. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “What can I get you today?” Abuelita pulled out a bag of woven grass from under her serape causing the indistinct patterns on the cloth to shift and change. “Take this,” she ordered him, “and collect me the cobalt blue berries that grow on a single stalk close to the ground. They must come from the mountain to the south east of here by the crystal brook.” Drake nodded, and took the little bag, he didn’t quite manage to infused his gestures with enthusiasm he supposed. The old woman, probably wouldn’t have noted it anyway. She turned and moved towards the garden door without waiting for any other reply. However she called out over her shoulder as he turned to find his own way out of the rambling structure. “Don’t dawdle little one. A storm brews in the distance.” He tried not to roll his eyes at that, the weather forecast was clear and eighties for the next week according to the morning fire report Ama had printed. The youth only nodded and slipped around the corner. He circled the barn and pulled a set of loose tan pants and tunic out of the cubby. The soft worn leather almost perfectly matched the forest floor for color as did the moccasins he pulled on after them. His morning running clothes were modern stuff that wicked the sweat away from him and let him speed through the forest. These were his free day clothes. The ones that let him disappear into the forest and wander. Abuelita, for all of her demands, would tend Em and Donny until he returned no matter how late that was, and with the Park’s yearly budget talks still under way it was highly unlikely Ama would be home until long after the sun had set. Despite still hearing the call of the half restored truck he felt something lossening in him already. The soft cotton and smooth leather rested easily against his skin and Drake slipped into the forest. Freedom; for the moment at least, blissful freedom. Pushing aside the guilt that accompanied the thought as well as any lingering worries about his charges the youth let his legs carry him through the trees. He shunned the man made paths, following the faint animal trails. This close to the barn they were as clear to him as if they were named city streets. Being animal trails, they invariably led him to water. Today he stopped at a trickling stream, took off his moccasins, and rolled up his pants legs. The youth turned and followed the thin flow of icy water upstream, letting it steal the heat from his body through his feet. Some distance upstream, the stream widened and pooled under a boulder. There Drake paused and pulled an old black compass out of his pocket. Behind him he knew every trail and tree. Ahead was a broad swath of National Wilderness he would have to cross, or possibly Bureau of Land Management or even state managed forests where he more rarely wandered. It was hard to tell where the boundaries were from the ground. The clearing he wanted for the berries was solidly in BLM land and he still had quite a ways to go to get there. The stand of timber that stood between him and his goal was dense with young tree and branches that frequently formed impenetrable hedges he had to track around and he checked his compass regularly as he climbed in elevation. Even so the youth found he had wandered too far off his route and had to correct when he spotted the boundary fence. However he was in no hurry and he reached the clearing long before the sun told him it was time to turn around. Sometime in the past some unknown force had carved a shallow trench across the side of one of the small mountains that that dotted the wilderness. It had puzzled Drake at first. The scour was at the wrong angle to be an old rock slide, and terminated in a near perfectly circular clearing at the lower end. Centuries old Douglas Firs abruptly gave way to a second ring only a few decades old. Those were in turn beginning to produce cones and a smattering of knee high saplings. The rest of the space was completely given over to wildflowers. No matter what season Drake visited it he found a riot of life. There had been an early spring and many herbs that normally would have waited a month or more were already in full bloom in the mountain meadow. A white wave of foamflower washed in from the deep forest surrounding the clearing, sending up knee high stalks covered in the delicate white blooms. Late trillium hid close to the roots of the great firs, many having shed their white corollas and begun to put forth their bulbous seed heads. Fuzzy white baneberry blossoms nodded gently in the breeze. A riot of yellow and purple spread across the ground as vetch and buttercups and a host of clovers competed for space in the open sun. Great stalks of lupine as high as his head thrust up their purple and blue proudly from thick clusters of palm shaped leaves. Pink shooting stars and violet harebells crouched under the protection of the larger plants. Indian paintbrush lit the scene with flames of red and orange. Where a spring seeped into the meadow elephant’s head flared neon pink and corydalis bushes put forth blushing blooms. Pale green wild orchids stood along the wet spot and the swarms of bees danced from them to the glacier lilies. Sometimes, as he bent over a tiny blossom and traced the intricate network of veins in the petals, drank in the scent, and felt the smooth surface of the leaves an otherworldly feeling would come over him. It was as if there was another world just out of range of his senses. If he could only really look, the thin illusion that was blocking him would slip away and reveal the real world underneath it. “ Look Awiegwa,” his father would whisper, pointing at a deer mouse perched on a fallen log. “What does it see?” Awiegwa would screw up his face and squint. Trying to find the answer to the question. Awiegwa had often wondered how so many flowers had come to be in the relatively small area. He had identified dozens of species and there were more he had yet to determine. The clearing was always the first place to bloom and the last to go dormant. Many of the flowers seemed to utterly defy their usual blooming patterns. However, as time passed he had simply come to accept it. It was one of the small good things that brought back the memories of his father. If it didn’t quite follow the rules Ama had taught him, well an impossible clearing in the mountains wasn’t a place for rules. The particular bloom that Abuelita had requested had taken full advantage of the early sun and had already put forth a few cobalt blue berries; easily spotted at the edge of the clearing in the delicate sea of white flowers. However before he left the shade of the forest for the meadow the youth paused and closed his eyes. Bole wasn’t always here, but he was often enough that Awiegwa always checked for him. Carefully he reconstructed the clearing in his mind; marking every tree and boulder on the edge. Three years he had been coming here and each time it was easier to recreate the clearing. Breathing evenly he opened his eyes, letting the mental image merge with the actual. There was a brief moment of confusion as details like the play of light through branches and the trembling of small clusters of flowers fixed themselves but there was only one truly jarring note. Awiegwa didn’t let his eyes focus on the disparity; he never did anymore, but a warm smile spread across his features as he slipped silently into the meadow. He was here. As the youth moved in a low crouch, gathering the first fruits of the Queen’s Cup, he let his peripheral vision linger on a particular snag. There was nothing obviously interesting about it, other than the fact that it had not been there the last time Awiegwa was here. He had named the wanderer Bole, because it most often appeared as a thick tree trunk; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Occasionally it would be a boulder or simply a mound in the dirt. Often it wasn’t in the clearing at all. If the youth moved forward and tried to closely examine it he could never find anything to suggest it was something other than a tree or rock. He had thought about taking a sample occasionally, had taken his knife out to do just that more than once, but something always held him back. Bole was a part of this place. Dissecting him would be too much like attempting to dissect his sense of his father’s presence here. The youth had never told anyone about this place, not even Ama with who could get most things out of him easily enough. Down at the house, in town, when he was Drake; solid, reliable, first up in the morning, two grades ahead in school with a penchant for science Drake, a productive member of modern society with a promising future and his mother smiling at him. Here he could be Awiegwa. Here he could believe in the ancient medicines his father had dug out of dusty old tomes and brought to life from the forest litter. Every time Awiegwa left the clearing and headed back towards home reality would reassert itself. Bole would resolve back into a figment of his imagination, created from pride in a somewhat better than average memory and what the social workers had called an “intriguing imagination”. When he reached the house and become solidly Drake again flickers of embarrassment would begin eating at him for letting his senses trick him like that, but as long as the blooms nodded around him in this garden Bole could exist even on a Thursday. The little woven grass bag filled up with the berries fairly quickly and Awiegwa soon stretched out of his crouch and let his gaze wander contentedly over the clearing. As it always did, the warm space was working its special magic. Worries about Em getting out of his schoolwork, of not paying enough attention to the quiet Donny, of letting Ama see his petty resentments: it had all melted away from his muscles, thoughts of college costs and abandoning his duties dissolved into an acute sense of the now. The leaves rustled softly in a barely-there breeze, the heavy scent of some unidentified blossom filled his lungs, a dozen shades of green framed the rainbow of flowers, and over and above it all the creaking of the firs as the wind played over them. It was at times like these that he felth he could almost see into heaven; that something wonderful that existed just beyond his senses, and all he had to do was reach out and claim it. The youth took a deep breath and let himself fall backwards onto a handy rise in the forest floor. His path had taken him to the foot of the snag and he shifted slightly to align himself with the gnarled roots. One hand gripped a time smoothed root. “Ama trusted me enough to go out of state,” he murmured. “That’s the first time she’s done that. Usually she has Abulita stay with us to fend off the Harsh, but she said it’s long past legal now.” It was his imagination of course that made him think the root vibrated in his hand in response. Many a long hour he had spent in this clearing with the wanderer. He had poured out his frustrations and anguishes over life’s injustices, had shared his secrets as he grew, and had shouted his triumphs. Sometimes he felt closer to Bole than to any of his human friends. However, something that sounded like his mother’s voice warned him that there was something odd about this and that awareness was the main reason he had kept this place secret from Ama. Their mother hadn’t exactly liked stuff like that. She had never objected to his father’s digging up the old stories of her people. Making cross generational connections between elders, who more often than not lived isolated lives, and the next generation, was an admirable goal in of itself in her eyes; objectively a social good. Storytelling was only the natural course for these relationships to take, but subtle looks had warned even a very young Drake that it was best to cautious what he shared with his mother. At least of those things that couldn’t be placed on a microscope slide. So this was Awigewa’s place, and while his father’s spirit wanders the flowers with he had never felt his mother here. He let his focus drift up, and up. Dark blue Lupine nodded over his head framing the faint crisscross of jet contrails that threw a light haze over an otherwise cloudless sky. His clothed grew deliciously hot from the spring sun. The ground too had eagerly accepted the energy and now it conducted the heat into the muscles of his back. Bole’s wood beneath him was warmer even than the surrounding ground and an idle thought traced across Awiegwa’s awareness; something about it being odd for the light colored wood and relatively dry wood to retain more heat than the darker soil surrounding it. His mind was filled with the impression of a goal. He had been meaning to do, something. Something fun, yes, exploring, he’d meant to see if whatever had dug that den by the second boulder was cubing this year. He would just get up and do that in a minute. His back was so warm and comfortable. https://i.redd.it/2wbccz0dbb3b1.gif “Flying Sparks” Another foray into the lives of Drake McCarty, Ama Love, and the rest of their siblings as they discover that something alien is out in the forest around their home. https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/flying-sparks-a-novel-of-dragon-bear-and-boy/coming_soon #FlyingSparks #ScienceFiction #Scifi #Story #novel #book #DrakeMcCarty #AmaLove #Donny #Em #Bard #Bole #Aliens #Spaceships #Crystals #fireflies #NPS #NationalPark #Doctor #Sever #family #storm #writing #reading #drama #literature #author #BettyAdams #DyingEmbers #Dragons #ThingsThatGoBoomp #Indiegogo #CrowdFunding submitted by Betty-Adams to SciFiArt [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 03:50 lonely_talon I despise v.
I just started dmc 5. Been a while since I played one and I wanted to try it even though I’m late. I’ve really enjoyed it so far besides v. I don’t know what it is v just makes me exhausted. He’s not fun to play he says cringe worthy stuff he’s overly edgy and every time I’m playing him I’m waiting to play Nero or Dante again. Am I the only one that feels this way?
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DevilMayCry [link] [comments]